A Family Kind of Wedding Read Free Page B

things,” Katie teased. When Tiffany eyed her skeptically, she added, “All good. All very good.”
    They toured the second story with its three bedrooms and bath. The rooms were compact, with high ceilings and tall windows. The master bedroom, Katie noticed, had a view of the carriage house where Luke Gates had taken up residence. She thought of the rangy Texan—a sexy, rawboned cowboy with a slow-growing smile and a quiet manner. But beneath his easygoing exterior she sensed there was a deeper person, a man who had more than his share of secrets. Or maybe her reporter instincts were working overtime. Everyone accused her of searching out mysteries, stories and scoops where there were none. Nonetheless, she stared through the glass at the carriage house and said, “Tell me about Luke Gates.”
    â€œNot much to tell,” Tiffany admitted. “But he’s the perfect tenant. Quiet. Clean. Keeps to himself. Pays on time.”
    â€œHe’s from Texas, right?” Katie asked, spying the bridesmaid’s dress for Bliss’s wedding hanging from a hook on the back of Tiffany’s closet door. Draped in plastic, it was a blue gown identical to the one Katie was to wear.
    â€œSomewhere around El Paso, I think, although it seems to me he mentioned something about spending some time working at a ranch near Dallas. But I really can’t remember. As I said, he doesn’t say much.” She slid an interested glance in Katie’s direction. “Why?”
    â€œJust curious.” The truth of the matter was that Luke was the most interesting man to show up in Bittersweet in years. Not that it mattered.
    Tiffany raised one dark brow. “Good-looking, isn’t he?”
    Katie lifted a shoulder. “Only if you like the cocksure, I-don’t-give-a-damn cowboy type.”
    Tiffany laughed. “Don’t we all?” she said in a whisper, as if she expected J.D. to hear her.
    Katie didn’t answer, only grinned as they left Tiffany’s room, walked down the short, carpeted hallway and stopped at a six-paneled door with a large Keep Out sign swinging from the knob.
    â€œYeah, right.” With a wink at Katie, Tiffany gave the door a sharp rap with her knuckles, then twisted the knob and walked into what could only be described as a “healthy mess”—just the kind Katie’s own boy loved. Cards, marbles, shoes and clothing were strewn over the floor, a bookcase was crammed with video games, books, baseball cards, tennis racquets and empty soda cans. Posters of rock stars and baseball greats decorated the walls, and the bed was a disaster, the edges of the mattress visible beneath rumpled sheets and a cover that was draped half on the floor. In the middle of it all, Josh and Stephen were thumbing through a sports magazine while Christina rummaged through the closet. In Katie’s estimation this was a ten-year-old boy’s idea of heaven. “We have a deal,” Tiffany explained. “Every Saturday morning—which is coming up in a few days, Stephen—he cleans this up, changes his sheets and puts everything away to my satisfaction. Then he can go out with his friends, and I don’t bug him until the next Saturday.”
    â€œAwesome,” Josh said, showing off his preteen vocabulary as if he knew the meaning of straightening up.
    â€œIf you guys need any snacks, I bought some chips and cookies this morning.”
    â€œCool,” Josh said, and the boys, with Christina hurrying after them, scrambled out of the room.
    â€œI quit fighting this mess because I had bigger problems with Stephen,” Tiffany admitted, and Katie remembered the boy’s run-in with the police. Stephen had been questioned about Isaac Wells’s disappearance because he’d been hired by the reclusive farmer to do odd jobs and had, at one time, stolen the keys to Isaac’s classic car collection.
    â€œHow’s Stephen