Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

  And maybe she would. Maybe her story wouldn’t come between them the way she feared. Maybe he was tired of hiding here. Maybe it would come as a relief. Especially when he saw the good things she was writing about him.

  And there were so many good things about him. A smile curved her lips, just thinking about him. Something she’d said last night must’ve made sense, because gone was the guarded Wade, and in his place was a man Abigail could spend the rest of her life getting to know.

  So this is what it feels like, she thought, sighing. This warm feeling that flowed through her at the very thought of him. She bent her knees, tenting the quilt. After church she’d have lunch with Aunt Lucy, then she’d spend the afternoon with Wade and Maddy. Maybe later they’d pack a picnic and head to Boulder Pass. She envisioned the kisses she and Wade might sneak under the weeping willow and let out another contented sigh.

  First, though, church. She had a few minutes before she had to get ready, so she propped up on the bed and grabbed her laptop. Reagan was supposed to go out with Dr. Steve again last night, and Abigail wanted to see how it had gone.

  Nothing from Reagan, only an e-mail from her mom. She clicked on it.

  What do you think? her mom had written.

  Below the message, an attachment was embedded. Abigail scrolled down.

  Her stomach dropped to her toes. The mock-up of the Viewpoint cover filled the screen. Wade stared back at her with those startlingly blue eyes and cocky smile.

  Cowboy Corralled, the blurb said in a large, bold font. Where has J. W. Ryan been hiding, and why did he disappear after the mysterious death of his wife?

  Abigail stared at the cover. Reread the words, seeing it as Wade would when it hit the newsstands. He wouldn’t be relieved at all when he saw this cover, read those words.

  Was there any way he’d forgive her? Any way his feelings for her would remain steadfast in light of such a betrayal?

  The warm pleasant feeling that had flowed through her was replaced by a heavy weight. The flip side of love: loss. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Wade. Couldn’t stand the thought of him and Maddy feeling she’d betrayed them.

  Abigail slapped the laptop shut, not wanting to see the image, not wanting to think about the story from Wade’s perspective. She sprang from the bed and paced the confines of her room.

  What could she do? What would happen if she told him the truth? If she told them how the story had fallen into her lap?

  But what if Wade told her to leave? How could she leave when she’d only just discovered she loved him? And more than that, she loved Maddy. They were good for each other. She’d begun to think of them as a family, had begun to imagine that they could become a real one. How could she hurt them?

  She couldn’t. She had to get out of this.

  Abigail retrieved her cell and dialed her mom. While the phone rang, Abigail looked at the laptop sitting innocently on the nightstand. She thought of the magazine and its precarious position. She loved Wade, but she loved her mother too. The column was scheduled, the cover designed, the marketing planned. How was she going to get out of it?

  Her mom answered groggily.

  “Hi, Mom,” Abigail said quietly.

  “Abigail. Did you get the cover?”

  Abigail ran her hand over her face. “I did.”

  “And . . .”

  She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. How could she let her mother down? The whole thing had been Abigail’s idea. She’d started this chain of events, and now she was going to bail? No matter what she did, it seemed like the wrong thing. Abigail nearly moaned.

  “Abs? You didn’t like it?”

  “Mom, I . . . I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The story, Wade, the magazine . . . I’m so confused.”

  “You’re scaring me, honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Abigail smothered a hysterical laugh. What’s wrong was that she was in love with the subject of her investigation. What’s wrong was that he was going to hate her when he found out.

  “Mom, I have feelings for Wade—for J. W. Ryan. Real feelings.”

  The pause rang loudly over the phone. “I see.”

  “I know everyone’s counting on me, on this story, but—”

  But what? She was ditching her mom and the entire Viewpoint staff in favor of a new guy in her life?

  “You’ve never had trouble separating your emotions from a story. Is your hypertension acting up, affecting your work? You’re under too much stress.”

  “It’s not my health, Mom. I’m just having second thoughts.”

  “Honey, I sympathize, really, I do. But these things have a way of working themselves out. Viewpoint’s future is dependent upon this story. The cover gets finalized tomorrow. It’s too late to go back to the drawing board.”

  “I’ve barely started the article anyway. And I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of Elizabeth’s death.”

  “I don’t mean to play the guilt card, but a lot of people are counting on this story, Abs.”

  “I know, I know.” So many jobs at stake. It was selfish to back out.

  “There’s still time to get the rest of the facts. And you’re a talented writer, sweetie. You said you were sure he had nothing to do with her death. You could cast J. W. in the role of hero. By the time you’re finished, he’ll be thanking you.”

  Ha. She doubted that. But maybe she could paint him so favorably he’d come off, well, just like he was. She’d only have to tell the truth.

  “Tell him about the story before the issue hits the stands. Surely he’ll see your side. It’s not like you went there intending to deceive him. You happened upon the story and agreed to it before you had feelings for him. If anyone understands what it’s like to be backed into a corner, it’s him.”

  That was true. “But the media, Mom. You know they’ll descend on this town for interviews. He and Maddy came here to get away from all that. He just wants to be left alone.”

