THE ONLY RELATIVE

"Give me the ticket," Rose said, blocking Francisca's bedroom door. "I'm getting out of here even if I have to steal a horse and ride all the way to Dallas."

Francisca pulled the covers over her head and nestled deeper into the pillows. "Umph." It was her only response, which Rose expected. Francisca had never been a morning person. It wasn't a trait that ran in the family, especially not at seven o'clock on a Monday morning. Rose had gone to bed early last night in attempt to avoid her niece and she'd been awake since five. Figuring out what to do had taken a long time, especially when Pookie's contented snores kept interrupting her train of thought.

"Don't get up," Rose muttered, crossing the room to her niece's open suitcase on the floor under the window. Within seconds she found her airline ticket, the one with the open return. She was one phone call away from freedom, a long day's travel away from dipping her toes in the frigid Atlantic.

"If you want to marry a cowboy then that's what you can do."

"Aunt Roro? What's the matter?"

Rose clutched her ticket and turned to see her niece struggling to sit up. "Nothing," Rose said, feeling guilty for being such a grouch. It wasn't Francisca's fault that her aunt wanted to jump into bed with Andrew Johnson. That her aunt had jumped into bed with Andrew Johnson. "I'm sorry to wake you."

"You are leaving me?" Francisca managed to keep her eyes open long enough to make her aunt feel another pang of guilt. "I can't get married without you."

"Sure you can," she countered, unwillingly remembering Andrew's words. One of these days you are going to have to let go.

"But you are supposed to be my maid of honor,"

Francisca moaned, looking at the ceiling. "And you are the only relative I've got. What kind of a wedding will it be without family?" She struggled once again to sit up and pushed the hair away from her face.

"Wouldn't you want me at your wedding?"

"Of course I would," Rose said, edging toward the door while her resolve to leave was still strong. "But since I'm not even dating anyone right now I don't think..."

"You were out with Andrew," Francisca interrupted. "All day. And for dinner, too."

"It's his job to chaperone me."

"Ha!"

"Don't snort, Francisca," she said, almost to the door and two steps away from the end of the conversation. "It's not ladylike."

"Neither is making out in a parking lot, Aunt Roro."

When Rose opened her mouth to protest, Francisca put one hand up as if to ward off her words. "Bobby told me. You don't think he believed that silly seat belt explanation, do you?" She grinned. "I'm not the only Marti woman who likes cowboys, am I?"

"Don't be ridiculous." It was the only thing Rose could think of to say before she fled across the hall to the privacy of her room. She sat on her bed and eyed the airline envelope that held her ticket off the ranch and out of Texas. If she thought for a minute that Francisca was really getting married, she'd stay for the wedding, of course. She liked weddings.

Pookie stretched his front paws toward her thigh and yawned, so Rose obediently scratched his ears. "I hear you like cowboys, too," she told him.

"You little traitor."

Pookie tipped over on his back so she could rub his fat belly, which was another morning ritual.

"She's not really getting m," Rose told the dog. "I'm sure it will never happen."

WANTING HER WAS KILLING HIM. No lie. Andrew wondered how much longer he could survive sleepless nights. When he did fall asleep, he dreamed of making love to Rose. The solution, of course, was getting Rose back in his bed. And soon. Andrew poured himself another cup of coffee and watched the sun rise over the main ranch house. He hoped like hell that she was lying awake thinking him.

He sure didn't want to be miserable all by himself.

For the life of him, Andrew couldn't figure out why she was causing so much trouble. The damned woman was determined to act like they'd never met each other before, yet she'd been all heat and softness in the car. Two more minutes and they would have been in the back seat together, which was no way for mature adults to behave, come to think of it.

If it had been dark it would have been possible, though.

The woman wanted him. Maybe just as much as he wanted her. Now that was something.

February wasn't that long ago, and Andrew knew they both remembered exactly what had happened.

And that it was going to happen again.

At the main house kitchen. "I quit." With that statement Mrs Martin untied her apron and folded it into a neat pile on the kitchen counter. "There's no way I'm putting up with this."

Rose grabbed a handful of paper towels. "Please, Mrs Martin, I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Not sure enough for me, thank you." The woman huffed. "There's a roast in the oven for dinner, but you will be wanting to put some potatoes in to bake about an hour before you are ready to eat."

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