by Lori Wilde
“Seriously?”
“You can’t tell me that you’re making anything like that kind of money where you are and I sure as hell know you won’t have the prestige.”
“The cost of living is much cheaper in Cupid. I don’t have to make that kind of money here. Besides, I’ve got all kinds of opportunities. I could go anywhere.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “Thirty thousand more a year.”
“No dice.”
“Thirty-five,” he said. “But that’s my final offer. No one else is going to pay you that color of green.”
“Michael, I wouldn’t work for you again if you offered me ten million dollars a year. My integrity is worth more than that.”
“Really? You’re going to insult me?”
“Nope. I’m simply telling the truth,” she said, and hung up the phone.
Chapter 23
LUKE was rounding up cattle with his ATV when he spied her.
The slender young woman in short, tight, cutoff blue jeans, bright red cowgirl boots, and a red blouse with the hem tied into a knot underneath her breasts, exposing a smooth, flat midriff as she ambled across sandy pasture toward him.
Luke blinked. Was his side by side a time machine that had transported him back fifteen years?
She stopped. Raised a hand. No. Not a mirage. It was Melody. Looking even lovelier than she’d looked at fifteen.
One singular thought thrummed through his brain. I love this woman. Always have. Always will. But just because he loved her didn’t mean that they were good for each other.
He cut the engine and the cows immediately started drifting from the tightly packed group he’d herded them into. Beautiful, flat, white-bottomed clouds rode the electric blue sky. It had rained for three solid days, bringing the desert alive with color. It was a perfect day.
She was still several yards away. He swung off the ATV, headed toward her, his heart knocking erratically inside his chest. What did she want?
Hope kicked him in the lungs. Stupid hope. How many times had hope disappointed him? He refused to hope, to set himself up for another massive letdown. He already missed her more than he thought it possible to miss someone. She was the first thing he thought of every morning when he woke up and the last thing that crossed his mind every night when he closed his eyes.
But there was no way it could work out between them. He tried every angle he could come up with, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit. They just didn’t and that’s all there was to it. She deserved the world, and all he had to offer was his little rugged corner of the Trans-Pecos. She needed someone sophisticated she could show off at parties, someone who knew how to use the right forks when they ate at fancy places. And he just wasn’t that guy. He was cowboy through and through and that’s all he would ever be. All he ever wanted to be. He was happy with that and he accepted who he was.
“What are you doing here?” he asked tersely.
The bright smile she offered wavered, but then in typical Melody fashion, she hoisted it back up like a flamboyant sail. Ah, damn, he was a sucker for her resilience.
“I came to tell you that my former boss offered me a promotion and a thirty-five-thousand-dollar-a-year raise,” she said.
Needing something to hold on to, he rested his hands on his belt buckle. So she’d come to gloat. He tried to sound sincere. “Congratulations. You must be real happy about that. I suppose you’ll be on the next plane out of here.”
She canted her head, studied him a long moment. “Well, that all depends.”
“Is this the place where I’m supposed to say on what? Because I’ve got a lot of work to do and I’m not in the mood for guessing games. If you’ve got something to say, Melody, just spit it out.”
She didn’t flinch. “May I read you something?”
He blew out his breath. Why was she torturing him like this? Why didn’t she just go back to New York and leave him alone? “If you feel like it’s something you have to do. Go ahead.”
She pulled a folded paper from her back pocket. It was a copy of the love letters greensheet. She unfolded it, cleared her throat.
“More fiction?”
She gave him a look that managed to say a dozen things that set his heart reeling against the wall of his chest, including, I want you, I need you, you’re being a bit of an ass.
Panic grabbed hold of him and he had no idea why. “No, you know what,” he interrupted. “Don’t read it. Just take that job in New York. Go back to where you belong.”
MELODY CRUMPLED THE greensheet, threw it on the ground, and ran back to her car. He wouldn’t even listen to what she had to say. He didn’t want her. She had to accept that.
Blinding tears obscuring her vision, she threw the Corvette into gear and went flying down the mountain. The same mountain road that Jesse Nielson had gone flying down that dark night he’d died. It had been raining then too.
Once the heavens had opened up, they seemed determined to pour down all the rain they’d stored up for eighteen months. Fat drops spattered the windshield as she left the Rocking N, now it was pure deluge, sluicing over her hood in sheets.
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, turned her wipers on high, but she could still barely see the ribbon of road in front her.
Slow down, slow down. You’re going too fast.
But her foot wasn’t listening to her brain. Neither was her heart.
He’d sent her away. He’d told her he loved her the night he’d broken up with her, but he hadn’t forgiven her. She thought if she showed up dressed as she had been the first time they’d kissed, he wouldn’t be able to turn her away.
How wrong she’d been!
Oh God, it hurt. It hurt so damn bad. He wasn’t going to forgive her. He did not want her.
The curve up ahead was steep. She shifted her foot from the accelerator to the brake, but the road was slick. As soon as she applied pressure, the Corvette fishtailed wildly. She fought the steering wheel, trying desperately to keep the car on the road, but the rain conspired against her, and the next thing she knew the Corvette was tumbling off the side of the mountain.
