by Anne Carrole
Truth was, Chance was getting ready for a different kind of exercising.
“I can help,” Billy said with enthusiasm.
Libby agreeably walked Billy through the use of the red bands, leaving Chance to ponder what ifs. What if they hadn’t been interrupted? What if Libby was really finished with her suit of a boyfriend? What if she was amenable to taking things on his terms? What if she wasn’t?
“How about I go get you two something to drink and then come back to help with the rest of the exercises,” Libby said, having finished the lesson.
Whether Chance had just lost the perfect opportunity or dodged a bullet, he wasn’t sure.
* * *
She’d finally made a half decent meal, if she did say so herself. Having put away the leftovers of the simple chicken stew she’d made from a recipe in one of the cookbooks, Libby wiped clean the kitchen’s white tiled countertop as she waited for the popcorn to finish popping in the microwave.
That kiss they’d shared was on her mind, and no amount of busywork could shake it from her thoughts. Could he still care? There certainly was a spark there. If only she could fan it into something more, something meaningful…and permanent. She wished she had the self-confidence to woo a man. But the reality was, this wasn’t just any man. This was a man who knew her and all her warts, a man she had hurt badly, a man who hadn’t forgiven her and probably never would.
She wasn’t the kind of girl who dreamed of excitement and adventure. She yearned for cozy and homey. Maybe because after her mother had died, nothing in her life had felt that way.
So why did if feel so right living with Chance, when he’d made it clear he didn’t want a life with Libby? But then there was that kiss. That kiss said he wanted more, but more of what?
Her feelings for him were growing deeper every day.
Watching Chance struggle through his physical therapy had left her admiring his determination, his perseverance, and strength of character, which had helped him overcome what must have been blistering pain. Those same qualities had gotten him past a mother walking out and a wife walking away.
She needed to show those same qualities to get him back and get past her father’s daily phone call filled with recriminations and threats to call Ben.
Life would be a lot less complicated if she could love Ben in the way he deserved. Soon she’d have to face him and tell him the whole truth—about Chance and what her heart was telling her. She didn’t relish the meeting, but she knew it was only right to do it face-to-face and not over the phone. He deserved a full in-person explanation.
Even though Chance might never forgive her, it wouldn’t be right to marry someone else unless she was truly over Chance. Besides, she wasn’t ready to give up on winning him back. Not yet.
She’d walked out on him and had been too ashamed to face him until she had to. If she’d had an ounce of guts, she would have stood by him. That she hadn’t revealed a flaw in her character, one she’d been trying to correct ever since. Standing up to her father about the job had been part of that correction. Facing Chance had been another part. Meeting with Ben would be yet another.
She had to have the courage to face issues, not run from them. That meant that she needed to explain to Chance her reasons, however inadequate, for doing what she did five years ago and hope he’d show some modicum of understanding, if not forgiveness. Her first attempt in the parking lot of the Cattleman’s Club hadn’t gone so well. She needed to try again.
Her second round of job interviews was scheduled for tomorrow, so she shouldn’t allow herself to be distracted. As it happened, Chance was acquainted with some of the members on the interviewing committee, and he had spent that afternoon prepping her.
Neither had attempted to reignite the passion of that searing kiss. He had been all business as he went through the names. Knowing whether the interviewer was a rancher, a stock supplier, or an administrator was helpful in understanding the potential concerns Chance certainly had peppered her with enough practice questions. Now she had to face those interviewers and win them over.
But first she had to face Chance.
“Thanks for all your info on the Denver stock show. And the rundown on some of the people I might interview with tomorrow. I would have never known Dan Smith, the livestock foreman, had gone to our high school.” Libby set the large bowl of popcorn on the bed next to Chance, who was sprawled on top of the covers with his back supported by a couple of pillows against the headboard. Dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt to hide his yellowing bruises, only the black stretch boot on his propped-up foot provided any clue he’d been injured.
“You’re more than welcome.” His gaze traveled down her body, touching her like a warm caress.
She resisted the urge to curl up against that body. She needed to stay focused and not get distracted by the double dose of testosterone that seemed to roll off Chance every time she stood near him.
“You see many people from high school?” Libby climbed up next to him and settled against a second set of pillows, careful to put the bowl between them. She needed a little distance if she was going to delve into deep waters. Lying in bed with him wasn’t exactly the best way to achieve that.
They planned to watch True Grit from the on-demand channel. Right now the TV was tuned to ESPN, and the sound was on mute. Baseball scenes flickered silently across the screen.
“Charlie Morris and Wayne Ross compete, so we cross paths now and again,” he answered, scooping a handful of popcorn from the bowl between them.
“I remember Charlie. He’s the one who got sick on his prom date’s shoes.” It had been truly gross, and Libby had felt sorry enough for the girl that she’d spent a considerable amount of time helping her clean off those high heels, though she bet the smell had never left them.
