Dateline Matrimony (Hot off the Press! 3)

“I, uh…” Bud fell silent, looking old and confused.

Riley was getting seriously concerned by his uncle’s behavior. “Maybe we should stop by the hospital and let Dr. Frank take a look at you.”

Bud shook his head. “I’m okay. I want to go home.”

“He needs some rest,” Dan suggested. “It’s only natural that something like this would shake him up.”

“I want to go home,” Bud repeated.

Though he still wasn’t convinced that a visit with Dr. Frank was out of order, Riley conceded to his uncle’s wishes. Tuning out the noise and confusion around them, he led his uncle away from the disturbing scene.

Teresa hesitated outside Riley’s door the next afternoon. She’d just gotten home from work, and the children’s bus wouldn’t bring them home for another hour. She’d never knocked on Riley’s door before—hadn’t had a reason to—but she felt compelled to do so now.

She was beginning to think he wasn’t going to answer when the door abruptly opened. Wearing jeans and a logo T-shirt, his feet bare, Ril

ey looked as though he’d just crawled out of bed. His hair was tousled, his eyelids heavy, and he hadn’t shaved. He certainly wasn’t looking his best. Yet she still had to moisten her suddenly dry lips before she spoke. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, restoring some semblance of his usual casual style. “No, that’s okay. I fell asleep on the couch.”

“I heard about what happened to your uncle’s friend. It was all anyone talked about at the diner today. Some people mentioned that your uncle seemed very shaken. Is he okay? Is there anything either of you need?”

She’d never seen Riley look quite so serious when he answered. “I stayed with him most of the night and part of the day. He couldn’t go back to sleep. He just paced or sat staring at nothing. He wouldn’t eat and he barely responded when I spoke to him. I finally called Dr. Frank and had him prescribe something to help Bud relax a little. I wanted to bring him home with me, but he absolutely refused. He said he wanted to stay in his own home.”

“So you haven’t had much sleep yourself. You should get some rest.” She started to back away.

Riley stopped her. “Wait. Why don’t you come in for a minute? The kids won’t be home for a while, will they?”

“No, but—”

“I’ll make some coffee. I’d like to hear what everyone was saying at the diner today. I’ve been sort of out of the loop.”

“Don’t you want to rest?”

“If I go back to sleep now, I’ll be up all night. So, how about that coffee?”

Maybe it was because he looked so tired and somber that she couldn’t refuse his offer. She stepped inside his apartment, allowing him to close the door behind her.

Chapter Seven

Teresa had never been inside Riley’s half of the duplex, and his decor rather surprised her. She had expected Early Bachelor Pad; instead, she discovered that he leaned toward rustic country with Shaker and primitive accents. She recognized several characteristically heavy Bob Timberlake pieces and a couple of nice antique reproductions. Hunting prints and duck prints hung on the walls. Colorful throws and thick pillows were invitingly arranged on upholstered chairs and sofas. “This is very nice.”

He gave her a weary facsimile of his usual lopsided grin. “You were expecting cinder blocks and two-by-fours?”

“I’m not sure what I expected. But I like what you’ve done.”

“Thanks. Come into the kitchen. I’ll put on the coffee.”

The first word that came to Teresa’s mind when she entered Riley’s kitchen was “efficient.” The appliances were stainless steel, and several timesaving devices were grouped on the spotless countertops. He walked straight to the impressive-looking coffeemaker. “This is quite a change, isn’t it?”

“What is?” she asked, drawing her attention away from his kitchen accessories.

“Me serving you coffee. Have a seat, it’ll be ready in a minute.”

She pulled out a bow-backed chair from the round oak table. The cushions on the chairs matched the curtains at the single window above the sink—a bold plaid that looked neither too masculine nor too feminine. “Did you hire a decorator?”

He answered without pausing in his coffee preparations. “No. I had help from friends when I needed it.”

Girlfriends, she clarified mentally. It was easy enough to imagine any number of single young women who’d have been more than happy to assist Riley with his decorating. Because gossip flowed as freely as the coffee at the Rainbow Café, she knew he’d dated quite a few of the women in town. None of the relationships had led even close to the altar, according to the local tattle mongers, not that a few of those women hadn’t tried their best.