by Jane Jamison
“If it’s meant to be, we’ll find the woman for us. If Cinda is the one that’s meant for us, then she’ll show up again. Unmarried.”
Hank growled at Walken. “Fate again? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Walken wasn’t going to argue the point. As strange as it might seem for a man in his field to believe in fate, he did. Hank, however, didn’t. Grant had been known to go either way, changing his mind often.
“Whatever. She’s long gone now. Hell, she’s probably got five kids and is chairman of the parent teacher organization. Give it up and move on.” Grant spurred his horse ahead of them.
Hank muttered a few choice words under his breath then urged his horse forward. Walken looked on as they raced toward the barn.
What if she hadn’t been married? Would they have their mate by now?
He shoved the thoughts away. Grant was right. It was what it was and there was no changing it.
* * * *
Cinda could barely breathe.
How is this happening to me?
She rested her hands on her steering wheel and sat, staring out the windshield. In the time span of two hours, her life had been turned upside down.
It wasn’t as though it was the first time her life had gone topsy-turvy.
The first time had happened almost a year earlier. She could remember the day clearly, and her mind went there now, probably to keep from thinking about the present.
Gripping the wheel, she let her memory take over. She’d awakened one morning to find Todd sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Cinda, we have to talk.”
She rubbed her eyes like a little child would do. “Now? Why’d you wake me up so early?”
“You have to leave.” He didn’t look at her. Instead, he kept his gaze averted. Was he ashamed?
“Leave? Where are we going?” She was never very coherent before her first cup of coffee, but her mind seemed even more dazed than usual.
“We’re not going anywhere. You’re the one who’s leaving.”
Suddenly, she was wide-awake. “I don’t understand.” She gripped his arm, fear making her dig her fingernails into his skin. “Why won’t you look at me?”
He stood up, jerking his arm free. When he faced her, she knew. Her stomach tightened.
“We’re over.”
She clambered out of bed, trying to reach him both physically and emotionally, but he kept backing away. “Why? What’s wrong?”
Hadn’t it been only last night that they’d talked about the wedding? Hadn’t they discussed whether to stay in his apartment or to buy a house? She’d kept her old place, a small studio apartment, only because it was easier than moving twice. Why move all her things before the wedding? Or had she somehow sensed what would happen?
“I don’t love you. I’m not sure I ever did.”
She gaped at him. “What? Of course you love me. And I love you.” She did, didn’t she? Yet, lately, she’d started wondering. Had she stayed with him because the relationship was comfortable? Because she didn’t have anyone else? Because no one else would want her? “Please, tell me what I did wrong.”
“You got fat.”
He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d taken a knife and driven it through her heart. “What?”
“You heard me.”
He glared at her. She’d done something wrong, all right. At least in his eyes. She’d gained weight.
“Look, Cinda, I’ve been very patient, but a year of waiting for you to lose the weight is enough. I don’t want a fat girlfriend, and I sure as hell don’t want a fat wife.”
She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
When she’d met Todd, she’d been a little chubby but still very cute. Then she’d gained weight. Now he didn’t want her any longer. It was as simple as that. Tears sprang to her eyes, but they didn’t fall. She wouldn’t let them.
“You’re dumping me because I’m not skinny?” Anger started as a small spark then continued to grow.
“I’m dumping you because you’re fat. Fat, fat, fat,” he shouted, his voice rising to a high pitch. An almost girl-like pitch.
The hurt slowly went away, replaced by a mix of emotions. How could a person feel anger, confusion, and relief all at the same time? Yet, she did.
“You need to move out by the end of the day.”
“Okay.”
He blinked then scowled at her. “Okay?”
She shrugged. Why had it taken her so long to realize the truth? Six months earlier and she would’ve been destroyed. But since then, she’d done her best to learn to like her new body. Although she hadn’t been strong enough to tell him, she’d given up on dieting and working out.
“Yeah. Okay.” She threw off the covers—noting for the first time how he cringed at the sight of her body—and marched toward him. Surprising him, she pulled him into a hug.
“Let me go,” he ordered.
She did, in every way possible. Somehow, she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Thank you, Todd. I don’t know why I didn’t see it a long time ago, but you’re right. You don’t love me. Not the real me.” She waved her hands along her voluptuous body. “And what’s even better is that I don’t love you, either.”
How could she have been so blind? How could she have just gone along, thinking that one day, once they were married, everything would get better? She felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. She’d laughed when she’d phoned Kiley to tell her the good news.
A few hours later, she was back in her studio apartment and feeling better than she had in a very long time. As far as she was concerned, Todd could go fuck himself. After all, it was his loss, not hers.
Yet, the rejection still hurt. How could it not? In the space of one quick conversation, she’d gone from engaged to single.
Her life had been tossed head-over-end then, but losing Todd had turned out to be a good surprise. The one she’d received today was the other side of the coin. The bad side. The losing side.
I should’ve gone to see a doctor sooner.
