One Night with His Wife

by Sara Daniel

  Glancing down, she took in the outline of her bra on clear display through the clinging red fabric. As soon as Luke had told her he planned to sleep with someone else, she’d poured a drink on herself to get a classic, “wet T-shirt contest” reaction. She’d crossed the line from desperate into pathetic. “Guess I’d better. Sorry for the trouble, Mac.”

  “You’re no trouble.” He cut a harsh glower toward Luke. “He, on the other hand, needs to get the hell out of my bar if he values his life.”

  With the jukebox off and no one else around to distract him, Mac had likely heard the entire conversation. She couldn’t defend Luke when his intentions had cut her so deeply.

  Hugging the towel across her chest, she pivoted toward her not-quite ex-husband. “The main resort building has a business center on the second floor. You can use it to print out whatever papers you need me to sign to release my claim on your business and your money. While you start on that, I’ll swing by my room and change clothes. I’ll meet you over there.”

  Luke’s gaze lingered on her chest. “I’ll walk you to your place, or your car, or where you need to go. The lawyer will have to send me the documents, and that’ll take a couple of minutes. But, once I get it, it should print in no time.”

  She shrugged, too cold, vulnerable, and beaten to argue. Besides, she wouldn’t refuse a final chance to have him walk alongside her.

  Outside, the sun nearly blinded her after the darkness inside the bar. Two ranch hands drove along the path on a golf cart. The bright light and her desperate imagination combined to create the illusion of Luke stepping in front of her to purposely block anyone from glimpsing her wet chest.

  “So, how far away is your place? Do you have a house or an apartment nearby?” he asked after the cart had passed.

  “Employee housing is down this path.” She led the way along a narrow road behind the bar. “Most older employees, or those with families, live in town or out in the country. But the younger, single kids stay in the dorm-like, on-site housing. I’m the old woman of my dorm.” She tried to force a laugh. Being old didn’t bother her nearly as much as being single. “Can’t beat the convenience, and I don’t have to worry about transportation.”

  “I’ll make sure the settlement gives you at least enough money to buy a house and a car,” Luke said.

  The idea of a place for herself alone left her cold. “I’d buy my own horses before I bought either of those things.”

  “Then do that. Or all three.”

  “No.” She glared at him. “I’m working my dream job with all the horses I could want. For the last time, I don’t need or want your money, Luke. Stop insulting me by throwing it in my face.”

  “I wasn’t insulting you,” he muttered.

  Anger being preferable to pain, she stomped the rest of the way into the dorm.

  Most everyone was working in the middle of the day, but nineteen-year-old Hank lay sprawled on the couch in the common room. He half-turned and waved then swung around and leaned over the edge of the couch, staring from her to Luke. “You brought a guy back with you? No way.”

  Heat crept up her cheeks. Her time of sexual experimentation had ended as soon as she’d laid eyes on Luke. Once he’d left, she’d had no interest in opening her bedroom door to anyone else. And Luke certainly hadn’t followed her with the intention of getting it on in her ridiculously small bedroom. He had a much better offer lined up for the night.

  Without the sun casting any illusions, he stepped between her and Hank, and Rosalind offered hasty introductions then said, “You two can hang out together while I shower and change.”

  Hank opened his mouth, but before he could embarrass her with another smart-ass comment, she added, “And, Hank, Luke is a Marine. He could take you down using only his pinkies.”

  “Former Marine,” Luke corrected, his right hand balling into a fist.

  “Always a Marine,” she shot back.

  After Rosalind disappeared down the hall, Luke limped to the nearest chair. For her sake, he’d pretended not to favor his shitty hip on the walk. To pay for it, he’d spend the rest of the day limping twice as badly.

  The kid on the couch eyed him, probably wanting to kick his ass, too, although, compared to Javier and Mac, his glare didn’t inspire much concern. “How’d you meet Rosalind?” Hank asked.

