His Valentine Bride

by Cindy Kirk

  This was her battle, not his. And down the road when Chad’s attorneys tried to discredit her by bringing up her relationship with Ryan, his clients would be reassured by the fact that she no longer worked for him. What she was doing might not make sense, but she had to protect Ryan. Somehow. Someway.

  By the time Betsy reached her car in the courthouse parking lot, she could no longer hold back the tears. And once she started to cry, she couldn’t stop.

  Damn Adrianna for telling her to jump into a relationship with both feet and her whole heart. Look where that had gotten her—desperately in love with a man who would never be hers.

  “Betsy.” A sharp rap sounded on the passenger-side window. “Are you okay?”

  Betsy recognized Lexi’s voice immediately. She hurriedly swiped at her eyes, then shifted to face her friend.

  “I’m fine.” Betsy’s smile felt stiff on her lips. “Just getting ready to head home.”

  Lexi tried the door handle. When it didn’t open, she frowned. “Let me in. I want to talk.”

  Talking was the last thing Betsy wanted to do, especially with a woman who was Ryan’s friend.

  She’s your friend, too, Betsy reminded herself.

  She’d barely clicked the door unlocked when Lexi slid into the passenger seat. Even though dressed in a black-and-gray-plaid coat that looked warm, her friend shivered. “It’s cold out there.”

  Pulling a tissue from her coat pocket, Betsy surreptitiously swiped at her nose. Small talk. Definitely manageable. For a second Betsy considered asking what had brought Lexi to the courthouse but realized the social worker might then ask her the same question. “I heard on the radio it’s supposed to dip below zero tonight.”

  Lexi’s lingering gaze brought a warmth to Betsy’s face.

  “I’m not sure if there’s snow in the forecast or not,” Betsy added. “They say there’s a band of moisture—”

  With gentle fingers, Lexi took her hand, stopping the babbling. “We can discuss the weather for a few more minutes. Or you could go ahead and tell me what’s wrong now.”

  Her soft voice invited confidences. Yet Betsy found herself reluctant to tell Lexi that she and Ryan were no longer a couple. Somehow, saying it aloud would make it seem so, well, final.

  But it is final, she told herself. It had to be. Ryan had worked hard to build a respectable practice in Jackson Hole. She would not let his association with her ruin that for him.

  Betsy took a deep breath and forced out the words. “Ryan and I, we’re not together anymore.”

  “What happened?” Lexi released Betsy’s hand and sat back, a stunned look on her face. “You two seemed perfect for each other. So happy.”

  Betsy could take the questions. It was the concern in Lexi’s eyes that made keeping her composure difficult. But she had to pull this off. Ryan’s reputation in the community was at stake. “He wasn’t the man for me. I feel bad, but I had to call it quits. It’s best for him.”

  The lies flowed surprisingly easily from her lips, but the speculative look in Lexi’s eyes told Betsy the woman wasn’t convinced.

  “It’s best for him,” Lexi repeated slowly. “An odd thing to say.”

  Darn. Darn. Darn.

  “I meant,” Betsy stammered, “that it’s best for both of us. Best for him that he’s not with someone who doesn’t love—” Her voice broke. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Who doesn’t love him. And best for me not to be with someone I, I don’t love.”

  Lexi’s gaze searched Betsy’s face. She must have seen something that answered her question because her amber eyes softened. “I’m sure someone has told you the story about Nick and how he lost his memory.”

  Betsy nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing. Her time on the hot seat was over. Even if Lexi wasn’t fully convinced, it appeared she was ready to give her the benefit of the doubt. Betsy was grateful. Very grateful. “You fell in love with a man who didn’t even know his own name.”

  “That’s right. But what you probably don’t know is that once we learned his true identity, we discovered he had a serious girlfriend back home.” Lexi’s eyes took on a faraway look. “By that time we were already deeply in love.”

  Lexi was right. This part she hadn’t heard before. “What did you do?”

  “Nick was certain it was me he loved, but at that point he could only recall bits and pieces of his former life in Texas. And nothing at all about the woman claiming to be his fiancée.”

