by Ami Weaver
“It’s been in the family for a few generations now,” Joe said. “But there’s no one to carry on the farm. Unless...” His voice trailed off and Darcy, hearing the speculation in his tone, pivoted to face him.
“Unless what?”
“Unless you want to run it.”
Darcy laughed and slapped her hand on her chest, incredulous. “Me? I couldn’t possibly.”
Joe’s gaze was steady and her laughter died. “Why not?”
She scrambled for an answer. “My life. My job. It’s all in Chicago.” It seemed obvious. Didn’t it?
“Are you happy there?”
She turned back to the window. What was up with that question? Mack had asked her the same thing. “Of course.” Wasn’t she happy? Was it her guilt that was eating at her?
She heard the creaking of Joe’s knees as he rose off the bed and came to stand beside her. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “As a child, you loved this place. Loved it, Darcy. Followed me and your daddy all over, helping. Even after he died, and you were so young, you kept on helping. With your PR skills, you could take this place and really turn it around. We have a verbal agreement only at this point. No papers have been signed yet.”
She stared at his profile, her mind whirling. She had a closet full of stilettos, for God’s sake. She’d never wear them here. She was a city girl now. And—Mack was here. Could she live in the same town and still move on with her life?
Joe looked over and slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. She breathed deeply of his outdoorsy, piney scent and squeezed her eyes shut. “Keep it in mind before you reject it totally, Darcy.”
She hugged him back. “I can’t make any promises, Uncle Joe.” She didn’t want them to pin their hopes on her. She just didn’t see how it could ever work.
She’d worked so hard to make partner, a feat that was almost in her grasp. So hard to earn the respect of her coworkers. So hard to forget what had happened here, to move past it. To come home to stay would be like throwing away the past seven years of her life. Why would she want to undo everything she’d worked so hard for?
Why would she want to face, every day, what she’d tried too hard to forget?
* * *
Damn it. It hadn’t gone away.
Mack walked into his office Monday morning in a foul mood thanks to his sleepless weekend. Ever since Darcy showed up, he’d been unable to sleep for the damn dreams.
Dreams of Darcy.
They’d managed to spend all weekend together, but not really. She spoke to him when necessary but no more than that. Eye contact was minimal but searing. Sometimes he’d catch her watching him, and he couldn’t read her anymore. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was driving him slowly insane.
Now he went into his office, tossed his coat on the coatrack and dropped in his chair to rub his forehead wearily. God help him, he’d never make it to Christmas this way. She’d kill him all over again and not even know it.
Even though Sherry would fuss at him, he went ahead and started coffee. Functioning on zero sleep required constant caffeine. Delivered by IV preferably. Since that wasn’t an option, he headed for the coffeemaker.
There was a rhythm to the mornings. Check everyone, feed everyone, take out those who needed it. Medicine to those who needed it. He embraced the routine today, relieved for the constancy of it. Today he had no truly ill animals, which was always nice. By the time the coffee perked, he was feeling more relaxed.
Jennifer, another vet who worked with him, came in on a flurry of snow.
“Morning,” she said, then looked at him hard. “Notice I didn’t say ‘Good morning,’ because you look like hell.”
He sputtered a laugh. He could always trust she’d get to the point. “Thanks, Jenn.”
“This have anything to do with the return of the ex-wife?”
He shut his eyes for a second before reaching for a food bowl. “You heard.”
“Of course. Small town means everyone eventually knows everything.” She held up a hand before he could say anything. “You don’t have to confirm or deny. Though one look at you is plenty of confirmation for me.”
He replaced the bowl and ran his hand down the back of the cat gently. She didn’t purr, but neither did she swipe at him. “There’s not much to say.” He knew his tone was curt but she didn’t flinch.
“Maybe I’m not the one you need to talk to,” she said softly.
He thought of Darcy, of her laugh, of her spill of hair, of her big brown eyes and smooth skin. Of her cute little body in worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Of how he’d thought he was over her and somehow he wasn’t.
Nope, no reason to say anything.
“I’m good,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him as Sherry entered the clinic.
The morning passed quickly. He managed to keep thoughts of Darcy to a minimum. He wasn’t due to help at the Kramer farm till the weekend. With any luck he’d have this under control by then.
His last patient of the day was a cantankerous old cat. The owner, Mrs. Harris, had known him his whole life, and she still spent most of her days at the bakery she’d owned for as long as Mack could remember.
“Hello, Mrs. Harris,” he greeted her as he entered the exam room. “Wolfie’s not eating today?”
The older lady frowned. “No. He’s just not himself.”
An exam of the animal didn’t reveal anything untoward, so Mack suggested a change of cat food and sent them on their way with a sample bag. He stood in the reception area, making his notes in Wolfie’s chart. Afterward, he ran through the closing duties with his staff and headed out to meet his brother for dinner. It wasn’t lost on him how his mother and brother checked up on him regularly. Even Katie had, all the way from California.