THE RAIN HIT the greensheet with big splats as Luke picked it up from where Melody had dropped it. He unfolded it.
Dear Cupid,
I know these letters are supposed to be anonymous, but there are a lot of people I need to apologize to, not the least of whom is the man I’ve loved since I was fifteen years old. Circumstances tore us apart, making it impossible for us to be together. I moved away and forgot about him, or at least that’s what I told myself. But the truth is, I never really stopped loving him. In order to deal with losing him, I became a workaholic, and for years, that sustained me. I lived to achieve goals—a great job, prestige, an important boyfriend. I was happy. Or so I thought until I saw him again and oh, Cupid, there I was, aching like time had never passed.
Except the family problems that separated us all those years ago have not gone away. We were still at a crossroads. So, with the very best intentions, I told a lie in an effort to shine a spotlight on our feuding families and put an end to the anger and hatred and fear. And it looked like it might work.
But dishonesty is dishonesty and a lie is a lie. The end does not justify the means, even if the motives are pure. For you see, I thought that I wasn’t good enough on my own, that I had to be perfect in order to be loved. Success at all costs. That ended up being my motto. Here’s the paradox; the more I strived for success the further I got from what I really wanted. For deep in my heart, the one true thing I desired most was to be loved unconditionally.
And now, even though my knees are quaking, here I am, laying it all on the line in this letter, showing everyone who I am, warts and all. Will I be accepted, loved, and forgiven for my imperfections? Or have my lies condemned me to a loveless life?
Remorsefully yours,
Melody Spencer
Gobsmacked, Luke stared at the paper coming apart in his hands as the rain poure
d down. Could she honestly believe that he had stopped loving her because she’d made mistakes?
He had to go after her. Tell her what a scared fool he was. Beg her to forgive his mistakes as he forgave hers.
Because he loved her, loved her with everything he had in him, and he couldn’t bear to think of life without her.
MELODY’S FACE HURT so badly that she couldn’t think. She was hot and cold and wet. She lifted a hand to wipe the moisture from her eyes, but her hands wouldn’t move and she tasted blood.
Where was she? What had happened?
She tried to raise her head, but the minute she did, her vision winked out.
“Hang on!” a man called out from somewhere above her. “I’m coming after you.”
She smelled gasoline. Oh crap, she wrecked her car, her beautiful white Corvette convertible. Courtney was destroyed. No, no. Maybe it wasn’t too bad. Maybe Pat could knock out a few dents, change the tires, do an alignment, and Courtney would be okay.
What seemed like hours later, after she passed out and woke up several times, she felt strong, masculine arms go around her. Her eyes fluttered open. “Luke?”
“No, it’s Gil. Luke’s father.”
Gil Nielson, the man who hated her guts.
“We’ve got to get you out of here,” he said. “The car is leaking gas. It could blow up at any moment.”
“Let me see if I can walk,” she said, but her legs were numb.
“I’ve got you,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
She tried to put her arms around his neck, to make it easier for him to carry her, but they just flopped helplessly at her side. Was she paralyzed?
Panic swept through her.
“You’re okay,” Gil kept chanting. “You’re okay.”
Funny. She didn’t feel okay.
He started up the ravine, but slipped on the rocks, almost fell, and muttered a curse.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, and opened her eyes. His face was blurry. “So sorry.”
“Shh, stop apologizing.”
She closed her eyes again and winked out until a jostling roused her. She blinked. They were on the edge of the road. Sweat was pouring down Gil’s face. The veins in his neck bulged blue.
“Here.” He grunted. “We’re almost back to the road.”
She saw a white pickup truck just ahead of them. Only a short distance away, but it was all uphill. “Let me try to walk.”
“You’re in no condition.”
“Honestly, Gil, neither are you. You look like shit.”
“You’re not so pretty yourself right now.”
Her face was hurting again, particularly her chin. She reached up a hand.
“Don’t,” Gil said. “Just don’t.”
He sounded so much like his son when he said it that tears sprang to her eyes. Would she ever see Luke again? She dropped her hand. “I love him, you know.”
“I know, and I’m a hardheaded old fool for holding a grudge so long. He’s been with a lot of women. Most of them wanted him for his name or his money, but you? You just wanted him for who he was.”
“He doesn’t want me.”
“Of course he does, girl. Don’t be as dumb as me. He’s loved you since he was seventeen and he’s never stopped.” Gil’s breath was wheezing in and out as he struggled to crest the edge of the ravine.
Finally, he reached the top, and laid her down on the asphalt. She looked up into the sky, dark gray with rain thunderclouds. She was dizzy again and the baling wire was so tight around her lungs she wasn’t sure she could take another breath.
And then Gil Nielson clutched his heart, cried out in pain, and toppled over beside her on the wet, lonely mountain road.
LUKE WAS BARRELING down the mountain when he came upon his father’s truck, with the door hanging open. He glanced to the right. Down to the very ravine where Jesse’s car had gone over, and there laid the white Corvette, broken into half a dozen pieces.
