by Mia Ross
“That’s the deal,” she shot back, glaring so he’d know she meant business. “Take it or leave it.”
To her surprise, Peter rounded on Ridge. “This is your fault. You’ve turned her into a shrew.”
At first, Ridge didn’t even move. But watching him with her kids and the football team, she’d witnessed firsthand his fiercely protective nature. Marianne held her breath, silently pleading with him to restrain himself.
Very slowly he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. His blue T-shirt flexed over the kind of hard-work muscles Peter didn’t even know existed. Disdain and barely controlled fury raged in Ridge’s eyes, at serious odds with his calm demeanor. He traded a long, very masculine look with her ex, and Marianne held her breath, wondering who would flinch first.
To her absolute delight, Peter ducked his head, brushing some nonexistent lint from his Armani jacket. “I’ll be in touch.”
Because she was a Southern lady, she escorted him to the door. Tucker still hadn’t moved, and he growled his opinion of their unwelcome guest. Curbing a smile, she hooked his collar in her fingers so Peter could safely walk out to his car. As she watched him drive away, though, her amusement faded.
“What’s wrong?” Ridge asked, suddenly right behind her. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, but she was glad to have him there. She didn’t need it, but she liked knowing that he had her back.
“The license plate on his car,” she replied, feeling deflated. “It’s from D.C.”
“So?”
Marianne turned to him, unable to believe that he couldn’t piece it all together. Then again, he probably wasn’t used to dealing with two-faced skunks like Peter. “That would be a little far to drive in a rental car, don’t you think?”
After a second, it clicked, and he grimaced. “You think he’s living in Washington now.”
“I know he is.”
“That’s a long drive, even in a nice car like that. Why didn’t he just fly?”
“He hates planes.”
Ridge gave her a wry grin. “And I love ’em. Ironic, huh?”
“Very.” She stared at the taillights as the luxurious car turned onto the highway. “He always wanted to be in D.C. All those powerbrokers and politicians really appealed to him.”
“Bunch of corrupt peas in a pod.” Ridge spat the words as if they tasted bitter in his mouth.
“Tell me about it.”
“Yeah, that’s the place for him, all right. Unfortunately, it’s a lot closer than Chicago,” he added in a tone that told her he understood the problem.
“It sure is.” Marianne sent up a heartfelt prayer for strength. If Peter intended to stake some kind of claim to the family he’d abandoned, she’d need all the help she could get.
Bitter memories bubbled to the surface, and she couldn’t resist saying, “I wonder if he brought his little redheaded cupcake with him.”
“He cheated on you?” Ridge exploded, rage darkening his usually cheerful expression.
“With the neighbor’s nanny. When she told me, I felt like I was the idiot wife in a really bad movie.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“It was a long time ago,” she replied. “I’ve learned a lot since then.”
“Like not to trust anybody with a Y chromosome.”
Marianne took serious exception to that statement. “I don’t mistrust men in general. I look at one person at a time. If they’re trustworthy, I trust them. If not, I don’t.”
“Really? When’s the last time you dated anyone?”
“You have no right to pry into my personal life,” she retorted, glaring up at him. Already edgy from Peter’s visit, she was aware that she was overreacting, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Seriously? After all the time we’ve spent together, I can’t believe you feel that way. But if you’re still not convinced about me, I guess there’s nothing I can do.”
“There’s nothing to do or not do. It’s really none of your business.”
The words had more snap to them than she’d intended, and Marianne recognized she was verbally pushing him away. Ridge’s dark look vanished, replaced by an expression so devoid of emotion it startled her. He did nothing halfheartedly, and seeing that blank look on his face upset her more than if he’d yelled at her.
“Y’know, I’ve got a great life,” he said quietly. “I don’t need all this drama.”
He was bailing on her, the way she’d feared all along. The way Peter had when things got rocky. She’d given Ridge an out, to see what he’d do, and he’d let her down.
Crushed, Marianne drew herself up with every ounce of dignity she’d inherited from generations of Sawyers who never let anything—or anyone—keep them down for long. “None of this is your responsibility. The farm and the team will get along just fine without you. You can leave whenever you want.”
Because she didn’t trust herself to say anything more without crying, she turned her back on him and went inside.
* * *
More furious than he’d been in a long time, Ridge stalked into the equipment barn and picked up a small sledgehammer from the tool rack. For lack of anything better to vent his frustration, he began pounding on the bent driveshaft from the most ancient of the Sawyers’ old tractors. John took one look at him and wisely headed out with the newly repaired baler. Ridge made a mental note to apologize later. Right now he wasn’t in the mood for company.
He’d done everything he could to prove himself to Marianne, he groused as he pounded on the metal bar. He’d been honest, understanding and patient to the nth degree. He was killing himself keeping his business going while helping with the farm and football. These weren’t his fields, but he was working them for nothing. Football was a volunteer gig, too. Both ate up time he could have spent giving the aerial tours that were a huge moneymaker for him.
