Betrayal replaced the hysteria with fury. “Just that what?” she snapped. “That Sabra threw herself at you and you couldn’t resist?”
She heard a door behind her open and spun around as Sabra, wrapped in a tiny pink robe, red hair tousled, stepped into the hallway.
“Brad, what’s going on?” Sabra stopped as she saw Crystal.
“Apparently what’s going on is you decided that what’s mine is yours,” Crystal said flatly. “I think a better question might be, ‘How long has this been going on?’”
“Crystal—” Sabra started to say, but shrank back as Crystal stepped toward her.
“How could you?” Crystal didn’t even try to stop the tears now. “When you had the flu, who brought you 7UP? Who sat beside you and held a cold rag on your head? Who cleaned it up when you couldn’t make it to the trash can?” She clutched her stomach, the queasiness easy to remember. “I should have known what kind of friend you were when I got it the next day and you had ‘plans.’”
Sabra’s face paled. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“You didn’t mean for me to get the flu either,” Crystal said quietly, “but it still made me sick.”
Brad sighed loudly. “We didn’t do this to you on purpose.”
Crystal turned back around toward him. “No? I thought you loved me. You asked me to marry you!”
He looked from Crystal to Sabra then back again. “Crys...” He shifted from bare foot to bare foot. “I do love you.” His face reddened.
Crystal stared at him, her blood pounding in her ears. Now he was embarrassed? Unbelievable.
“You’re the one I want to marry. This...” He gestured toward Sabra without really looking at her. “This means nothing to me.”
Sabra gasped. “Dude. You’re calling me nothing?” she screeched. “I’ll show—”
Crystal spun around and cut her off. “Don’t bail on him now.” She reached up and wrapped her hand around the diamond daisy on her necklace. The feel of it around her neck was like an iron manacle. Gritting her teeth, she pulled, ignoring the pain of the delicate silver chain cutting into the back of her neck. One more yank and she tossed the charm, chain and all, at Sabra’s feet. “Here’s a sign of his deep commitment. It’s all yours.”
Brad started forward. “No! That’s yours.”
Crystal shoved him back then jerked her hand away as she touched his bare shoulder. “Let her have it. She’s earned it. Since I don’t have thirty pieces of silver lying around, this is the best I can do.”
Sabra slouched a little and jutted out her chin. “Crys, he’s right. It didn’t mean anything.” She shot daggers at Brad with her eyes. “To either of us, obviously. It was a mistake—”
How do you sleep with your friend’s boyfriend by mistake? Crystal thought cynically. Suddenly, her anger waned. She felt too tired to say another word.
Brad took a step toward her. “You know what, honey? I really should go and let you cool down.”
As soon as he said the words “cool down,” white-hot anger flared inside Crystal like a fanned flame. “Yes, honey. You should go. Let me get your clothes for you.”
She spun around and marched into Sabra’s room. Her stomach churned as she saw Brad’s folded Hollister T-shirt on the dresser beside his Birkenstock shoes and leather wallet. The neatness screamed of planning and forethought. Pre-meditated betrayal.
Fury pushed her forward. She scooped it all up into her arms. Her gaze fell immediately on the open window. Still holding Brad’s belongings, she stumbled over to look out. Two stories below where people were hurrying by. Going on with their lives. Unaware that hers had taken a major detour.
“Hey!” she yelled. “Look out below.” A couple of people glanced up, but most just kept going.
Brad and Sabra skidded to a stop in the doorway of the bedroom. Crystal plunked his shoes out of the window one by one and glanced back to see her ex-boyfriend watching her with shock. Sabra looked almost bemused, like she wasn’t sure who Crystal was anymore.
“You can’t do that,” Brad said.
“Watch me.” She turned back to glance down at one shoe wedged in a shrub. If she remembered correctly, a prickly holly. She tossed his T-shirt out. The yellow shirt with the white bird on it fluttered to the ground in front of the bushes.
“Not the wallet, not the wallet.” Brad rushed toward her.
“Glad to see something is important to you.” She let the shiny black leather billfold slip from her hand and watched with satisfaction as it fell with a plunk behind the shrubbery. She was 90 percent sure that was a “sticky bush,” as she and her brothers and sisters always called hollies with sharp leaves.
“You crazy—” he yelled then turned and sprinted shirtless and barefoot down the hall. Within seconds, she heard the front door slam.
She brushed past a speechless Sabra and darted down the hall to her own room. Her breath came in short spurts as she locked the door and leaned against it.