Instead, she’d ignored the warning signs. Trouble catching her breath. Nausea. Dizziness. She’d explained them all away time after time. Perhaps she hadn’t sought out medical help because somehow she’d known it would turn out bad.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat in the car. Long enough that shadows started playing over the hood. When she finally drew in a ragged breath and shook herself back to reality, the sun was getting lower behind the Atlanta skyline.
I have to get home. Then I’ll think about it.
She pulled out of the medical facility parking lot and headed toward Eastbound I-85. Having driven the highway so many times she’d lost count, she didn’t have to think much to navigate the heavy traffic.
Just keep going until you get home.
Living “outside the perimeter”—the huge highway loop that circled the city—was both a drawback and a blessing. Away from the bustle of downtown Atlanta, she could enjoy the tranquility of the smaller town of Hoschton, but it also put her farther away from many of the houses she listed as a realtor.
She kept going, slowing as the traffic became congested then speeding up whenever she could. By the time she could take the exit, she was thankful to get off the busy highway.
And then it hit her.
The doctor had been certain. It was real.
Oh God. What am I going to do?
In that moment, that one split second of time, she allowed herself to be swallowed whole by her sorrow. Without realizing what she was doing, she closed her eyes.
By the time she opened them, it was too late.
Her body jerked forward with the impact then was thrust brutally back against the seat. Her airbag released, filling the car with white dust. She didn’t scream. She didn’t have the time or the awareness to do so.
When her car finally came to a stop, she was shaken but still alive.
Oh, shit.
Unhooking her
seat belt, she half fell, half flung her body out of her car. At first, all she could do was to stand there on the side of the road. Her car’s front end faced the embankment but had come short of going over.
Oh God.
She lunged forward, fear stiffening her limbs as she rushed to the edge of the road. The slope wasn’t as steep as it was long, but it was enough that the black sedan resting nose-down in the embankment was hidden from passing traffic.
“I hit someone.” Her voice sounded tortured.
Did I hurt them? Are they dead?
She leaned as far over the edge as she could. Going down the slope wasn’t possible. If she tried, she could end up hurting herself instead of helping the other driver.
Whirling around, she raced back to her car. Her purse wasn’t on the passenger seat where she’d left it. Trying her best to stay away from the shards of broken windshield scattered over the interior, she searched first the front then the back. Her red purse had come open, flinging the contents everywhere.
“My phone. Where’s my damn phone?” She crawled into the back seat, no longer caring about the pieces of glass digging into her jeans. Searching under the seat, she finally found it.
Back outside the car, she hurried to the embankment and called 9-1-1 as other drivers started pulling over to offer assistance.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” The woman’s voice was calm yet firm.
“Please, I need help. I hit another car, and it went down into a culvert.”
“Where are you? Can you give me a street address?”
“Off I-85, close to the Hoschton exit. Please, send an ambulance.”
“Help is on the way. Can you see the other driver?”
She squinted as smoke started flowing out from under the hood of the sedan. “No. I don’t see anyone. I don’t know how many people are inside.”
The first of the flames licked over the side of the hood, jumping higher as more flames broke out on the other side. “Shit. The car’s on fire. Please, hurry.” Stunned, she stared as fire blazed hotter, beginning to engulf the car.
Someone grabbed her arms. Another person took the phone from her.
“Get back, lady. It’s going to blow.”
She fought against the man restraining her as others joined him. They pulled her away from the edge until she couldn’t see the car any longer. A loud boom blasted around them as a fireball leapt into the sky. Screams and calls warning everyone to “get back” broke out.
At once, every ounce of strength she had was gone. She collapsed. If it weren’t for the two men holding her, she would’ve fallen hard to the ground. Instead, they carried her farther away and gently lowered her until she was sitting on a blanket.
Had another person given her their blanket? She blinked and watched the black plume of the explosion lift higher into the air.
“I killed them.”
“What’d you say, lady?”
She put her head in her hands, suddenly finding it too heavy to lift. “I killed them.”
Chapter Three
“Holy hell, where’d they come from?”
The older man’s voice drifted over her, but it didn’t make much sense. She was too consumed with grief to care.
“Lady, look.”
Her vision was blurry when she lifted her head. A crowd of people parted, allowing three men to walk toward her. She blinked, wiped her eyes, and then blinked again.
The three were big men, each of them standing over six feet tall. Their clothes were torn and burned as though they’d run through a house fire and come out the other side. Their strides spoke of strength and confidence few men could boast.
The oldest of the three looked as if he was in his fifties. His balding hair had tuffs of brown streaked with gray at his temples. He was pudgy, yet he had a vitality about him that defied his outward middle-aged appearance.
But it was the other two that caught her attention. They had longish black hair that curled around their ears. Their faces were intense with square jawlines and masculine, rugged cuts. The first man’s black eyes glinted at her, and for just a moment, she thought she saw a flash of red in them.