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that. A press conference might get them off his back—wait a minute. Didn’t you say Moose Creek was struggling financially? Something about trying to become a tourist destination?”

  “It’s a failing town. The mayor wanted to restore its position as the Gateway to Yellowstone, but it’s not working out.”

  “Wouldn’t the media’s presence benefit that effort? With so much publicity, people would rediscover Moose Creek. Wade’s living there would kind of make it the chic new rustic getaway destination.”

  Abigail hadn’t thought of that. Could her article possibly save Aunt Lucy’s shop, the Chuckwagon, Pappy’s Market, the other shops? Wasn’t a little unwanted publicity for Wade a small price to pay to benefit the whole town? She hoped he’d see it that way.

  “I’ve got it,” Mom said. “We can feature Moose Creek as a destination in the travel section for the October issue. Elaine had a piece on New Orleans, but we’ll table that. You can write the article yourself if you’d like.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.” Maybe by the time this was over, the town would thank her. Surely Wade would forgive her when he saw how hard she was working to help Moose Creek.

  “I know J. W. might be angry at first, but a lot of good will come from this. If he has feelings for you, surely he’ll understand.”

  Maybe he would. If she wrote the biggest story of her life and handled it with care. The publicity would be short-lived, a small price to pay for the benefit to the whole community.

  “All right, Mom. I’ll write it.”

  “You won’t regret it, honey. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but try to relax and believe in yourself. This is going to work out. We can accomplish a lot of good for everyone with this one column.”

  Her feelings somewhat settled, Abigail hung up and changed into her church clothes. Her mom was right. She needed to have confidence in the process, in her skill as a writer. Everything would work out for
her and Wade, and it would work out for Moose Creek. It had to.

  29

  Abigail shifted on the hard pew and resettled her Bible in her lap. The choir loft behind the pastor blurred until she saw nothing but basic shapes and colors. Her mind wasn’t on Pastor Blevins or his message. It was on Wade.

  She’d seen him briefly that morning after Aunt Lucy tooted her horn outside the house. As Abigail had hurried down the stairs, he’d appeared in the kitchen doorway looking all sleepy-eyed in his T-shirt, jeans, and bare feet. His hair stood up on end as if she’d already run her fingers through it.

  He met her at the bottom of the stairs. The step put her eye-to-eye with him, and the look he gave her made her heart catch in her throat. He caught her chin and gave her a kiss she knew she’d carry all day long, pulling away all too quickly.

  “Save the afternoon for me?” he asked.

  She found her voice. “Uh-huh.”

  He rewarded her with a sexy smile she would’ve emptied her wallet for, then she made her way out the door on shaky legs. The way he made her feel . . . she wondered if he had any idea . . . and if she made him feel the same way.

  “ . . . Truth seekers.”

  The pastor’s words pulled Abigail from her thoughts. Was he talking about her? She glanced around, relieved to find no eyes on her.

  “That’s exactly what the disciples were,” the pastor said. “They left their families, their occupations, their homes in order to follow after this man called Jesus. They were truth seekers because Jesus is Truth and that’s who they sought. Jesus said, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life . . .’ What does that mean?”

  The pastor continued, but Abigail was lost in his previous words. If Jesus was Truth—and she believed He was—and if Abigail was the Truthseeker, why hadn’t she been seeking Him? Instead of pursuing Him, she’d been pursuing her career. Chasing story after story as if finding the next truth would somehow scratch an itch that never went away.

  The Truthseeker had forgotten what the Truth was. Who the Truth was. How blind she’d been! She knew Christ was the one Truth that mattered the most, but somehow she’d lost her way, had put that Truth on the back burner while she went in search of a lesser truth.

  She remembered her words of wisdom to Wade the night before. How easy it was to identify someone else’s issues and overlook the obvious in her own life. All these years of being the Truthseeker, and she’d never put the two together. Well, she was putting it together now. From now on, she’d seek the real Truth first, just like her dad. That was being the ultimate Truthseeker.

  30

  Abigail exited the house and shut the screen door softly behind her. There was an empty spot on the swing next to Wade, and she planned to claim it. The porch light made his skin glow, his dark hair glisten. She loved looking at him. Did it every chance she got. The past week she’d spent every waking moment thinking of him. Her days had never lasted so long.

  Abigail smiled as she settled next to him. The swing creaked with the rhythmic motion. The night smelled like sagebrush and freshly mown grass. And Wade.

  “Maddy asked about us,” Abigail said as she snuggled under his arm.

  They’d been careful to save the displays of affection for when they were alone, even though she knew Wade had told his daughter they had affectionate feelings for each other.

  “What’d you say?”

  “That I like you very much.” She nudged him in the side.

  “That so?”

  She curled her arm around his waist and dropped her head on his shoulder. “And here I thought I’d been so obvious.”

  Wade dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Abigail turned her face into his shirt and inhaled a lungful of his scent just to tease her senses. He smelled so good. He ran his hand down her bare arm, and gooseflesh pebbled her skin.

  “What else she say?” Wade rubbed her arm, warming her.

  “She asked if I had to leave . . .” The thought caught her in the gut.

