“Two hundred dollars from Katie McGrew!” Scooter called. Do I have two fifty? Two fifty? Who’ll give me two fifty for Devin McQuade?”
His gaze slid to Ella again. She’d gone slightly white and he grinned. Good. Let her see what she’d run away from like her tail was on fire. The sudden rush of resentment didn’t surprise him in the least. It just wasn’t as frequent now as it had been a decade ago when it had nearly eaten him up inside. He’d moved on. It appeared she had too. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets.
And saw her lift her hand.
“Two fifty! I have two fifty from… Holy hell.” Scooter sat his hat back farther on his head and squinted down towards the bar. “That you, Ella? Two fifty from Ella Turner. I’ll be damned.” Scooter turned expectantly to first Devin and then Katie.
“Three hundred,” Katie called out, and Dev threw her a lightning grin of gratitude. God, they’d laugh over this later, over a couple of drinks and maybe a basket of wings.
He didn’t know what Ella wanted from him, but he could guess. The cinnamon Tic Tac he’d popped in his mouth seemed to sour. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that she wouldn’t get it easily. And she definitely wouldn’t get it tonight.
“Three fifty,” came a call. From his wife. His blood surged. Forty-eight hours with Ella was a whole different thing. In forty-eight hours… There wouldn’t be the laughs he’d have with Katie. But in forty-eight hours he could do a bang-up job in showing Ella what she’d discarded. The idea held a certain amount of appeal. It would be no less than she’d done to him.
“Hoooeeee!” Scooter was getting into it now. “This is what I’m talkin’ about. Three fifty for Betty Tucker. Don’t shy away now, ladies. Rumor has it Dev here’s mighty good with his hands. Who’ll give me four hundred?”
“Take off your shirt!” came an anonymous call from the crowd, and laughter followed.
He looked over at Ella. She looked like she was being put through the seven tortures of hell. Maybe she did need a reminder. A flash of memory raced through his brain—of being teenagers and the feel of her fingers touching his chest for the first time. His gaze held her eyes as he fought back embarrassment—as a rule he was not into running around shirtless. She had been the one to walk away, and she’d been the one to ask for a divorce without ever showing her face in Backwards Gulch again. Why? That summer they’d been inseparable, newlywed and unable to get enough of each other.
A flicker of the pain he’d felt at her leaving slashed through him. He knew it was small, he knew it was petty, but he wanted her to get an eyeful of what she’d let get away. Tonight her discomfort was a fringe benefit. Slowly he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it over his head while the bar went strangely silent, like a collective group of voyeurs waiting expectantly for what would happen next. Once the shirt was off, he dropped it from one hand to the dusty floor at his feet and saw Ella swallow while the rest of her body was still as a post.
“Four hundred…” said Scooter expectantly.
The nudge broke the spell. The bids came faster from others in the crowd while Dev felt increasingly exposed. “I have five… I have five fifty. Who’ll give me six? I have six. Six fifty for Dev here. I have six fifty.”
Katie’s finger lifted as she smirked. “Seven, Scooter.”
God love her. Dev sent a look of thanks in her direction. The girl was good to her friends. And Dev was thankful to be one of them at this moment.
“I have seven hundred…seven hundred going once…twice…”
“Two thousand dollars.”
The bar fell silent, except for the big screen in the corner that emitted the hushed sounds of a baseball game. Each head turned towards Ella and Devin saw her flush.
“Two thousand dollars. To Ella Turner.”
Dev didn’t correct Scooter on the use of her last name. Their marriage was a matter of record but they hadn’t lived together long enough to make it practical. For some she was Ella Turner. For him, she’d always be Ella McQuade, and at the moment, looking down at her designer clothes and prissy hair, he hated her for her arrogance. He was hers for forty-eight hours. He’d received the papers often enough to know what she was buying wasn’t reconciliation or burying the hatchet—unless it was in his back. But he’d be damned if he’d make it easy for her. He intended to make it as difficult as possible. Just like she’d made it for him.
His eyes captured hers across the room. No one here could afford to outbid that kind of money and they both knew it. For a moment he was annoyed that she would show off that she could. Her eyes glinted with triumph and he smiled thinly, knowing for now she thought she’d won. But she didn’t know who she was dealing with. He wasn’t a callow youth down on his luck any longer.
In the next moment, her tongue snuck out and wet her lips, and he knew this was a once in a lifetime chance. Because if he was hers for forty-eight hours, she was also his. She’d get what she paid for and more. And he’d get his pound of flesh. All for the bargain price of two grand towards Betty’s chemo.
“Going once…going twice…sold to the highest bidder, Ella Turner, for two thousand dollars.”
Dev bent and retrieved his shirt from the floor and hopped down off the stage. He squeezed Kate’s arm on the way by, a kind of thanks-for-trying gesture. He forced what he hoped was a good-natured laugh at the catcalls from those that knew very well he had a history a mile long with Ella.
And then he walked out of the bar.
