by Eve Gaddy
Her voice broke on the last sentence. He got up and went to her, turned her around and held her in his arms, her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and cried. He wondered if she’d cried before or if she’d repressed her grief. He knew he’d never seen her cry. Not about anything.
“It’s been years. This is stupid,” she managed to say after some time.
“No, that’s the last thing it is. Go ahead and cry, Mia. I’ve got you.” He kissed the top of her head and held her close.
God, he was a selfish jerk. Mia was supposed to be his best friend and he’d never even suspected she had such a tragic background. She was always so pulled together, so sure of herself. Self-sufficient. A loner. She had friends, a number of them, but he’d always known she was at heart a loner. Had she never hinted about her family or had she mentioned them in such an offhanded manner he’d never noticed?
She pushed away from him, saying, “I need a tissue.”
He went to the kitchen to get her some but when he came back, she’d found tissue wrapping paper and was using that. “Here, these might work better.”
“Thanks.” She looked around for something to do with the used tissue paper. He held out his hand and she looked horrified. “Are you kidding? Eww, gross. No.”
He had to laugh. “I’m a doctor, remember? I’ve handled a lot worse things than a slightly used tissue.”
“I don’t care. I’m not handing it to you.”
“Throw it in the fire, then.”
She did so, then wiped her eyes, her cheeks and blew her nose. Tossing that tissue in the fire as well, she said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never do that.”
“You’re allowed. Do you feel any better?”
“I might if I wasn’t so horribly embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? Why? Anyone would have cried given the situation.”
“Not twelve years later.”
“The passage of time doesn’t guarantee you will stop grieving. It can help you become accustomed to loss and deal with it, but it doesn’t go away. Not completely.”
Her arms were crossed over her chest and she wouldn’t look at him.
He tilted up her chin so she had to see him. “If I think about my mother for too long, I could still cry.”
“Really?”
“Really. Besides, I cried on your shoulder not all that long ago. What’s wrong with you doing the same thing?”
“You didn’t cry.”
He shrugged. “Figuratively.” He put his hands on her arms. “You were there for me that night, Mia. Let me be here for you.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
“Ever?”
“You’re not funny,” she told him, even as her lips twitched.
“And I’m not hitting on you. I’m trying to offer you comfort.”
“Last time one of us comforted the other we wound up in bed.”
“Comfort wasn’t the only reason we were together that night.”
“Maybe not the only one, but it was a huge part of it.”
“Do you regret that night, Mia?”
She started to say yes, he could see it in her eyes. But then she sighed. “No. I don’t regret it.”
“Neither do I.” He pulled her closer, her head against his chest. Kissed the top of her head and sighed. “I won’t deny I want to make love with you again. But next time we do, it won’t be about comfort. It will be because we want each other.”
Her arms went around him and they simply held each other.
“Wyatt?” She drew back to look at him.
He looked down at her and smiled.
“Thank you. For talking to me and letting me talk.”
“You’re welcome. But you don’t need to thank me for that.”
She put her arm around his neck, tugged his head down and kissed him. A real, if brief, kiss. “Good night,” she said, and left.
Wyatt had a lot to think about. Not the least of it being how to convince her that his romantic feelings toward her weren’t the result of rebounding. No, rebound had nothing at all to do with it.
Glory had left food out for their breakfast along with a large pot of coffee when Wyatt walked in the kitchen the next morning. Having taken care of his early morning chores, Dylan was there, his plate piled high with bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast and with a large mug of coffee in his hand. Why Glory thought Dylan didn’t eat enough mystified him.
“Glory said if you want eggs, she’ll be back, otherwise help yourself. There are sweet rolls in the warmer too. She went into town to pick up something.”
“I’ll make do.” He poured a mug of coffee and grabbed a piece of bacon.
“Mia still asleep?”
“Has she been in to get coffee?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then she’s not up. I’ll take her some,” he said, finishing the bacon. He got out another mug and reached for the coffee.
“What’s the deal with you and Mia?” Dylan asked.
Wyatt shot him a suspicious glance and put the coffee pot back without pouring. “If you’re asking if it’s okay to hit on her, the answer is hell, no.”
Dylan grinned. “Relax. I’m just curious. You obviously know her well, and you just as obviously have the hots for her.” He paused and added, “So why separate rooms?”
“And this is your business, how?”
“Aren’t you touchy as hell.”
He started to deny it, but then he shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
“So why aren’t you two sharing a room?”
Obviously, he didn’t want to admit he’d been well and truly played, and what had subsequently happened with Mia, but he could tell Dylan some of it. “Mia thinks I’m on the rebound.” He took a sip of coffee and brooded about that.
“Are you?”
“No. Hell, no. But I haven’t convinced her of that. Yet.”
“Good luck. She’s really h—”
“Watch it,” Wyatt said.
