by Vivi Holt
“I do. I have a housekeeper, but she’s not live-in.”
“Isn’t it lonely?”
He laughed and rubbed his chin. “That’s the second time I’ve been called lonely today. Am I wearing a sign?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No, it’s fine.” He stared at the house with darkened eyes. “You’re right, it’s kind of empty. I hope it won’t always be, but …” He shrugged.
“You want to get married someday?”
He smiled. “Is that a proposal?”
Her heart skipped. “No, just … curious. You seem very content on your own.”
“Here, let me help you mount up. Put your foot in the stirrup, then push yourself up … that’s the way.” Heath assisted her into the saddle, and she stared at the ground in dismay. It was a long way down. She gathered up the reins and held tight.
Heath climbed into his own saddle and tipped his hat. “You’re right. I am content on my own, always have been. But I don’t want to stay that way forever. I’d like to get married, have a family, fill that big empty house up one day.” He urged his horse forward, and Princess followed obediently without Gwen having to do a thing.
Heath took her around the ranch and showed her the small herd of longhorns they kept in the south pasture. The rest of the stock were breed horses, and she laughed at the antics of the foals, now a few months old, as they frolicked and played in the setting sun. She enjoyed every minute of it, until Princess got bored and cantered back to the barn without warning, scaring the life out of her. The horse ducked inside, stopped suddenly and dropped her head to eat more hay. Gwen held on for dear life, her heart slamming against her ribs and sweat trickling down her spine.
Heath’s horse cantered into the barn behind her. “You okay?” he called.
She nodded and exhaled sharply. “I’m fine. That was fun.”
He laughed. “I’m glad. She’s a good horse, but she loves to run home.”
Gwen rubbed Princess’ neck, then climbed carefully down from her back. Her legs and rear end ached as she hobbled over toward Heath, who was unsaddling his horse.
“You hurting?” he asked.
She nodded. “A little.”
“Look, Gwen … there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yes?” She frowned. “What is it?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday and we’re having a family picnic down at Holloway Falls. I think it would be a good opportunity for us to break up.”
Her stomach flipped. “What? You want us to break up now? But what about the engagement party? What about Nana?” And what about her? She didn’t want to break up yet. They’d just had such a good time together, riding around the ranch. What made him change his mind about their fake engagement? Was it something she said?s
“I think it’s time. Nana will only be hurt more if we carry on longer. And Mom too. I don’t regret it, don’t get me wrong – I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. But I did it so Dad would make me CEO, and he’s done that. You did it for the money, and you’ve taken care of that. So there’s really no reason to keep it up. I think it’s just going to make things worse. Besides …”
She forced a smile. “Besides what?”
“Do you remember Chantelle? The woman who came into the diner …?”
“Your ex-girlfriend?”
He nodded and lifted the saddle from Princess’ back, setting it on the ground with a grunt. “She overheard you and Ed talking. She knows we’re not really engaged. And I don’t know what she’ll do with that information.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake …”
“I know. It’s just time, don’t you think? We can break up at the picnic, have a big blow-up and everyone will see it. That way we can avoid all the questions and just get it over with.”
She sighed, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s break up.” She handed him Princess’ reins and walked out of the barn.
Leaning against the fence railing, she watched him brush Princess down and lead her to a gate in the fence. He let her out into the adjacent pasture along with the horse he’d ridden, and both trotted toward the herd grazing in the distance, heads raised high. He turned toward her, his face a mask. What was he thinking? Were his thoughts in as much turmoil as hers?
Her throat tightened and she stared at the ground. “Well, I should head back to town. Thanks for showing me around.”
He walked over to her, his hands in his pockets. “No problem. So I’ll pick you up at the apartment – say, eleven o’clock?”
“Okay, great.” She turned on her heel and walked away. “See you then.”
She got to her car as tears blurred her vision. She didn’t want him to see her cry, but couldn’t hold it back any longer. She pulled the door open, slid onto the seat and choked on a sob. Why was she so upset? It wasn’t as though they were really breaking up, since they weren’t really engaged in the first place. It was all pretend …
Gwen gulped as the tears ran down her face unchecked. Maybe her heart had stopped pretending.
Gwen pulled the covers over her head, then the pillow. Diana’s music in the living room was giving her a headache. All she wanted to do was sleep, but everything was working against her. Sunlight slanted between the gaps in the curtains, birds called loudly outside the window, children squealed and shouted in the playground next door to the apartment complex. And on top of that, Diana was blasting Katy Perry.
“Just let me sleep,” she groaned as she rolled onto her side. She didn’t want to get out of bed. She was tired. The past few months had been a rollercoaster of emotions, one crisis after another, and she needed some time to recover.
Diana opened the door a crack and stuck her head in with a grin. “Are you getting up today?”
“Nope.”
“It’s nearly ten o’clock. I’ve never seen you sleep so late. And don’t you have that Montgomery family picnic today?”