  Luke closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair. “Horse trailer with a flat tire. You know how to change a tire, kid?”

  “Never tried. I hope I don’t have to find out.”

  “Learn how,” Luke advised. “It could be the best thing that ever happens to you.”

  She’d been giving horseback rides to soldiers’ kids through some volunteer program on base, and her trailer had ended up with a flat. He’d been acting like a smartass during training all day, so while everyone else got the evening off, he’d been pegged to go out and change her tire. Within seconds of catching a glimpse of her face beneath her cowboy hat, he’d been smitten. For reasons Luke had never understood, the feeling had been mutual. Six weeks later, they’d married and begun their happily ever after.

  Fairy tale endings were nothing but a pack of lies.

  “Luke, if you want to, you can come back,” Rosalind called from down the hall.

  He opened his eyes. Hank gawked at him like he was the luckiest bastard ever. He stared down the kid with enough lethalness to ensure the boy thought twice before putting the moves on Rosalind. Then he limped down the hall, stopping at the open bedroom door.

  Dressed in a turquoise Western shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, Rosalind stood in front of a small mirror, brushing out her wet hair. She glanced at him but didn’t smile.

  “So, this is home?” Luke glanced around the room. A twin bed, small nightstand, and simple chest consumed most of the floor space. She could have so much more if she took his money. Even the modest base housing had provided more comforts.

  “The stable is home,” she corrected. “This is where I sleep.” She set the brush on top of the chest and spun away from the mirror to the nightstand. Her hand trembled as she lifted a gold band from a small, clear tray. Holding the ring between her thumb and index finger, she twisted toward him. “I don’t wear this. It just sits on my nightstand. If we’re over, you should take it back.”

  Facing down a flurry of fists from her overprotective friends didn’t make him flinch, but the tiny metal circle did. He warded it away with his palm. “I don’t want it.”

  “Take it anyway.” She pushed it into the center of his palm and closed his fingers around it. “Maybe I’ll be able to move on if I don’t stare at your ring every night before I go to bed and when I wake up every morning. Makes me sound kind of creepy, huh?” Her lips quavered.

  “You need to step up your game if you want to creep me out.” He thumped his chest. “Marine, remember?”

  A smile blossomed on her face, and he grinned in return, relieved he’d avoided causing more pain. The cold band in his palm, though, erased any temporary relief. Of course, he had hurt her when he’d left her, but he’d believed she would bounce back and get over him quickly. In some ways, she had. She’d moved away and poured herself into a job she obviously loved. But, if he interpreted the other clues right, she seemed to have no interest in moving on from a relationship standpoint.

  Maybe returning his ring signaled a start. Good for her. Unfortunately, its presence had the opposite effect on him. He dropped the band into his pocket, afraid he would spend the upcoming months staring at it, unable to continue to his plan to get over her and on with his life.

  Rosalind’s limbs trembled so much she nearly abandoned the braid she could normally form in her sleep. At last, she secured the hairband around the scraggly end and plopped her hat on her head. Good enough. Fussing over her appearance wouldn’t stop their relationship from ending, and it wouldn’t make Luke look any less gorgeous while he ended it.

  Refusing to glance at the empty tray on her nightstand that mirrored the empt
iness in her heart, she squared her shoulders and faced him. “Do your lawyers have everything ready?”

  “They should, by the time we get to the business center.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded. No delay then. They’d reached the end. Leading him out of the room and down the hall, she prayed Hank would ignore them.

  Of course, nothing had gone the way she’d wanted so far. Hank gawked over the back of the couch. “Damn, I think you broke a record for the fastest quickie ever in this dorm.”

  Luke opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “We don’t always get to control how long things last,” she called to Hank, and then slammed out the door.

  If she had her way, she and Luke would last forever. Why did he have to come to end their relationship in person in the most painful way possible? Oh yeah, because he had a date to sleep with someone else and needed to check Rosalind off his list of things to do first.

