Matched Online: Anthology Bks 1-4 (Contemporary Romance)

by Lacy Williams, Julie Jarnagin, Robin Patchen

  When each of them had their plates loaded, Slater pulled his hat off and rested it on his knee. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and placed both hands, palms up, on the table. Bonnie followed suit, resting her right hand on the table and taking hold of Morgan’s with her left.

  Morgan sat motionless for a moment, staring at Slater’s waiting hand, trying to come up with some sensible way to avoid holding it.

  He didn’t let her think for long, though, and he reached over and took her hand the same way his mother had. “I don’t have cooties, I promise.”

  “Can’t blame her for thinking so.” Bonnie giggled and bowed her head for prayer. Morgan noticed that Slater and Bonnie had not grasped each other’s hands, and thought it odd. She glanced at Slater, trying her best to send him a glare without his mom knowing it. He just flashed her a sly grin and gave her fingers a squeeze before bowing his head.

  Before he voiced the prayer, Slater subtly slid his free hand toward the empty chair to his left and gently closed his fist as though he were clasping an unseen hand. Bonnie did the same, completing their little circle with an invisible link. Morgan could only assume the empty place at the table had belonged to Slater’s father, and the poignancy of the simple gesture struck her. What a sweet way to remember their loved one. And the fact that they’d waited until they thought she wasn’t looking spoke volumes. It was the most authentic thing she’d ever witnessed from Slater Hensley.

  “Dear Lord,” Slater prayed. “Thank you for keeping us safe during the storm, and thank you for this delicious meal. Be with all our friends and neighbors and keep them warm tonight, and please God, help this mess to thaw by tomorrow, so Morgan here can get out of Ross before she implodes. Amen.”

  Bonnie looked up and swatted his hand, but he looked pretty pleased with himself. Leave it to Slater to make a joke during a prayer for dinner. Morgan didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her grin, so she plunged her fork into her mashed potatoes and stuffed a bite into her mouth.

  “So you graduated from Ross High?” Bonnie asked Morgan. “I can’t believe our paths never crossed. Ross is so tightly-knit, I thought I knew everyone, especially in Slater’s class.”

  Morgan flicked a glance in Slater’s direction. “We ran in different circles.”

  One of his brows notched upward, but that was his only response.

  “So what became of you after high school?” Bonnie asked. “And how did you end up back here? Is your family still around?”

  Morgan had told few people the details of her story, but there was something about Bonnie that made her feel safe enough to share it. “I grew up in Ross. My mom was single and she struggled a lot. She was an addict. Is an addict,” she corrected. Morgan had given up hope that her mom would ever get clean. “After I graduated, she moved down to Austin with a guy she was seeing. I don’t hear much from her.”

  Tenderly, Bonnie laid a hand on Morgan’s arm. Empathy brimmed in her eyes. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. That must be terribly difficult.”

  Coming from anyone else, Morgan would’ve construed the response as pity, but it didn’t feel that way coming from Bonnie. Morgan welcomed the woman’s motherly love and allowed it to wash over her. “It’s okay. I’ve had a long time to learn to cope with it.”

  “Still, you shouldn’t have to,” Bonnie said.

  “Is that why you couldn’t wait to leave Ross?” Slater asked, his voice gentle.

  “Partly.” Morgan avoided his eyes. For some reason, she didn’t want to see the compassion she knew she’d find there. “I never fit in here, so I couldn’t wait to get away. Going to art school was going to be my ticket out, but…” She let the words hang in the air.

  Slater’s prank had ruined all that.

  In her periphery, she saw his chin drop, and Bonnie’s questioning gaze bounced from Morgan to Slater and back again. Maybe Morgan should spare Bonnie the details of what her son had done.

  Slater laid his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “But I messed that up.”

  Bonnie’s eyes went wide. “What on earth? How?”

  Morgan focused on creating a small mound out of her remaining mashed potatoes and waited for Slater to defend himself.

  “I pulled a stupid prank on her,” he said.

  Bonnie’s head tilted, and a knowing look filled her eyes. “Lord have mercy, you and your pranks. What did you do?”

