Married by Accident

by Christine Rimmer

  Clip, clip. clip. And he reached her. “Hello, Melinda.”

  Her heart beat fast and hard, urging her to flee. But she held her ground. “Hi, Cole.”

  He actually smiled, a clear attempt at civility. But she could read those eyes. Those eyes did not look civil at all. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “Well. Here I am.”

  “Right.” His gaze flicked over her. She felt like a sneak, for coming here when she knew he’d counted on her to stay away. She also felt naked, hollowed out, humming inside. He asked, “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “My job...ended rather abruptly.”

  He chuckled. In spite of the heat of the day and the other, stronger heat that seemed to vibrate in the air around them, that chuckle sounded as cold as an endless night at the North Pole. “Abruptly. I’ll just bet.”

  She didn’t like that cold laugh—or the hard look in his eyes. She shifted her gaze downward and found herself looking at his chest. A few beads of moisture—sweat, or perhaps water from a recent swim—glistened among the wiry hairs there.

  He said her name. “Melinda.” The sudden gentleness in his tone made her willing to meet his eyes again. She saw kindness in them, just like that first day. “Look. I’m sorry your job didn’t work out.”

  “Well,” she said, trying for briskness and not succeeding too well, “sometimes it happens that way.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes it does.” The words seemed to refer to more than just a job.

  She felt breathless. “I’ll find something else.”

  “Right.” He stared at her. The heat of the day, the heat between them, it all seemed to press on her. She had to work to draw air.

  Up the courtyard, a door opened. An older woman came out and walked toward the back, disappearing around the side of the building.

  Cole seemed to shake himself. “Well. Good luck.”

  “Yes. Yes, thank you. And I...really have to go.”

  “You have yourself a real nice day—what’s left of it, anyway.”

  “I will. You, too.” She ordered her feet to move. Then she kept her eyes forward and her head high as she walked away.

  Cole went inside feeling a little softer toward Melinda. He knew she had worked damn hard at that job. And he suspected she’d lost it because of a jealous movie star.

  But then he spotted a fancy new stroller and a big box with a picture of a baby swing on the front. He didn’t say a word about them, but Annie must have read the disgusted glance he gave them.

  “She’s my friend and she’s helping me. Just get used to it, Cole.”

  “You wouldn’t need her help if you’d come on home—and what did you do to your hair? It looks just like hers?”

  Annie glared at him.

  And they had another big fight. He ended up telling her how he’d called home from the motel. How their dad and Gerda Finster—the retired nurse who had agreed to look after the old man around the clock until Cole’s return—weren’t getting along. How badly things were backed up at the veterinary hospital, with two vets trying to do the work of three.

  Annie cried, “Then go home, for heaven’s sake. Go home where you belong.”

  “Fine. I will. And you and Brady will come home with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” she shouted, which woke up the baby, who started wailing. She hurried over to the crib.

  Cole stood in the middle of that too-small, hot room, watching his little sister comfort her baby, thinking about his sick father and the farmers and ranchers who depended on him when ailing animals needed his care. Fury burned inside him. And a lot of that fury was directed at a tall, long-legged woman with violet eyes and wheat-colored hair who would not let him—or his sister—get on with their lives.

  He swore, low and crudely, though swearing was something he’d been brought up never to do—at least not out loud.

  Annie said, “Cole Yuma. Hush up with such talk.”

  So he stomped into the kitchen, yanked a pack of cube steaks out of the dinky refrigerator and set about fixing them something to eat.

  Melinda couldn’t help herself. She felt so powerfully drawn to Annie and the baby.

  She came by the next day. And the day after that and the next day, as well.

  It got to be something of a pattern. Melinda would job-hunt in the morning and drop by Annie’s in the afternoon. For the most part, Cole made himself scarce when she visited, which suited Melinda and Annie just fine. If she and Cole did happen to meet, Melinda never felt comfortable. She would make her excuses and leave right away. He always seemed way too happy to see her go, though he managed to keep the harsh remarks to a minimum.

