by Duncan Leigh
“Mr. Fargo. I wasn’t expecting you.” Had he forgotten an appointment?
“Well, I came by to deliver some good news.” Without waiting for an invitation, James stepped across the threshold. “We got a solid offer on your house. They want to move in right away. It’s an all-cash offer…”
Much as he didn’t want to throw a wet blanket over James’s enthusiasm, he needed to stop the banker. Bradley shook his head. Two weeks ago, he’d have been thrilled to get the house off his hands. Even a week ago, he might have jumped at the chance to sell. But things had changed. “I’m not sure I want to sell. I was thinking I might just keep the house.”
The lost commission sent disappointment flickering across James Fargo’s face, but the bank president was a consummate professional. It took less than a beat for him to realize the benefits of having a superstar in Mill Town’s back yard. He smiled broadly. “Well, that’s good news.”
“I’m beginning to see how important it is for you to hold onto your roots.”
“Maybe you can talk some sense into your neighbor.” James aimed a finger toward Sarah’s house. “She’s gonna lose her ranch soon if she doesn’t figure out a way to pay her mortgage.”
Bradley frowned. Sarah? Lose her ranch? That didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s waiting for some funding to come in, but she’s way behind on her payments.” James nodded to himself as he spoke. “People leave her their sick or old horses to take care of. They don’t pay their bills, and she gets stuck.”
“Huh.” Of course, Sarah would never consider any alternative, other than continuing to feed and care for them. Her love for animals was one of the things that drew him to her.
“And, uh, her flower business isn’t enough to carry the ranch.”
“Is that right.” Why was this the first he was hearing about all this? He’d been in town now for two weeks, and in all that time, Sarah had never once mentioned a looming financial crisis. And here he’d thought they were friends. Good friends. For one crazy second last night, he’d thought they were even more than that. But he’d been wrong. They weren’t friends at all. Because a true friend would never let the bank take her ranch without at least mentioning her problems to the man she’d once married, the one who had the resources to help her out of her jam. Disappointed by the revelation, he turned away from the door and pressed a hand over the empty spot in his heart.
Sarah kneeled among the flowers in the shade of the big maple tree. Her movements stilted and slow after barely sleeping a wink all night, she snipped the stem of a white rose and trimmed the sharp thorns with a pair of sheers. She laid the finished blossom in her gathering basket.
“Twenty-two,” she whispered. Or was it twenty-three? She’d lost track again and, with an exasperated sigh, counted the long stems for the third time since she’d started. Normally, working with the roses restored her soul and salved her spirit. Today, though, all she saw were the thorns among the flowers. The velvety softness of the petals grated on her skin like fine sandpaper. She longed to escape the cloying sweetness of the blossoms.
Soon, she told herself. As soon as she filled the order for two dozen, she’d deliver them to the florist in town. Then, she’d take one of the horses out for a long, solitary ride. The feel of wind whipping through her hair, the sound of hooves hammering the ground beneath her, the gelding’s powerful muscles bunching and extending as they raced across the open field—surely, that ought to make her feel better.
Sadly, she tsked. It’d take more than a horseback ride to cure what ailed her. After her chat with Adam last night, she’d had a long, heart-to-heart with herself. She didn’t much like what she’d learned. During her senior year in veterinary school, she’d sworn she’d never, ever get involved with a man who couldn’t be faithful to her alone. Not again. And yet, that was exactly what she’d done. She didn’t know when or how, but she had to admit it. She’d fallen head over heels for a man who was engaged to someone else. Which left her no choice. She had to make a clean break with Bradley before things went even one step farther.
“Mornin’.”
Her traitorous heart shifted into high gear at the sound of the familiar voice of the very person she’d vowed to avoid. Sarah froze. Determined to make the smart move, to act on her decision, she refused to let herself so much as glance in Bradley’s direction. Instead, she tossed a vague, “Hey,” over one shoulder while she clung to the next flower stem as if her life depended on the precise way she snipped its thorns.
“Last night was fun.”
Not really. Not when the press of his lips against hers led to a sleepless night. She shrugged.
“I tried to find you when I was leaving but…”
Apparently, Bradley wasn’t going to take her cold shoulder for a hint. She supposed she’d have to answer him. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I had to duck out. I was exhausted, and—and I got so much work to get done.”
“Well, I’ll go get my tools and get to work on the fences.”
She heard the rustle of Bradley’s boots through the grass and knew he’d drop everything to help her out. But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? Though they’d started out with the best of intentions, they’d gotten too close. Now, there was nothing left for her to do but shut the door. “No, you take the day off,” she called while she snipped another blossom.
Bradley moved closer. “Is everything okay?”
She heard the hurt in his voice. Heaven help her, she wanted to run to him, to put her arms around him and tell him everything was fine between them. But it wouldn’t be the truth. Not now that she’d fallen for him. She forced a steadiness she didn’t feel into her voice. “Everything’s fine. I just—I gotta get this done.”
Why can’t he take the hint and just leave?
Instead of heading back to his own house, to a life that would never include her, to the woman he’d promised to marry, Bradley hopped over a row of mature blossoms and stepped closer. “Yeah. I wanted to thank you for looking after my yard and my flowers all these years.”