He tried to appreciate their concerns, but it was a little stifling.
* * *
“So. How’s it going with Darcy?” Chase’s question was casual, but Mack heard the concern under the words.
“There’s nothing to report,” he said drily. “I hardly see her, much less talk to her.” All true. She was avoiding him. He knew he should be grateful.
“Mmm. So that’s why you look as if you haven’t slept in a week,” Chase observed, tilting his beer bottle toward Mack. “You want to try again?”
Unsure actually if that question meant change his answer or give it another go with Darcy, he gave the answer that covered both. “No.”
Chase raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. Mack stared at the TV, pretending Monday Night Football was enthralling, even though he had no idea what the score was and the teams were just a blur, since Darcy’s face kept floating through his brain. He rubbed his hand over his face.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Well, yeah. I have to work with her. I’m not going to be rude,” Mack said, irritated.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Mack laughed. “Why would I do that, Chase? It’s long over. There’s nothing to say.”
Other than ask questions. Like, Why did you leave? Why didn’t you love me as much as I loved you? Why wasn’t I enough? Why couldn’t we pull through our loss?
And she might have one for him. Like, Why weren’t you there for me when I needed you?
He had no answer for any of them.
“Nothing to say,” he repeated flatly. “Chase. Drop it.”
His brother looked at him hard and Mack managed not to flinch. Chase gave a short nod. “All right.”
Mack let out a silent exhale. The only way he’d get through this was if people left him alone. All the well-meaning looks and questions were driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to self-destruct just because Darcy was home. Or because she’d leave again.
Because this time she wasn’t leaving him
behind. He’d walk away first.
Chapter Four
Darcy walked into Java, the local coffee shop, with her laptop bag on her shoulder. Internet at the farm was slow and spotty at best. She needed to check in at work, and this was the best way to do it. She stepped up to the counter, smiled at the barista she didn’t recognize and ordered a latte. Then she settled in at a table by the window and booted up her computer.
She frowned at the sheer number of emails. It’d been only a few days since she left, and there were nearly a hundred of them. Many of them from her team on the Grant project. Her phone didn’t work reliably up here, either. Apparently the farm was in a technological dead zone. With a sigh, she opened the first one, called her assistant and expected to be putting out fires.
So she didn’t see Mack until he was right across from her. She looked up and her heart caught. She didn’t hear what her assistant said and had to ask her to repeat. She pulled her computer closer, opening a space on the other side of the table, and gave him a nod. God only knew what this would do to gossip.
When she managed to hang up, he arched an eyebrow. “Problems?”
“I’ve got it under control,” she said, and gave a sharp little laugh. “They take credit for the good stuff, but as soon as things turn into a flaming pile of poo they bail and blame me.”
“Why do you put up with it?”
The question stopped her hand in midlift of her now cool latte. Why did she? “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”
Mack shook his head. “Sounds as if you need a new team.”
She set her cup down. “I’ve got it under control,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure why her temper was sparking. Why he’d touched a nerve with a simple observation. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. I’m not going to quit.”
“No?” His voice was deadly soft. “Isn’t that what you do?”
Her gaze snapped to his, but his was carefully blank. Temper surged, and she welcomed its heat because his words left her cold. “No. I don’t. I didn’t.”
“Sure you did. You never gave us a chance, Darcy.”
Darcy’s jaw nearly hit the table. “This is not the place for this conversation.” She snapped the laptop closed, hands shaking with fury. “In fact, there’s no place for this conversation because that would imply we had something to talk about.”
“Easy,” he said softly. “We’re being watched.”
Of course they were. She bit back a sharp retort and slid the laptop into her bag. She offered him a stiff smile. “Enjoy your coffee.”
She stood and spun around. Her bag caught on the chair and sent it toppling to the floor. Every head turned, but Mack was off his chair before she could move. He picked up the chair and slid a hand under her elbow. “I’m sorry,” he said in her ear as he guided her to the door. She just shook her head, because any words she had for him weren’t fit for anyone to overhear. Outside she yanked her arm away and walked as fast as she could in the opposite direction of where he was. Which, she realized after about twenty steam-fueled steps, was away from her car. Which sat in front of the coffee shop. Where Mack stood.
She stopped, shut her eyes, then pivoted. He had his hands in his pockets. He tipped his head toward her car.
She lifted her chin and walked back. When she got close enough to kick him—which was awfully tempting—he caught her arm. “Darcy. I’m sorry.”
She looked him in the eye and saw the remorse there. “It’s too late, Mack. Sorry isn’t enough.”
She got in her car and managed to get onto the street with tears burning in her eyes. Oh, no, sorry wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. And she knew that from years of being sorry for how things ended with their marriage. From knowing she could never go back and fix it. Go back and handle it differently, right down to deciding to turn left instead of right.
