By the Book Bride: Ryder (A BBW Western Romance) (Matchmaking A Marriage 1) (2 page)

What the hell?
Ryder shook his head as his grandfather’s new renter stepped away from him. A jolt of something he’d never felt before had skittered through his body the moment the woman had placed the palm of her hand against his.

He shook off the odd sensation and picked up the painter’s tape she’d dropped when he’d startled her. He needed something to do, and fast. “Let’s get this show on the road, sweetheart. I’ll finish taping, and then we’ll start painting. I’ll go high, you go low, and we’ll have this done faster than a jackrabbit on its morning constitutional.”

Ryder did not like the tedious chore of taping, but it was better than having his body spontaneously combust from watching her bent over doing the job. As he worked, he let his eyes wander over the house he knew almost as well as the back of his hand. He’d spent plenty of his childhood days’ right here in this room, waiting for his grandmother to take out a batch of freshly baked cookies in the kitchen. He didn’t remember much about her, but he’d heard enough stories to know she’d been a wonderful woman. Poppy had told all three of his grandsons he’d married a woman in a million.

He eyed the fresh-looking walls with a suspicious eye, wondering if his grandfather had sent him over here for something other than painting. But, as cool as his reception had been from the quiet beauty busily working a few feet away, probably not. He shrugged mentally, deciding the older home could do with a fresh coat of paint. “You know,” he looked up critically, “we really need to paint these ceilings first. Do you have paint for that?”

Georgia had set up a small folding table in the middle of the room. She stood by it now, prying open a can of fresh paint. She looked up as she spoke. “No,” she grimaced, “I don’t really like heights, and I didn’t figure I could reach them without being on a ladder, so I decided to leave well enough alone.”

Ryder straightened, stretching as he did. He’d spent the last week breaking a particularly stubborn horse and had taken more than one spill against the hard-packed earth. But he’d earned the horse’s respect which was well worth a strained muscle or two. Well worth it, he grinned to himself as he noted Georgia’s wide green eyes following the lines of his body as he worked the kinks out.

“Well, I guess we’d better go get some then.” His long legs closed the short distance to the table. He picked up the lid to the can of paint she’d opened, a medium tan color that went well with the darker hardwood floors, and placed it back on, giving it a few hard taps with his closed fist to seal it. “Come on.” Before she could form a protest to his high-handed manner, he’d taken her arm and pulled her along beside him. As they neared the front door, his hand dropped to clasp hers.

Georgia didn’t know why she was allowing the handsome cowboy to lead her around like a small child, but she was. Maybe it had something to do with the firm grasp he had on her hand or the way his long fingers encircled hers. They left through the back door where Ryder locked it behind them after making sure she had her keys. She’d grabbed them and her purse from the kitchen counter where she’d put them when she’d come in from work that evening. Her furniture had yet to arrive so the house was relatively empty. There were a few pieces inside, though, such as the big pine bed in the bedroom with its matching dresser. The inner springs and mattress were propped against the hallway wall. She’d been too tired to drag them the remaining way down the hall and had slept on a blow-up mattress next to the bed last night.

A well-used truck was parked out back. He walked her to the passenger seat. “Up you go, darlin’.” He placed his hands on her waist and somehow she found herself seated comfortably on the soft leather. Again, she’d allowed him to maneuver her at his leisure.

Thinking of him using those same tactics in a much more intimate setting had a shiver running through her even though the air in the truck was hot by anyone’s standards.  She could still feel the individual press of his fingers in the soft flesh around her waist. She inwardly cringed when she realized that he now knew just how curvy she was. No matter how she dressed to camouflage the extra padding she had, there was no hiding it when a man put his hands on her.

Immediately, just as they did every time she thought about her body, her thoughts turned to her two younger sisters. Both still in college, they were model thin and had all the boys on campus drooling over them. Georgia couldn’t be angry with them. They were as beautiful on the inside as they were on the outside. However, that didn’t make the comparisons everyone made any easier to hear.