She rocked back on her heels. No matter what happened between them in the future, Bradley deserved to know that she’d always hold onto her warm feelings for his family. “That’s not a problem. You and your family were great neighbors to us.”
“Well, I—I wanted to pay you for the work that you did. I feel like it’s only fair—”
“No, no.” She should have known the president of Mill Town Bank was up to no good when she’d spotted his car parked in Bradley’s driveway this morning. She pressed her fingers into the dirt. James had no right discussing her personal finances with anyone. Much less her neighbor. Why, she had half a mind to grab her keys, head into town, and give the banker an earful. Maybe she would, too. As soon as she dealt with the mess he’d made of things. Though, if James had just kept his mouth shut for a little while longer, she wouldn’t have to deal with this at all. In a matter of days, Bradley and Catherine would have their wedding and jet off on their honeymoon. And that could have been that. Once they returned to their own lives, she doubted Bradley would ever give her a second thought. But now…
“I know what you’re up to. You been talking to James Fargo?”
When she swung to study Bradley’s face, the guilt in his eyes told her she was on the right track, and James had been talking out of school. She squeezed a handful of soil between her fingers. She could have gone to Bradley weeks ago, asked him for a loan she might never be able to repay. But she’d had too much pride to take advantage of their friendship. Weren’t the gossip rags chock full of stories of movie stars and professional athletes whose friends and families sponged off them? She’d never wanted to be lumped in with those people. Now that Bradley suspected the worst, though, he’d probably insist on bailing her out. That left her with just one option. She’d have to do the one thing she’d sworn she’d never do—she’d h
ave to lie to him. James had left her no choice. She swallowed the bitter pill and took a breath. “You don’t have to worry about me. I got my letter, and my funding came through. So, I’m going to be just fine.”
Later, she couldn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She imagined they’d exchanged the usual pleasantries before Bradley headed back the way he’d come. Whatever they’d said, the blurred image of Bradley’s retreating figure through her tears was the only thing she recalled.
Catherine shuffled the stack of cards that had arrived in response to her wedding invitations. So far, not a single important figure in the movie industry had sent their regrets. She pursed her lips. With so many people willing to fly to Italy to see her walk down the aisle, she’d have to make a few adjustments. She scanned the elaborate chart that had been custom-designed to display seating for three hundred guests. The pearlescent tips of her fingernails flashed as she shifted Bradley’s manager to a table a little farther away from the dais in order to make room for the reporter from People Magazine. There. She smiled. No one would ever know about the seating change.
“Hello!” Dressed to the nines as always, Margaret strode into the room. She marched straight across the open space, stopping just shy of the coffee table. Like a general inspecting her troops, she studied the seating chart. “So, are you still planning on going to Texas this weekend?”
“I am.” Catherine gave her agent a smile she didn’t have to force. Between her work on the set and all the details of organizing a destination wedding, she hadn’t had a spare moment to miss Bradley while he’d been gone. Now that she’d wrapped up her part in the movie though, it surprised her that she missed his company as much as she did. She’d decided to take a day or two to decompress, spend another one at the spa, then head south by the end of the week. “I’m actually really excited to see where Bradley came from.”
“Oh. Hmmm.” Paper rustled as Margaret revealed something from behind her back. Skirting the coffee table, she slid onto the couch. “Someone sent me this early this morning.”
The folded newspaper that slapped precisely into Catherine’s hands sent a rush of nervous energy through her. She opened the paper to the front page where a bold headline announced, Country Star Comes Home To Wed.
A picture of Bradley on the stage of some no-name bar filled most of the space above the fold. She barely glanced at it. Her attention narrowed in on a second, smaller photograph. This one showed her fiancé standing unacceptably close to a very attractive woman. Her heart sank.
“Who is this?” Catherine tapped the brunette’s image.
“According to the article, Sarah Standor. A childhood friend.” Margaret’s pursed lips tightened in distaste.
“The girl who sent the letter and the ring.” Her fingers tensed with the urge to gouge the other woman’s eyes out. “The nerdy girl with braids?”
“Hmmm. She aged well.” Margaret leaned in. “You need to go to Texas. Now.”
Catherine’s breath stalled in her chest. If the love-struck expression on Bradley’s face was any indication, she didn’t need Margaret to tell her there was no time to waste. Forget seating charts, towering wedding cakes, and hand-stitched twenty-thousand-dollar gowns. If she didn’t get to Texas—and soon—there’d be no wedding.
Catherine snapped her fingers. “Call my travel agent. Book me on the next flight. Tell my assistant to start packing.” She slapped the offensive newspaper onto the seating chart. The carefully arranged name tags scattered. Springing to her feet, she marched to her closet, where she began yanking clothes from their hangers. And all the while, she wondered why Bradley had never looked at her with such adoring eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah set the heavy feed pails on the barn’s straw-covered floor. Unlatching the first stall, she mopped her brow on the sleeve of her shirt and whispered a mild oath. Time dragged without Bradley at her side, without his stories and laughter to brighten the hours. The chores she’d sailed through these past few weeks when she looked forward to spending the rest of the day with him, now sapped her energy. Well, that was what she got for letting her guard down, for daring to hope for something more than friendship between them. But no more. From here on out, she’d face whatever challenges life threw at her on her own.