“Pretty,” he said with a grin. “Very pretty.”
Wyatt poured Mia’s coffee.
As he started to leave, Dylan said, “I guess this means I should tell Connor Mia’s taken. Or will be if you have anything to say about it.”
Giving him a dirty look, Wyatt said, “Tell Connor to back off or I’ll kick his ass.”
Dylan was still laughing when Wyatt walked out.
Dylan was right. Mia was hot. And Wyatt was a stupid bastard not to have done something a long time ago. If he had, he wouldn’t have been played by a stone-cold bitch. Of course, if not for that night he and Mia might never have gotten together. He might never have realized how good they’d be together and how much he wanted her. As it was, it had taken moving and not seeing her for months to make him realize what a dumbshit he’d been. The woman he wanted had been right in front of him all along.
None of the women he’d dated since that night with Mia had been what he wanted. Because he’d compared each one to Mia. They were pretty, some had been beautiful. They were intelligent. They were nice women. They were exactly the type he could have gone for in the past. But none of them were Mia.
He’d finally admitted he had deep feelings for Mia. Now, to convince her that his feelings for her had nothing at all to do with rebounding and everything to do with her.
Mia woke slowly and it took her a moment to remember where she was. In Montana. At Wyatt’s ranch. She stretched and put her hands behind her head, lying in bed thinking about the night before. Why on God’s green earth had she spilled her guts to Wyatt? Because she felt guilty for what she couldn’t tell him?
Maybe, but not totally. Once she’d started talking she couldn’t stop until she’d told him the entire, awful story. To her surprise, it had been something of a relief to share her past with someone. With Wyatt.
She shouldn’t read too much into what he’d said about the two of them. He had told her he wanted to make love with her again. Oh, she didn’t doubt he
did, but then, the man had been celibate for months, which wasn’t normal for him. Wyatt wasn’t a player. When he dated a woman seriously he was faithful to her. But most of them hadn’t lasted all that long and once he had broken up with one, he found another soon after. As far as she knew, he’d never asked any of them to marry him, either. Until he asked the lying bitch.
The few times he’d been single, Mia had been involved with someone, so they’d never explored any romantic aspects of their relationship. There had always been mutual attraction, but it hadn’t progressed beyond that. Except on her part, since she’d fallen for him a long time ago.
They’d met several years before, when Wyatt had been in his orthopedic residency and Mia had been trying to make a living as an artist. That hadn’t been possible, so she also worked as a waitress to make ends meet. They lived in the same apartment building, two doors away from each other. Mia had just broken up with her boyfriend, who’d shown his unhappiness by punching her in the mouth. She managed to throw him out of her apartment but instead of leaving, he continued to pound on her door and scream obscenities at her. She was about to call the cops when she heard a scuffle outside and then silence. She figured he’d gotten tired of getting nowhere banging on her door and left.
A minute or so later someone knocked on her door. Damn it, how long was he going to stick around? “I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it,” she shouted.
“It’s your neighbor, Wyatt. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She looked out the peephole, which she could only see out of by standing on her toes. Sure enough, she recognized her neighbor. Big, blond, and extremely hot.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Are you sure? Your friend there sounded pretty violent.”
“He’s not my friend. He’s a piece of shit.”
“Can’t argue that. Could we not do this through a closed door?”
“Where’s Benny?”
“If you mean the piece of shit, I persuaded him to leave.”
Cautiously, still grasping her bat, she opened the door. “How did you manage that?”
“I told him to leave. He wouldn’t, so I punched him. He decided he didn’t like the odds when fighting a man, so he left.” He stepped inside and gestured to her bat. “I thought you said you had a gun?”
She shrugged. “I have a bat and I’m not afraid to use it doesn’t have the same ring.”
He laughed. “No, it doesn’t. He got you pretty good, didn’t he? Do you mind letting me look at your mouth?”
“Why?”
“To make sure you don’t need to go to the ER. I’m a doctor.”
“Really,” she said suspiciously. “What kind?”
“I’m an orthopedic resident.”
Come to think of it, she’d seen him wearing scrubs and while that didn’t necessarily mean anything, she decided to believe him. “Just so you know, I don’t make a habit of dating abusive assholes.”
“Good to know.”
“Also, I have a bat and I’m not afraid to use it.”
His lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
After he agreed she needed an ice pack and aspirin, and not the ER, they talked for a long time. While it hadn’t been love at first sight, it wasn’t too long before she realized she’d fallen for him. But by then he’d started dating someone else. So they remained friends. Good friends. And if Mia had a fantasy or twelve about being with him, she’d become resigned to the fact that he regarded her as a friend and not a lover.
Until the night his fiancée had blown apart his world.
Back in the present, she heard a knock at her door. “Mia, are you up?”
“I’m awake.” She sat up and propped a couple of pillows behind her.
“Can I come in? Are you dressed?”
