"So," he said finally as they were approaching Elmer, "did you and Polly get all the wedding plans sorted out? Is everything set?"
"Hmm? Oh, I guess."
"Great. I can hardly wait to drag Artie in to try on a tux." Jace grinned as he pulled up in front of Polly's old house.
Celie smiled faintly. Jace cut the engine and jumped out. Celie was already getting out by the time he came around to her side of the truck. He grabbed her bag out of the topper and followed her up the steps.
She opened the door and took the bag from him. "Thanks. Bye."
"It's not late. Cloris and Alice would let me come in."
"We've been gone two days. You better go check on Artie." She didn't meet his eyes.
Jace felt anxiety swirling through him. "Artie's fine."
She was shutting him out and he had to do something, even the last thing he wanted to do. "Celie, look," he said desperately, "we need to talk."
"I need to think."
"No. You don't! Not about what Tamara said, I mean. We're not—we haven't— Well, once we did," he admitted. "But it didn't mean anything. It's over. It isn't ever going to happen again! I swear."
Celie nodded. "I believe you."
"You do?" He stared at her. He gulped. "I mean, of course you do! Good! Great. Thank God!"
A huge wave of relief swamped him. He grinned, though his heart was still slamming and his knees were still wobbling. "So you … understand? She doesn't mean anything to me. It was a one-off. One night. One stupid night."
She nodded again, but she wasn't smiling. She was looking thoughtful.
"Celie?"
She smiled and patted his hand. "I understand," she said.
Did she? Oh, God, he hoped.
Celie understood perfectly.
She'd been a fool. It had just taken Tamara Lynd to open her eyes.
She thought about it all night. She paced the house, twisting Jace's ring on her finger, pressing the diamond between her tight lips and feeling sick.
And in the morning she got up and went to the hardware store before it opened. She wanted to see Jace alone before Artie got there.
He was stacking boxes. And when she opened the door, he turned around and, at the sight of her, a grin lit his face.
Celie steeled her heart against it. She couldn't do this if she let herself fall under his spell.
He hurried toward her. "Hey! You're out early."
She smiled, knowing it didn't reach her eyes. She held out her hand. "I came to give you something. Here."
He stared at her clenched bare, ringless fingers, and then at her face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "No."
"What do you mean, no? Go on, Jace, take it." She thrust it at him again. Her gaze met his for only an instant, then shied away. "It's yours. I'm giving it back."
But he kept his hands right where they were and shook his head. "Why? You said you believed me!" Fierce blue eyes challenged her.
"I do believe you," Celie told him. She kept trying to push the ring at him.
But Jace backed away. "Then why are you doing this?"
"Because I can't … I can't marry you!"
He shook his head. "Why not? She doesn't mean anything to me. It was past. You said you understood. Celie, come on. It doesn't make any sense!"
"It does to me." She wrapped her arms across her chest. She rocked back and forth, the pain of her realization emanating from the very depths of her soul.
"Then explain it to me."
She wet her lips, took a breath, held it, then exhaled with a shudder. "It won't work," she said finally.
Jace's brows drew down. "What do you mean, it won't work? What won't work?"
"Our marriage. You and me!" The pain was welling up now, tearing at her. "It won't work. How can it? I wasn't even enough for Matt!" she said, anguished, and turned away.
"What?" Jace stared at her, poleaxed. He came after her, grabbed her arms and turned her to face him. "Matt? What the hell does Matt have to do with this?"
"You slept with Tamara!"
"The more fool me," Jace said bitterly. "Yeah, I did. One time. The night you bought Sloan at the auction. I was a wreck. I was angry. I was bitter. I wanted—hell, I don't know what I wanted!" He raked a hand through his hair. "I was starin' out the window, lookin' down at your place and wonderin' what the hell had possessed you. And Tamara came to my room and said there were more fish in the sea. So I had sex with her. It wasn't exactly memorable. In fact, it was lousy!"
