Happy Is the Bride

by Lori Wilde

Linc ignored the jab as she extended her right arm on the counter. “I can tell you’ve got some swelling,” he said. “You’ll need to ice it today.”

  “Good luck with that. The icemaker in my fridge hasn’t worked for six months.”

  “My mother always used bags of frozen peas and corn for ice packs. They worked fine. What’s in your freezer?”

  “Maybe one really old bag of frozen peas.” She sipped her coffee. “I’m not much of a cook. Too busy with work.”

  “I already guessed that. I was going to make us breakfast, but you don’t have much to work with around here.”

  “Sorry. Most mornings I just grab coffee and go. Because it’s Sunday, I’d planned a grocery run. But that isn’t going to happen. I guess if I get hungry, I can always order takeout.”

  She looked meltingly sexy sitting across the counter from him, sipping coffee in that next-to-nothing robe, with her hair tousled and her eyes still drowsy. Back when they were married, he would have swept her upstairs and spent the next hour finding ways to make her moan with pleasure. But that was then and times had changed.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Let me run to the store for you. You can give me a list, or I’ll just pick up whatever looks good. When I get back, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  “Linc, you don’t need to—”

  “Listen, we’re both hungry and you can’t cook left-handed. Besides, you’ll need something to ice your wrist. I’ll take the convertible.”

  “Fine. But take my keys, too.” She shoved her key ring across the counter toward him. “I’m going upstairs to try to shower. If I’m not down here when you get back, you’ll need to let yourself in.”

  He took the keys and put down his coffee cup. “On my way,” he said. “Be careful not to get your splint wet.”

  “I’m not a baby, Linc.”

  Before she could escalate the comment into another argument, he was out the door. The woman was prickly this morning and he couldn’t blame her. But even on edge, she was so sexy that it was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

  The hell of it was, the woman was sending out signals. Coming downstairs with nothing under that clingy silk robe, making eyes at him over her coffee . . . A splinted wrist wouldn’t be enough to keep what he craved from happening. And if Tracy wanted it, too, how long could he resist her?

  Driving to the nearby big-box store, he thought about the damned-fool bet and how he never should have made it. Sure, a good roll in the hay with his ex would win him a three-year supply of ribs. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Tracy back in his life—for good. If she found out about the bet, she would never speak to him again.

  He had to assume she would find out. Chet didn’t strike him as a man to trust with a secret. If Chet told Brady, or anybody else who knew Tracy, it would all be over.

  In the wagering game there was such a thing as honor. Linc had never backed out of a bet in his life. And he wasn’t about to do it now.

  As he saw it, he had a choice. He could win the bet, have one glorious romp with his ex, and lose her for good. Or he could keep hands off, lose the bet, and hope the truth would save him.

  He had to take a chance.

  He had to lose that bet.

  Chapter Four

  By the time Linc returned from shopping, Tracy had showered and dressed in a baby-blue T-shirt, yoga pants, and sneakers. Getting clean while hanging her right arm out of the shower had been a challenge. She’d splashed a lot of water on the floor. But she was learning to manage. Next time, she vowed, she would have this down, along with a lot of other things. For a long list of reasons, she couldn’t depend on Linc to take care of her much longer. She didn’t want to impose on him, she didn’t want to feel obligated, and she could already sense the danger of falling under his spell.

  She was in the kitchen, icing her wrist with the primordial bag of frozen peas when she heard the key turn in the lock. Linc walked in with two tall grocery sacks, which he set on the counter. “See, paper not plastic,” he said.

  He was wearing a new black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, which he’d evidently put on at the store. His unshaven jaw was shadowed with beard stubble. Hot. Sizzling hot. But then, the man would look sexy in anything. Or nothing, as she remembered well.

  He tossed her two bags of frozen vegetables and put four more in the freezer. “Two bags at a time,” he said. “When one pair starts to thaw, you can rotate them. Keep that up for the rest of the day and you should start seeing results. Don’t plan to go anywhere until you get your cast on.”