“No,” she said as he opened the door.
“You’re wearing pajamas. That counts as dressed. I brought you coffee.”
“All right, I forgive you.” She took the mug from him and he sat on the end of the bed. “What would you have done if I’d been naked?”
“Enjoyed the view.”
She threw a pillow at him.
He laughed and caught it. “Want to take a ride this morning?”
“On a horse?”
“On a horse,” he agreed. “Unless you don’t want to.”
“I want to, but like I told Dylan, I haven’t ridden in a long time.” Mia sipped her coffee. “God bless coffee. Only, this isn’t coffee, it’s ambrosia.”
“Tell Glory. She knows it but she likes to hear it. How long has it been since you’ve ridden?”
“Not since I was a teenager. I had a friend in high school who used to take me out to her grandparents’ ranch and we rode out there. I probably need the horse you let kids ride. You have one, don’t you?”
“We do. Her name is Mercy. You’ll like her.” He got up, leaned down and kissed her. Not a long kiss. A good morning kiss, but she still tingled before it was over.
“What was that for?”
His grin was quick and wicked. “That’s a rhetorical question, right? Breakfast is waiting. Dress warmly. It’s damn cold this morning.”
Crap. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to be able to resist him for much longer.
Chapter Seven
Wyatt hadn’t exaggerated. Mercy was very sweet and very slow. “Does she ever go faster?” Mia asked him after they’d been riding a while.
“Sure, but she doesn’t like it. Are you feeling comfortable enough to trot?”
“Maybe later. Right now I’m good.” Besides, if she remembered correctly, she didn’t like trotting. She much preferred a canter or a gallop.
“You must have ridden a lot back when you were a teenager.”
“I did but why do you say that?”
“You seem comfortable with horses. Like you understand them and appreciate them.”
She patted Mercy’s neck with a mittened hand. “I do. I’d like to paint some of the horses if you don’t mind.”
“They’re Dylan’s horses but I can’t imagine he’d mind.”
“I don’t want to get in his way.”
“You won’t. You can ride every day if you want. I can go with you some days but I do have to work a couple of days next week. Dylan or one of the hands can go with you when I can’t.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Let’s see. Horses—check. Snow—check. Unfamiliar with the terrain and hasn’t ridden in years—check and check. Does that sound like someone who needs to ride alone?”
“Point taken, smartass.” She looked ahead to a winding slash of silver in the whiteness. “What is that river called?”
“It’s more of a stream.”
“Does it have a name?”
“Lover’s Creek. See that grove of trees? That’s where we’re going.”
“I’ve heard of Lover’s Leap but not Lover’s Creek. Is there a story?”
“Yep. My great-grandfather proposed to my great-grandmother there.”
“How romantic.”
“Yes, it is. But it really got the name because my grandmother swore my father was conceived there.”
Mia laughed. “Your grandmother told you that?”
“Hand to God. She said it explained a lot about my father. We were never sure what she meant by that.”
“In the creek or beside it?”
“I suspect beside it, but she never gave any more details. Thank God. Here we are,” he said as they drew close to the grove. He dismounted and looped his reins around a branch. He came to help her, but she’d already dismounted. He took her reins from her and wrapped them around the same branch. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far. There’s a spot I want you to see.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
He looked surprised for a moment before he laughed. “Not that one. Another one.”
They walked dow
n to the creek and along the bank downstream until the creek took a sharp bend. She stopped in her tracks. The land dropped off abruptly and a small but perfect waterfall cascaded over the rocks. Wyatt didn’t talk, he let her experience it. The water ran clear and pristine, bubbling and gurgling as it flowed downstream. Except for the sounds from the water and the occasional chirp of a bird, it was dead quiet. The sky was a bright, Montana sky blue, so beautiful against the white snow and the purple and white mountains in the distance.
“I wish I had my sketchbook.”
“I had a bet with myself that would be the first thing you said.”
“You won. It’s breathtaking. Stunning.” A hawk swooped down to the water just a few feet away from them, and flew away with an unlucky fish. “I’ve never seen a hawk that close unless it was at a zoo.”
“We should see some other wildlife as well. Did you bring your phone?”
“No, why?” He made a clicking motion and sound. “Oh, the camera. No, I didn’t think of it.”
He handed her a small digital camera. “I’ll bring you back another day, but I know you paint from photos sometimes.”
She was touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” In order to snap pictures, she had to take off her gloves, so she could only take a few at a time before her hands became numb. “What?” she asked, catching him smiling at her.
“Nothing. I like to watch you work.”
After she had taken a number of pictures, they went back to the horses. Wyatt laced his fingers together to give her a leg up. As she settled in, he un-looped her reins and brought them to her. She put out a hand, detaining him.
“Need something?”
He looked up at her, smiling, and she thought again what a great smile he had. “Come closer,” she said.