“Melody!” he cried.
It wasn’t until he parked and got out of his truck that he saw the other car. A silver Toyota Camry. He rushed around his father’s truck to see what was going on.
There lay both his father and Melody on the ground. Melody’s eyes were closed, her face gashed and bleeding, her skin the color of ashes.
And kneeling beside Gil, giving his father CPR, was Melody’s mother, Carol Ann.
“MISS SPENCER, CAN you hear me?”
Melody opened her eyes to a brown-skinned man in a white coat. On the pocket of his lab coat, his name was embroidered in blue thread. Dr. Raj Patel. “Yes.”
“Very good.” He beamed. “There are many people here that want to see you. May I let them in?”
“Please do,” she croaked. She was hooked up to IVs and a heart monitor. An electronic blood pressure cuff was attached around her arm.
“You were a very lucky young lady,” he said. “From the way they describe the wreckage of your car, you should be hurt much worse. As it is, you have a mild concussion, a broken toe, and two lacerations, one on your forehead and one on your chin. You will have some scarring but in the grand scheme of things, you are extremely fortunate to be alive.”
“Gil Nielson,” she said. “How is he? Did he have a heart attack?”
The doctor nodded. “I cannot discuss the specifics of his case with you, but thanks to your mother, he will live.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. She performed CPR in a timely manner and saved his life.”
A Fant had performed CPR to save the life of a Nielson? Unheard of. And not just any Fant or Nielson, but her mother and Luke’s father.
“I will allow your family to come in now.” The doctor gave a slight bow and disappeared.
A minute later, the door opened and a flood of people poured into the room. Whatever happened to the two-visitors-per-ICU-patient rule?
The first to come through the door were her brothers, followed by her father and then her mother. Next came Natalie and Lace and Calvin and Emma Lee.
And then the Nielsons started filling the room. Carly and Billy and his father, Pete. What were they doing here? Everyone moved aside, making room.
“The feud?” Melody asked.
“It was over the minute Gil pulled you from that ravine,” her father said.
“No, it was over the minute Carol Ann gave Gil CPR.” Pete shook his head.
“Really?” Melody said. “Just like that? Ninety years of grudge holding and we’re all going to let it go?”
“We have no choice,” Carol Ann said. “Now that we’re all going to be one big family.”
“What are you talking about?” Melody frowned.
“Ask him.” Her father inclined his head toward the door.
And in walked Luke.
EVERYONE TOLD HER to get well soon, squeezed her hand, gingerly touched her shoulder, waved good-bye, and slipped out, leaving her alone with Luke.
He moved to her bedside, took the chair drawn up beside the bed that her mother had been sitting in. “Melly,” he whispered, and squeezed her hand.
“Is it really true?” she asked. “Is the feud really over?”
“It is and you’re the reason why. You were right all along. Bringing the grudge into the light, facing the problems head-on instead of covering them over and hiding from the truth was the way to go. Granted, we had some resistance at first, but there’s always resistance when you change the status quo. That’s what I failed to realize. I was so busy trying to keep the peace and prevent problems that I forgot sometimes you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.”
“That’s my saying.”
“I appropriated it. Do you mind?” He stroked her arm, peered deeply into her eyes.
Unable to get enough of looking at him, she peered right back. “Not at all.”
“I was wrong. I was too damn scared to consider that any way besides my own might be valid.”
“But my way caused so much trouble.”
“So you forgive me?” Her voice climbed an octave on the last word.
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“I’m not perfect,” she said. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
“Nobody’s perfect, darlin’, and that’s just the way it should be. Imagine how boring life would be without any bumps and blemishes. You wouldn’t have your scar.” He touched her shoulder. “Or your stork bite, or that cute little crooked tooth I love so much.”
“Dr. Patel tells me I’m going to have a couple of new scars.”
“I’ll love them too,” he said. “Because they are part of you.”
She reached up a hand to finger the bandage on her chin. “If you love my imperfections so much, why did you send me away, Luke? Why did you tell me to take the job in New York?”
“Because I can’t be the one to hold you back, Melly. You have to stay in Cupid because you want to be here, not just because I love it here and you love me.”
“How do you know I love you?” she teased.
“I read your letter in the greensheet.”
“Oh, that.” A warm flush spilled over her.
He leaned over to kiss her gently on the cheek. “When you get out of here, we’ll celebrate properly and then I’ll ask you to marry me. On bended knees, with flowers, home-cooked meal, a ring, the works.”
Tears blurred her eyes and her pulse beat painfully against her veins. Her whole body shook from the effort of trying to wrap her mind around too much all at once. She was terrified she was really unconscious and hallucinating the whole thing.
He slid onto the bed with her, and gently drew her into his arms. He was solid and real. She pressed her face against his chest, inhaled his scent. She clung to his hand. Never wanted to let him go.
They were alive. They’d made it through both the drought and the family feud in one piece. And most importantly of all, they were together.
Her gaze locked with his and she fell into the pool of his eyes. “Did you ever think we’d get to this point?”