  “I ordered some candy that looked like crystal meth and had it shipped to Morgan at the diner where she worked.” He aimed an apologetic look at Morgan, then faced his mother. “See? Stupid.”

  “I’ll say,” Bonnie said. “First of all, where did you even find something like that?”

  “You can find anything on the Internet, Mom.” Slater had been oozing with arrogance over such knowledge ten years ago, but he didn’t look so proud now.

  “Good heavens.” Bonnie shook her head. “But it was just candy? Not that I’m defending him. Believe me, I thought this clown would be the death of me when he was young. Ask me about the rat story sometime. But I don’t understand. How did that ruin your chances of going to art school?”

  “A rep from the Chicago Art Institute was in Oklahoma City that day, and I was supposed to have an interview for a scholarship. But when I opened the package, my boss called the police, and it turned into a huge ordeal. For anyone else, it probably would’ve been nothing, but when you’re the daughter of an addict in a small town, it’s an easy jump for people to believe the worst. I was cleared, but it took several hours, so I missed the interview.” She’d called and written the Art Institute after that, but it hadn’t done any good. When they distributed all their scholarship money, Morgan didn’t get a penny, and without some assistance to offset the sixty-grand-a-year tuition, there was no hope for her to attend. So she moved to Oklahoma City, took the job at the food bank, and life just…happened. Her dream of going to art school slowly faded into someday, and somewhere along the way, her creativity dried up and she stopped painting altogether. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact day her dream had died, but she could undoubtedly identify the moment—and the man—that had sent her spiraling down this path.

  And he was sitting right next to her looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sympathy for him threatened to swirl to life inside Morgan, but she refused to let it. Why should she feel sorry for him? She reached for her glass and took a long sip of tea.

  “Morgan, I’ve never regretted anything more than that.” He leaned toward her, his dark eyes pooling with sincerity. “I’m deeply, genuinely sorry for ruining your plans. I know there’s nothing I can say to make up for that, but I’ve never regretted anything more. I was an idiot.”

  “You got that right,” Bonnie muttered, bringing a bit of levity to the heaviness that had settled over the room. But even though she scolded him, love for her son shone in her eyes.

  “Thanks a lot, Mom. Nice to know I can always count on you.”

  Morgan was thankful Bonnie’s comment had deflected Slater’s attention. She should respond to his apology, but she didn’t know how. Didn’t know if she could offer him forgiveness and truly mean it. A part of her wanted to, but the part where the pain lived—the pain of what he’d done to cause her to miss out on her own life—held strong.

  Still, his reaction to hearing her re-live the prank was vastly different than she would’ve predicted. He hadn’t been the least bit defensive or tried to justify his actions.

  It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did.

  She wasn’t sure how to process that.

  6

  By the time they finished dinner, the dark evening sky had turned to dead-of-night black, and Slater’s heart felt just as gloomy. Hearing Morgan talk about how he’d ruined her plans had nearly done him in. She could’ve elaborated so much further, painted him even more villainous, but for some reason she’d gone easy on him. He was desperate to earn her forgiveness, so why didn’t her kindness make him feel any better? If anythin
g, it made him feel worse.

  Sleet continued to batter the kitchen window and the wind still howled. Morgan and Mom had retreated to the living room while Slater finished the after-dinner clean-up. He slid the last plate into the dishwasher, the ordinary task stirring memories of his dad even though they’d been without him for almost seven years now.

  Dishes had been Dad’s job for as long as Slater’s parents had been married, so practically every night of Slater’s life had been the same—Mom cooking while Slater and Dad pestered her, the three of them eating together, and then Dad doing the dishes while Slater worked on homework or talked about his day. Dad had always been there, his strong, bigger-than-life personality filling the house. Then, when Slater was a junior in college, Dad got sick. Slater left school to come home and fill in wherever he was needed.

  He closed the dishwasher with the toe of his boot—the same way Dad had always done—did a quick countertop wipe-down, and joined Mom and Morgan in the family room.

