A Cowboy's Woman by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page A

furniture for the ranch house.”
    Greta understood why he wanted to combine the three activities. There were no furniture stores in Laramie. He could order a big-ticket item like a pressure cleaner from the local hardware store, but he’d have to wait to have it shipped. In San Angelo, he could buy a pressure cleaner, even some furniture, and possibly take both home with him the same day.
    Shane looked at Greta steadily as she handed him a steaming mug. “I thought you might like to go with me and pick out the bare essentials.”
    Meaning what? Greta wondered. A bed? She arched a brow, not sure whether she was surprised or pleased by his persistence, just knowing she was surprised. “Today?”
    Shane leaned negligently against the long, stainless steel counter and shrugged his broad shoulders affably. Like her, he was keeping up an oh-so-casual demeanor. “We’ve gotta have somewhere to sleep tonight—unless you want to camp out on the floor.”
    Greta didn’t even want to think about sleeping with him again. Last night and this morning had been disturbing enough, throwing her senses into a turmoil she’d be weeks, maybe even months, recovering from.

    â€œI could have you back here around lunchtime. Maybe a little later,” Shane promised.
    â€œTrust me on this. You won’t be happy with what he gets unless you have a say in it, honey,” Bart said as Greta handed him his coffee.
    That would have been true if she actually planned on living there for more than a week or so, but since she didn’t, Greta didn’t really feel she had any right to say anything about what kind of furniture Shane wanted. Greta stirred cream and sugar into her coffee. “I’m sure whatever Shane picks out will be fine.”
    â€œYou don’t want to go with me, then?” Shane asked, studying the coffeemaker with more than necessary care.
    Greta shook her head. To her dismay both men looked disappointed.
    â€œWell, I better get a move on then,” Shane drained the rest of his coffee in one gulp and set his mug back on the counter.
    â€œAren’t you going to stay and have some breakfast?” Greta asked, thinking of the array of baked goods he’d brought.
    Shane shook his head. “I’ll grab something on the road. See you tonight.”
    Greta struggled between guilt and relief. She continued to eye him coolly. “What time?”
    Shane shrugged, remote now. “I don’t know. Late afternoon, maybe suppertime.”
    Shane said goodbye to Bart, gave Greta a husbandly kiss on the cheek and hugged her, then headed out the door.
    â€œYou should have gone with him, honey,” Bart said as soon as Shane had left.
    Greta knew she’d hurt Shane, brushing him off that way. Even if she was only doing what she was supposed
to do—which was prove to everyone once and for all that she and Shane were not suited for each other. Tearing her eyes from Shane’s handsome shoulders and sexy stride, Greta turned back to Bart. “Dad—”
    â€œHe’s trying to make a home for the two of you. He deserves your help.”
    He deserved something all right, for putting me on the spot like that. “And I’ll do what I can,” Greta promised. Short of actually being a wife. Or sleeping in the same bed with him again. Or having hot, wild, sex with him. Or falling head over heels in love with him.
    Bart regarded her with fatherly concern. “Look, honey, I wouldn’t have advised you to enter into this hasty marriage, but now that you have, you owe it to Shane to be the best wife you can possibly be.”
    Â 
    â€œYOUR FATHER TOLD ME what happened,” Tillie said a scant half hour later.
    Greta directed the two men carrying the plantation shutters into the dance hall to stack them beneath the windows where they were going to be put up. Another two workers were busy installing the hardware that would hold the window