Eyes closed, she imagined the starry night sky, the sound of horses neighing softly in the corral. She pictured the familiar surroundings, focusing on the smell of fresh hay and dirt. For a split second, a memory of Brad there with her for Aaron and Bree’s wedding sliced through her distracting technique, but she pushed it away.
“Crystal,” Sabra whined from outside the door, “you and I have to talk.”
Crystal ignored her and stepped to the closet. She stood on tiptoes and slid her big black overnight bag off the top shelf. She took her three favorite outfits from the closet, rolled them up, and stuffed them in the bag. Three pairs of shoes went in on top of them. She dumped her top drawer in next then jumped back as her gaze fell on a tiny stuffed black-and-white dog.
A sob started, and she wrapped one arm across her stomach. With two fingers, she lifted the toy and tossed it into the trash can. He’d taken her to the carnival only because she insisted that it reminded her of home. Another sob hit and she couldn’t stop it. Finally she just let them wash over her. She worked as she sobbed, tossing in designer jeans, polo shirts, and tees indiscriminately. When the bag was overflowing, she leaned hard against it, slid the zipper shut, and sat on the bed next to it.
The crying stopped as quickly as it started, and she stared at herself in the mirror. It was over. And she had no desire for it to be otherwise. It still hurt, but letting herself feel pain opened up a Pandora’s box she wasn’t ready to face. So for now, she picked up her cell phone and called a cab. Now to face Sabra again.
Clutching her bag and purse, she opened the door. Sabra, looking pretty relaxed on the couch, fumbled for the remote and muted the TV. She jumped to her feet. “Hey.”
“I’ll be back in about a week to get what I can’t carry tonight.” Crystal stopped and looked back. The thought of leaving anything in Sabra’s apartment made her physically ill. “On second thought, I’ll have someone come by tomorrow and get the rest of it.” Tina and Zee would do it. For once, she was glad that she’d accumulated little since she’d left home.
“Seriously?” Sabra said the word like “searslee.”
Crystal grunted under her breath. To think, until she’d bumped into Brad in the bathroom doorway tonight, the most irritating thing about her roommate had been Sabra’s high-pitched slang. Sometimes perspective was a painful concept to grasp.
Sabra blew out a loud breath as if irritated by the whole situation. “Listen. You don’t have to go. Good roommates are hard to find.”
Crystal stared at her. “Tell me about it.”
She hurried out the door without looking back.
Out on the street, a yellow cab was just pulling away. The one she’d called? The thought that someone would steal her cab hit her like the last straw. “Hey!” She whistled and waved.
The yellow car slowed. Crystal yanked the back door open and skidded to a stop. Brad stared up at her. Fully clothed. “Crystal. I’m glad you changed your mind. I love—”
He started to climb out, but Crystal reared back and slamm
ed the door with all her might.
Another cab eased up to the curb and she jumped into it. “Lock the doors, please, and be sure they don’t follow us.” She motioned toward the car in front of them.
The driver’s dark eyes looked puzzled, but he nodded. “Where to?”
“Arkansas.”
He tapped the brakes and met her gaze in the mirror this time. “Ma’am?”
She sighed and collapsed against the worn seat. “The airport.”
He accelerated and she closed her eyes.
She knew she really had no right to ask for help. But right now she didn’t know where else to turn.
Lord, help me, please.
I’m going home.
***
Jeremy opened his truck door and froze, his hand cupped over the metal frame. Instead of sliding in, he grabbed his hat off the seat and headed for the barn. Maybe being out in the cool morning air would blow away the cobwebs of another restless night.
In his stall, Nacho gazed up at his master and whinnied softly.
“Hey, brother.” Jeremy hooked an easy arm around the paint’s neck. “How ’bout a ride this mornin’?”
He worked quickly in the stillness of the barn, keeping his mind on the familiar task before him, as he saddled the horse. Before Lindsey had taken Beka, he’d often wondered how people go on when they lose someone they love. Now he realized they had two choices. Go on or give up. Quitting was out of the question as long as there was hope. And the only way to keep going, for him anyway, was to consider each new day as another day closer to finding them.
He put his foot in the stirrup and slung himself up onto Nacho’s back. Just like they always did, his anger and worries faded to the background as he and the horse worked together as one.