Gwen moaned and squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah … I’ll be up soon.”
She heard Diana pad across the room and felt the bed move as she sat at the end. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
Gwen shook her head and cleared her aching throat. “Nothing happened. I’m just tired.”
Diana stood and headed for the door. “All right. Let me know if I can get you anything.” The door shut quietly.
Gwen gritted her teeth. It was kind of Diana to ask after her and to care, but all she wanted right now was to be left alone. Which wasn’t possible, since Heath would be picking her up in an hour. She sighed and sat up on the bed, figuring she might as well get on with it. Today was their last hurrah – a big argument at the picnic, and they’d no longer be engaged. Not that they’d ever really been engaged, she mused, staring at her empty ring finger.
But it still felt like the end of something – and like a hand was squeezing her heart.
When Heath arrived, her mood hadn’t improved. She’d slapped on shorts, a blouse and cowgirl boots – an homage to Heath’s ranch and what might have been – then completed the ensemble with an old straw hat that wouldn’t stay on her head in a stiff breeze. She’d run a brush through her hair, but didn’t bother with makeup. Why should she? All they intended to do was split up – why bother looking good for that? She opened the door and glared at him.
His eyes widened and he cocked his head to one side. “Good … morning?”
“Eh.” She turned her back and headed for her bedroom to collect her purse.
He followed her, clearly still confused. “Uh … is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. Bye, Diana,” she called over her shoulder as she left. Her voice was cold, abrupt, but she knew that if she said more the lump in her throat might break free and the tears would fall. She had to pull herself together – she’d never make it through a family picnic this way.
Heath opened the door of his truck for her and she climbed in. The vinyl seat felt cool against her skin and she leaned back against the hea
d rest. Breathe. Just breathe. You can do this.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, looking concerned. “Gwen …”
She faced him. “Why do we have to break up in front of everyone?”
“Well … I just thought it’d make things easier …”
“Easier for who?”
“I guess for my family. They’d see we aren’t suited. Otherwise, they’d probably try to get us back together – play matchmaker, you know. I don’t want Mom or Nana to be hurt more than they have to.”
She sighed and faced forward again. “Okay.”
He started the truck, still studying her with a frown. “Did something happen?”
“No. I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
His eyes narrowed and he scratched his chin, then pulled away from the curb. “You’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why? Who cares? We won’t see each other again after today. We’re not friends. You don’t care about me … so what does it matter?” Her words started out angry, but ended in despair.
He sighed. “Is that what you think, that I don’t care about you? That’s not true.”
“Ugh – fine, don’t worry about it. We’ll do this and everything will go back to the way it was. Just don’t expect me to like it.”
He didn’t reply, just kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. She reached for the radio dial and turned it on, flicking through channels until she found a Taylor Swift tune, then turned it up and sang along to the words:
So this is me swallowing my pride
Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night
And I go back to December all the time
It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you …
“Is there anything else on?” he asked, exasperated. He turned the dial until rock music blared, then leaned back against his seat with a sigh.
Why had the lyrics to that song bothered him so much? She couldn’t help smiling in satisfaction. Maybe he was struggling with them breaking up as well? Though you’d never know it by his stone face. She grimaced and crossed her legs. “So we should probably figure out what we’re going to say –”
A loud bang! The truck fishtailed, then swerved left, almost crossing the median. A car traveling toward them honked loudly as it passed. Gwen grabbed the dash with both hands, her heart pounding.
Before long, Heath got control of the vehicle and pulled onto the shoulder. He turned off the engine and climbed out, his brow furrowed. “Blown tire,” he growled, slamming the truck door shut and glaring at her.
Gwen fumed – why was he angry at her now? She hadn’t punctured his tire! This whole situation was his fault – he was the one who’d wanted her to be his fake fiancée. It had been his idea to keep the relationship going even after he was made CEO. He was the one who’d said they should break up at the picnic. All she’d gotten out of it was a letter, an envelope of money and an extra heartbreak she didn’t need. Her pulse jackhammering, she opened her door and climbed out.
He was on her side of the truck, bent over examining a very flat right rear tire. “Are you upset at me about something?” she asked, hands on her hips.
He glanced at her, his eyes dark. “No, of course not.”
“Because none of this is my fault …”
He straightened and glared at her. “You mean it’s all mine.”
“Yes, actually.”
He raised an eyebrow and headed for the truck bed. “Fine, you’re right, it’s all my fault. Can you help me change this tire?”
Her fists clenched. He wasn’t taking her seriously. She knew she was acting irrationally, but didn’t care. He’d gotten her into this situation, this relationship. He’d made her care about him. He was too kind, funny, smart and handsome – it was all his fault. How was she supposed to stay detached? He could’ve kept her at arm’s length.