In spite of all his efforts, his bank account was just barely holding steady. Before long, it would go into free fall, and he hadn’t made an inch worth of progress with Marianne. When it had seemed as if there might be a chance for something with her, he hadn’t minded so much. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Because he wasn’t paying attention, the sledgehammer slipped and Ridge managed to bang his hand on the vise holding the driveshaft. Yelping, he lifted his bloody knuckles to his mouth and berated himself for being so careless. He found a reasonably clean kerchief and wrapped it around his fingers. While he tied the knot with his teeth, his eyes wandered out the open barn door.
Her blue-and-yellow fuselage glistening in the sun, Betsy beckoned to him, promising an escape from his dark mood. Figuring a quick flight would help him get things in perspective, Ridge put down the hammer and headed out to his pride and joy.
Inside three minutes, he was in the air.
Just lifting off the ground cleared his mind. After three months of being more or less grounded, the freedom felt incredible. As he soared over the gorgeous landscape, he admired the layout of farms surrounding the little town that had welcomed him with open arms. The Sawyer place was one of the biggest, and he felt a twinge of guilt when he noticed Matt and John snaking their way through their expansive new hayfield, baling and stacking.
From up here he could see how big the field was, and it looked like a daunting task. From their viewpoint, it must seem endless. The stacking job was the toughest, he knew from painful recent experience. Tomorrow he’d take John’s place in the wagon and give his friend a break.
That he didn’t even think of not going back made him chuckle. Something about Harland had drawn him in, refusing to let him go. He knew what—or rather who—that something was, but he forced his mind to clear so he could enjoy this time to himself. He used to have more of it than he knew what to do with. Now it was so rare, he wanted to savor it.
As he
flew on, the tension gradually eased from his body, freeing him to focus on the thorniest problem he’d ever faced.
Marianne.
He wasn’t one to trust people easily, so he understood being cautious. Even worse than he was, she didn’t have faith in anyone outside her family and the Harland town limits. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she didn’t even trust herself anymore.
That was it, he suddenly realized. If Marianne didn’t have faith in her own judgment, he could be a walking saint and she wouldn’t follow her instincts. He’d been going about this all wrong. He didn’t need to prove himself to her.
He had to convince her to trust herself again. The problem was, he had no clue where to start.
John or Matt might have a suggestion, but he hesitated to ask her brothers for advice like this. After mulling it over for a few seconds, he grinned and headed for the tiny Harland airport. He didn’t need a Sawyer boy for this one.
He needed a Sawyer girl.
Ridge landed at the airstrip and strolled over to the only other person there.
“Hey, Gary,” he greeted the easygoing mechanic. “By any chance, are you heading into town later on?”
Gary pulled an antique pocket watch from his bib overalls and checked the time. “About half an hour. I’m having supper with my folks, then coming back out here to finish up some maintenance in the hangar. You want a ride back?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Because he had nothing else to do, Ridge grabbed a rag and started cleaning Gary’s tools. Thirty minutes later, Gary left Ridge outside Ruthy’s.
“See you around eight,” he said before heading in the other direction.
Ridge waved and went inside, hoping to find Lisa. While he scanned the crowd looking for her, the owner noticed him at the counter and came over.
“Hello there,” Ruthy greeted him with the bright smile that seemed to be a permanent feature of her face. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing. I’m looking for Lisa.”
“You just missed her. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Ridge sighed in frustration. “I had a question for her.”
“About?” Ruthy cocked her head with a knowing look, and he laughed.
“All right, you got me. I need some advice about Marianne.”
“I gave you some,” she reminded him, eyes twinkling with humor. “Nuts and all.”
“I know, but it’s not working. I got the shell cracked open, but I’m hoping Lisa can help me get the nut out before it drives me over the edge.”
Harland’s favorite chef gave him a motherly smile, tinged with more than a little wisdom. “You’re a good man, Ridge.”
“Tell Marianne that, would you?” he pleaded while Ruthy scribbled down Lisa’s address for him.
“I have.” She handed over the slip of paper, adding an encouraging pat on his arm. “Don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”
“Thanks.”
Taking Ridge’s arm, she walked him to the door. Just before he left, he turned to her. “It’s totally crazy, but I think I’m in love with her.”
Ruthy laughed. “Oh, I know you’re in love with her. Now go talk to Lisa. Nobody knows that sister of hers better than she does.”
Ridge left the diner and followed Ruthy’s directions to a brick building a couple of blocks away. As he climbed the outside stairs that led to Lisa’s apartment, he heard a sound that fell somewhere between a growl and a moan.
Looking up, he saw what looked like a miniature lynx sprawled out in a garden window filled with flowers and framed by lacy curtains. It watched him through the screen with eerie gold eyes, as if it were tracking his every step. When Ridge got to the landing, the cat opened its large mouth and howled. If it hadn’t been on the other side of the window, Ridge would definitely have taken a step back.
He’d gotten used to the shamelessly friendly Tucker. This cat gave him the creeps.
