The Great Texas Wedding Bargain. Judy Christenberry

      Megan’s eyes widened in horror and she gasped, “No!”

      “It’s true.”

      “How do you know? Cal wouldn’t tell anyone that. Why, he and Jessica have the prettiest little boy. He wouldn’t—”

      “We were sitting in The Last Roundup around Christmastime. The ladies were scheming against some guy named Joe Chamblee. I said I didn’t think there was much they could do to get someone married if they didn’t want to marry. Cal told me what his mother had done as a warning.”

      Megan was floored. To think that his mother would do something like that to Cal. Her own son. Messing up Megan’s car, in a way that was easily fixed, didn’t seem nearly as bad.

      “But why?” As he opened his mouth, Megan interrupted. “I know you said for romance, but why would my having car trouble do anything?”

      Both their gazes immediately flew to the clasped hands in the middle of the table. Then they both jerked away, as if by touching they were endangering themselves.

      “Look, if I’m right, they may try other things,” Rick said, his voice rough. “I want to be honest with you. I’m not interested in any real marriage. I don’t believe in it anymore. And nothing they can do will induce me to submit myself to that kind of misery again.”

      Megan hurried to reassure him even as she felt a twinge in her chest at the desolation on his face. “Me, neither. After all, marriage killed my sister. I have no intention of marrying. For real, I mean.”

      Rick stood, towering over her. “I hope you don’t mean that, Megan. Eventually, I hope you meet your Mr. Wonderful. But…but, for now, at least we understand each other. We’re not going to be caught in their trap. Right?”

      “Right.” She started to extend her hand for a handshake to seal their agreement. Then she remembered it would be better not to touch again. So she rose and stared at the handsome man across the table from her.

      “I guess I’d better go. May we start moving in our things tomorrow?”

      “Yeah, sure. I’d like to offer to help, but—”

      “You have calves to deliver. It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” She turned to go and he followed her to the kitchen door.

      “You sure you don’t want me to follow you?”

      “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

      “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

      She turned to look at him. It had sounded like it mattered to him if she saw him. But no, that couldn’t be true.

      “Maybe. But there’s plenty of casserole left for your dinner tomorrow. And lots of chocolate cake.”

      “Yeah. If I’m not careful, I’ll get too fat to get on a horse,” he said with a grin, patting his flat stomach.

      Megan laughed, but her gaze concentrated on his lean frame, his hard muscles. “I doubt it.”

      “Good night, then. Thanks for all you’ve done.”

      “You, too,” she said, lifting her gaze to mingle with his warm brown one. She gave a hurried wave and ran to her car.

      It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

      RICK SPENT the night in the downstairs bedroom. The bed wasn’t as comfortable as his. Not because the mattress was old, but because it was a standard-size mattress, not king-size like his bed.

      But it was a pleasure to rise to a clean house, freshly laundered clothes. He even had a piece of chocolate cake after he’d eaten his cereal. No one was there to tell him not to.

      He decided he’d better enjoy it. Once the women invaded his territory, he figured they’d preach about nutrition.

      He lingered over a second cup of coffee. He needed to get to the barn and check on the cows he’d brought in the night before. And then cover the pastures. Jose was supposed to work with him today. An extra pair of eyes and hands.

      The sound of a car had him leaping to his feet and crossing to the kitchen window. When he realized what he was doing, he dumped the rest of his coffee into the sink and stalked out of the kitchen.

      He’d been sitting there hoping Megan would come before he left the house.

      He never paid attention to cars on the road. But this morning he’d immediately noticed. And hurried to see if it turned into his place.

      He’d better be careful, or those interfering ladies were going to cause him a hell of a lot of trouble. He hurried out to the barn, ready to turn his attention to his cows.

      MEGAN WORKED with Dr. Gibbons, or Samantha, as she’d suggested Megan call her. Megan had never worked for a doctor who treated her nurse like a human being. It was an interesting and pleasant phenomenon. Since Samantha had a daughter almost twenty months old and was expecting another baby in October, she only worked part-time. Megan’s hours were the same.

      Samantha greeted her as she reached the office Tuesday morning. “How are you settling in?”

      “Fine. We’ve been here a month, you know.”

      “Oh, I know. But I meant at Rick’s place.”

      Megan’s cheeks flushed. “You heard?”

      “I heard that there was a massive cleaning. Florence mentioned several times at dinner last night that men were hopeless when it came to housework.”

      The two ladies grinned at each other.

      “I’m not sure that’s true,” Megan said, “but with Rick’s long hours on the ranch, he doesn’t have much time for housework.”

      “I guess not. It is calving season. Mac’s planning on taking off a couple of weeks when his friends do roundup.”

      “But he’s a lawyer,” Megan protested.

      “A man never stops being a cowboy. He loves it. Every year he helps them.”

      “Rick could use some help. He only has one hand who comes a couple of days a week.”