  “Bossy old thing, aren’t you?” she teased.

  “Somebody’s got to make sure you behave yourself.” He began unpacking the bags, putting milk, eggs, and juice in the fridge. He’d included some frozen gourmet dinners she could microwave later on. Tracy got up to help him put some of the items away, but he stopped her with a stern look. “Stay put,” he ordered. “Just keep icing that wrist.”

  Tracy had to admit it was fun watching Linc cook breakfast. He was surprisingly good at the job, frying bacon and scrambling eggs, mixing pancake batter, and setting the table. I could get used to this, she thought. But she knew better than to say so. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

  So why did the wrong idea keep popping into her calm, rational head as she watched him?

  “Breakfast is served.” Pulling out her chair, he seated her before a plate heaped with bacon, eggs, and pancakes, with juice and coffee on the side. “Eat up,” he ordered, taking his place across from her to eat his own breakfast.

  “There’s so much.”

  “What’ve you had to eat in the past twenty-four hours? By my recollection, half of a Mountain Dew, a margarita, and a few bites of an enchilada with mole sauce. Your body’s had a shock. You need your strength.”

  Jockeying with her left hand, she managed to get a forkful of scrambled egg to her mouth. It was fluffy and perfectly seasoned. She ate a few more bites before speaking. “I appreciate all you’ve done, Linc, but you can’t just walk in here and take over my life. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  “Eat your breakfast.” His tone was gruff, but his eyes twinkled. Tracy suspected he was enjoying himself. She poured some real maple syrup on her pancakes and took an awkward bite. Good. She took another. She really was hungry.

  “You’ve got syrup on your chin.” He reached across the table and, with a sexy smile, dabbed at her chin with his napkin. He was turning on the charm full blast. It was working, and so were her hormones. Linc knew how to push her buttons. If he kept pushing them, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Part of her wanted him to spend the day and longer. She imagined curling up with him on the couch, the tingling heat rising between them until urgency drove them upstairs to the bed. It would be wonderful, she knew. Sex with Linc had always been earth-shattering. But what then? Would he expect more, like a long-distance relationship, or would he just wave good-bye and walk out of her life? Either way, she wasn’t ready to deal with the emotional avalanche that would follow.

  If she didn’t get him out of here, she would be brainless putty in his masterful hands.

  “Listen, Linc,” she said. “You’ve been a lot of help and I’m grateful. But I need you to leave after breakfast. I’ve got work to do—briefs to read, cases to research, notes to transcribe. I can do it on my computer, even one-handed, but in order to concentrate, I need to be alone.”

  He frowned. “Okay. But should you be working so soon?”

  “I need to be working. I have meetings scheduled tomorrow, but I should be able to Skype into the office. I can keep the cold packs on my wrist the whole time. There’s no need for you to show up again until the appointment to get my cast.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave you my number in case you need anything. You’ll have to take it easy for a few days before the wedding. I hope you’ll be feeling up to the rehearsal dinner on Friday. Brady said I could bring a date and you’re the only single girl I know well
enough to ask.”

  “No need to ask. Meg already invited me. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “In that case, I’ll be your ride. We can work out the details on Tuesday, when I pick you up for the cast. Now finish your breakfast. I’ll clean up and load the dishwasher before I go—if you’re sure you don’t want me to stay. Last chance.” He gave her a teasing look.

  “No, I really need to work.” That was true. So why was she disappointed that he was so willing to leave and stay away almost two days?

  Linc stood, took the glass carafe from the coffeemaker, refilled both their mugs, and sat down again. “Tell me about your work. Brady says you’re making quite a name for yourself.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “That’s Brady for you. Maybe someday I’ll be a household word. But right now I’m just a junior partner in an up-and-coming law firm. There are five of us, all young, all hungry to get ahead. The adrenaline never stops rushing. We do both litigation and criminal cases. Not the big-money stuff yet, but issues like sexual harassment, business scams, petty crime, landlord versus tenant, divorce—you name it.”