Celie stared at him. She tried to digest that, to see it as Jace had seen it. But when she had, it made no difference.
"Exactly," she said softly.
Jace looked at her, uncomprehending. "Huh?"
"It was lousy, you said."
"What?"
"You knew!"
He looked baffled. "Knew what?"
"That it was lousy! You had comparisons. You could judge. You could tell the difference. And you'll … you'll be able to tell about me!" Celie pulled out of his grasp and walked away, then turned to face him. "It's not about Tamara, Jace," she admitted in a low voice. "It's about me. I wasn't enough even for Matt who didn't know anything. You've been with lots of women. You've slept with Tamara Lynd. I can't compete with that."
"I love you, damn it!"
Celie swallowed. "Now," she said. "Now you think you do."
"I do," Jace said just as stubbornly.
But she didn't accept that. "It's not real. It was, like Simone said, a shipboard romance. It won't last."
"Of course it will last."
"No. It won't. You thought you had this thing for me for a long time. It's just a matter of pursuit. The thrill of the hunt, the joy of the chase." She'd thought about it all night. "I was like the fish in the lake that you couldn't catch, so you kept coming back until you did."
Jace was shaking his head, staring at her, a dazed look on his face.
"But then you caught me. And you're happy. You think you've got what you want. And you do. For now. But it's not enough for fifty years."
Jace said something very rude that made Celie blink. Then he said, "I don't believe I'm hearing this."
"It's true, Jace. Once you've had me, you'll be ready to move on. You've had other women. You've had Tamara—"
"I never loved any other woman!"
"I won't be enough for you. I can't be," she said. And as much as she hated to admit it, that was the bottom-line truth. She couldn't marry him and then fail him. It would be worse than not marrying him at all.
For a long minute Jace didn't speak. He stared at her, at his feet, at the ceiling, then back at her again.
"So it all comes back to Matt, does it?" he said quietly. "You loved him that much?"
"No," Celie said. "I didn't! I don't! I thought I loved him. But I loved the idea of getting married. He was just … just the reason."
"And me? Was I just another reason?" Jace said bitterly.
"Of course not!"
Fierce eyes bored into her. "So you love me?"
"It's not about love," Celie argued, avoiding his question.
"Yes, it is," Jace insisted. "It's only about love. I love you, damn it, Celie O'Meara. And I'm not going to get tired of you in fifty years or even a hundred and fifty, if we have that long."
"We won't," Celie said.
"We might."
"Stop it, Jace!" She thrust the ring at him again. "Here. Take it."
He pulled his hands out of his pockets, but he didn't reach out and take the ring. Instead he folded his arms across his chest. "No. I'm not going to take it. I asked you to marry me and you said yes."
"And now I'm saying no."
"Too bad."
She frowned. "What do you mean, too bad?"
"The wedding is scheduled."
"We'll call it off."
"No, I won't."
"Then I will."
"You made a promise. You promised to marry me."
"I'll fail you!" There! She'd said
it.
But Jace just shook his head. "No. You won't. I believe in you. I believe in our commitment. Don't you?"
"I'm a realist, Jace."
"You're a coward."
Her lips pressed tightly together as she absorbed the blow. "Maybe I am," she allowed. "So take back the ring. You don't want to marry a coward."
"I want to marry you, Celie. And I'm not taking back the ring. I gave it to you in good faith. You accepted it. I'm going ahead with the wedding. And if you don't want to get married, you know what you'll have to do—jilt me."
It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.
Who insisted on going ahead with a wedding if the bride said she wasn't going to show up?
Jace Tucker, that was who.
Stubborn, bullheaded trouble-making Jace!
Celie despaired of him. She was sorry—God only knew how sorry. But she knew, sorry or not, that she was right. She had been living in a dream world, believing that she would be able to keep up with Jace, satisfy Jace.
But it wasn't true.
How could she possibly keep a man like that interested in her? She hadn't even been able to hang on to Matt! And Sloan! Sloan thought she was a nice girl, but he'd never been interested in her—only in Polly.