  “Fiancée?” Betsy choked out the word. She couldn’t imagine Nick with anyone but Lexi.

  “Turned out Nick had never actually proposed, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Lexi shot Betsy a wry smile, then continued. “Nick and I talked, and we decided he should go to Dallas. We hoped that being back on his home turf would jog his memory. If he ended up wanting his old girlfriend, I told him I’d understand.”

  “But he didn’t.” Betsy already knew this story’s ending. “He chose you.”

  “Yes.” Lexi’s lips lifted in a smile. “And happily his old girlfriend found her own true love, too.”

  The story was fascinating, but Betsy had a feeling there was a point to the tale she’d missed.

  “Is there something about what happened with you and Nick that you think relates to Ryan and me?” Betsy cleared her throat. “Because the two situations couldn’t be more different.”

  “Nick and I encountered an issue that could have torn us apart, but we faced it together. We discussed how we were going to handle it...together.” There was a challenge in Lexi’s eyes. “You and Ryan need to face whatever is going on in your life together.”

  “He doesn’t—” Betsy began, then stopped, remembering what he’d said to her. “I don’t—”

  “You don’t what? Love him? Rubbish. I’ve seen how you look at him.” Lexi chuckled. “And Ryan is in love with you.”

  “Stop it, Lexi,” Betsy said, a hint of desperation in her tone.

  She didn’t want to talk about Ryan’s love for her. All that did was remind her of how much she’d lost. And, if it was true, if Ryan really loved her, then she’d hurt him when she’d broken things off. For some reason that made her sacrifice seem almost selfish.

  No. No. She’d done the right thing.

  “I know I’ve never seen him like this with any other woman.”

  A chill traveled up Betsy’s spine. The social worker speculating in the privacy of the car was one thing. If Lexi mentioned any of this to Ryan—

  “This is not your business, Lex,” Betsy said firmly. “Stay out of it.”

  The gorgeous brunette seemed more amused than offended by Betsy’s blunt admonition.

  “Sorry, I can’t promise that.” The words had barely left Lexi’s lips when a car containing her husband and daughters drove up. The social worker opened the car door and stepped out but didn’t immediately walk away. She leaned down and met Betsy’s gaze head on. “I care about you. And I care about Ryan. If I find out there’s something I can do to help this situation, I’m going to do it.”

  Betsy watched Lexi join her family, a sick feeling in her stomach. If Lexi discovered her motive for breaking up with Ryan and decided to tell him, her interference could cost Ryan his career. And then all of Betsy’s sacrifices would be for naught.

  * * *

  The sun had set by the time Betsy arrived home. She hurried to the front door of her apartment, eager to be inside. The key turned easily in the lock. Perhaps a little too easily. Normally, it might have given Betsy pause, but right now all she wanted was to feed Puffy, then collapse in a chair.

  She headed toward the kitchen, noticing she’d left on the light. When she reached the archway to the room, Puffy ran to greet her. Betsy picked the dog up, then stopped in her tracks.

  “Dinner should be ready in five minutes.” Ryan turned from the stove. “I hope you like Hamburger Helper. Potatoes Stroganoff is my signature dish.”

  Since she’d last seen him, Ryan had changed into jeans and a g
ray Denver Broncos sweatshirt. His smile was bright—too bright—and Betsy noticed the lines of tension around his eyes.

  Her heart twisted. The last thing she’d wanted to do was hurt him. But she had. She’d hurt both of them. “How did you get in?”

  “You gave me a key.” He returned his attention to the skillet on the stove. “Remember?”

  “I’m going to need that back.” She held out her hand but he didn’t look up. After a moment she dropped the hand back to her side.

  Suddenly incredibly tired of the drama, Betsy sat down, hugging Puffy close. But it wasn’t long before the Pom began to squirm. The second Betsy released her hold, the dog jumped to the floor and trotted to stand by Ryan.

  It only figured Puffy would abandon her in her hour of need. How many times had her mother bailed on her? Keenan? Even Aunt Agatha. She’d died without warning. Betsy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry watching the little dog cozy up to Ryan.

