Country Brides Read Free

to the refrigerator and took out a brightly colored ceramic pitcher.
    â€œIced tea?” he asked.
    â€œPlease.” Her throat felt parched. She had to swallow several times before she could make her call.
    As she spoke on the phone, Clay took two tall glasses from a cupboard and half filled them with ice cubes. He poured in the tea, then added thin slices of lemon.
    Rorie finished her conversation and walked over to the table. Sitting opposite Clay, she reached for the drink he’d prepared. “That was my hotel in Seattle. They won’t be able to hold the room past six.”
    â€œI’m sure there’ll be space in another,” he said confidently.
    Rorie nodded, although she thought that was unlikely. She was on her way to a writers’ conference, one for which she’d paid a hefty fee, and she hated to miss one minute of it. Every hotel in the city was said to be filled.
    â€œI’ll call the garage in Nightingale for you,” Clay offered.
    â€œIs that close by?”
    â€œAbout five miles down the road.”
    Rorie was relieved. She’d never heard of Nightingale and was grateful to learn it had a garage. After all, the place was barely large enough to rate a mention on the road map.
    â€œOld Joe’s been working on cars most of his life. He’ll do a good job for you.”
    Rorie nodded again, not knowing how else to respond.
    Clay quickly strode to the phone, punched out the number and talked for a few minutes. He was frowning when he replaced the receiver. Rorie wanted to question him, but before she could, he grabbed an impossibly thin phone book and dialed a second number. His frown was deeper by the time he’d completed the call.
    â€œI’ve got more bad news for you.”
    â€œOh?” Rorie’s heart had planted itself somewhere between her chest and her throat. She didn’t like the way Clay was frowning, or the concern she heard in his voice. “What’s wrong now?”
    â€œOld Joe’s gone fishing and isn’t expected back this month. The mechanic in Riversdale, which is about sixty miles south of here, says that if it is your pump it’ll take at least four days to ship a replacement.”

Two
    â€œF our days!” Rorie felt the color drain from her face. “But that’s impossible! I can’t possibly wait that long.”
    â€œSeems to me,” Clay said in his smooth drawl, “you don’t have much choice. George tells me he could have the water pump within a day if you weren’t driving a foreign job.”
    â€œSurely there’s someone else I could call.”
    Clay seemed to mull that over; then he shrugged. “Go ahead and give it a try if you like, but it isn’t going to do you any good. If the shop in Riversdale can’t get the part until Saturday, what makes you think someone else can do it any faster?”
    Clay’s calm acceptance of the situation infuriated Rorie. If she stayed here four days, in the middle of nowhere, she’d completely miss the writers’ conference, which she’d been planning to attend for months. She’d scheduled her entire vacation around it. She’d made arrangements to travel to Victoria on British Columbia’s Vancouver Island after the conference and on the way home take a leisurely trip down the coast.
    Clay handed her the phone book, and feeling defeated Rorie thumbed through the brief yellow pages until she came to the section headed Automobile Repair. Only a handful were listed and none of them promised quick service, she noted.
    â€œYes, well,” she muttered, expelling her breath, “there doesn’t seem to be any other option.” Discouraged, she set the directory back on the counter. “You and your brother have been most helpful and I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. Now if you could recommend a hotel in…what was the name of the town