To save the baby he’d wanted so desperately. When she hadn’t been ready to be a mother. She’d barely been ready to be a wife. But she’d gotten pregnant and he’d insisted they marry.
As always, when it came to Mack, she’d been unable to say no.
A sob escaped her and she swiped at her eyes. He had every right to be angry—but she wasn’t that young woman anymore. She hadn’t been since she lost their baby. She’d grown up in those awful hours after the accident that had fractured their marriage. She hadn’t needed him to take care of her. She’d just needed him to be there for her. And he hadn’t been able to understand the difference.
He hadn’t been wrong. She had quit. She’d run away because it was easier than facing everyone else’s pain when she could barely tolerate her own.
So no, he hadn’t been wrong.
But to hear it from him tore her up inside.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Darcy had managed to put the whole thing behind her. Mostly. Now she stood behind the cash register—an old one, nothing electric about it—and smiled at the young couple paying for the tree. They were probably a little older than she and Mack had been, but her heart tugged all the same. Had she ever been that young and in love?
She watched as the husband dropped a kiss on the woman’s temple. Oh, yes. She had been. But she’d been uneasy in her marriage and Mack had been so confident. This couple didn’t look unbalanced like that.
“This is our first tree together,” the woman said, beaming at her husband, who gave her an indulgent smile, then left to talk to Mack, who had the tree. Darcy forced her gaze to stick to the woman in front of her.
“Congratulations,” she said a little too cheerfully. “How long have you been married?”
“Eight months.” The woman pulled out a check and when she stooped to write it Darcy saw the rounding of her stomach. She saw herself at the same time, the same place and the world tilted. In spite of her best efforts, her gaze shot to Mack, who had his back to her. This is how we could have been, should have been.
“Are you all right?” The woman frowned, tore off the check and held it out. “You look awfully pale.”
Darcy forced a smile back on her face as she took the piece of paper. “Headaches. They come on fast.”
The other woman’s face cleared. “I’m sorry. Hope you feel better. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Darcy echoed and watched as she walked to her husband, who slipped a protective arm around her and dropped another kiss on her head. She tilted her chin up to him, love shining on her face.
Longing and sorrow swamped her, hard and fast, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, willing it all away. She’d been so good at not feeling anything for these past few years, and now one happy couple had undone all that hard work.
“Darce.” Mack’s voice, laced with concern. How had he seen? Where had he come from? She looked up at him, but his face was suspiciously blurry. She blinked.
“I need some air,” she said. “Can you watch the register for me?”
Then she bolted.
* * *
Mack stood there, stunned as Darcy darted across the barn and into the back. Then he went after her, calling out to another employee to take the register. To hell with this not being his place. Something in her eyes tugged at him and he knew he was helpless to resist. Plus, he owed her after earlier, in the coffee shop.
When he came in the back room, Marla looked at him, then pointed at the door. “I’ll get the front.”
“Thanks,” he said, and went outside.
The cold air hit him with a blast, after the warmth of the back room. She stood by the tree line, her back to him. He saw the defensiveness of her posture, her arms wrapped around herself, her head down.
The fierce need to draw her in, rest his chin on her head, to just hold her, nearly overwhelmed him. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead as he came up beside her. “What’s going on? Di
d that woman upset you?”
Had she been thinking what he had? Seeing them as a young married couple? Wondering how their marriage had disintegrated so fast?
She went even stiffer than before, if that was possible. “Mack, why are you out here?”
“I don’t know.” It was God’s honest truth. He came around to the front of her, but she wouldn’t look up. “Darcy. Did she?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. She was very nice. Excited for their first Christmas together.” Her voice cracked slightly. She cleared her throat. “I’ve just got a headache.”
A headache. Right. And he’d just grown a third arm. “Okay. Can I get you anything?” Why had he thought she’d maybe confide? That maybe they’d seen the same thing and had the same regrets? Why would she tell him?
She lifted her gaze then, and the pain in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. “There’s nothing you can do.”
If that was the truth, then what the hell? He cupped her chin in his hand, saw her eyes widen. “I saw it, too. I felt it, too. Lie to me, but not yourself.” His voice was rough in his throat. “Don’t think this is easy on me, Darce. It’s not.” Then because he couldn’t not, he bent forward and planted a soft kiss on her cold lips, lingering for a heartbeat, before he pulled away. Now there was surprise in her eyes, and that was better than pain. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, then turned to go back inside.
Because if he didn’t, he’d kiss her again. For real. And once they started down that path, there’d be no going back.
* * *
“You going to turn the water off, dear?” Amusement filled Marla’s voice as Darcy blinked, then yanked the handle down. Mack kissed me. That was a shock after the little scene in the coffee shop earlier. Marla hadn’t asked any questions, and that led Darcy to believe Marla thought something had happened with her and Mack.