  “So why do you do this, Tracy? You can’t be making a lot of money or having a lot of fun. Why not go back to modeling? You were doing pretty well, as I remember. And you’re as beautiful as ever—I mean that.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not twenty years old anymore. And it was never what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to help people. I wanted to make a difference. I like to think I’m doing that now, or at least moving in the right direction.”

  “Brady says you’re doing some pro bono work, too.”

  “I am,” she said. “I spend part of every Saturday visiting women’s shelters. That’s where I really feel needed. I help with things like restraining orders, child custody, property and divorce issues, job applications, and any other legal concerns the women have. Most of them left home with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Most of them had been abused. Many of them have children to protect. They can’t afford to pay me, but that doesn’t matter. If I didn’t need to make a living, I’d quit my job and do it full time—for nothing.”

  Linc stood and began clearing the table, leaving Tracy wondering if she’d said too much. He worked in silence, putting food in the fridge, rinsing the dishes, and slotting them in the dishwasher.

  After what seemed like a long time, he spoke. “So, are you happy, Tracy? Is your life everything you hoped it would be?”

  She paused before answering. “In most ways. Of course I’d like a family someday. But now doesn’t seem to be the time.” A half truth. She’d always wanted a family. She’d wanted one with him until she realized he wasn’t much of a family man.

  “How about you?” she asked.

  “Work keeps me busy. I can’t say I’m happy, but I’m not unhappy either. I guess I don’t have time to give it much thought. Maybe if you’d stuck around, we’d both be happier.”

  He’d stepped onto dangerous ground and they both knew it. But maybe it was time to clear the air. They’d never talked over their separation; no counseling, no mediation. The prenup had already laid down the terms and the modest settlement Tracy would get if she stayed less than five years. Their lawyers had worked out the details, the papers were signed, and it was done.

  “Remember what you told me about Hero? You said he needed to work. Well, so did I,” Tracy said. “I had all the money I wanted to spend, a beautiful home, an expensive car, designer clothes, and hired help to do the housework. But I felt like a useless toy. I couldn’t even be a partner to you because you were off working or playing or whatever you want to call it. The only way you seemed to want me was in bed. That part was great, but it wasn’t enough.

  “The volunteer work I did toward the end was a step in the right direction. But what I really wanted was a family with a man who’d be a good father to our children. You didn’t seem to care about anything but your thrill-ride lifestyle. I couldn’t see any way to change things. That’s the real reason I left.”

  Linc’s expression had gone rigid. Tracy braced herself for a blistering defense—that she’d been selfish and immature, that she’d expected too much from the marriage. But the angry words she’d expected didn’t come.

  Instead, he exhaled, turned away, and hung up the towel he’d used to wipe off the countertop. “Something tells me we both need a break. Let’s leave it there and I’ll see you on Tuesday. Call me; you have my number. And keep icing that wrist.” With that, he walked out the front door and closed it behind him.

  Tracy sat at the table, fighting tears. She could already sense it: the hollow feeling that had always crept over her when Linc left. Her hand balled into a fist. Blast it, just let him go! She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to need him ever again.

  Most of all, she didn’t want to love him.

  But her heart, it seemed, had a will of its own.

  * * *

  On Monday, after calling ahead, Linc drove out to the Cutwright ranch. As he pulled up to the rambling house with its broad, covered porch, Brady came out with two Coronas.

  “Good timing.” He grinned as Linc climbed out of the car. “With Ellie and her friends caught up in the wedding craziness, I’ve become a fifth wheel.”

  “You, a fifth wheel?” Linc laughed. “No way.”

  “Hey, I’m only the groom. All I really need to do is show up and stand in the right place.” Brady waved an arm toward the wicker chairs on the porch. “Come on up and have a seat. I was hoping we’d have time to visit.”

  Linc climbed the steps, took a seat, and accepted a Corona. Growing up as an only child, he’d thought of Brady as the closest thing he had to a younger brother. In recent years they’d seen too little of each other. It was nice, having a rare chance to catch up.