She had the same clear, unblemished features as her sisters, but that’s where the family resemblance stopped. She was stout. Fluffy, as she liked to refer to herself. Big-boned. In other words, she was a full-sized, curvy girl.

Who had no hope of ever attracting the attention of a man like Ryder Anderson, she thought as he climbed into the cab of the truck, giving her a wink as he started the engine. Whereas if she looked like either one of her sisters…

“So, tell me about Georgia Stevens.” He settled back against the battered leather seat of the truck, turning those gorgeous eyes her way once again.

“There’s not much to tell,” she replied, directing her attention to the passing scenery. It was a short drive to Devil’s Spur, comparatively speaking, but a country one with the occasional stand of trees to be seen in the distance as the endless miles of pastureland rolled by.

“What brings you to our small town?”

“A job.”

Georgia could almost feel his frustration as he shifted on his seat. She grinned to herself. No doubt he was used to women throwing themselves at his feet, eager to share every intimate detail of their lives, including their perfect measurements and dainty shoe sizes.

“Come on, Georgie, you need to work with me here.”

His deep voice dipped lower, running along her nerve endings in a most delicious way.  “Georgie?” She turned her full attention his way, considering the abbreviated version of her name. No one had ever condensed it before, not even her family. Hearing the shortened form from his lips made it sound sexy, and she realized that she liked it.

“Yeah, you look like a Georgie.”

“You mean I look like a man?” She put as much indignation as she could into her tone, getting a kick out of seeing his super-confidence drop by the minute.

“No,” he immediately corrected her. “You look nothing like a man.” That amber gaze of his swept over her, reminding her she was playing with fire. “You are all woman, sweetheart, believe you me.”

Now his tone was smug.

Deciding they needed to get on a safer topic of conversation and fast, she answered his previous question. “I’m the new librarian.”

Ryder gave a soft laugh. “Pull the other one. Librarians are sour-faced old crones that wear their hair in a bun.”

“Really? I’ll be sure and tell Miss Moore you said so.” Prudence was the former librarian who had retired, giving Georgia the opportunity to start a new chapter in her life. She had also been on the hiring committee and Georgia had instantly felt a comradery with the older lady.

Ryder threw her a horrified look. “Don’t you dare,” he ordered. “She’ll skin me alive.”

He’d known Prudence was set to retire this year, but he didn’t know it had already happened. Yeah, the woman fit his description of what a librarian should look like to a tee, but underneath all the bluster and bristle was a woman with a heart of gold. He didn’t know how many times he and his brothers had been shushed for making noise in the library, but they had never been kicked out of the place. His parents, especially his mother, had been a firm believer in education. Every week, she would take them to town to check out books. She’d even gone so far one summer when Gabe had refused to read the book he’d chosen, as to make them do a report on their individual tomes. None of them had been able to tell her no. Especially not when their father had stepped in.

His face closed over, the hole in his chest that never seemed to go away aching at the remembered loss. Each year a little more of the hurt went away, but then each year, the memories of his parents faded just a little bit more as well. He knew it was a trade-off, one nature provided for people suffering great tragedies to move on. It didn’t make it any easier to accept, though.

He let the conversation drop. They had reached Devil’s Spur. Driving directly to the General Store, he parked in the lot. It was filled, as usual for early morning. It seemed everyone needed something to complete a job while they had the spare time. Before he could make it around to help her from the cab of the truck, Georgia was already out and waiting for him.

Well, damn, he thought to himself, instantly regretting not being able to touch her again, to smell the citrusy fragrance of the shampoo she had used. At the look on her face, he resisted the temptation to take her hand again.

Soon, he reassured himself. Soon, he’d find an excuse to touch her again.

He held open the glass-fronted door, grinning down at her as he did so. His momma had instilled manners in the Anderson boys at a very young age. As soon as they were strong enough to open doors for a woman, they were counseled to do it.