  He patted Puffy on the head, then stepped from the stove to the counter where a bottle and two wineglasses sat. With well-practiced ease he uncorked the bottle, then filled each glass halfway. “A full-bodied red should go nicely with the Stroganoff.”

  Ryan held out a glass to her.

  Betsy shook her head even as she glanced longingly at the wine.

  “Take it.” His eyes softened. “You look like you could use a glass.”

  “I need to feed Puffy and take her outside.” Betsy sighed. “She’s been cooped up in the apartment all day—”

  “Already done.” Ryan placed the glass before her on the table.

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “I shouldn’t what?” His even tone took on a hard edge. “Care about you and Puffy?” He paused and gentled his tone. “Sorry, that’s not possible.”

  “I think you should leave.” Betsy tried, but there was no conviction in her voice.

  “And I think you should lie down and rest,” he said. “But because neither of those seem likely, let’s have a nice meal with a glass of wine or two.”

  “But—”

  “I’m your friend, Betsy. Give me at least some respect.”

  Betsy was too tired to argue, too tired to put up a stink and toss him out. The headache that had started when she’d been in the attorney’s office and had grabbed hold when she’d cried in the car, now pounded just behind her left eye.

  She rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. “I guess you can stay.”

  “You have a headache.” The comment was made as an observation rather than as a question.

  Betsy closed her eyes for a second. “Uh-huh.”

  Moments later he appeared at her side with a glass of cola and four tablets of ibuprofen.

  She glanced down at the pills. “Four? And with a cola?”

  “Four is eight hundred milligrams, which is prescription strength. And when you take them with a cola, it has a synergistic effect.”

  Betsy narrowed her gaze.

  He smiled. “Hey, my sister used to get migraines, and if she caught them early enough by taking the ibuprofen and caffeine she didn’t have to take her prescription meds.”

  Betsy popped the pills into her mouth and took a big drink of cola. At this point she’d give anything a try.

  “Why don’t you lie down?” He took the glass of cola she handed him without shifting his gaze from her face. “The food and wine will keep. And don’t worry about Puffy, I’ll keep her occupied.”

  Betsy wasn’t worried about Puffy at all. She was concerned about Ryan being in her apartment, acting as if he belonged there. And about her still wishing he did.

  But would a few minutes more really make that much difference? No, she decided, it wouldn’t. She jerked to her feet and made it to her bedroom on autopilot. Slipping off her shoes, Betsy pulled back the covers and fell into her bed fully dressed.

  When she opened her eyes, the clock on her bedside stand said an hour had passed. There were sounds of voices coming from her kitchen. That didn’t surprise her as much as the fact that her headache had disappeared.

  Betsy glanced down at her wrinkled clothes. She thought about leaving them on. After all, she could change into something more comfortable after she kicked Ryan, and whoever it was he was talking with, out of her apartment.

  But her closet doors were open and comfy clothes beckoned. She slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt advertising a Kansas City 5K fun run.

  Even though dressing nice usually gave her some measure of confidence, right now comfort mattered more. She stuck on a pair of bunny slippers that Adrianna had once given her as a gag gift and ambled into the kitchen.

  Mr. Marstand looked up and smiled. He sat at the table with Ryan, an almost-empty plate of Stroganoff and a glass of wine before him. Ryan must have already eaten because he’d pushed his chair back and held Puffy in his lap.

  When the dog saw Betsy, Puffy jumped down and ran to greet her. Betsy leaned over and patted her soft fur, her heart warmed by the welcome.

  “Ryan said you were a bit under the weather.” Concern filled Mr. Marstand’s eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

  Betsy nodded and dropped into a chair at the table. “I’m not sure if it was the nap or the ibuprofen-cola mix that made the difference, but my headache is gone.”

  “Good news.” Ryan rose to his feet and squeezed her shoulder as he walked past. “We saved you some dinner. And a glass of wine.”

  “Ryan wanted to drink it all, but I told him because it was your place, a gentleman should save you at least one glass.” The old man laughed as if he’d said something uproariously funny.

