by Holt,Debra
She didn’t trust him. He had no right to expect her to do so. How could he regain that trust? Certainly not by telling her that just seeing her had resurrected thoughts of a future … but that didn’t keep him from wanting it all the same. Do-overs. Where were they when you needed them? All he had was what was in his heart. Macy Donovan. Moving to stand inside the open door of the loft, he watched as she put a mare through her paces in the working corral below.
Macy was a pint-sized female, but she established who was in charge easily enough—both with animals and humans. Where was the quiet, unassuming girl he’d known? The girl’s body he remembered had filled out in all the right places, and Macy in tight jeans could take his blood pressure up a few notches in nothing flat. Her hair was still the glorious black silk he’d spent hours running his fingers through on lazy summer afternoons in a field of wildflowers. Only now she kept it pulled back and secured most of the time, he noted with disappointment. He hoped to see her let it down soon. Although that might not be too wise, given the tenuous truce they had at the moment. Staying on his best behavior was becoming increasingly difficult. It was a losing battle when she turned those blue eyes on him, their long, dark lashes concealing secrets he wanted so badly to unlock. He had such a deep thirst inside for her and what they’d once had in their relationship. Being so close yet so far from her each day was killing him.
Macy turned and glanced back toward the barn. Her gaze zeroed in on the quiet figure visible in the loft above the corral. For a minute, both heart and lungs plummeted to her toes as she took in Trace’s shirtless figure. The toned, bronzed skin of his chest made her fingers itch even at that distance … do not go there. Darn him, why was he smiling at her? He’d caught her staring. She halted the horse with a pull on the lead and moved to adjust the rope before she allowed herself to look at the man again.
“Don’t you have enough work to keep you busy?” She aimed her raised voice in his direction. “Jeb never had time to stand around during the day.”
“He should have,” Trace responded without missing a beat. “Then maybe he would have enjoyed the beauty around here more, and his heart wouldn’t have needed repairing.”
That man! The double message was not lost on her. She would simply have to ignore him. Trace Cartwright could flirt with the best of them—always had and always would. He wasn’t to be taken seriously. She had fallen for his line as a naive teenager, but that’s not who she was any longer. Of course, if the rest of her body would just remember that, things would be a whole lot simpler. She turned back to the horse, tossing her words over her shoulder.
“Let’s see how much you can enjoy replacing the cracked boards in the gray stallion’s stall door, before you end up having to chase him halfway across the county.”
A few minutes later, her eyes went back to the loft opening and found it empty … to her relief. Soon, the sound of hammering echoed from the stall area. Good.
Now if he’d keep his shirt on and buttoned, that would be a big help, too.
“That’s the last of the order, Macy.” Mike Ross handed her the copy of the paid invoice. “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.”
Macy would have preferred that Mike Ross Senior had delivered the hay bales and not Junior. Especially since Trace stood nearby, watching and listening, an amused set to his mouth. She didn’t venture a closer look at him. She folded the yellow paper in half twice, then slid it into a back pocket. She brushed her long ponytail back over her shoulder in a self-conscious attempt to behave normally. She and Mike had enjoyed a number of dates over the last few months—nothing earth-shattering as far as she was concerned, but nice. She had a feeling after the last one that maybe he was more invested in their relationship than she was—in fact, too much so.
He was a nice man, decent-looking, and soon to take over the feed store from his father. She wished she could feel something more for him, but it hadn’t happened so far. Something else she could blame on Trace. Most men paled in comparison to the bronc rider’s persona and, try as she might, there were still times when her mind compared the men she knew to the one she should have forgotten.
“I asked around like I said I would, Macy, about finding you another ranch hand to help out around here. I’ve come up empty so far.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the effort, Mike.” She had forgotten she’d mentioned it to him the morning after Jeb went into the hospital and she’d wanted so badly to keep Trace away from the ranch. “I’ll keep searching and hope someone comes along.”
“It’s nice seeing you again, Trace.” Mike shared a handshake with the silent cowboy who’d taken a few steps closer to the couple. “Glad to see that you’re home for a spell. It’s good of you to want to help out around here.”
“I’m home for good, Mike. I’m sure we’ll see a lot more of each other once I get things further along on my place.”
“Here for good?” Mike’s gaze slid over to Macy and then quickly back to Trace. “That’s interesting. Well, I’m sure we’ll see more of you then.”
“Tell your dad hello for me,” Macy spoke up.
“I’ll do that. I’ll give you a call this weekend—maybe we can take in a movie?”
Macy hesitated but only for a moment. Had she imagined a sudden chill in the air? Trace had stilled and become very watchful. What did she care? It wasn’t any of his business.
Flashing a brighter smile Mike’s way, she turned to walk him to his truck. “That sounds nice. Give me a call later, and we’ll see about that movie. Thanks again for getting the delivery out here so quickly.” She knew Trace couldn’t hear their conversation at that point, and she found a certain pleasure in the fact. Let him wonder all he wanted about what they said. If he cares to wonder at all.