Chapter Two
Ella scrambled to write her check and hurry outside, her heels clicking furiously on the scratched wood floor. The article had slipped to a corner of her mind. She knew Ruby Shoes and its patrons well enough to fudge that part of the article. She ignored the calls from old neighbors and long-ago acquaintances. What she really wanted to know was where Dev had gone. And how on earth she could convince him to sign the papers so she could leave this backwoods town behind her forever. He owed her now. She had just made sure of it by buying him off the stage. He was at her beck and call for forty-eight hours. What she wanted would only take a few seconds.
The air outside had cooled and it kissed her skin, damp from the close atmosphere inside the bar. Her feet halted abruptly. Dev was leaning against the tailgate of his pickup truck, the same two-tone brown Lariat he’d driven to the courthouse on their wedding day. It had several more dents and rust spots now. He’d put his shirt back on. Thank God. Because seeing all those planes and angles while he’d flashed that knowing dimple at her had been torture. It had brought back memories she’d rather stayed buried.
She didn’t want to be married to him any more. That had nothing to do with the fact that seeing him strip off his shirt had made her want to touch him. Taste him. Make love to him. It was plumb crazy, but her libido had spoken loud and clear—it was listening to her memory, not her head.
A small grin curled up the side of his mouth and her breasts tightened. She needed him to sign the decree. Now. So she’d never have to see him and his sexy grin again. So she could finally move on.
“What are you doing here, Ella?”
His voice was a little soft, a little rough, and it rode the endings of her nerves, sending shivers up her spine. She straightened her shoulders. There was no way on God’s green earth she would let him know he got to her in any way. And he sure didn’t want to spend two days with her. Not once in twelve years had he made any effort to see her whatsoever. She’d let him off the hook all for the price of his name beside the X.
She lifted her chin, tucked her notebook more firmly into her handbag. “Does it matter?”
He nodded, slowly. “You bet your designer bag it does. And I’m pretty sure paying two thousand dollars for two days with me wasn’t the reason. Though we could have a lot of fun in two days, don’t you think? For old times’ sake?”
Memories of bygone days swirled around her, seducing. “Shut up, Dev,” she murmured.
He boosted himself away from the truck and came closer. Sh
e could smell his woodsy aftershave, feel his body invade her personal space and hated herself for liking it. Craving it.
He leaned into her ear while the hairs on her neck stood up from the close contact of his breath on her skin.
“You could have had me for free.”
She planted her hands on his shoulders and pushed, skittering away on her heels. “I…I was sent on a story. It had nothing to do with you, you egomaniac.”
He snorted, looking at the ground and scuffing it with the toe of a sorry looking boot. “A story. Of course. Makes sense to send a big-city reporter to a dive like Ruby’s for some trumped-up charity event.”
He wouldn’t understand. He never had. This was why she’d sent him divorce papers several times, even back when the legal fees to do so meant she had to eat peanut butter for a few weeks. “There’s something bigger at work than Betty Tucker’s illness, you know.” She straightened her blouse and raised an eyebrow at him. Damn straight. There was corruption from the top down, and Betty Tucker was only one victim. Bringing an exposé against Betty’s insurance company would guarantee Ella her choice of assignment.
“I bet Betty Tucker wouldn’t think so. Do you think a woman who might be dying cares at all about how many newspapers get sold in Denver?”
Damn him. He’d always had a way of making her feel small when that wasn’t what she’d meant at all. Couldn’t he see it was a greater-good issue? But Dev had never been one to see the big picture. He’d had the most annoying tunnel vision of anyone she ever met. Right and wrong. Black and white.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” she huffed, lifting her nose and moving to walk past him to her car. Forty-eight hours. Hmph. If he’d sign by the X right now, he’d be off the hook and she’d consider it two thousand dollars well spent. They could end this farce of a marriage and get on to their respective lives.
He reached out and grabbed her arm.
“You never expected me to understand, Ell.” The words were laced with unexpected venom. “I understand a hell of a lot more than you think.”
His fingers burned holes in her sleeve and she fought back the thrill of excitement thrumming through her just by having his hands on her again. It shouldn’t happen after all this time, but he’d always had that effect on her. She pasted on the brightest smile she could muster. “Brilliant. So why don’t you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”
He still had a firm grip on her biceps and she tilted her chin way up to look at him. Even with her heels on, he was taller than her. Over six feet of manly sexiness. Her gaze caught on his lips. Those lips had known every inch of her when they’d been little more than kids. She blinked. Back then he’d been the solution, not the problem. The savior, not the devil.
“You’re thinking, how am I going to get Dev to sign those papers I’ve got sitting in my car?”
She twisted out of his grip and stomped to the car as his knowing laughter echoed behind her. She had been thinking exactly that. Along with wondering how his mouth would feel over hers when she wanted nothing more than to be free of him. For good. How was it possible to think both at the same time?
“Well. You’re smarter than you look,” she answered, determined he not know the effect he was having on her. If ever she’d needed confirmation that she’d done the right thing by not looking back, here it was staring her in the face. She couldn’t even manage a simple conversation with him without losing perspective.
