Page 71 of Conveniently Wed
“Fine,” she repeated.
The moment hung tense between them. She thought perhaps he might want to kiss her again. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Why would fighting make him want to do that?
He stomped down the hall and spoke to the tall cowboy standing at the end. She thought his name was John, but she hadn’t learned all the cowboys’ names yet.
The other man nodded, and Edgar returned to her. He tilted his chin down and raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she was satisfied.
She was. She took his arm, saying a quick goodbye to her sister over her shoulder.
Emma didn’t reply.
Fran bit her lip as she followed him down the hall and past the cowboy, down the stairs to the hotel lobby.
She’d intended to stay compliant, try to convince him to give her a chance. And look how quickly she’d gone back to her quarrelsome self.
But she didn’t want to push Emma, not when her sister had seemed slightly stronger after the adventure driving the wagon.
She blinked away thoughts of Emma. Fran should enjoy tonight. It might be her last decent meal in a while.
They descended the staircase and found the hotel restaurant crowded.
“The clerk said all these folks have been delayed by the train,” Edgar murmured. “He promised they could seat us, though.”
But when they were ushered to a table shared with two other folks, he went pale.
Edgar lost his appetite when the waiter seated him and Fran.
Right up next to RuthAnn Hurst and her daughter Melody. Edgar knew them from Bear Creek. RuthAnn had thrown Melody at him over and over again a couple years back. The mama hadn’t accepted that he wasn’t interested in her daughter.
What great companions to have for supper. Sure to make him look even more a fool in front of Fran.
“Good evening,” Fran murmured as she settled into the seat.
He could barely take his eyes off her. Her dark hair shone clean and beautiful under the lamplight. And that green dress looked even better on her than he’d imagined when he’d seen it in the store window.
Mrs. Hurst’s eyes widened when she caught sight of Edgar.
“Evening, Mrs. Hurst. Melody,” he greeted. He could at least start the evening politely.
“Mr. White.” RuthAnn’s greeting was devoid of warmth, and her lips pinched white.
But Melody smiled at him. “Hi, Edgar.”
A tall man joined the two ladies at the table meant for six. He balanced a toddler on his knee. The kid hadn’t had his first birthday yet, judging by the lack of hair and drooly fingers-in-mouth smile.
“My husband, Beau,” Melody introduced. “And Beau Jr.”
Edgar nodded to the man. Well, good for Melody.
“And my wife, Fran.”
He didn’t even stumble over the word.
RuthAnn’s eyes widened, and her lips seemed to pinch even more. Melody’s eyes brightened with curiosity.
Luckily, the waiter interrupted them before RuthAnn could comment.
Fran ordered a potpie and a side of okra. Then she added on dessert. He found himself grinning. He could admire a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat. At the White family dinners, the boisterous group often meant a person had to fend for themselves. Something told him Fran would fit right in with his family.