She stared harder at the third man. Like the second, his hair was a sleek obsidian that touched the tips of his lobes. He was as broad as the second man with dark stubble running along his jaws. Strange silvery eyes met hers.
It’s him.
Although she hadn’t seen him in a year, she remembered him as though they’d met yesterday. She reached up, knowing the two men beside her would help her to her feet. When they had, she put out her hand. If she could touch him, he’d be real.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The man who’d first taken hold of her stayed by her side. The blare of an ambulance filled the air. “You came out of that car? But it was on fire. Hell, it still is.”
Hank came to stand in front of her. When she flattened her palm against his chest, she let out a small sigh. “It’s you.”
“And it’s you.”
She wanted to believe the joy she saw on his face.
“How’d you get out of the car before it exploded?” asked one man.
“Are you guys all right?” questioned a woman.
“Why aren’t they burned?” Another man. Another voice in the crowd.
“What are you guys? Flame-resistant?” A nervous titter followed the young man’s idiotic question.
More questions pelted them, but the men ignored them. Instead, they kept their attention on her.
“You broadsided us.” Incredibly, Hank smiled.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you until it was too late.” She should’ve been on her knees begging for their forgiveness, yet all she could think about was how amazing he looked. His friend was as hot as he was. Even the older man was handsome. He must’ve been great looking in his younger years.
“It’s okay. No harm done.”
She returned his smile, relief flooding her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She studied all three men. “Any of you?” How had they gotten out of a burning car without a scratch? Why weren’t their clothes torn?
“No harm done, my ass. Our car’s totaled. How the hell are we supposed to get back to the ranch?”
Hank held up his hand, silencing the older man. “Are you all right? I’ll bet you took a banging when you hit us.” His concerned gaze slid over her, searching for injuries.
“She’s not hurt. Other than not being able to see.” The older man gruffed at her. “What were you doing? Texting?”
She denied the accusation as vehemently as possible. “No. I wasn’t on my phone. I…” What could she say that made it any better? That she’d been lost in thought? That she’d had trouble thinking about anything except what the doctor had told her?
“Bertram, lay off.” Hank didn’t glance his way, but his tone was enough to get Bertram to stop.
“But he’s right. It was my fault.”
“It’s only a car. No one was hurt. Don’t worry about it, Cinda.”
He remembers my name. That has to mean something.
The other man jerked his head back, surprise filtering through his curiosity. “Wait. This is Cinda?”
Hank nodded. “It sure as hell is.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” His friend stuck out his hand. “I’m Walken Hardgrove, and this old coot is Bertram Talliwagger, our driver.”
“I never got your full name.” Hank placed his hand over hers. “Tell me now.”
The touch reminded her of the way he’d captured her hand in his at the gym. She could still remember everything, including the kiss. Especially the kiss. Did he? “It’s Cinda Warner.”
“It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Hank Jansen.” His gaze slid over her in an entirely different way than it had before. Hotter. Needier. “You look great, Cinda. Better than I remember.”
She barely kept from gawking. How could he think that? She’d put on even more weight in the months since she and Todd had broken up. Was he mer
ely being kind? Yet, the sensual way he studied her told her it was more than that. “You look good, too.” Really good.
Horns and blaring sirens filled the air. An ambulance braked to a stop not far away while a firetruck eased closer to the embankment.
The EMTs were out of the ambulance and dashing toward them. The crowd parted, giving them leeway. A medic took each of them and started giving them a thorough examination. Hank called out to her as his medic led him away.
“Don’t go running off, Cinda. Not again.”
“I won’t.” She would’ve loved to have added more, but the medic taking care of her pointed a light in her eyes. She blinked at the harsh brightness then tried to find Hank again. He and his friends were lost in the crowd.
The medic finished checking her over. “Are you sure you don’t hurt anywhere?” He glanced at her car then toward the edge where firemen and policemen were attending to the men’s car.
“I feel fine.” Truth be told, she felt amazing. The man she’d thought about so often had come back into her life. And, thankfully, she hadn’t killed him.
“I’d highly advise you to go to the hospital. Let a doctor check you over to make sure.”
She’d seen enough doctors to last a lifetime. “No. I don’t want to. But can you tell me how I can get home?”
“We’ve called for another car. Once we get all the details figured out, we can give you a ride.
Hank’s deep voice floated over her like a silken wave. Hank, Walken, and Bertram were on her before she saw them. She turned around, unable to keep from grinning like a silly schoolgirl.
“Again, I really have to advise you to go to the hospital,” argued the medic. He put his hand on her arm, gently urging her to go with him to the ambulance.
She was just about to refuse again when Hank took her hand.
* * * *
“Maybe he’s right. We wouldn’t want to miss anything.” Hank peered at her, loving what he saw. Her figure was curvy with all the right peaks and valleys. The swell of her large breasts made him want to lick his lips, imagining how his tongue would trace over them then find its way to her hard nipples. Nipples that were making a major show right then.