  Lengthening her strides to stay ahead of him, she swiped at her cheeks to keep them dry. She could cry on the inside. She could cry later. But she would not let him see her pain.

  As she approached the stables, she slowed. A couple of horses were grazing on the other side of the fence, and she called to the closest stallion. He perked up his ears and trotted over, nuzzling for sugar cubes. Dang, her pockets were empty.

  “Hang on, Smokey. I’ll grab one from my stash.”

  Luke had caught up, and she called, “This will just take a minute,” as she headed for the stable. He grunted, but she hadn’t been asking permission.

  She slipped around the corner, took a sugar cube from her locker, and then returned, offering the treat to her eager friend. After stroking Smokey’s face for a moment, she reluctantly swung her attention to Luke.

  With his back against the sturdy rails of the fence and his face tipped to the blue sky, he appeared in no hurry to continue their torturous march to the hotel. Maybe she could stall and earn a few more minutes of treasured memories before the inevitable end. “Do you want to go for a ride?”

  “On a horse?” Luke’s expression was incredulous. “Have you forgotten about my leg?”

  Of course, she hadn’t forgotten, but she didn’t see why it mattered. “A prosthetic shouldn’t stop you from riding.”

  “I’m not some little kid you can lift on and off the saddle,” he snapped.

  “You can get on another way. Don’t use it as an excuse.”

  “An excuse?” His eyes bulged, along with a vein on his neck. “It’s not a freaking excuse. It’s real. I lost half my left leg, and the remaining half is a pretty shitty. I’m going to need a hip replacement in the next couple of years. Instead of getting better, my limp’s getting worse.”

  After all he’d been through, she hated to think of him continuing to suffer and enduring more medical procedures. She hated even more that he didn’t want her by his side to help him through his new trials. “I’m sorry your limp hasn’t improved. I’m sorry your hip causes you pain and discomfort. Mostly, I’m sorry you haven’t accepted your injury is a permanent fact of your life.”

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” he gritted out.

  Sudden fury engulfed her. She stomped so close the brim of her hat bumped his forehead. “Oh no, you wouldn’t want me to feel sorry for you. You want to keep your monopoly on feeling sorry for yourself, so you can just wallow in it and use it to push people away.”

  His eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t done.

  “I see people on this ranch with far more debilitating injuries, diseases, and disabilities than you have, and they climb, crawl, and wrestle their way onto my horses. But more than just riding, they try to keep living, instead of cutting out every part of their lives that existed before their injury or illness.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m still living. I didn’t cut out my past life.”

  “You cut me out,” she whispered, retreating. Pain coated her anger. Worse, he was still trying to cut her out.

  He rubbed the spot where her hat had touched him. “I didn’t have a choice whether to live with my injury. You did.”

  Anger surging past the pain, she shoved his chest. “I never got to have a choice. You made the choice for me.” And she never, ever would have chosen to turn her back on him.

  Chapter Five

  “What would you do if you had the choice?” Luke demanded.

  Not leave you, God damn it. If she told him what she wanted, he would stop her. So, she simply did it, molding the length of her body to his as she kissed him. His lips were warm and moist, contrasting with his hardness everywhere else, and Rosalind glided over their lushness, savoring their exquisite shape and texture.

  She explored each corner of his mouth and sucked his lower lip. Then she kissed him full on again, clutching his face in her hands. Her hat dislodged and slid off, but she didn’t stop to retrieve it. Skating her tongue along the seam, she teased him until he opened and allowed her inside.

  He tasted like whiskey and lemonade and pure, masculine, one hundred percent Luke. Like an addict, she couldn’t get enough. When at last he rubbed his tongue with hers, a sob escaped her. She missed his kisses, his affection, him. She missed him so much. If only she could hold him forever. But she had to let him go. She should have already let him go.