Tiny splotches of green along the branches of the trees and the short sprigs of grass popping up in old Mr. Marshall’s yard caught his eye as he galloped by. They reminded him of the last picture Beka had colored for him. Almost a year later, the faded paper still hung on his refrigerator, its corners slightly curled.
As he neared the bridge, spring seemed to kick into hyperdrive. More and more green flashed by him. He slowed Nacho to a walk.
Honeysuckle mixed with the scent of the river as they clip-clopped across the wooden bridge. Jeremy took a deep breath. His life was in Sam’s hands, and disappointments like last night made it hard to keep on believing. Over coffee, his mom had accused him of taking on too many jobs in order to keep his mind occupied. He snorted aloud at the memory. Nacho shifted slightly under him, responding to his master’s unease.
As if work could keep his mind off of Beka for more than a second. He helped Jonathan when he could because the McCords were good neighbors, and when it was time to do things on his own ranch or his father’s, Jonathan and the boys were the first ones there.
He laid the reins gently against Nacho’s neck and guided him into the narrow dirt path that led to the McCords’ bottom field. As he neared the moorings of the bridge, a tiny black compact car caught his attention. Who would drive a car like that down a field road? The tags identified the vehicle as a rental. Hair stood up on the back of his neck. This was private property. And none of the McCords would be driving that car.
He shifted his hat back on his head and examined the riverbank. Nobody. “Whoa,” he said softly. Nacho stopped immediately. He patted the horse’s neck as he slid off and let the reins fall to the ground. Some things in life were more certain than others. He knew he could count on the fact that Nacho would be standing right here when he returned.
He’d almost reached the car when he saw her.
Beside a brushy tree on the bank with her back to him, the woman stood as still as a tree herself. Blond hair barely touched her shoulders. Her clothes went with the car, black and way too dressy for this particular locale.
Either she hadn’t heard him or she hoped that if she didn’t acknowledge him he’d go away. And for a second he wanted to. The oddity of the whole picture screamed complications, and Jeremy needed to simplify his life. Not complicate it.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
He thought he saw her flinch, but she still didn’t turn, nor did she answer.
He took a couple more steps toward her to make sure she heard him above the rushing water. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, still not turning around.
Walk away. She said she was fine. But her tear-clogged voice and slumped shoulders said otherwise.
He took another step toward her. “Are you from around here?” He and his parents had just moved here two years ago after they’d sold the gas rights to their property in south Arkansas. Maybe she was a native he just hadn’t met yet.
“I used to be.” She still didn’t face him, her blond hair shifting around her shoulders with the breeze. “Whatever happened to cowboys being the strong silent type?”
So she had seen him ride up.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. But this is private property.”
She turned around to face him, her blue eyes glistening. “I think the owner will let it slide this time.”
CHAPTER 4
He took a step back as he recognized her. “Crystal.” Jonathan McCord’s oldest daughter’s appearances in this part of the country were as rare as a March snow. Jeremy had only finally met her at her brother’s wedding a couple of months ago. “I didn’t know you were home.”
She sighed. “Neither does anyone else. Yet.”
He shifted from foot to foot. Why hadn’t he trusted his instincts to avoid complication earlier and walked away? “You okay?”
A smile tilted her lips slightly. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”
He looked past her at the water, an old rope swing swayed gently in the wind. “Do you always stop by here when you come home?”
She turned to face the river. “No. Only when I need somewhere private”—even though she stressed the word, she glanced over her shoulder with a sheepish grin—“to gather my thoughts.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked back at him again. “I was teasing.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry for suggesting you were trespassing. And for interrupting your peace and quiet.” He doffed his hat to her even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Have a nice visit.” He turned to walk away.
“Jeremy. Wait.”
He stopped and faced her. “Yes?”
“I actually owe you an apology.” She sank onto the bank, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Me?” He stared at her, a study in contrast sitting on the ground in her dressy clothes.
She nodded and patted the grass beside her.
Feeling a little like he was obeying a royal summons, he walked over and lowered his lanky frame to the ground next to her.
“At Aaron’s wedding ... Brad ... my—the guy I was with ... was not really nice to you.” Her face reddened.
“And it’s your place to apologize for him?” Even though he didn’t hold a grudge, he hadn’t forgotten the man who’d made a federal case out of Jeremy getting a cell phone call from Sam during the reception.
She kind of laughed. “Well, I guess not anymore.”
As her words sank in, he nodded. She’d been way too classy for that poser. Anyone could see that. “Good for you.”
The Reluctant Cowgirl Page 3