On the door hung a wreath made from an assortment of dried flowers, and in the middle was an old brass knocker. The sharp crack of it on the wood spooked the cat, and it vanished from its perch as if it had never been there. Weird.
When Lisa opened the door and saw it was him, she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why would you think something’s wrong?”
She just stared up at him. After a few seconds, he caved. “Okay. I need some advice. About Marianne,” he added to be absolutely clear.
“Well, duh.” Closing the door behind her, she motioned him to a bistro table and chairs farther down the second-story deck. “Cleo’s not crazy about people besides me, so we should stay out here.”
“Cleo?”
“As in Cleopatra,” she explained with a grin. “She thinks she’s the queen of the universe.”
They sat down, and even though he’d come here for her help, Ridge realized that he had no idea what to say. “That’s one big cat.”
“I found her by the road when she was a kitten. She was pretty sick, but she managed to fight her way back.”
“So you named her after Cleopatra. Cool.”
They traded awkward small talk for a few minutes. Finally, Lisa sat back in her chair and folded her arms the way her brothers did when they were serious. “So, what’s up?”
“Peter came by the farm earlier.”
“I know. I saw him at the diner, and when I called later, Marianne told me he was going to the farm. I wanted to be there, but she said she had it handled. Stubborn,” she added, shaking her head in disapproval. “But that’s my big sister. Always the strong one.”
“Yeah, that’s probably why she questioned what kind of man I was,” he continued, feeling his temper spike. “I just about lost it, so I ended up out in the barn. Even John wouldn’t talk to me.”
Lisa laughed. “It takes a lot to get through to him. I can only imagine how mad you looked.”
Leaning in, Ridge confided, “She’s driving me crazy.”
Lisa tilted her head with a very feminine smirk. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“Both.” Throwing himself back in his chair, he scowled at no one in particular. “What do I do about it?”
“What do you want to do about it?”
“You sound like Ruthy.”
She beamed her approval. “What a fabulous compliment. Thank you.”
At first, he was baffled by the response. Then he realized he’d subconsciously meant the dig in a positive way, and he laughed. His latest wrangle with Marianne was really messing with his sense of humor. “You’re welcome. Any suggestions?”
To his dismay, she shook her head. “Thanks to the spineless weasel who shall remain nameless, Marianne’s as skittish as they come. If you’ve got your heart set on her, you’ll have to be patient.”
“Great.”
“On the plus side,” Lisa went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “you’re the kind of guy she needs. She thinks she wants some educated, suave businessman who can talk about art and books with her. What she needs is a strong, dependable guy who will love her and the kids and do anything he can to make them happy.”
While Ridge absorbed that tidbit, something she’d said jumped out at him. “Books?”
“She loves to read, especially the classics. Her favorite is Little Women.”
“Really? I was in her office and saw all those books. How come she doesn’t have a copy of it?”
“Dad got her a first edition as a college graduation gift. It came in two volumes, and they got ruined when she moved to Chicago. One of the klutzes unpacking her stuff sliced through the bindings with a utility knife, and the books fell apart.”
The revelation dinged a bell in the back of Ridge’s mind. The books were like Marianne, whole and solid when they were in Harland, destroyed
when she left home. Ridge wasn’t big on possessions himself, and he’d gotten the impression Marianne wasn’t all that materialistic, either. But losing the present her father had given her on such an important occasion must have been devastating.
Now that Ethan was gone, Ridge instinctively knew that regaining those prized books would make Marianne feel more connected to the life she’d had before she lost her footing with Peter.
Suddenly inspired, he jumped to his feet. “Thanks, Lisa. You just gave me a great idea.”
As he raced past her and down the steps, Cleopatra unleashed a parting howl while Lisa called after him, “What idea?”
Too excited to stop, he waved and all but ran back to Ruthy’s Place so he could use a landline. He knew someone who could help him prove to Marianne just what kind of man he was. But the elderly gentleman lived in London, and it was getting close to his bedtime.
* * *
The next morning, Ridge still hadn’t come back.
He’d told her he couldn’t legally fly Betsy at night. Once it had gotten dark, Marianne knew he wouldn’t return until the following day. If he decided to come back at all.
So she’d tossed and turned all night, unable to put their argument out of her mind. She felt awful for chasing him off, but she didn’t know what to do about it. His question about her dating wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before, but she’d retaliated in a way that was utterly unlike her. She could have blamed it on the strain Peter’s visit caused her, but she knew perfectly well that was a cop-out.
Ridge made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time, emotions she wasn’t prepared to deal with. Rather than embrace them and see where they might lead, she’d pushed them—and him—away. She was trying to protect herself, but even she recognized that that was a flimsy excuse.
In reality, she’d been trying not to get attached to the charismatic pilot who’d landed in her life. Sighing, she had to admit that she’d failed completely. He’d nudged under her defenses the first time she met him, and she’d been fighting a losing battle ever since.
Now he was gone, and it was all her fault.
Kyle jumped down the last few steps into the kitchen, yanking her out of her funk.