  Rosalind shoved away from him, picked up her hat from the ground, tipped it low over her face, and paced away. Luke closed his eyes and leaned on the fence, grateful for the sturdy construction. If it collapsed, he would go down with it. His unsteadiness, though, had nothing to do with his crap leg and everything to do with his wife.

  He wanted her to continue kissing him forever. He wanted her choices to guide them because hers were a hell of a lot more enjoyable than any he’d made since he’d returned to the States on a gurney.

  “What the hell did you do to her?”

  Luke’s eyes popped open. Fists bunched, Javier strode toward him from the direction of the stable. Glancing at Rosalind to see if she would attempt to soothe the situation or let him take the punch he deserved, Luke blinked in shock. Doubled over in the grass across the sidewalk, she held her hat over her face, shoulders shaking as strangled sobs spilled from her.

  Rosalind never cried. Never. Not when he’d been deployed to a war zone. Not when she’d sat by his side in the hospital. Not even when he’d told her their relationship was over. The sight punched through him harder than any fist her cousin could land.

  Lodging her hat into place, she straightened and swiveled toward her cousin. “He didn’t do anything. I’m the one to blame.”

  “Then why are you crying and he’s not?” Javier demanded.

  Instead of answering, she turned to Luke, her face blotchy, tears streaming. In that moment, he would have given her the world, cut off his other leg for her, anything she wanted in exchange for holding her in his arms again and taking away her pain.

  “I need some time to myself,” she said, blowing out an unsteady breath. “How about I meet you in the business center in an hour? The staff can help you print out whatever you need, and they have plenty of pens.”

  Pens? Why were they discussing pens instead of the fact that kissing him had made her cry?

  “If you get everything ready, I’ll sign whatever you put in front of me,” she continued. “Then I’ll be out of your life, and you’ll be free to do whatever you can’t do as long as I’m in the way.”

  She wasn’t in his way. With his half-assed leg, physical therapy needs, and perpetual limp, he would be in her way, and he couldn’t stand burdening her with his problems. But he’d also been wrong to make the choice for her. In trying to save them both heartache, he’d created more.

  He needed to better explain the reasons he’d pushed her away and prove they had nothing to do with her or how he felt about her. Hopefully, then she would come to the same conclusion he had, without resenting or crying over him.

  Before he could put his disjointed thoughts into words, Rosalind traipsed into
the stable. With another glare that promised a brain bashing for him, Javier followed her.

  A few minutes later, Luke continued to support his weight on the wooden railing. Not only had the kiss left him reeling, sick dread from her promise to get out of his life coiled within him. Something clattered, and he twisted toward the corral.

  Perched on the back of a horse, her cowboy hat straight on her head, Rosalind galloped across the pasture, her figure growing smaller, and the hole in his chest growing larger. After she crested the hill and disappeared from sight, he studied the remaining horses. The one she’d fed the sugar cube to was gone.

  When he looked away from the corral, he found Javier watching him. Since the guy hadn’t started beating him to a pulp yet, maybe Luke still had a chance. “Can you help me get my ass up on a horse, so I can go talk to her?”

  “You’ve said more than enough already.”

  “What I’ve said has made it worse.”

  Javier slapped his black cowboy hat against his thigh. “No shit.”

  “Look, I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt her by leaving. I thought she’d be long over me by now. I want to give her whatever closure she needs. Finalizing the divorce is the best thing I can do for her.”

  “You expect me to believe making her sign something your lawyers have drawn up is really having her best interests at heart?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe anything I tell you, but you heard her agree to sign. I’m not ‘making her’ do it.”

  “Oh yeah, I could definitely tell she agreed of her own free will,” Javier said with heavy sarcasm.

  Luke shoved away from the fence and limped toward the other man. “I’m trying to give her more money. The judge overseeing our case wants her to have more money. If you have any influence over her and can convince her to take me to the cleaners, I’d love for her to sign something that will set her up for life. God knows she deserves it for putting up with me.”

  Javier glowered at him, but Luke refused to blink first.