“Good morning, Gramps,” Ryder called out to the older man standing at the counter, checking out a customer.

“Ryder? What brings you out this early on a Saturday morning? I thought for sure you’d still be sleeping off that—”

“Granddad, have you met Georgia, Poppy’s new renter?” Ryder cut his grandfather off as quickly as he could. He wasn’t ashamed of his wild ways, but he didn’t need his lifestyle broadcast to the world—and especially not to this woman. She was already as skittish as a newborn colt. He couldn’t have her bolting away from him before he even got to the starting gate.

“Of course, I have, son.” Silas gave him a strange look. “Who do you think mixed that paint for her?” He looked at both of them over the edge of the reading glasses perched on top of his nose, a worried expression on his lined face. “Something wrong with the color, Miss Georgia?”

Georgia stepped forward. “No, Mr. Moore, the color is perfect, but your grandson seems to think we need to paint the ceiling before we paint the walls.”

Silas was nodding his head before she’d even finished speaking. “Yes, you do. Harvey and I talked about that.” He grinned at his youngest grandson. “I’m glad to see the stubborn old cuss took my advice and got you to help out, Ryder. Why don’t you go and grab a couple of gallons while I get this pretty young lady something to drink.”

“Well, I…”

“Ryder Anderson, you sweet, sweet man.”

Georgia’s smile disappeared at the sight of the light-headed woman who had appeared to latch herself onto Ryder’s arm like a tick on a dog. Her silver blond hair glinted under the fluorescent lights that did absolutely nothing to diminish the blue of her eyes or startling clarity of her suntanned skin. When Ryder grinned down at her, Georgia called herself a fool for letting the action get to her.

For heaven’s sake, she admonished herself, she’d only met the man. Hadn’t she known right away that he was a player? Best she remember that fact and stop her wayward heart before it got her into a world of hurt. No one needed to know how much she longed to have someone in her life. A man who treated her like she was the center of his universe. She had no illusions that actually having that dream come true was remotely close to possible. Women like her found nice, sensible guys that provided an ordinary and uneventful life. They did not end up with hot guys with chiseled abs and killer smiles.

“I had a great time last night.” Long, red nails ran lightly up Ryder’s arm from elbow to wrist and back up again. Lush lashes, courtesy of a few coats of mascara, blinked seductively. “Maybe we can get together again tonight?”

“Sorry, Angelique,” Ryder gently extracted himself from the woman’s hold, “I already have plans.”

Icy blue eyes turned on Georgia with a look that loudly proclaimed disbelief that Ryder was turning her down in favor of Georgia. It reminded her so much of the stares she would get back home when people first found out that she was Lynn and Faye’s sister. Why had she thought moving would change anything?

“Don’t worry, I’m just using his muscle. You can have the rest of him later.”

The shocked look on Ryder’s face was comical, and she found herself grinning widely at Silas’s humorous snort. “I’ll take that drink now, please.”

Silas offered his arm in a courtly manner reminiscent of the gentleman from the regency era. Hooking her hand through his elbow, she followed him to the large cooler opposite the register. Behind her, Ryder muttered, “I’ll get the paint,” while Angelique—of course, she’d have a name like that—pleaded with him to ‘call her later.’

“She certainly is beautiful,” Georgia said as the door closed behind the blond woman.

“She’s an airhead,” Silas muttered disapprovingly, handing her a cold drink. “She thinks because she’s the mayor’s daughter, she can just traipse all over town and do whatever she wants.”

“Where does she work?”

“Work?” Silas snorted again, lowering his voice as he spied Ryder coming toward them, paint in hand. “Calls herself a decorator.” He popped the top on his own can of soda. “The only job she’s ever had was decorating City Hall, and we’re still paying for that disaster.”

“How does she…”

“Lives off daddy right now.” He nodded toward Ryder. “But she’s hoping to land a rich man so she can continue to dabble at nothing.”