by Susan Meier
He smiled. Relief filled her. Still, she hadn’t left her classes to clear her own conscience. She’d wanted to see him to make him feel better. “I mean it, Chance. You were nothing but good to me. You were the only person who really saw what I was going through.” She hesitated and caught his gaze. “I appreciate that.”
He looked away. “I think it might have been one of those misery loves company things.”
“Or maybe misery recognizes misery.”
He shrugged.
“Nobody even took the time to notice that I was on the edge. My parents wanted me to get a job. Jason’s parents wanted me at the personal care facility, as if my presence proved he was still alive.”
“I can understand both.”
“Yet, you were the one who didn’t push me.”
He laughed. “I gave you two babies to care for. And instead of hanging around to help, I went to Montgomery Development every day, even before Max nudged me into taking the job.”
“I didn’t care.” She waited until he glanced at her again before she said, “I loved the babies. I loved caring for them. They sort of made me feel alive again.”
He smiled and nodded.
She sucked in a breath. “You made me feel alive again too.”
“Alive enough to feel guilty.”
“It was a difficult situation.”
“Which is why I accept your apology and totally understand everything.”
She got the message. He wanted her to leave. Her mission accomplished, she would go. But first she memorized the pretty blue of his eyes, the slope of his cheeks, his defined chin. She never wanted to forget him.
Her heart stumbled in her chest. She didn’t want to forget him. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to lose him.
But from the serious set of his face, she knew she already had.
Still—
Her gaze locked with his, she twisted her hands, wondering what he’d say if she said, “I love you.”
His eyes flickered.
“I always have.” With her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn’t stop herself from going on. “I tried so hard to fight it. I tried so hard to tell myself that I was lonely and sad and that’s why you were so tempting. But I was only kidding myself. I genuinely love you. And you need to know that.”
He swallowed and took a step back.
Remorse rumbled through her, but she stopped it. All those months that he’d been so good to her, loving her with no reward, no recompense, earned him the right to know the truth even if he no longer loved her.
Finally, he said, “You love me?”
She straightened. “Yes.” She smiled ruefully. “I spent the past three months trying to return to real life and this morning you popped into my head and I knew no matter what I said or what I did or how we’d come together, I loved you.”
Standing by his mother’s desk, he looked down and traced a finger on the edge.
The silent room did nothing to ease Tory’s nerves and she wondered why she was standing there. What was she waiting for? For him to tell her that he loved her? She’d ruined that. He’d told her he loved her and she ignored him. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to still love her after that. It was time to go.
She headed for the door. “I’ll leave now. I just wanted you to know that I was sorry.” She paused, faced him again. “And to know that I loved you.”
With a quick pivot, she resumed her walk to the door.
“Stop.”
She hesitated then turned.
He sighed and glanced around the semidark room, made darker by the brown leather furniture and heavy cherrywood desk and chair. “Our timing sucks.”
Her heart about beating out of her chest, she forced herself to stay quiet, fearful that she’d push him into saying something he didn’t want to say.
He walked toward her and impatience overtook her. She took the few steps to meet him in the middle. When they were close enough, he took her hands. “I love you. I’ve loved you since you introduced me to walkers, got the kids to sleep all night and looked at me as if I was the best-looking guy you’d ever seen.”
She laughed, but her throat also closed. Their romance had never been about hearts and flowers. It had been about babies and breakfast, getting up at night for each other, and an earthy attraction that caused them both to fumble.
“I like the fact that you made me feel normal.”
“You’re not normal.” He tugged on her hands to bring her close. “You’re beautiful.”
She laughed.
“Oh, you laugh. You tormented me for months and now you won’t let me be romantic?”
Her heart burst with love. “Go ahead. Be romantic.”
“Okay.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper. “You’re beautiful and strong. Breathtakingly sexy and alluring.” He moved his hands from her wrists up her arms and then down her back. “And I can’t wait to get you into bed.”
She laughed. “That’s not romantic.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
He kissed her then and finally, finally, she didn’t have to fear. No guilt assaulted her. All she felt was pleasure…and joy…and happiness so strong she thought she’d burst from it.
When they finally pulled back, she plucked at his tie. “So, do you think I can have my old room back?”
“You want to be my nanny?”
“I want to be the babies’ mom.”
“Well, that means you have to sleep with the babies’ dad and you’re definitely not going to be his employee.” He tightened his hold on her waist. “I have a better idea.”
She peeked up at him. “You do?”
“Yeah, I think we should date.”
She laughed. “Date?”
“You know, you and me, movie, popcorn. A dinner out here and there. Romantic weekends at bed and breakfasts.” He nuzzled into her neck. “Maybe a trip to the Virgin Islands every winter.”
The touch of his lips sent a shiver through her. “Just exactly how long do you think we’re going to date?”