  Betsy glanced at Ryan and they shared a smile before she realized that she shouldn’t be sharing anything with him. Not a smile. Certainly not dinner. But how could she kick him out now? Not when he’d gone to all the trouble of making her a fine meal. And not with Mr. Marstand watching her every move.

  “I am hungry,” she said. “And wine sounds lovely.”

  In a matter of seconds the plate of food that had been warming in the oven was on the table and a glass of wine was sitting before her.

  Betsy had just taken her first bite when Mr. Marstand squinted behind his spectacles. “Have you been crying?”

  Betsy started to choke on the Stroganoff but quickly washed it down with a sip of wine. “I have a little headache, that’s all.”

  Neither the older man nor the younger one looked convinced, but neither pursued the topic further. Instead they talked about the weather, the upcoming bowl games and Puffy’s penchant for Greenies. Then silence descended over the table.

  Oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, Mr. Marstand broke the silence first. “I hear you finally got the furnace installed in your aunt’s house.”

  Betsy looked up from the absolutely delicious Stroganoff in surprise. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Well, actually we saw the billing statement on your counter.” Ryan had the grace to look slightly abashed.

  Mr. Marstand waved a hand. “It was sitting right there in plain sight.”

  Betsy didn’t care. It wasn’t as if the furnace was a big secret. “Yes, it’s been installed. And the city inspector has been out and removed the red tag from the house. I’m going over there tomorrow to start cleaning.”

  “Don’t you have to work?” Mr. Marstand asked.

  Betsy shook her head, hoping Ryan hadn’t said anything about her quitting. Even though her elderly neighbor liked to present a tough-as-nails image, if he knew she was unemployed, he’d worry.

  Thankfully Ryan simply took another sip of his wine.

  “What kind of cleaning will you be doing?” The old man sounded surprisingly interested.

  “Aunt Agatha was something of a pack rat, so I had a Dumpster delivered today. I’m going to get there early tomorrow and start tossing things. Until I get all the junk out of there, it will be hard to clean.”

  And impossible to sell, she thought with a sigh.

  At one tim
e Betsy had envisioned her and Ryan working together to renovate the house. Even though the place was a mess right now, it had potential. In fact, since she and Ryan had become involved, each time Betsy had thought about the house, she’d pictured the two of them sitting together before the fireplace, eating breakfast in the little nook off the kitchen and making love in the large master bedroom.

  Now she’d be getting the house ready to sell. Another couple or family would be the ones building memories in the home, not she and Ryan.

  “Tomorrow? Well, this is your lucky day, missy,” Mr. Marstand said. “I usually go to bingo on Tuesdays, but it got cancelled. Which means I’m available. What time do you want to start? I can be ready by six. Is that too late?”

  Six? Was he kidding? “Er, I was thinking of starting around nine.”

  “That’ll work.” The older man shifted his gaze to Ryan. “What about you, son? Will that time work for you?”

  Betsy tightened her hand around her wineglass. Nonono. This situation was rapidly getting out of control.

  “I don’t have any appointments tomorrow, so I’m available.” Ryan kept his gaze focused on Mr. Marstand. “I’ll have my truck if we need to haul any cleaning supplies, ladders, stuff like that.”

  “Good thinking.” The older man nodded his approval before pushing back his chair and standing. “I hate to eat and run, but my favorite show will be on the tube in five minutes.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Ryan stood. “I’ve got a few things I need to do yet this evening, too.”

  Mr. Marstand cocked his head. “Don’t you want to stay and keep Betsy company while she eats?”

  “I’d love to, but I have an, er, an appointment.” Ryan edged toward the door.

  “Ryan, honey,” Betsy said in a sugary sweet tone. “Please stay. There are a couple things we need to discuss.”

  She needed to make it clear that while she appreciated his efforts tonight, this was not happening again. He was out of her life. It might not make sense now, but one day he would thank her for it.

  “Sorry, can’t.” His hand curved around the doorknob. “My, er, my mom is expecting me.”