  His arm tightened. “When’s your flight?”

  “The twentieth.”

  Two weeks. It wasn’t enough, not even close. She didn’t want to go. But he hadn’t asked her to stay. Hadn’t even told her about Lizzie or his brush with fame. She tried not to let that cast a damper on this otherwise perfect evening.

  “Can’t believe summer’s almost gone,” he said. “Sure went fast.”

  “It’s been amazing. I came for Aunt Lucy and found you and Maddy instead.”

  “You’ve been good for her. Just what she needed. Just what I needed. You were right before . . . Should’ve trusted God to work out my future instead of trying to fix it.”

  “You’re trusting Him now. That’s what matters.” Abigail gave a contented sigh and snuggled into his side. She was proud of him for admitting he’d been wrong. They were both growing spiritually. They were good for each other.

  She wished she could just enjoy his company tonight and forget the story. But she had to write it next week, and she was still missing crucial material. She swallowed hard and forced herself to ask, hating herself for doing it.

  “You mentioned something before about Maddy’s mom—that she was never all that wrapped up in Maddy. What did you mean? I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

  Wade was still for a moment. Then he kissed the top of her head. “Another time, okay? It’s been a long day, and I just want to enjoy the feel of you in my arms.”

  Abigail tipped her head back, looked him in the eye. He’d been through so much with Lizzie. Could she blame him for wanting to forget? For wanting to enjoy a few moments of intimacy on this mild summer night? One of their last.

  Abigail drew her fingers down the angular plane of his jaw. When Wade lowered his face, she met his lips, responded to his tender ministrations, wanting to help him forget all about Lizzie and his painful past. She was with him now. Whatever had happened, no matter how horrible, had somehow led to this point. Led them all to this point.

  This was going to end happily, she could feel it. He deserved a happy ending. Maybe if she did as her mom suggested and told him in advance, he’d understand. She could tell him right now. Right here on the swing.

  But he hadn’t even wanted to talk about Lizzie tonight, hadn’t wanted to spoil their evening. News like hers would definitely spoil the evening. She’d tell him later. Later would be soon enough.

  Abigail deepened the kiss and felt a tremble pass through Wade.

  He drew away, reluctance filling his eyes. “Woman, you’re killing me.”

  His admission made her heady, made her want to press her luck. But he pulled her against him and tucked her head under his chin.

  Abigail buried her face in his chest and nestled into the softness of his cotton shirt. Yes, there was going to be a happy ending for sure.

  31

  The article deadline was approaching, and as it did, Abigail’s anxiety rose. Despite her mom’s assurances that everything would work out, her blood pressure was out of control, and her daily headaches had returned. Sunday afternoon she knew she should be writing the story, but it was Wade’s only day off, and she couldn’t resist spending time with him and Maddy.

  Because of her procrastination, she was forced to write all week at night after Maddy and Wade were in bed. She worked late into the night crafting the story, one she thought would both do justice to Wade and satisfy Viewpoint readers. Once the first draft was finished, she spent hours checking the facts and honing her words. She’d read the story so many times she nearly had the thing memorized.

  She finally finished on Friday around three in the morning. It was her best writing. Abigail had poured her heart into it, and she thought it showed. She decided to let the story rest a day, give it a final read-through Sunday morning, and then send it to her mom.

  The week had been long on work and short on sleep, and by Saturday night she was ready to drop into bed, exhausted.

  “I’ve been keeping you up too late,” Wade said after she yawne
d. He set the swing in motion and pulled her into his arms.

  “You’re worth it.” He was worth it. Worth sleep deprivation and so much more. She hoped he’d understand, once she explained, once he read the story. She’d decided to tell him Friday, the night before she left. But now, with his thigh pressed against hers and his heart thumping against her cheek, she didn’t want to think of it.

  “How’s your headache?”

  She loved the deep drawl of his voice. “Better.” She’d been living on Tylenol all week. But truth be told, it wasn’t working like it used to. Maybe she needed something stronger.

  “You need to take care of yourself.” He ran his hand down the length of her hair, then toyed with the ends.

  His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she nestled closer.

  “Maybe Greta can watch Maddy next week so you can rest up before . . .”

  Before you go home. He didn’t want to say it. Neither of them did. Abigail didn’t even want to think about it.

  “I’m fine. I want to spend the week with Maddy.” One week from tonight she’d be back in Chicago—would have told him everything. What would their relationship look like in a week? Would he ask her to stay?

  Because she would, in a heartbeat.

  Wade tightened his arms around Abigail and wondered if she could feel his heart hammering in her ear. All he could think about was her leaving in a week.

  He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d stolen his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving, the thought of going back to life the way it had been before she came. He’d been praying, just as she’d suggested, and somehow the more he prayed, the more his heart had opened. An answer to a prayer? He had to believe it was.

  He’d made the decision the moment she’d settled in his arms tonight. It felt like she was coming home, and he knew he wanted that every night for the rest of his life. He thought she wanted it too, but there was much to be said, much to be decided. He had yet to profess his love or tell her about his time in the spotlight. He was ready to do so.