She’d gone with Chance to that prom despite her father’s threats. In the end, Sam Brennan had relented and even provided a Lincoln Town Car so they could ride to the prom in style. She’d always suspected the driver had been a mechanic at one of the dealerships, there to report back to her father, but she hadn’t been able to prove it. She’d never forget the thrill of walking into the hotel with Chance. On his arm, she’d felt like a princess.
“That’s him. Still drinks more than he should.” Chance grabbed another handful of popcorn and proceeded to pop the kernels in his mouth, one by one. He had such a nice mouth, such talented lips. Kissing him had always sent her pulse into overdrive. Who was she kidding? Everything about Chance sent her into overdrive. Still.
“You keep in touch with anyone from those days?” he asked.
Her whole world had been Chance back then. The group of girls she had hung with had warned her off Chance and his wild ways. Warned her about his broken home life and his bad-boy attitude. She hadn’t listened, and in the end, she’d thrown them all over for Chance.
The friends she had now were those she’d made in college. Girls who hadn’t known Chance, but they certainly had heard a lot about him over the years. But those girls were scattered across the country. Facebook and the infrequent text message was how they kept in touch.
“Not beyond a Christmas card.”
Unexpectedly, he stretched his arm around her shoulders. His touch sent her pulse hammering as he nudged her toward him. She slid closer in an almost automatic response. The warmth from his arm seeped into her skin, into her veins, causing her blood to heat.
“People move on,” he said. He placed his other hand over hers. She could feel her face flush, but she didn’t move her hand away. She didn’t want to. She only wanted to be closer.
But when he faced her as if he wanted to say something more, Libby took a hard swallow. There would never be any hope with Chance if she didn’t face what she had done to him.
“I want to explain, Chance.”
* * *
Chance blinked. Was it him, or had the mood just shifted, and not for the better? He recognized the grit in her eyes. This wasn’t going to be some lig
hthearted conversation about old times. There was only one thing between them that bore further explanation.
He’d been looking forward to a nice quiet evening watching a movie with Libby and maybe starting where they’d left off earlier.
Annoyed as he had been at her invading his home, he’d been thinking about some of the benefits. If they could keep things light and casual, why shouldn’t they enjoy each other? He knew that was playing with fire, but hell, he hadn’t gotten as far as he had by playing it safe.
After the way she responded to that kiss, he figured tonight would be an opportune time to make his pitch. They were both adults. She said she was taking a break from her current relationship. What was wrong with a little “buddy sex,” if she was open to it?
But now she wanted to talk, and unfortunately, nothing she could say would do anything but open old wounds. Wounds that had never fully healed. Wounds that would definitely kill any possibility of a little romance. Hell.
“Explain about what?” he asked, not holding out much hope for the subject matter.
“Why I left you that night.” The sincerity in her eyes tugged at him, but it didn’t change the fact he didn’t want to know the excuses she’d been telling herself all these years. He knew the reason. He hadn’t been good enough, and she’d lost faith that he would be. It still hurt.
“Will you listen?”
He hadn’t expected she would ask or that he’d have to answer. He didn’t want to say yes. Agreeing to listen implied he’d do so with an open mind. How could he tell her that his mind was so closed on this subject an atom bomb couldn’t blow it open? He’d had a number of years to layer in the sealant.
But the puppy-dog blue eyes watching him made him hesitate. He had nothing really to lose by listening. It wasn’t going to change his mind. If it made her feel better to think she had good reason for her actions, well, it didn’t mean he would think so.
“Okay.” The word seemed to catch in the crevice of his throat.
“I’m not telling you because I expect you to forgive me or anything.”
At least she was realistic.
“I owe you an explanation—even if it’s not acceptable to you.”
In his angrier moments, he’d never have granted her the opportunity to explain. Sitting there with her, he didn’t have the will to deny her.
“I just want to see if it makes any sense or if I’ve just been fooling myself—you know, rationalizing.”
Yeah, he knew. That’s what he expected. A rationalization. What he didn’t expect was for her to own up to it. “I’ll let you know.”
In his palm, her hand tensed into a fist.
“It’s true. I was terrified my father would do something to you, break you either financially or physically, someway. It seems at the time I held an exaggerated view of his power over people.”
She shook her head as if silently accusing herself. “And I accepted it. Without question. I was barely through my first year of college. I didn’t have the courage to see the marriage through, to be the wife you deserved, the wife you needed. And I was afraid of paying the price for alienating my only parent. I didn’t feel like I had the strength of character to stand up to my father. I was scared.”
“Of your father? Or life with me?”
“Of everything.” Her delicate hand waved in the air as she tugged the other one from his grasp to wipe the perspiration forming on her brow. “Giving up college, giving up my family, taking on responsibilities, it all terrified me. Because I knew, deep down, I wasn’t mature enough or strong enough to be married to you. My walking away was proof of that. But it wasn’t proof I didn’t love you. I loved you. I just didn’t love myself.”
She hugged herself as if bracing for the worst. Part of him wanted to soothe her, tell her it was all right, but something held him back, something strong and powerful.
