The Forest Ranger's Husband. Leigh Bale

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СКАЧАТЬ over the Enlo Ranger District in Nevada. She’d longed to share the news of her promotion with Matt and even picked up the phone several times to call him, but her fingers refused to dial the numbers. At one time, she’d shared her dreams with him. All her hopes and fears. Now she didn’t want him to know she’d met her career goal. It seemed too personal. Too intimate.

      She stood and walked past her desk covered with tidy piles of grazing reports and watershed studies. Pausing beside the bookcase, she inhaled deeply, trying to settle her nerves.

      Finally. Matt was here.

      Now she could tell him what she really thought of him. Her excitement to see him again warred with absolute, utter terror.

      And contempt.

      He hadn’t returned for her. He’d simply taken a new job to build his own career—a job in her hometown. But his return had just hiked her life into a hyper level of complication.

      A five-year-old complication named Davie.

      A knock sounded on the door. Just before it opened, Andie sat on one corner of her desk, her right leg dangling over the side. She tried to look cool, professional and collected. Tried to appear unaffected by the return of her absentee husband.

      Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. She didn’t know what to say to Matt. Didn’t know how to act. She only knew how she felt inside. Like her heart was being ripped apart again and again.

      Clarice, her receptionist, opened the door. Her carefully manicured hand rested on the doorknob as she flipped her long, blond hair over her shoulder. “Here we are.”

      Matt Cutter limped into Andie’s office, his presence like a blast of January wind to the face. In spite of preparing herself, Andie couldn’t contain a short gasp. Seeing him after all this time felt like a slug to the gut. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

      He gripped a wooden cane in his right hand, leaning heavily on it. When had he started limping? Was it temporary or permanent?

      “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water or … something else?” Clarice smiled up at Matt.

      He shook his head, his gaze resting on Andie like a tenton sledge. In a glance, she took in his forest service uniform, identical to hers. He looked much the same as she remembered him, still slim, broad-shouldered and tall. Except a haunted quality had replaced the cocky, daredevil look in his eyes.

      “Thanks, Clarice. I’ll take it from here.” Andie stood and rested her fingertips on the desktop to help support her wobbly legs. Panic climbed up her throat, but she fought it off. She was a strong, educated, professional woman. She could handle this.

      She hoped.

      “Hello, Andie.” Matt smiled that crooked smile of his, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

      Eyes the color of cobalt-blue. She remembered their color like her own face. The rich timbre of his voice. His deep laugh. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled for real.

      The taste of his kiss.

      Andie felt sick inside. Five years, four months and thirteen days. That’s how long it’d been since she’d seen or heard from him. So long that she’d tried to forget they’d ever been married. Tried to forget how much she’d loved him and how furious she was at him for leaving when she needed him more than ever.

      She could never forget. Not with a miniature reminder bouncing around her house.

      She cleared her voice. “Hello, Matt.”

      He looked good. Too good. But she needed to keep her distance. Needed to think before she spoke. Even though they were still legally married, this man didn’t want her anymore. And she no longer wanted him. She had to remember that. They were married in name only.

      “You look beautiful as ever.”

      Now why did he say that? His words sent shivers racing down her spine, and she realized he’d been perusing her as intently as she had him.

      She decided to ignore his compliment. The last thing she needed from him were words that made her love him more. Right now, she’d rather hear an apology.

      She gestured toward the cane. “Are you injured?”

      “Nothing serious.” He sat in a hard-backed chair in front of her desk.

      “What happened to your leg?” she asked.

      “Just a small battle wound. It’ll be fine.”

      He downplayed his limp, but his strong, stubborn chin hardened slightly. Something about his demeanor told her it was more serious than he let on.

      To save her life, she couldn’t keep her gaze from roaming over his lean body. He seemed thinner. Even through the long sleeves of his shirt, she could detect the outline of his strong biceps and shoulders so wide she could have measured them with a broom handle. No doubt he was in the superb physical condition of a soldier. A fire warrior.

      A hotshot.

      “You still running three miles every day and ten on the weekend?” She used to run with him, though not quite as far.

      “Nope. Not until the leg heals. Right now, I’m just walking on a treadmill.” He gestured to the cane.

      He still wore his jet-black hair shaved on the sides for easy maintenance. High and tight, he called it. But it seemed a bit longer now and shaggy, as if he were letting it grow out. His face looked more mature, the creases in his forehead a bit deeper. It didn’t matter. With high, chiseled cheekbones and a curved chin, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

      With the power to crush her heart, if she let him.

      Her leather chair creaked as she sat down and leaned back. “What can I do for you, hotshot?”

      She meant the name as a derogatory word, not a compliment. When they’d first married, she’d called him hotshot. It’d been a term of endearment then, before he dumped her and actually became one. His raised brows told her he’d caught her sentiment. In his eyes, she detected a glint of arrogance mingled with sadness.

      “I’m not a hotshot anymore. Just a fire control officer,” he said.

      As he stretched one long leg out before him, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Not for all the gold in Fort Knox. All the pain and heartache of the past five years crushed down on her all at once. She brushed a hand across her face, wishing she could hide. Wishing this moment had never come. But it had, and she didn’t want to deal with it.

      He leaned his cane against the desk, then arched his back as if to ease an ache there. “I don’t know if you’re aware I was recently promoted to FCO and transferred here to Enlo. We’ll be working together.”

      FCO. The new fire control officer working out of the Forest Supervisor’s office.

      She kept her face void of expression. “Yes, I heard about that.”

      An hour earlier, in fact. From an email sent out to all the rangers serving on the Minden National Forest. She still hadn’t absorbed the ramifications.

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