He carried a jack and tire iron back to the torn tire, and she glared at him again. “Fine, I’ll help. But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Got it.” He set the jack beneath the truck, pumped it up until the tire was off the ground, then removed the lugnuts with the tire iron. She stood beside him with her arms crossed. She’d never changed a tire before, and though he’d asked for help he seemed to have everything under control. She glanced around, wondering what else might need doing, then locked on his flexing biceps and just stared.
“I’m sorry you’re …” He grunted as he shifted another lugnut. “… hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hope you know that.”
Her throat tightened. “Well, that’s good to know,” she replied sarcastically. She leaned forward to watch him work, letting the scent of sweat, soap and aftershave relax her a little. She took another step closer.
He leaned back and they collided. “Ow!” he cried, grabbing his hand.
“Oh no! I’m sorry – what happened?” She leaned over to look at his hand … and her forehead whacked against his, sending her reeling. “Ouch!” She landed on her back on the sidewalk, her head in a clump of weeds growing from a crack in the pavement.
He grunted and rubbed his forehead with his undamaged hand. “What are you trying to do, kill me?” he grumbled. He stood up and headed for the cab, but tripped over the tire iron, stumbled sideways and sat down, hard, right next to her. “Oof!”
Her head throbbed and her eyes smarted with tears. “No, I’m not trying to kill you.” She sat up, a little woozy from the fall. “Ugh … but don’t give me ideas. What happened?”
“Lost my grip on the tire iron … banged my hand on the asphalt … oh, great, I’m bleeding …”
“Oh, I’m sorry … urgh.” She lay back down, resting her head in the weeds.
Heath’s face hovered over hers. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “A bit dizzy …”
He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. She focused on his eyes, and time stood still. His blue eyes were intense as they met hers. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded again. “Heath, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”
His lips closed over hers, stifling her apology. She put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers winding through the thick dark hair at his collar. Her skin burned at his touch. What were they doing? This was crazy – they were supposed to be breaking up!
But in that moment the only place Gwen wanted to be was in his arms.
14
Heath offered Gwen a hand and helped her to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed and there was leaf litter all over her blonde hair. She held her straw hat in one hand and her eyes flitted toward his for a moment, then away again.
They’d kissed. And not just any kiss, but the most amazing, intense kiss of his entire life. It was as if all the weeks they’d known each other, every momentary caress, every peck on the cheek, had built toward it.
After the kiss, they sat side by side on the curb, talking and laughing – about anything and nothing. Conversation simply flowed in a way he’d never experienced. It was simple, easy, right. There was something so warm about Gwen – being with her felt like home. He hardly noticed the busy street in front of them. They’d even talked about church – and she’d asked if she could go with him.
He knew they should discuss their relationship. But they didn’t. It was like they had an unspoken agreement to avoid the subject. What was there to discuss? They couldn’t go back in time, couldn’t change what they’d done. So they talked about other things instead.
“I guess we missed the picnic,” Gwen finally said, brushing grass off her legs.
He shook his head. “I don’t know – we should head out there and see. I would call, but I know what Mom will say. And I still have to finish changing this tire. I was about to look for a cloth or something to wrap around my hand when we collided.”
She laughed and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry – I’m such a klutz sometimes. Let me
get a handkerchief out of my purse – I always carry one.” Within moments she’d tied the blue floral hanky neatly around the nicks on his hand. The blood had dried by then, the pain subsiding to a dull throb, and he was grateful it hadn’t been a deep wound.
He finished changing the tire and they climbed into the cab. “Let’s go,” she said, caressing his cheek.
Warmth flooded through him. He turned on the radio, settled back in his seat and checked his mirrors. “You constantly surprise me,” he said as he pulled out into traffic.
“Really? I always thought I was entirely predictable.” She laughed, and offered him a wry smile.
By the time they reached the picnic area, the shadows were long and there were only three cars in the parking lot. One of them was his parents’ Lexus. Another was a red Mustang. “Uh-oh.” He glanced at Gwen. “Chantelle’s here.”
“What? Why would she be here? Isn’t it a family picnic?”
He nodded. “Yes. As to why she’s here … to cause trouble, most likely.” He got out, hurried around to open Gwen’s door, then held her hand as she stepped out. She was still covered in dirt and grime and there were even a few bloody scrapes on her knees. Likely he looked just as bad if not worse. At least they had a good reason for missing the event – Mom couldn’t fault him for that.
They walked together hand-in-hand to where stragglers were folding picnic rugs and putting away Tupperware containers. “Mom, Dad,” he called.
They turned to face the couple, his mother with her hands on her hips, his father crossing his arms. Chantelle stood behind them, her eyes narrowed. “Heath, there you are,” Dad replied. “Hello, Gwen.”
“Sorry we’re late. We had a flat tire and it took longer than I thought to change it. I even cut my hand.” He held it up.
“Oh dear, are you hurt?” Mom hurried to his side to examine the hand. “My darling boy.”
“Where’s Nana?” asked Heath.
Mom dropped his hand and her eyes clouded. “Uncle Braden took her home. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she’ll be okay. I’ll give her a call later.”