made his heart race. She had from the moment he’d met her. Right now, his heart wasn’t racing with anything more than ahealthy desire to roar at his father for being such a manipulative old codger.
But Priscilla wasn’t here—and she wasn’t even available, as she’d pointed out—so Pete sat down and let himself be courted. After all, there were four little babies to think about. And these days, they were heavily on Pete’s mind.
“C OME WITH ME , Cricket,” Priscilla said as she packed an overnight bag while Cricket sat on her bed and watched.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing the Morgans again, and I could use a weekend away.” Cricket winked at Priscilla. “Besides, I don’t mind seeing how you’re going to present this plan to Pete.”
“I wouldn’t go if Laura and Suzy hadn’t invited me out for the party.” Priscilla finished packing her suitcase. “They wanted you to come along, if you could.”
“Laura and Suzy invited me, too?”
Priscilla nodded and closed the case. “Suzy’s exact words were ‘You might want to come out. Josiah’s having a matchmaking party. Bring Cricket for backup.’”
Cricket smiled. “An old-fashioned matchmaking party. Josiah’s fun, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know,” Priscilla said honestly. “I’m not the woman for Pete, I know that. Still, I think about him all the time.” She shrugged. “I’ve gone over itso many times in my head that just when I’m proud of myself for being practical, I feel dumb for possibly passing up the one man I feel something for.”
“Wow, that’s a dilemma,” Cricket said. “I wish I had it.”
Priscilla looked at her friend. “You have a dilemma and its name is Jack, which is the real reason you’re coming along with me.”
“Not true,” Cricket said airily. “The chance of him ever showing up at the ranch is zero. Plus, to be honest, it’s best if I don’t entertain that particular dead end.”
“True,” Priscilla said. “The same goes for me.”
“Yet a matchmaking party sounds kind of fun,” Cricket said with a giggle. “I hope you’re the guest of honor.”
Priscilla smiled. “Sometimes I almost do feel part of the family.”
Chapter Eight
Pete was exhausted by nine o’clock. Talking to women was a sport in which he might be out of practice, he decided as the women said their goodbyes. He escorted all of them to their cars, thanked them for coming and went inside to grab a beer and have a word with Pop.
Josiah grinned at him when he walked in the door. “Fun stuff, eh?”
“Not so much. Please don’t ever do that again on my behalf.” He flung himself onto the sofa.
“Didn’t you have fun?”
“I did. But I’d have had just as much fun watching TV.”
Pop laughed. “Methinks you doth protest too much. But that’s okay.”
Pete shook his head, knowing his father wouldn’t be deterred easily from his path. “I didn’t fail to notice that all those women had sterling occupations for adoption applications. Nurse, pediatrician, et cetera, et cetera. Although the model threw me.”
“Ah, well. A man’s gotta have something really glamorous to look at every once in a while. She sort of reminded me of your mother with all that dark-eyed beauty.”
Pete sat up. “Pop, why don’t you call Mom? All you ever do is talk about her.”
“Why don’t you call her? She’s your mother.”
Pete blinked. Rubbed his face, scratched his head, stared at his father. “She left. Figured she didn’t want to hear from us.”
Josiah nodded. “Well, don’t act like I’ve been keeping you from something you want to do.”
“I never said you were.” Pete frowned, trying to remember why, if it was as easy as picking up a phone, he’d never spoken to his mother. “Did we have a telephone when we were growing up?”
“Well, we did, sort of,” Pop said. “There wasn’t a phone for years, of course, because the poles didn’t get put in out this way for a long time.