Thanksgiving Groom Read Online Free Page B

want to find her dream man?
    She thought it started for most girls when they turned five and had their first kindergarten crush. It was downhill from there. Every boy—and then man—that looked at them had the possibility of being “the one” they would marry.
    She could have told him he had nothing to worry about. That would have been the truth. He was definitely not her type. He was the type her father wanted for her. He was a successful lawyer with connections and enough money that Herman Lear wouldn’t have to worry that he was after the Lear fortune.
    For once she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want Tucker Lawson to know how she felt about her life, or how much she wanted a new one.
    She was reinventing Penelope Lear. That was no one’s business but her own.
    â€œI’ll see if we have anything in the first aid kit.” Tucker stood in the doorway, his face in shadows.
    â€œOkay.” She answered, still lost in her thoughts about her life and what she would have wanted it to be.
    And he left her alone in a room lit with just a lantern, candles on the mantel and the firelight.
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    Tucker knew he should take her back to Treasure Creek at first light. If she could have walked, it would have been doable. But with her injury, they couldn’t walk it in a day.
    They’d have to give her ankle time to heal. And then he’d have to take her back to civilization. He’d have togo as well. And he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready to go back.
    To have it be Penelope Lear who forced him back, that made him a little itchy around the collar.
    Just this past May, Tucker had said a polite “no thank you” to that offer. He had heard that Herman Lear had approached several other men, most of whom lived in Anchorage and were well connected. One of them had probably taken the offer, and that had sent her running to Treasure Creek.
    A little bit of pity scolded him for being too harsh with her. No one should be married off that way, as if she were a stolen painting up for bid on the black market. There was no dignity in that kind of bartering.
    He lifted the candle he’d taken from the parlor and walked down the dark hall in the direction of the kitchen. She was probably hungry as well as thirsty. From the aromas drifting down the hall, a combination of wood smoke and soup, he thought that Wilma Johnson had thought the same thing.
    The kitchen was lit with lanterns and candles. Mr. Johnson, Clark was his first name, sat at the small table, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at Tucker.
    â€œFound a stray?”
    Tucker nodded. “Yeah, I guess I did. Her ankle is swollen and bruised. I don’t think it’s broken.”
    â€œI have an Ace Bandage and we still have pain relievers.” Wilma dished soup into a bowl. “I hope she doesn’t mind something as simple as vegetable soup.”
    â€œShe’d better not.” Tucker grabbed the first aid kit. “She’d best be grateful.”
    â€œShe’s been nothing but polite, Tucker.” Wilma Johnson patted his arm. “I’ll take her the soup and tea. You have something to eat. It might take the snarl out of you some.”
    He had to smile. “Yeah, it might. More soup, Clark?”
    Clark Johnson shook his head. “I’m done. You go ahead and eat. She did a bang-up job on it.”
    Tucker dished out a bowl of soup and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the counter. He took both and sat down across from Clark. “I guess you know who she is?”
    â€œThat I do.” Clark looked up from his book, lantern light flickering between the two of them. “We’ll have to find a way to get her back to Treasure Creek. They’ll be looking for her. And besides that, a young woman like Penelope Lear can’t make it out here, living the way we’ve been