  When Melinda and Annie were alone, Annie confided that her brother was driving her crazy. He wanted to go home and he wouldn’t go without her.

  “Seems like we have a fight at least once a day now. Oh, I just do not know what to do about that man.”

  A voice in the back of Melinda’s head—probably the voice of her wiser self—urged her to advise Annie to go home with her brother. But she knew that Annie wouldn’t listen. And also, there was the sad little ache that throbbed within her at the thought of Annie going. It was selfish, and she knew it. But she would miss Annie and Brady terribly if they left.

  She really could talk to Annie about anything-well, almost anything. She had not mentioned—never would mention, actually—the forbidden kiss she’d shared with Cole, or the way her traitorous body responded whenever he was near. But she did tell her all about her childhood in the big, comfortable apartment on the Upper East Side. About the parents she had never been able to please. About her brother, the Wyoming rancher. And her older sister, the only one who’d managed to live up to their parents’ expectations. Gwen was married with two children now. She wrote lovely children’s stories, which she illustrated herself. The books always sold well and, most important as far as her parents were concerned, they consistently won major literary awards.

  Annie said, “Well, you can’t go livin’ your life to make your parents happy, anyway.”

  “I know. But—”

  “It still hurts, huh? That you can’t be what they want you to be? Oh, I know what you mean. I never really knew my mom. She died when I was born. But my dad, well, he never had any big plans for me. He just wanted me to live a good, God-loving happy life—and not to run away with Jimmy Logan without even finishing high school first. I know I have let him down. But all I did was follow my heart.”

  And where did your heart get you? Melinda thought.

  “Oh, don’t look like that,” Annie said. “It was the right choice that I made, I know it. It’s a tough time right now. But tough times are a part of life. And just think, if I hadn’t gone with Jimmy, I wouldn’t have Brady. And you and me, we never would have met.”

  Melinda found herself wondering whether her friend was the wisest eighteen-year-old in the world—or just another deluded love-struck fool.

  On Friday, the day of Melinda’s sixth visit to Annie’s apartment, Cole showed up when Melinda had only been there for half an hour.

  He walked in with two full bags of groceries in his big arms. “Hello, Melinda,” he said with careful politeness.

  “Hi, Cole...” She felt the yearning his presence always inspired in her—along with a sharp irritation that he had appeared so early, interrupting the precious too-short time she and Annie could share.

  He carried the bags into the kitchen. Melinda could see him in there, putting the food away. He opened the low refrigerator, stuck a carton of eggs inside—and then spotted the two parcels wrapped in white paper on the second shelf. He scooped them up, shoved the door shut and turned to glare at Melinda and Annie.

  “What’s this?”

  Annie made an impatient clucking sound with her tongue. “Now just what does it look like?”

  Melinda spoke up, making her tone even and cheerful. “I stopped in at Jurgensen’s on the way over. They had some beautiful salmon. And I just could not
resist picking out a couple of New York steaks. I thought you might—”

  He cut her off by turning, yanking the refrigerator open again and tossing the meat back inside. He slammed the door when he shut it. And then he turned on them, glowering, shooting the dark look first at Annie and then at Melinda. “Beautiful salmon,” he growled. “And a couple of New York steaks.”

  “Cole,” Annie warned. “Don’t you start in now.”

  Melinda stood. The companionable mood was ruined anyway. “I think maybe—”

  “Right,” Cole said. “It’s time for you to get out.”

  Annie gasped. “Cole!”

  Melinda remained resolutely civil. “It’s all right. I really do have to go.” She grabbed her purse from the little table by the door.

  “Tomorrow, then?” Annie asked hopefully.

  Melinda did not look at the man across the room. She smiled bravely at Annie. “Tomorrow. Of course.”

  Melinda called herself a coward all the way home. Poor Annie. Left alone to get into another fight with her brother—a fight that probably wouldn’t have happened if not for the salmon and the steaks that Melinda had so foolishly decided Annie might enjoy.