“Forever.”
She nudged his shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re making an honest woman of me.”
“Well, I was thinking we could even date after we got married. We were sort of cheated, you and I. So why not enjoy it?”
Why not indeed?
“So what’s first?”
He slid his arm around her waist. “I was thinking iced tea on the patio behind the cottage. Maybe a movie tonight.” He opened the door and led her up the hall toward the foyer, where Gwen stood wringing her hands. “Some popcorn. A little time with the kids. And then I’ll drive you home and kiss you senseless in the car outside your parents’ house.”
She laughed.
Gwen said, “So?”
“So, we’re happy.”
Tory smiled. “We’re happy.”
Gwen sighed with relief. “Oh, thank God. I’ve got an entire staff gathered in the kitchen worrying. If you’d come out crying,” she said, pointing at Tory. “Or you’d come out angry,” she added, pointing at Chance. “I never would have had this house ready for Sunday’s barbeque.”
She headed for the kitchen, clapping her hands. “All right everybody. Work stoppage is over. I’ll have Tory print a newsletter and you can read all about it.”
Chance laughed. “Are you ready for this? I mean, my life isn’t easy and Gwen’s kind of a nut—”
She smiled up at him. “I’ve never been more ready.”
EPILOGUE
A YEAR AND A HALF later, Chance stood in front of the altar, at the end of a long aisle, Max at his side. Dressed in a rose-colored dress, Trisha had already walked down the satin-and-rose-petal walkway, and stood in front of the first pew. Holding a bouquet as she tried to corral Cindy and Sam, Kate was next.
She wore the same color and style dress as Trisha and so did the little peanut—two-and-a-half-year-old Cindy. The cap sleeve slid off her tiny shoulder and her little
legs peeked out from beneath a knee-length skirt that was nothing but ruffles. She happily waved to the people in the pews who tittered behind their hands, their eyes shining as they watched the tuxedo-clad little boy and attention-loving little girl make their way down the aisle.
Then the music stopped, paused dramatically, before the organist broke into “Here Comes the Bride.”
And his heart stopped, paused dramatically, when Tory and her dad appeared at the door.
In a rustle of white skirts, she and her dad, a proud papa grinning like a Cheshire cat, started down the aisle.
But Chance’s eyes were glued on Tory. In the past year, she’d finished community college, and they’d begun to date. Even now he smiled at the memory. Neither one of them had dated in so long they almost didn’t know how, but loving each other had come easily.
So easily.
And now she was here. His.
His chest tightened with joy.
Her big brown eyes sparkled back at him as she approached. His gazed drifted down to the pretty white gown, strapless and shimmering, it molded to her sleek body, riding the curve of her waist, hugging her shapely hips and sliding down her thighs until it hit her knees. Then it belled out several rows of ruffles that looked like—
She got closer.
His eyes narrowed.
Feathers?
The skirt of her dress was feathers? He laughed out loud. Not that the feathers looked funny. They didn’t. Soft and shimmery, they enhanced the beauty of the dress. But they were fun.
Like she was.
She might be sweet. She might even be a wonderful, serious mother. But she had a silly side. A fabulous, hysterical silly side that, he believed, had actually gotten them both beyond Jason’s death.
She finally reached him and he took her hand from her father’s.
Then they turned and faced the altar and said their vows.
To love and cherish.
Respect each other.
Until death do they part.
The ceremony ended. Pictures, thanks to the dictations of his mother and Tory’s, took an hour. Finally, finally, they herded into limos and headed for the reception. When they reached the country club, he helped Tory and her feathery gown out of the limo.
She smiled up at him, leaned against him and kissed him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The photographer pointed to a gazebo and started giving instructions about even more pictures.
Kate, Trisha, Tory and even Cindy hurried to follow his directions.
But Chance held back. He wasn’t needed anyway. The photographer first wanted to get tons of pictures of Tory and the bridesmaids.
Content, he leaned against the black limo, listened to the happy birds, watched his bride and his daughter pose for pictures….
But an abrupt, unexpected “something” filled the air. Almost as if someone was talking to him.
He glanced around. The peace and privacy of the exclusive country club surrounded him.
He started to relax but the feeling returned. This time stronger.
He glanced at happy Tory, and suddenly knew what was nagging him.
He looked up at the blue, blue sky. “I don’t know where you are.” He grimaced. “It feels like you’re right here. Beside me. But I don’t care. You can shadow me forever.” He sucked in a breath. “I owe you. Not for dying, but for saving her. She believes you saved her that day on the bike, and I believe her.” He swallowed hard. “So thanks.”
The unexpected feeling intensified. He whipped around, glanced at Tory again, posing with his baby girl and little bruiser son.