“I didn’t have faith in me. I wasn’t ready. I had a lot of growing up to do.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes and silently pleaded for absolution.
He couldn’t give it. Even though he felt the quiver of sincerity in her voice all the way to the recesses of his heart—where it mattered.
“Does it make sense?” she asked.
Placing abandoning him under the rational-thinking column would take a long while. And some hurts just didn’t lend themselves to reasoned arguments. She’d been young. She’d thought she’d been in love. She’d been afraid to try life with him. She’d broken his heart instead.
“Maybe you didn’t have faith in either of us,” he offered. Which was more likely the truth. She didn’t trust herself. But she didn’t trust him either. And her lack of belief, after all they’d promised each other, had been the final kick to his heart. “Did you feel like I pressured you, like it said in those divorce papers?”
“No.” She answered quick enough. At least that was something. “I married you because I loved you and I wanted to prove it. And make you happy.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Until reality set in and I got cold feet.”
Chance didn’t know what was harder to hear—that she had loved him or that she’d loved him and still walked away.
“When my father showed up, I took the way out he offered,” she continued. “I am sorry. Sorry I hurt you. Sorry I wasn’t more worthy of the faith you had in me.”
The flushed rose color of her cheeks and the plea in her eyes nudged his heart like someone was poking it awake.
But the fact was, he wasn’t ready to accept her regrets. The simple words “I’m sorry” might be enough when you caused inadvertent hurt or made a mistake, but they sure didn’t seem adequate for walking out on the man you just admitted you loved and divorcing him from your life. Nope, not adequate by any measure.
Five years was a long time to nurse a hurt, he knew. And he wished he could tell her he was over it. But the fact was, he’d probably never get over it.
“I know you’re sorry, Libby. I am too.” It was the best he could muster under the circumstances.
Libby slouched back against the pillow. Chance folded his arms. Silence filled the space as a light rain pelted the window.
He wanted to gather her up and offer her comfort, even if he couldn’t offer forgiveness. Instead, they sat staring at a flickering TV screen as Cowboy jumped between them.
* * *
She didn’t know what made her do it. But sitting next to him, knowing how much she’d hurt him, was too much. Before she could think better of it, she leaned over and kissed him.
Cowboy went flying and the popcorn spilled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
His body tensed, but it was only a minute until his arms encircled her and pulled her closer against his body. She was hungry for him. She’d missed him so much. He tasted salty and buttery and all things good.
Like priming a pump, the more she kissed him, the hotter the kisses got. Deeper, more tongue, more mouth, more Chance. The man she’d loved. The man she’d married. The man she’d never forgotten, no matter how hard she’d tried.
And the man who would never forgive her.
So she kissed him with everything she had, all the pent-up feelings she’d been carrying around, all the love she’d bottled up inside of her, all the need she felt clear to her very soul.
And he met her passion as his hands palmed her breast, his thumbs grazing her nipples. Where this would end, she didn’t know and no longer cared.
And suddenly he pulled back, away from her, and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Her heart clenched even as she stared at him, frozen in place, her mind trying to hold on to the fantasy of what had just happened before reality set in.
She shouldn’t have kissed him. Not only given their past, but given the future.
But then a wide smile spread across his face, confusing her. It was a grin, really. A satisfied grin.
“You taste good, Libby. Real good.”
She blushed as she moved her legs to untangle from him. His large hand reached out
and held her waist, steadied her.
“What’s your hurry?” His voice, deep, guttural, and incredibly sexy, purred through her.
“I thought…”
The low light from the nearby lamp danced in his eyes. “That I didn’t want it?” He looked down at the prominent bulge that had risen to tighten his pants and then back at her. “What made you think I didn’t like it?”
The light brush of his fingers down her arm brought goose bumps along with a whole pool of bubbling hot desire.
“You stopped,” she managed to choke out. Those fingers were now massaging her breasts, slow and tender. A thumb flicked her covered nipple, causing a tingle low in her belly.
“So we could catch our breath. And do this right.” He patted his ribs.
“Omigod, I hurt your ribs.”
“Honey, there’s ache and then there’s true pain. A little soreness isn’t going to bother me.” He shot her a wink.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.” She held her hands to her warm cheeks. Would she ever do the right thing?
He frowned, but there was still a fire burning in his dark-gray eyes. “You did, Libby. And it wasn’t a friendship kiss, either. Neither was the one this afternoon.” His thumb rubbed against her hardened nipple, causing an explosion of desire.
“No, it wasn’t friendship.”
Those fingers of his were causing erotic thoughts. “We’re two adults who are attracted to each other. It’s just a matter of time. The longer you stay here, the surer the bet.” He smiled. “We’d keep it casual. No strings. No regrets.”
No strings? No regrets? She wasn’t confident she wouldn’t feel some of both. But tell that to her thrumming body and her aching heart.
Her mind was muddled by the roughened pads of his thumbs swirling over her nipple and those talented fingers of his gently kneading her breasts, shooting spiky tingles thru her body.