  Salmon and steak, Melinda thought, her own anger rising. What was the harm in her bringing by a little treat now and then? Cole behaved as if she’d committed some crime.

  Oh, yes. Annie was so right. The man should go back to Texas where he belonged. It just wasn’t good for Annie—or the baby—the way he sulked and stomped around all the time.

  She decided, as she pulled her newly repaired car into her garage, that she just might have to have a little talk with him if he didn’t start showing some sense about all this.

  Yes, she just might.

  But not for a while yet, she told herself quickly, as she started to imagine the ugly things that might be said.

  No, not for a while.

  Unfortunately for her, Cole Yuma had been thinking along the same lines. And the idea of a confrontation with Melinda didn’t scare him one bit.

  That night at a little after eight, her doorbell rang. When she went to answer, she found him standing on the front porch.

  Chapter Eight

  “Annie doesn’t know I’m here,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

  Dread tightened her stomach. She had a pretty good idea of the things he might say. And in spite of her brave thoughts that afternoon, she really did not want to hear them.

  “Well. Are you going to let me in or not?”

  No! she wanted to cry. I’m not letting you in. You just...go away.

  But all she said was, “Yes. All right,” her voice pathetically thin, as if she’d spoken without remembering to take in air first.

  She stepped back. He came inside. She shut the door behind him and gestured toward the main room.

  He went where she pointed. As he had once before, he strode straight to the glass doors, where he stood facing away from her, looking out through the growing twilight at the deck and the ravine.

  She stared at his broad back, her dread increasing. Her palms were sweating. And her poor heart galloped as if she’d just run a marathon. She rubbed her hands together. “Do you...want a drink? Something cold or—”

  He turned, the movement violent in its swiftness. “Let’s skip that stuff. I didn’t come here for a drink.”

  She pressed both hands flat against her collarbone, felt their clamminess against the bare skin above her V-necked blouse. “All right then. Why did you come?”

  He took a step toward her. She dropped her hands to her sides and steeled herself for his approach. It didn’t happen. He stopped after that single step and said in a voice that was low, hard and even, “You have got to leave my sister alone.”

  It was what she’d expected and she had her answer ready. “Annie doesn’t want me to leave her alone.”

  He scowled. “Forget what she wants.”

  She let out a small sound of distaste. The man had such gall. “If Annie wants me to visit her, then why should I stay away?”

  “Because what she wants isn’t what matters right now. It’s what she needs that’s important. And Annie needs reasons to go home, not a rich new friend who will only make it harder for her to leave L.A.”

  She was not going to let him make her feel guilty. “That’s absurd. I wouldn’t try to hold her here.”

  He glanced away, muttering something harsh under his breath. And then he faced her and tried again, more gently. “Look. Annie likes you. She feels a connection to you. I understand that. You were there, beside her, like a sister, when her baby was born.”

  “Yes, and I only want to—”

  He stopped her with a quick wave of his hand. “Let me finish. Annie’s...she’s like some lost pup, now that that bastard Jimmy has left her. She’s hungry for someone to give her loyalty to. And you, well, you seem to need someone, too. I’m not totally blind, Melinda. I can see the way you two hold on to each other.”

  A sigh escaped her. “And is that so wrong?”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s not wrong by itself. But if it keeps Annie here, when she needs to go home—”

  Suddenly Melinda found she really wanted him to understand. “Cole. Honestly, I agree with you. I think she’d be much better off in that little town in Texas with you and your father. But she won’t go. She wants to—”

  He ran right over her. “She will go. She’ll come with me. If you’ll just leave her alone. If you’ll stop dropping in all the time, bringing presents she shouldn’t be accepting from you, giving her hope that she can make it here when you and I both know damn well she can’t.”

  “She’s not staying because of me. She’s waiting for her husband. She wants to be here when he comes back.”