  “You’re looking good, Brady.” Linc put a boot on the porch rail, opened the Corona, and took a long swig. “Getting married must agree with you. I’ve only just met Ellie, but she strikes me as a great girl.”

  “Thanks for not telling me it’s too soon.” Brady sank into a nearby chair. “Most of my friends have told me to give it more time. But, damn it, life is short. When you know you’ve found the right woman, why wait?”

  As he looked at Linc, his expression changed. “Oh man, I stepped in that one, didn’t I? You said the same thing when you married Tracy after knowing her just a few weeks.”

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t work for you and Ellie. Different people, different expectations . . .” As Linc sipped his Corona, he recalled his wedding to Tracy. He’d been head over heels in love with her. Truth be told, he still was—though he’d rather walk on a bed of cactus spines than show it.

  “You two were so happy and so much in love,” Brady said. “I looked at you and thought, That’s what I want for myself someday. What the hell happened with you two anyway?”

  Linc shrugged. “She was young and I was too involved in my crazy lifestyle to give her the attention she needed. I came home after a trip to Vegas and she was gone. End of story.”

  “You know you were an idiot, don’t you?”

  “The worst kind of idiot. I had a beautiful, intelligent, loving woman and I was too stupid to realize I needed to hold up my end of the relationship. It never occurred to me that I could lose her until she walked out.”

  “Maybe it isn’t too late.” Brady finished his Corona and set the empty bottle on the porch. “I saw you two leaving the shower together. Did you make it to that Mexican restaurant I told you about?”

  Linc managed a rough laugh. “We did. We drove there in a downpour and got in a fight before the meal was half-finished. Coming out, Tracy fell and broke her wrist, and we spent a couple of hours getting her patched up in the ER. I drove her home, picked up her car, and spent the night on her couch. Not quite what you’d call a romantic date, was it?”

  Brady shook his head. “You never can tell. At least she got to see a new side of you. That might be worth something. You and Tracy are two
of my favorite people. When I heard you’d be here, I was hoping you might reconnect.”

  “We reconnected all right. But not in the kind of way that leads to happy endings. I’m staying away now to give her some space.”

  “Are you sure that’s what she wants? Tracy’s never talked to me about the breakup. But in the years she’s been back, I haven’t seen her with another guy. It’s been school, work, and the occasional dinner with friends. My guess is the lady’s hiding a broken heart.”

  “A broken heart? Hell, she’s the one who left.”

  “What if she left because she thought you didn’t love her? Who knows? Maybe you’ve been given one last chance to change her mind.”

  “Maybe.” Linc finished his beer. He knew better than to tell Brady about the stupid bet he’d made. The less said about that, the better. If Chet was going to be at the rehearsal dinner, it might be possible to get him off to one side to do some damage control. But if Chet opened his big mouth, any chance of a future with Tracy would be dust in the wind.

  He made small talk with Brady a while longer—safe subjects like plans for the wedding and after, the ranching business, the future of horse racing, and updates on the family. Then he made his excuses and rose from the chair. “When you’re in the mood for a trip, I’d enjoy hosting you and your bride in Lexington. I can show you the sights and there’s plenty of room in my big house. Except for the help, I just rattle around alone.”

  “It sounds like you could use some company—the permanent female kind, with a ring on her finger. Think about it. Tracy’s one hell of a woman. You’d be crazy to let her get away a second time.”

  “Message received loud and clear. I’ll give it some thought. But Tracy’s her own woman. She might not be inclined to come back.”

  Brady grinned. “Give it a try. The worst she can do is say no—or maybe punch you in the face. She does have a redhead’s temper. See you at the rehearsal dinner.”

  Linc took his time driving back to town. The day had been long and slow. With no prospect of seeing Tracy, the hours until bedtime loomed even longer. More than once he’d reached for his phone to call to make sure she was all right. But he’d checked the impulse. Tracy wouldn’t want to be babysat. And she had a broken wrist, not a life-threatening injury. She’d be fine—and if she wasn’t fine, she could call him.