The Sheriff's Mail-Order Bride (The Watson Brothers #2)(5)
Red pen caught her attention. In the corner of the front page, someone had drawn a heart with an arrow through it. Her name was inked inside the heart. So she did have the right place, the right person. That was good news at least. But what troubled her the most was the absence of Rory’s name along with hers. It would seem she was going to have to work harder than she thought to win this man over.
The dripping grated on her nerves, distracting her from the childish doodling and she reached over to turn the tap off properly, only to find that it must have a worn washer and water continued to drip into the sink.
“I could fix that—if I had a washer, that is.” The overhead cupboards held a mixed array of dishes that didn’t match. She reached for a cup, checked that it was clean, and put it under the dripping tap. “Waste not, want not.” The whole kitchen needed a good scrubbing down. It was a pity she didn’t have any ammonia in her car. She’d bleach every single surface. Typical bachelor’s home. Only the bare basics and none too clean.
On the counter, a bucket of cleaning goods, scouring pads, and rags stood ready for use as if someone had decided today would be a great day for cleaning but thought better of it and walked off without putting it away. She looked for the fridge but could only find the dirty mark on the floor where it had once been. Maybe he was in the process of buying a new one. She could always hope.
The house was certainly old and in bad repair but still it didn’t seem to be the end of the world. What they’d left behind was probably worse. She lifted her head and looked at the ceiling. At least there were no water marks to show her it leaked like their previous home did every time it rained. Thank goodness for small mercies.
“Okay, almost done with the tour. What’s this room then?” Gina pushed open a small bi-fold door and stepped into a bathroom. The same avocado green had been used in there as well. “Fashion statement, not.” Dirty towels were heaped on the floor in the corner of the room, musty with mold marks. They’d obviously been there for a long time. This man was going to need to learn a thing or two about cleaning up after himself. Gina didn’t mind working hard but there was no need for laziness. Rory was an adult after all.
She shuddered when she spotted the dirty ring around the bath and the rusty stain from another dripping tap. You would have thought he’d have fixed the washers ages ago. How hard could it be?
Chapter Two
Rory looked at his watch. If Gina had her timing right, she would be at the ranch about now. He’d thought about getting her to meet him here in town and decided the gossip mill would have a field day. It was bad enough that he already caused a stir by coming back to the place of his birth without the wife the locals knew he’d left with. Telling the tale of her death was hard but a necessary conversation. The sympathy had been more than he wanted, and being in the position he was—the new deputy sheriff—it was impossible to be rude and brush their concerns for his feelings away. They were only trying to be kind after all.
The last thing he needed was for the locals to find out he’d decided to follow in his brother’s footsteps and advertise for a wife rather than the old-fashioned way of picking her using emotions and calculations and the dating process. Rory didn’t have the heart to date girl after girl to find one who would appeal to him long after the heat of passion faded. Someone with family commitments and values the same as his was more important than that initial shot of lust that could quickly be snuffed out for any number of reasons. Taking a list of his wants and needs on a date and getting her to fill in a questionnaire didn’t seem the right thing to do either, but this way it all slotted together without the embarrassment of doing it face to face.
Gina had sounded perfect for him. A little shy perhaps, in desperate need of a change of pace and scenery. She didn’t subscribe to the night clubs and restaurant scene, preferring to cook at home and create their own unique memories. Or so she’d said. Everything she filled in was in accordance with what he wanted for the rest of his life. Family and home were what he missed more than anything and he’d do whatever it took to get that back again.
To test out her commitment, Rory had told her to meet him at the ranch. Her reaction to the old run down place would give him a good indication of whether or not she was telling him the truth. If she turned her nose up and ran, so be it. He’d admit he’d made a mistake and would have to look again. No loss except perhaps time and dreams. He had hoped to finish cleaning up a bit more but work had gotten in the way. The last week had been double shifts with no chance of time to himself. Never mind. She’d either like it or hate it. The garbage would hardly make much difference in the scheme of things.
When Cindy had thought she was pregnant he’d been over the moon. Considering himself to now be on the outer edge of fatherhood age, he hadn’t wanted to wait any longer for his wife to conceive. Gina had expressed her intention of having children too, so that made her an ideal person for a partner. If it all turned out the way he wanted it to.
Rory walked out of the sheriff’s office and climbed into his truck. His pulse started to race and he grinned to himself. He hadn’t felt this way for a long time—keen and excited to spend time with a woman. Hopeful this day would end on a happy note, Rory headed to the ranch he’d bought with the prospect of turning it into a family home.
He whistled as he turned up the road and kept his eye out for her vehicle. Just before he came to the corner before the final rise, he spied a car sitting in the middle of the road and pulled over. He climbed out of his truck and walked up to it, wondering what caused the driver to stop in the middle of the road. There was an empty child’s car seat in the back and the driver’s door hung open, the keys hanging in the ignition. His senses were on high alert as he scoped the area for clues of a scuffle or forced removal.