She'd gained some self-confidence over the past few months, but after she'd heard Tamara's words, her fledgling confidence had been dealt a death blow.
She was being sensible, practical, smart. She was saving them both a lifetime of misery, because there was no way on earth he could possibly be content with her for the rest of his life.
He'd gone to bed with Tamara Lynd, for heaven's sake!
And while she absolutely believed him when he said it had been a one-off and that he wasn't about to go to bed with Tamara again, that didn't mean he wouldn't be tempted by some other woman.
Of course he would be tempted, because there was nothing special or wonderful or astonishing about Celie O'Meara that would keep him home and content for the rest of his life.
He would get bored. He would want greener pastures. The fault wasn't his; it was hers. In the long run Celie didn't have the confidence in herself that she had what it took.
Jace was just too stubborn to see it. Yet.
He would, though. When she refused to see him, refused to talk to him, called the caterer and the florist and the minister, he'd realize she meant what she said.
And that would be the end of it.
"A tux?" Artie said doubtfully. He looked at Jace over the baling wire and shook his head. "I don't believe I've ever worn a tux."
"Me, neither," Jace said. "But it's what Celie wants. So we're going after work this afternoon to get fitted."
He'd called the place in Bozeman Celie had mentioned and told them he'd be in. He'd called Noah and Taggart and Gus, too, and told them to get over there and get fitted. He didn't put up with any arguments. He'd moaned and groaned himself. Now he was just going for it.
"Got a suit," Artie went on. "Navy blue serge. Bought it when me an' Maudie got married."
Which would make it sixty-odd years old, Jace thought. "We'll bury you in it, Artie. You're wearing a tux for the wedding."
Artie looked at him with surprise. "Gettin' mighty bossy, ain't you?"
Getting mighty desperate, that was the truth of the matter.
He'd called the minister this morning to make sure everything was set for a week from Saturday.
"Who is this?" the minister sounded surprised. "Jace Tucker? But I thought—Celie said—"
"Celie's just panickin' a little," Jace said. "Hold the date. Hold the time. We'll be there."
He ended up having to do the same with Poppy about the flowers, with Denise, the caterer, with Julie Ann, who was making the cake.
"Celie canceled," Poppy told him about the flowers, Denise told him about the meal, Julie Ann told him about the cake.
And to every one of them Jace said, "No. It's on. We'll be there." And when Julie Ann had sounded doubtful, he'd promised her a check.
"You'll make the cake if you get paid, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"Fine. I'll bring you a check."
Just to make sure, he paid the caterer, too. And the organist for the church. He also sent Polly a check payable to the Elmer Town Fund for rent of the town hall.
She called him when she got it. "What are you doing? Celie said the wedding is off."
"It's not off," Jace said firmly.
"Oh? Well, good. I wondered if the Tamara thing would give her cold feet."
"She, um, got a little nervous," Jace said.
"Well, it was in the past." Polly gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Just like Sloan's experience with her. And I can tell you that won't happen again!"
Jace believed her. There was no way Sloan was going to stray from a woman like Polly. There was no way he'd ever stray from Celie.
He loved her and he always would.
He just hoped that by October third at 3:00 p.m., Celie believed it, too.
It was the most bizarre thing in the world. Celie had called off the wedding—and no one believed her.
She'd phoned the caterer, the florist, the minister, the organist, the baker—everyone who had anything to do with the plans she'd made. She'd told them it was off. And they'd all said they were very sorry to hear it.
And the next day the baker had called and asked if she wanted raspberries on the cake.
"There is no cake," Celie said. "There isn't going to be a wedding."
"Right, Jace said you'd say that," Julie Ann said soothingly. "Don't worry, it's just nerves."
"It's not nerves!" Celie insisted.
"Fine. Do you want raspberries or not?" Julie Ann persisted.
