What are you doing?”
Shay turned from the kitchen sink where she was washing tomatoes for their dinner salad.
Frowning in the doorway, Travis removed his hat and set down a guitar case. His demanding tone of voice set her on edge.
“Not exactly the ‘Honey, I’m home’ I expected. What’s that thing?”
“I picked up guitar.”
Of course he did. She wondered if he’d sit around picking the thing when there was work to be done, the way Garrett had. Wondered if he’d someday lose everyone he loved to music and illusions of stardom.
“You’re supposed to be in bed.”
Shay adjusted her balance on her new knee walker. “He said to stay off the foot, and I’m off.”
Abigail had brought the walker over along with a Crock-Pot full of chicken. Bless the woman.
“Shay, you need your rest.”
“We may be stuck together, McCoy, but it’s my foot, and I’ll do as I please.” She resumed chopping the tomato. “Where’s Olivia?”
“Washing up. Speaking of which . . .” He held out his hands. A layer of dirt caked his knees, and his hair needed a good washing.
Olivia had only a small bathtub. The only shower in the house was in her master bath. Perfect.
If her sigh sounded put-upon, so be it. “Use mine.”
“Don’t want to be a bother.”
“Olivia has a tub, so unless you want to soak in your own filth every night, my shower it is.”
He grabbed his duffel and left the room. Moments later she heard her shower kick on. He was even now dropping his clothes onto her tile, stepping under the spray of her shower. This was not good. So not good. How was she going to get through 149 more nights like this?
It would be easier when she could get around again. At least then she wouldn’t be trapped. She could go out at night, go over to Abigail’s or Aunt Lucy’s. Join the bridge club. Play Bingo on Thursdays. She banged her head against the cabinet.
“Where’s Travis?”
Shay turned. “You mean Mr. McCoy?”
Olivia ran her fingers through her wet hair. “He said I could call him Travis.”
Fine. She supposed there was no reason for formality when they were living together like this. “Can you set the table?”
“Sure.”
Her daughter went to work. It had been ages since that table was set for three. When she’d told Olivia the night before about the accidental wedding and their plan, her daughter had surprised her. She’d expected her to be put out. Instead, the girl thought the whole thing was very romantic. Romantic!
Shay couldn’t think of a less fitting word. She quickly set Olivia straight, but that hadn’t dimmed the girl’s enthusiasm. Travis had made quite an impression on her daughter, and Shay didn’t like it one bit.
What if Olivia became dependent on him? Started thinking of him as a father figure? It wasn’t healthy, that’s all there was to it. Yet what choice did she have? It was this or lose the ranch.
She was setting out the ketchup when Travis emerged, damp and musky smelling from his shower, looking too broad and masculine in their little house.
She pulled her eyes away. “Supper’s ready.”
They sat at the square pine table, Travis taking the seat Garrett used to occupy as if he somehow knew it was the head of household’s rightful place. If it bothered Olivia, Shay couldn’t tell.
“Travis can pray,” Olivia said, linking her hand with Shay’s automatically.
Travis extended his hand to her. “Glad to.”
She gave him a look—this means nothing—as she put her hand in his. His hand engulfed hers. It was warm and slightly damp from his shower. The calluses of his palm were softened from the water, and she was suddenly conscious of her own rough palms. Not the silky smooth skin he was undoubtedly used to on the women he courted.
He’s not courting you, Shay.
No, he was only married to her, for pity’s sake.
“Dear Lord in heaven,” he began, “we thank You for this day and for Your bountiful blessings. We thank You for this fine meal and for the opportunity to renew old friendships.”
Old friendships? Shay clenched her teeth.
“Please be with us now and direct our steps, that all we do will bring glory to Your name. We ask this in Your name. Amen.”
Shay pulled her hand, and Travis caught her rubbing it down her leg. Let him make of that what he liked. She wanted him under no illusions that they were picking up where they’d left off. Old friendships. Regardless of his intentions, she had a high, thick wall in place, and he wasn’t welcome on her side.
Her foot was screaming now. She’d been upright for too long and had forgotten her last dose of meds. And she still needed to address her dire financial situation with Travis. It was shaping up to be a lovely evening.
She poured ketchup on her plate and stabbed a piece of Abigail’s chicken.
“You still eat ketchup on everything,” Travis said.
“Not everything.”
“Just meat,” Olivia added. “It’s gross when she puts it on turkey. Ick!”
Shay made a face at her daughter.
The meal hit the spot, and by the time Shay finished, she was bone weary. Travis and Olivia had kept up the conversation, but supper was winding down. It wasn’t even dark yet, and she longed to turn in. But she had to get her bills paid, especially the mortgage.
“Olivia, do the dishes, please?” she asked.
Her daughter stacked the plates and carried them to the sink with Travis’s help.
Shay stood, balancing on the knee walker. A pain shot through her foot all the way to her knee. Where had she put her meds?
Travis was there before she released the brake.
“One or two?” He opened the bottle and shook some out.
“Two.”
“Thanks,” she said after she downed the pills.
Bed. That’s all she wanted. But she might not get another chance to talk to him without Olivia nearby. It was humiliating enough to admit her financial crisis without her daughter knowing too.
“Travis, we need to talk.”
“Let’s get you settled first.”
She followed him to her room, where he pulled back the bedding. “I can settle myself.”
“No doubt.” He set the pill bottle and water on her table as she lowered her body onto the bed and propped her foot.
She stifled a yawn. “We need to talk about money.”
“Tomorrow.”
If only it could wait. But the bank was starting foreclosure proceedings as they spoke.
She choked back her pride. “I need to pay the mortgage soon.” Like three months ago. “I’m . . . a little behind.”
Travis pulled the covers over her. She pushed them back down.
“Relax. I took care of it this afternoon. Went into the bank—you’re all paid up. The electric’s paid up too. I set up a joint account, and if you tell me where your bills are, I’ll get those in the mail tomorrow.”
“I can pay my own bills.” Okay, so she couldn’t really pay her own bills, but she wasn’t so useless she couldn’t sit down with a checkbook and calculator. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
He didn’t deserve her ire. She should be more grateful. It just rankled to need his money. She’d never get out of this with her dignity intact.
He smiled just a little. “Don’t know anyone less helpless than you, Shay.”
She had mixed feelings about the joint account. What if she got used to this? When he was gone, the money would go too.
“You don’t need to open your wallet like that.”
“We’re married, after all.”
“Well, it’s bound to be all over town by now, what with you setting up bank accounts.”
His grin broadened. “Fine by me. Can’t wait to show off my new bride this weekend.”
She nearly groaned. Was it just her, or did her foot seem suddenly too wrecked to even think about leaving the house?
He flipped off the lamp. “Sleep tight.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Like she was going to do any sleeping at all with him all stretched out on her couch a mere ten feet away.