“Yep. So where to now, Ell? Because according to your terms of purchase, we’ve got forty-eight whole hours.”
A shiver went through her at the possibilities. But possibilities got a girl absolutely nowhere. “You sign these now, and we’ll call it even. Both of us free as a bird.”
He came towards her, walking with that lazy long stride she remembered. His T-shirt was untucked and had a line of dust across it from the floor inside. She wanted to reach up and brush it off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t touch him. Not after the way her body had reacted when he’d whispered in her ear.
She backed up against the door of her car, her breath hardly moving her chest.
“I’m in no rush, Ella McQuade.”
“You never were.” She said it with a snarky twist so he’d be sure to get the insult. “And don’t call me that.”
His body was warm as they hovered only inches apart. If she leaned forward the slightest bit they’d be touching in several places. Her body strained against her clothing while her head warned her to stay put.
“Why not? It’s your name.”
“Not anymore.”
He lifted his hand and traced a finger down her sleeve. She shivered. He’d always been that way. He’d always known what a simple touch could do to her. They’d learned together, discovering all the special spots. Only now it was worse. Now they were older, wiser. Knowing he still had that effect on her hurt. She should have moved on by now. Moving on was the entire reason she’d brought those papers to begin with.
“It is until I sign those.”
“Please, just sign them then. Sign them and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”
His finger went up her sleeve and down again. “Not yet. Come back to the house. I still have some things of yours anyway. You can pick them up.”
“Devin.” She looked up at him, censoring him with her eyes. “You know that’s not a good idea.”
Dammit, saying it did nothing more than give credence to the attraction shimmering between them.
“When have you and I ever had good ideas?”
The door to Ruby’s opened and shut again and she sighed. Did she really want to argue this in a public place?
“Almost never,” she admitted.
“Forty-eight hours. That’s my deal, Ell. You spend the weekend with me, and at the end of it I’ll sign your precious papers. You’ll be free as a bird, as you said.”
He would have to make this more difficult. He was on the verge of giving her the very thing she wanted. Only he would make her spend two days with him to get it. The last place on earth she wanted to go was the house where they’d lived for a whole month before she disappeared. But she was an adult. She could control her urges, couldn’t she? How was she going to handle tough assignments if she couldn’t handle one itty bitty little husband?
“Maybe I’d like to be rid of you as much as you’d like to be rid of me,” he continued, the softness of his voice belying the returning barb.
“If you’d wanted out, all you had to do was ask. Or sign the papers any of the times I couriered them to you.”
He regarded her strangely. “I had my reasons.” He put his hands in his pockets. “So what will it be, Ell? Those are my terms. How much do you want the divorce?”
She slid out around him and heaved a sigh. “You take your truck,” she conceded, her stomach curling with dread. This had disaster written all over it, but she had to see it through. “I’ll follow you.”
***
The house looked exactly the same as it had the day she’d left it behind, and she knew without a doubt it was a huge mistake to be here. She’d never intended to see it again. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more: the memories it contained or what it represented now. A love that had blossomed within its walls or the life since spent in neutral. It certainly brought home the fact that she and Devin had wanted different things. She had moved on to the city and a career. He was still here, driving the same truck, living in the same…well, shack, for lack of a better term. They didn’t belong together. That much was clear.
As she negotiated her car through the ruts, she had a moment of remembering. God, they’d been kids. Barely over eighteen and taking over a small home next to his parent’s south meadow. At the time it was what they’d wanted, rather than living in the house down the road with Dev’s mother and father. They’d wanted privacy. They’d wanted a place to spend what little time they had together alone. But his parents had moved on now, gone from even the main farmhouse up the road. She shouldn’t be sur
prised Dev was still here, she supposed. It was one of the things that had driven her crazy, his casual approach to life. His casual satisfaction with the status quo rather than burning ambition.
She pulled up behind his truck, watched him get out and slam the door. The fact that he was content to live this way was a big part of why she left in the first place. She’d been scared of being stuck for the rest of her life in a dead-end town with a dead-end job.
She’d had dreams. They both had. She’d wanted more than a cabin and babies, a mundane job and cards on a Saturday night. She’d never wanted to struggle to make ends meet the way her mother had. And she’d wanted to see things, do things. She’d gotten a taste of those things the moment she’d driven through the university gates and it made her realize that Dev would have kept her here until babies came along, making it impossible for her to do anything else.
She’d been so naïve. Thank God she’d realized it when she had, before their marriage had gone on for too long. She’d found the world to be a lot bigger and more exciting than Backwards Gulch. And she’d never looked back. Not once.
“You gettin’ out or sittin’ in that thing all day?”
She sighed, reached over and grabbed the envelope with the papers before getting out of the car. She wasn’t sure what he was playing at, but she’d go along. For now. Her first priority had to be getting this part of her life in order. If that meant putting up with Devin for two measly days, she’d do it. She wasn’t an unsure girl any longer. She was a grown woman with a mind of her own, used to getting her own way.
“A gentleman would have opened the door.”
Dev stared at her from the front porch, his weight on one hip. “Yeah, he probably would have.”
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