  The ladies were seated at the game table in the corner, and his mom was shuffling a deck of cards.

  “She bullied you into a card game, huh?” he asked Morgan.

  “She wants to play,” Mom said.

  “Right.” Slater laced the word with sarcasm. “Because who wouldn’t want to play cards with you? It’s so fun to get spanked by a little old lady every single hand.” He aimed a pointed look at Morgan. “No one ever beats her, so don’t get your hopes up. That’s why she likes to play. She’s a card-playing barbarian.”

  Mom flashed an innocent smile and batted her eyelashes. “I can’t help it if I just naturally out-strategize you every time, honey.” She sent Morgan a conspiratorial wink.

  He couldn’t tell from Morgan’s grin whether she really did want to play or if she was just being polite and enduring his mom’s activity directing. Slater took the seat beside Morgan as Mom dealt the cards and explained the rules of her favorite game.

  It took a couple of rounds for Morgan to catch on, but by the end of the first game, she’d surpassed Slater, and she was clearly loving it. Her smile even reached her eyes. He’d never seen that kind of joy on her face before. For the first time, it seemed as though she felt at ease around him, which sent an unexpected surge of pleasure and pride through him.

  Nearly two hours later, Mom was still undefeated, but she laid her cards down and pushed away from the table. “It was fun beating y’all, but I’ve got to hit the hay. Busy day tomorrow, weather permitting.”

  The town Valentine’s Day party was scheduled to be at the Community Center tomorrow evening, and it was the highlight of Mom’s year. Truth be told, it was a highlight for Slater, too. “The weather guy said the storm should move out overnight and be clear by morning,” Slater said. “Shoot, it could be eighty-five degrees by then. This is Oklahoma weather we’re talking about.”

  “I’m counting on it. I’ll leave y’all to it.” Mom leaned over to hug Morgan. “Glad you’re here, darlin’. If you need anything tonight, just let Slater know. He’ll take good care of you.”

  Morgan thanked her, and Mom planted a kiss on top of Slater’s head before strolling out of the living room.

  Slater collected the cards scattered across the table and tapped them into a neat stack. “You’re a quick study. That may be the closest anyone has ever come to beating her.”

  “It was fun. I really like your mom.” Morgan slid the empty card box to him, and he stuffed the deck inside.

  “I don’t think there’s a person on the planet Bonnie Hensley couldn’t win over.”

  “I believe it. She definitely knows how to make a person feel welcomed.”

  Slater stored the cards in the cabinet next to the fireplace, strode casually to the couch, and sat. He wanted Morgan to join him, but he was afraid if he issued a formal invitation, she’d bolt, so he just kept talking. “My dad knew how to welcome people, too. They were quite the dynamic duo.” His gaze went to the mantle and rested on his parents’ wedding photo.

  Morgan wandered over to the framed picture. “So what’s the rat story?”

  Slater chuckled. “When I was seven, I found a rat the size of a loaf of bread out in the field and thought it’d be a good idea to put it in the kitchen cabinet. The chaos and wreckage that ensued when that bad boy fell onto Mom’s shoulder was epic, but the satisfaction was short lived because Dad made me clean up the whole thing by myself.” Slater smiled at the memory. “After I took care of every last drop of spilled food and each tiny piece of Mom’s broken China, Dad hauled me into town and made me spend my own piggy bank money to buy a chocolate cake, which I then served to Mom on a silver tray while she propped her feet up every evening for the next week.”

  Morgan laughed. “Sounds like your dad was a genius.”

  “Smartest man I’ve ever known. He always told me that everybody messes up, but the key to living with no regrets was to make it right when you got it wrong. The rat incident was my first make it right of many. Apparently, I’m a slow learner.”

  Her brows crept northward. “You don’t say.”

  He had to give her points for the well-timed barb.

  Morgan padded to the couch and eased onto the cushion opposite him, folding her legs beneath her like a pretzel. “What happened to your dad?” she asked gently.

  “Pancreatic cancer. He got sick when I was in college. By the time they caught it, there wasn’t much they could do. It was almost seven months to the day from his first doctor’s appointment to his funeral.”

