Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [208]
An early riser by nature, Trey was up and out the door just after dawn, heading for the hole-in-the-wall doughnut shop across the street from the hotel. The hotel served a decent cup of coffee, but there was no way he was going to pay a buck fifty for a two-bit cup of coffee. The doughnut shop was more to his liking, although he couldn’t say that anyone had been all that friendly. He’d been coming in for coffee and a doughnut every morning since he’d arrived, and no one had said much of anything to him.
The same people were there every morning, too. Some businessman who drank his coffee and shared his company with the financial section of the newspaper. A lady who came in wearing tennis shoes and walked out in high heels.
Trey sat at the counter, sipping his coffee and watching the short-order cook, a rotund fellow with a prickly disposition, fry an order of hash browns. A waitress who looked to be in her forties bustled around refilling coffee.
Actually, Trey realized, he wasn’t in the mood for company this morning. He had some heavy-duty thinking to do.
Twice he’d asked Jenny to leave New York and come back to Montana with him. Twice she’d told him no. The time had come for him to play his trump card, give her some incentive to return to Custer.
He planned to ask her to be his wife.
Generally when a man proposed to a woman he was fairly confident of her response. Trey figured his chances with Jenny were less than fifty-fifty. Although he’d worked hard to build up his herd, he didn’t have a whole lot in the way of material wealth to offer her. A few hundred head of cattle, a run-down house that badly needed a woman’s touch. And a heart so full of love that he nearly burst wide open every time he thought of Jenny and himself raising a family together.
Trey was a realist, and he was well aware that he couldn’t compete with the bright lights of Broadway. He didn’t have any diamond ring to offer her, either. Not yet.
The fact was, he hadn’t thought about asking Jenny to marry him until after they’d kissed that first time. He’d always dreamed it would be like that with them, but the reality had knocked him for a loop. Jenny’s kisses gave him hope that she might harbor some tenderness for him.
Never having proposed to a woman before, Trey had no idea how to go about it. Did a man of the nineties get down on one knee? Should he remove his hat and place it over his heart? None of those things sounded right to him. But since he was asking Jenny the most important question of his life, he didn’t figure he should do it without showing some semblance of respect.
On impulse, Trey slipped off the stool and looked around the doughnut shop. The place held the same five or six people who frequented the place every morning.
“Can I have your attention, please,” he said in a loud voice.
The businessman lowered the newspaper. The cook turned around, the spatula raised in one hand.
“My name’s Trey LaRue,” he said. “I’ve been having coffee here every morning since I arrived in this city, and it seems time I introduced myself. I take it you folks all know each other.”
The five other customers stared back blankly.
“You don’t know each other?”
“No.” It was the woman with one high heel and one tennis shoe.
“Well then, don’t you think it’s time you introduced yourselves to one another? I’m Trey, and I’m visiting from Montana.”
“Hello, Trey,” the waitress responded. “I’m Trixie.”
“I’m Bob, and I’m in advertising.”
“I’m Mary Lou, and I’m an assistant editor at a publishing house.” She waved one shoe in greeting.
The others went around the compact space and introduced themselves and told what they did for a living. Trey acknowledged each one with a brisk nod.
“What brings you to New York?” The question came from the cook, whose name was Steve.
“I came to ask a special woman to be my wife.”
“Has she agreed?” This came from his editor friend.