"If Jace arranged this," Celie practically shouted, "ask Jace!"
She did the same thing when the caterer called and asked whether to serve baby carrots or green beans. She did the same when the organist wanted her to narrow down the music choices for the wedding.
"Ask Jace," she said, ready to pull out her hair. "Just ask Jace!"
The banging on the door startled Artie. He frowned and dropped his fork. "What in tarnation…?"
Jace, who had a fairly good idea who was doing the banging, pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "I'll take care of it."
It was, just as he'd thought, Celie fuming and pacing on the porch. She rounded on him when he opened the door. "Exactly what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
He dabbed at his lips with his napkin. "Eatin' dinner?"
She made a furious explosive sound. "With Poppy! With Julie Ann! With the minister!"
"Just firmin' things up," Jace said easily, admiring the high color in her cheeks. "I told Julie Ann yes to the raspberries. I always liked raspberries. I said green beans rather than carrots, but if you want—"
"I don't want! I don't care! I'm not marrying you!"
"Sure you are, Cel'. You got to. You love me."
But she wished she didn't. Oh, God, how she wished!
It was because she loved him that she wouldn't marry him, damn it. It was because she didn't want to fail him, to hurt him, to bore him for the rest of his life, for goodness' sakes!
He didn't realize how boring she was. She hadn't really realized it until she'd compared herself with Tamara. That had been a wake-up call, all right.
It had awakened every dormant insecurity Celie had ever known.
She had bid on Sloan, yes. And that had been a brave, daring—let's face it, desperate—thing to do. But all her weekend with Sloan had done was prove that she had good taste in men. It hadn't proved that a man like Sloan could love her.
On the contrary, he loved Polly, who was everything she was not. Polly was tough and clever and capable. Polly had always faced the world head-on, had dared to do things that Celie wouldn't dare in a million lifetimes.
She was the right sort of woman for Sloan. She—or Tamara or some other woman—was undoubtedly the right woman for Jace.
But Jace—stupid Jace!—didn't believe that!
He thought she was some daring, adventurous woman who went sailing off into the sunset. In fact, nothing was further from the truth.
She might have sailed off into a few sunsets just recently, but she'd had to make herself do it. They'd been memorable, but no more memorable than the sunsets she'd seen on Jace and his sister's ranch when they'd come home. She'd visited half a dozen foreign ports, too, and she was glad she had. But they hadn't captivated her, either. No more than life in Elmer did. She was every bit the boring provincial girl Armand had always believed she was.
How could Jace Tucker, who had been to bed with Tamara Lynd and heaven knew how many other enticing women, possibly want to spend the rest of his life with the most boring woman on earth?
He could get a job as a wedding consultant, Jace figured, by the time this was all over. And he might have to if he had to get out of town because he'd become the laughingstock of the entire Shields Valley.
It was a possibility—because as time went on, he found that Celie was being just as stubborn as he was.
After their battle on Artie's front porch, from which she'd stomped away, furious, she had avoided him everywhere.
He'd gone into the grocery store the following day as she was checking out. She had turned her back on him and kept right on talking to Carol Ferguson.
"Hey, Cel'," he'd said. "How ya doin', Carol?"
Carol had talked to him, had chatted a bit. Celie had pretended he wasn't even there.
The next day Julie Ann had called him to ask about the cake topper.
"The what?" Jace was mystified.
"The bit that sits on top," Julie Ann explained. "Celie didn't know what she wanted before. And she won't say now. She says it's your wedding, ask you." Julie Ann seemed to think this was very odd behavior, but dutifully she asked, "So take your pick. You can have a bride and groom, a dove of peace or wedding bells."
He should probably pick the dove of peace, Jace thought. It was clearly what they needed. But even more than that he needed a bride. "The bride and groom," he told Julie Ann.
At least that way one would be there.
"Celie ticked at you?" Artie asked him the Wednesday before the wedding when Jace came home for lunch.
A COWBOY'S PURSUIT Page 14