“Hey.”
The unexpected sound of Bradley’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Hey,” she echoed without putting a drop of enthusiasm into it.
His booted feet scuffed down the aisle between the stalls. “Are you avoiding me?” He drew nearer.
“No.” No more than she’d avoid the bubonic plague. “I’ve just been real busy.” As if to prove her point, she dumped one of the buckets of oats and beet pulp into a trough.
“Fences look good.”
Much to her dismay, while she stacked the empty feed pails, Bradley propped one arm on the gate to a stall and leaned on it as if he intended to stay a while. She shoved a hank of hair behind one ear. Pushing her way past the tall figure who nearly blocked her path, she murmured, “I gotta get going. I got a flower delivery.”
“Well, I’ll come with you.” Bradley lingered behind her.
“No, I got it.” She shoved an extra measure of sharpness into her tone. She was acting like a jerk, but the last thing she needed was to get trapped in her truck with Bradley beside her all the way into town. She yanked her hands free of their work gloves. She’d nearly reached the exit—and escape—when he spoke again.
“I decided to keep the house,” he announced. “I’m not selling it.”
The news got her attention. Her measured footsteps slowed. She pivoted. “Why?” Because of me? Her heart thudded.
“It’s home.” Bradley shrugged. “I think you helped me remember that.”
So, he planned on sticking around, did he? Clearly, he hadn’t thought this through. She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you think Catherine will like it here?”
“Well, I don’t see why not.” Bradley’s pointed glance took in the goats in their pen, the hens’ nests in one corner. “It’s beautiful and calm. People are friendly. The air is clean.”
The man was delusional. Catherine Mann lived in a 9,000-square-foot mansion in Bel-Air. She owned a four-bedroom condo on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Her idea of “roughing it” was a $2,000-a-night stay in a ritzy spa without room service. Someone like that was not going to take one look at Mill Town, with its lone diner and few shops, and instantly decide she wanted to spend the rest of her life here. Sarah shook her head. Bradley was in for a rude awakening, but it wasn’t her place to point it out. She marched toward her truck.
“Hey!” Angry footsteps pounded the ground behind her. “What’s going on with you?” he demanded.
Sarah froze. This was the moment when she should blame her bad mood on the weather, or maybe stress. She should laugh and tell him not to worry about it, that things would be all right between them in a day or two. The trouble was, she’d be lying. She’d fallen for Bradley and, while she knew deep down in her bones that they had no future together, she still cared for him. They were still friends. As such, didn’t she owe it to him to at least warn him that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life?
Summoning her courage, she spun to face him. “You want the truth? ‘Cause like you said, you got a lotta people in your life who tell you what they think you want to hear. So maybe you like it that way.”
Bradley propped both hands at his waist. His jaw firmed. His slow, “I’d rather hear the truth,” sounded like it came from his heart.
“Okay.” She took a breath. “Well, you’re about to marry a woman you barely know.” When Bradley reeled back a step, she forced herself to overlook the motion, to tell him what he needed to hear. “You don’t know her favorite color. You don’t know her favorite flower. You don’t even know if she wants to have a family.” Her voice caught, but she refused to let it
slow her down. Now that she’d started, she had to finish. “I mean, it seems to me you know nothing about her at all.”
Bradley’s brows slammed together. “No. I know everything I need to know,” he insisted.
She wished that was true, but the man was just lying to himself. Every bride enjoyed planning her special day. Someone like Catherine, someone used to standing in the spotlight, would bask in having the focus solely on her. So, why wasn’t she here? Sarah stared down at the ground and swallowed. Crying would only muddy the waters.
“Why are you here planning your wedding without her? Why am I here making all the decisions she should be making?” Tears clogged her throat. She fought them down. Raising her head, she stared straight into Bradley’s dark-brown eyes. If she was going to make him see the truth, she had to be strong. “Where is she?”
“I told you. She’s—she’s busy filming.”
Not so. According to the latest gossip magazines, shooting on Catherine’s next blockbuster movie had wrapped up over a week ago. Yet Bradley’s bride-to-be had yet to put in an appearance.
When Bradley folded his arms in as defensive a gesture as she’d ever seen, she mopped her face with one hand. He might deny it, but somewhere deep inside, he knew she was telling the truth. “Okay, look.” She expelled a heated breath. “You and I have been friends a long time. So, I’m gonna shoot you straight.”
Bradley glanced at her sideways. “All right.”
“Okay.” Lord, give me strength. She had to get this right. “You can’t marry Catherine Mann. You don’t love her.” Her voice broke.
Bradley closed the distance between them. “I do. I do…love her.”
His slight hesitation told her he was losing his grip on the lie he’d been telling himself for the past few months. It was time to present her final piece of evidence.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked. She’d always believed Bradley was too good a man, too honorable to cheat on the woman he loved. But he’d kissed her while he was engaged to Catherine. Which meant he either wasn’t the man she’d thought he was, or he didn’t love the woman who wore his ring. Praying she was right about him, she searched his face for answers.