  “Oh, come on. You don’t really believe that Jimmy Logan is coming back.”

  He had her there, and she knew it. She dropped the subject of Jimmy Logan’s possible return. “But there’s also your father. She is certain he won’t be able to deal with—”

  “He’ll deal with it. He loves her more than his life. All he wants is for her to come home, where she belongs.”

  “No, I really think she’s afraid he’ll have another stroke when he—”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s afraid, all right. Afraid to face him, afraid to come home with a baby and with Logan long gone. She doesn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. She’s ashamed, because Dad was right. He thought Logan wasn’t good enough for her—and Logan went and proved his point. But she’ll live through her shame and Dad’s disappointment.”

  “But will your father live through it?”

  “You bet he will. He’s not going to have another stroke because she’s home. In fact, he’s likely to do better with her around. Annie always could handle him when no one else could. She’ll see that he eats right and she’ll coddle him. He’ll lap it up—if I can only get her to come back where she belongs.”

  “But she doesn’t want to go!”

  Cole’s lip curled into something that could only be called a snarl. “Don’t give me that. Tell the truth. You don’t want her to go.”

  Melinda crossed her arms over her breasts protectively—and wished she could argue that what he’d just said wasn’t true.

  He came toward her then, eating up the distance between them in long strides. “Face it. She’s not like you, with your fancy clothes and your foreign car, born in a city, with plenty of money, knowing how to get along.” He stopped not more than two feet from her. “Annie’s a sweet kid from Bluebonnet—with a kid of her own to raise.”

  His eyes, which could be so kind, showed only hard determination now. “Leave her alone, Melinda.”

  But she simply couldn’t do that. Couldn’t turn and walk away from Annie, who needed her so. “No. I’m her friend.”

  “If you’re her friend, then tell her to come home with me. I’ve been here for a week and a half. I can’t hang around forever. I’ve got my work and a sick father to worry abou
t back home.” His eyes narrowed, grew even harder. “And what about you? You’ve got your own life. Don’t you want to...do something with it? Don’t you think you ought to be out lookin’ for another job?”

  That hit a raw nerve. “I am looking for a job, thank you.”

  “I can’t believe you’re lookin’ very hard, since you show up at Annie’s every day in the middle of the afternoon.”

  He was too close. She longed to fall back a little, regain some distance. But that would show weakness. She couldn’t show weakness. She stood taller. “I am looking for another job. Not that it’s any of your business at all.”

  He loomed even closer. “Just let it go, Melinda. It was an accident. An accident that you even met her. An accident that you ended up at the hospital with us. We’ve got nothing to do with your life. And you’ve got nothing to do with us. Just walk away.”

  She wanted to shout at him. At the same time, she feared she might burst into tears. She stammered, “I...I can’t...”

  He muttered a curse.

  And all at once, she heard herself promising, “Please. I know you’re right. She should go with you. And I’ll...I’ll talk to her, how would that be? I’ll tell her that I think you’re right. She’d be better off to go.”

  His face did not soften. “Don’t talk, act. Stay away.”

  “No. No, I can’t just...disappear, as if she meant nothing to me, as if we weren’t friends.” She couldn’t bear it, being so close to him, couldn’t bear all that fury and frustration directed straight at her. She gave up trying to hold her ground and attempted to take a step back, to reclaim a little space for herself.

  But he didn’t let her. He grabbed her arm, hard. She gasped as his cruel fingers dug into her skin. He started pushing her, shoving her toward the front door. “Fine. You say you’ll talk to her, you come with me. We’ll go talk to her right now.”

  “Don’t!” She struggled against his greater strength, jerking at her own arm “You can’t do this!”

  But he held on. “Just come with me. Come with me now.”

  “Let go of me!” She gave a powerful yank and broke free. The force of her effort sent her reeling. She spun backward, regaining her balance, but barely, as she came up against a side table. The table wobbled, then righted itself, the lamp on top teetering.