Mike climbed into the cab of the big rig and pulled away. Macy headed toward the house but turned when Trace called her name. He came out of the barn and moved in the direction of his truck. She paused at the back of the house.
Trace opened the door of his truck, giving her a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t bother to fix anything for me for lunch. I need to run into town for a meeting. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He didn’t waste time leaving.
“Humph! Makes no difference to me if he has other plans,” she muttered a few minutes later as she rummaged around inside the refrigerator for something that interested her for lunch. He didn’t really keep a set schedule; it wasn’t like he was her paid employee or anything. But it is nice not to have to prepare lunch for two. She fixed a salad for herself and added fresh fruit for a side. Switching on the small television on the cabinet, she kept her mind on the weather report. The phone rang as she finished cleaning up her dishes. Her smile came easily as she recognized Annie Cartwright’s voice on the other end of the line.
“What a surprise, stranger! It’s been a while.”
“I know, and I apologize for that,” Annie said. “It’s been so crazy around here—we’re shorthanded, as usual. But that’s not important right now. I didn’t call to talk about me.”
“What’s up?”
“That’s what I want to know. First I hear Trace is home, and then the next thing I hear is that he’s working with you. How in the world did that happen, and more importantly, how are you handling it?” The concern was evident in the other woman’s voice.
“I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me. What happened between your brother and me was a long time ago. We’re past all that drama.”
“Really?” Annie didn’t sound like she bought that particular line either. “Has he apologized? Given you an explanation? Or is he still my self-centered, live-for-the-moment, cocky cowboy brother?”
Macy drew in a deep breath. “You always were one to call things as you see them. Trace and I have a truce of sorts. It doesn’t do any good to dissect the past. We’re both different people now.”
“I think you believe half of what you just said, and I believe even less than that,” Anni
e teased. “I wish I could get away from the clinic and come home for a little while. I’d get things sorted out with him.”
“Thanks for the thought, but I promise you I’m okay. Besides, if you weren’t such an incredible vet, you wouldn’t be so needed.”
“Right. I’m thinking more and more that I should have stuck with being a flight attendant.”
Macy laughed at that memory. “You wanted to be a flight attendant and see the world, and I wanted to be—” She realized too late she shouldn’t have gone in that direction.
“You wanted to be Trace’s wife and live happily ever after on a horse ranch, surrounded by half a dozen kids.” Annie concluded the sentence for her. Silence followed.
“Funny how things turned out for the best for both of us, Doc.” Macy recovered and spun the mood around. “Hey—the river is running cold, and I’ve got the inner tubes ready. Get yourself home soon for a visit.”
“Geez, I’m being paged. What I wouldn’t give to launch the pager out the window, except I’m in the middle of Highland Park and I might get a hefty ticket for littering someone’s perfect lawn. But you know I’m there with you in spirit, and I dream about that river often.”
“Thanks for being a good friend, Annie. I’ll let you know how things are going, but don’t worry about me. I’ve learned how to take care of myself.”
“Worry about you? Never. It’s that stupid brother of mine I worry about. He doesn’t stand a chance if he makes you mad again. The new and improved version of you is a force to be reckoned with. Just remember that. Bye for now!”
Macy ended the call with a smile on her face. Annie Cartwright had been her best friend since elementary school. They’d shared a lot of good times together and had a lot of good memories. Annie had also been— would have been—the maid of honor at her wedding. She remembered how Annie had restrained Travis from going after their brother and taking him apart for hurting her. Annie had sat with her that night and brought her extra boxes of Kleenex for days afterward. Then she’d left for vet school, leaving Macy even more alone. Don’t look back.
Macy was proud of what she had built for herself and that she’d done it on her own. Tough times had only made her more determined to succeed. And she had. No one would ever take that from her. Her heart was whole once again, and it was going to stay that way.
Chapter 5
“Did you get that new box of bridle bits yet? I had the harnesses all retooled and—”
Trace’s hand on the man’s shoulder quieted the words. “Don’t worry about it. I have the new bits, and I have everything else under control.”
“Humph!” Jeb looked up at the man standing beside his hospital bed. “That’ll be the day. You might have the chores under control, but I doubt that applies to the boss lady. That’s one maverick that won’t be halter broke to no man’s lead.”
“You might be right on that score,” Trace admitted with a grin. “Looks like Junior Ross might have an inside track, though. He was by the ranch this morning with a load of hay and talking to her about taking her out on Saturday. Maybe he’s figured her out.”
Jeb cast a shrewd gaze on his visitor. “I seriously doubt that. Junior has trouble figuring out what day of the week it is unless it’s printed in a ledger for him. He’s a good man with numbers, but his people skills can stand some working on. Macy’s too high-spirited a filly for him to handle. It’ll take someone with as much patience as the day is long and a steady hand. You don’t want to break her spirit, so you’ll have to know when to let her run. She’ll make someone a good wife one of these days. Someone who has the backbone to stick it out for the long haul, that is.”
Trace returned the older man’s gaze with his own steady regard. “I hear what you’re saying. And I couldn’t agree more. And this backbone isn’t going anywhere.”