  Her expression was soft with compassion. “I’m sorry. I bet you and your mom miss him terribly.”

  “It gets a little easier with time, but yeah, we do.” It was an ever-present vacancy that Slater had learned to live with, and a stab of acute pain every now and then. Sometimes the ache was expected, like on Father’s Day or his birthday, but sometimes it hit out of nowhere. “While he was sick, Mom displayed more grace and strength than I thought a human could possess. But the week after his funeral, when all the family and friends had gone home and she and I were left, this house felt like a giant cave we couldn’t navigate through. It was just one person too big.” Slater had never shared this with anyone, but the look in Morgan’s eyes spurred him on. “I’ll never forget the first time Mom loaded the dishwasher after he was gone. Not good.” He shook his head at the memory of his mother collapsing on the counter, weeping. “Grief is a strange deal. Sometimes it’s the smallest things that bring the most consuming waves of sorrow. It catches up to you whenever the heck it wants.”

  “So now you do the dishes. To make it easier on your mom.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Slater let her observation slide on by. Helping his mom certainly wasn’t some heroic act that deserved praise.

  Her voice was tender when she asked, “Did you get to finish college?”

  “Nope. Moved home my junior year and never went back.”

  She tilted her head and stared at him for a long moment. “That’s why your football dream didn’t work out, isn’t it? You gave it up to help your family.”

  “Playing ball wasn’t important anymore.”

  “Do you ever miss it?”

  Slater thought for a moment. “Football? No. When I first moved home, it was out of obligation. But after a while—months after Dad died—I realized how much I love being a rancher.” He closed his eyes and pictured the view from the top of the rise in the back pasture. “The land. The livestock. The smell of hay.” When he opened his eyes, Morgan’s gaze was glued to him. He lifted a shoulder and grinned. “Kinda goofy, I guess, but I love all of it. Maybe it helps me keep Dad’s memory alive, or maybe I was just made for it. I don’t know really, but I do know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  The only problem was that life on the ranch could get achingly lonely. Some days, he’d give anything to have a conversation with someone besides his mom, his ranch hands, or the cattle. Eligible women weren’t exactly teeming in Ross, which was the reason he’d signed up for on
line dating.

  Only now, he wished he hadn’t joined that dumb website. He had to tell Morgan he was RancherJack, and the sooner the better, but he dreaded it. What if that one confession was enough to uproot the tiny sapling of trust that was growing between them? He’d finally made it into Morgan’s Friend Zone—or maybe it was just her Civility Zone—but he didn’t want to ruin it either way. Tonight was the best night he’d had in as long as he could remember, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

  Tomorrow. He’d tell her the truth tomorrow.

  7

  Saturday morning, Morgan woke to a delicious scent drifting through the farmhouse. Even though the bed was soft and cozy, sleep had eluded her for most of the night. She’d tossed and turned, thoughts of Slater thrashing about in her head. Last evening, she’d seen a whole other side of him. A side she actually…admired? Could he really be so different than she’d always thought?

  She rolled out of bed and moved to the window, hoping like crazy the storm had cleared so she could go home. When she pulled the curtain back, the grass and trees were coated with ice, and the sky was still murky, but the rain and sleet had stopped. Thank the good Lord.

  Morgan went into the adjoining bathroom to get dressed, but when she reached for her clothes, they were gone. She’d hung them on the wall hook near the tub, she was certain.

  She searched the bathroom and then the bedroom, even though she knew she hadn't left them there. She felt half crazy for a moment. She knew where she’d left them, and they’d disappeared. It was as though she was the target of someone’s joke.

  But not just any someone. Slater. Of course he couldn't pass up an opportunity like having her captive in his house. Actually, on second thought, swiping her clothes was probably just the precursor. He’d have something much grander and more embarrassing in the works. He'd been buttering her up and trying to win her trust for these past few weeks just so he could pull something horrible.

  Morgan stalked out of the guest room and to the kitchen, ready to give Slater what for.