He looked up at the sky again. “I adore her. If you’re waiting for me to say I’ll take good care of her, I’m saying it. I will take very, very good care of her.”
A breeze swirled around him. As quickly as it came up, it disappeared.
And the feeling of Jason was gone.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and found Tory. “Hey. Pictures, remember?”
Unable to resist, he pulled her to him and kissed her, long and deep as if he might not ever get the chance to kiss her again.
“What was that for?”
“A promise.”
“Another one? Didn’t we make enough of those at the altar?”
“Yeah. But this is a special one.” He brushed her bangs across her forehead. “I’m going to take very, very good care of you.”
She smiled. “I know.” Her smile grew. “I’ve always known.”
“Me too.”
He shoved away from the limo. Tory held out her hand to him and he took it—intending to keep every promise he’d made.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of The Rebel Rancher by Donna Alward!
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CHAPTER ONE
CLARA HAD HEARD A LOT about Tyson Diamond. Some of it good, a lot of it questionable. But none of the reports had warned her that he was over six feet of sexy cowboy with a break-your-heart smile and a devilish gleam in his eye.
And now he was striding this way as Angela, still resplendent in her wedding dress, waved him over.
Clara wondered if she could say her final congratulations to Sam and Angela and escape before Tyson reached them. She’d managed to avoid him up to this point, after all. She’d been helping his father, Virgil, with his rehab after his stroke, and her off-duty hours were spent helping Angela plan the wedding from the safety of Butterfly House, the transition shelter Angela managed and where Clara currently lived. And Ty had been wrapping up his business up north and spending time with Sam as they worked together running the ranch. Somehow she and Tyson had failed to cross paths in the weeks leading up to the wedding.
Until today.
This afternoon he’d turned up spit-polished in his black suit with his hair just a little messy. Her mouth had gone dry just looking at him. Ty was exactly the sort of man she tried to avoid. Tall, sexy, confident and careless. The kind that ate shy girls like her for breakfast. The kind that girls like her could never resist.
Her heart had taken a little jump and she’d caught her breath before she could even put a thought together. But Ty had sauntered in, all long legs and crooked grins, and there it had been. Whomp. Attraction, pure and simple. Nothing in the world could have surprised her more.
He was still several feet away but closing the gap fast, and Clara felt panic start to bubble, making her chest cramp and her breath shorten. She wasn’t ready to handle this. She felt as tongue-tied as a schoolgirl only with the sobering wisdom of a woman who’d been through hell. Putting the two together only created chaos in her mind. A quick exit was in order. She turned to Sam and Angela and forced a smile.
“I’m going to take Virgil in now, but I wanted to say happy wedding day to you both.” She gave Angela a brief hug. “I’m going to miss you around the house, but you’re going to have a wonderful time on your honeymoon.”
Sam hugged Clara as well. She did
n’t feel the unholy urge to pull away and run the way she usually did when faced with someone intruding on her personal space. She’d learned to trust Sam in the weeks leading up to the wedding, especially after he’d stood beside Angela as she faced her own demons.
“You did great today,” he said quietly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “And you look beautiful.”
Heat infused her cheeks at the compliment and at the knowledge that Tyson was nearly upon their little group. “Thank you. Now I’d better get Virgil inside, he was looking tired….”
Sam’s voice cut her off as he looked over her shoulder. “Have you met Ty yet?” he asked. “Ty, this is Clara Ferguson, Dad’s nurse. You’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on.”
Too late. Clara closed her eyes and took a steady breath. She really wished she wasn’t blushing as she turned around, but she could feel the heat centered in her cheeks. Dammit.
Tyson’s jaw sported a faint shadow of stubble and the suit coat hung awkwardly on his rangy frame. But the style worked for him and his dark eyes held a gleam of approval as he looked down at her. His appraising gaze made something curl inside her uncomfortably. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of comfy jeans and a baggy sweater right about now. The sage-green bridesmaid’s dress was far too fitted to her figure and made her feel conspicuous. Compliments were well and good, but she was far more confident when she was in her comfort zone.
“Mr. Diamond,” she said, setting her jaw defiantly as she held out her hand. She could set the tone between them right here and now. Businesslike—exactly the way it should be between her and Virgil’s adopted son.
But it was an utter flop of an attempt. His warm fingers enveloped hers in a strong, lingering grip. A hint of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “It’s just Ty,” he replied, with a voice as smooth and chocolaty as the dark depths of his eyes. “Or Tyson if I’m on your bad side.”
Bad side? Right now she felt as though she might swallow her tongue as she looked into his face. She liked the feel of her hand in his. Where was the old reliable revulsion she’d become accustomed to? The instinctive need to pull away and keep her distance? She knew how to deal with that. This was all new territory, and she was momentarily at a loss for words.