“Don’t go agreeing with him, Trace, especially if it has anything to do with him getting out of the bed sooner than the doc says he can.” Clairee breezed into the room with a smile and stepped into a quick hug with Trace. “It’s good to see you, young man. How are things going with you and Macy?”
“Now look here, old woman, that’s none of your business,” Jeb spoke up.
“Of course it is,” she shot right back at him. “Being president of the local busybodies union around here makes it my business indeed.” She gave an exaggerated wink in Trace’s direction.
“I’ve got a couple of stops to make before I get back to the ranch. I’ll let you take over riding herd on this cowhand.” Trace grinned at the woman and shook hands with Jeb.
“We expect to see you at the wedding, y’hear? It’s going to be some kind of party. Good food and lots of lively music to dance to. Lots of pretty ladies, too. You can still burn up that dance floor, can’t you?” Clairee eyed him.
“I might be a bit rusty on the dancing part, but I’ll definitely be there.” He moved to the doorway.
“Give Macy our love. You know, you two should come to the wedding together.”
“Woman, you don’t know when to hush,” Jeb growled, throwing a look her way.
Clairee did have the good grace to at least try to look innocent. “What? They live down the same road and could conserve gas at the same time. Just trying to be helpful.”
“Thanks, Clairee. I’ll keep that suggestion in mind.” Trace threw up a hand in parting and left the couple alone, shaking his head in amusement.
Macy had heard Trace’s truck pull into the drive a couple of hours before, but she’d kept right on with her bookkeeping. He had his work to do, and she had hers. For some reason, though, it was difficult to keep her mind on the numbers today, and she found herself having to re-add a column or two, much to her aggravation.
It was more than the man himself who kept intruding, too. Bits and pieces of conversation kept interrupting her thoughts. Things like Trace’s words the night they were at the hospital, when he’d said she couldn’t hate him any more than he hated himself. Coming from most men, that might be considered a good line, but Macy’s gut told her something more was at play. He wasn’t the sort to find apologizing easy at all. Or at least the man she’d known before wasn’t. This Trace had meant it, and the remembered look in his eyes—such a mixture of pain and sadness—touched a chord deep within her. But why should she care if he felt pain? He certainly hadn’t cared about the pain he’d caused when he left her. He’d brought it all on himself if he did feel some remorse. He had left her at the altar … not the other way around.
A loud, repetitive hammering sound interrupted her thoughts. What was that? It had to be Trace, but what was he up to, so close to the house? She closed out the program on the computer and put away the stack of invoices. Moving into the kitchen, she came to a standstill in the doorway leading from the screened-in back porch to the steps outside. She watched Trace as he bent over again, hammer in hand and a small box of nails beside him on the ground, intent on his work.
“What are you doing? I thought you were replacing the window in the tack room.”
He kept his attention on the step in front of him. “It’s done already. I noticed earlier today the boards were working loose on these steps. Thought I’d fix them before you end up taking a fall one of these days.”
Macy felt a tiny stirring within her but squelched it quickly. “I appreciate that.” The words came grudgingly from her lips. It had been a while since anyone’s concern over her wellbeing had moved them to the extent of doing something about it. Why did it have to be Trace Cartwright?
“Is it appreciated enough to earn me a cold glass of lemonade?”
He looked up at her then, and the half grin he landed on her turned that tiny stirring into a full-blown rolling over. “I think that can be arranged.” She turned swiftly, glad to have an excuse to head back inside. Trace Cartwright, clad in a form-fitting, white tank undershirt that was damp with the heat of the day and his exertion, was a little more than she could handle right now. Get a grip, you little idiot. She certainly
didn’t need him to catch her staring again like some hormone-raging teenager. No, you stare at him like a sex-starved woman who should know better! She took her time pouring two glasses of lemonade. The hammering stopped, but she still didn’t hurry. She took a fresh lemon from the bowl on the table and cut a couple of slices to float in the frosted glasses. Anything to buy time and give her pulse a chance to settle back into a normal rhythm. Finally, she returned to the screen door, drinks in hand.
Trace had shrugged into his light blue work shirt but left it unbuttoned and hanging loose over his jeans. His hat rested on a knee as he sat sideways on the bottom step, looking over the field beyond the backyard fence. A large pecan tree shaded the spot, and a late afternoon breeze had come up, lessening the heat. Macy couldn’t help but notice the way the breeze ruffled the thicker hair at the top of his head. The remembered feel of that hair under her fingertips came back to her in a flash. She wished memories of that sort would stay away. They were distractions she didn’t need. Macy pushed open the door with her shoulder and stepped out, allowing the door to close behind her. She handed Trace his glass.
“Take a load off for a spell,” Trace said, eyeing her. He shifted his glance to the open step beside him. “Even the boss gets to take a break once in a while.”
Macy felt awkward standing there, so she took the offered seat, making certain to maintain a clear space between them. She caught the flicker of amusement in Trace’s eyes before he moved his gaze back to the distant ridge.
Several minutes went by, and while the silence lengthened, she was surprised to find it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been. Good. I’m over the man, and this proves it.