If You Don't Know By Now. Teresa Southwick

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      Chapter 1

      Maggie Benson’s jaw dropped.

      She stared at the man standing five feet away and wanted to pinch herself—or him. Was she dreaming or hallucinating? Any second she expected to hear a rousing rendition of the Twilight Zone theme. The guy standing just outside her rodeo booth was the spitting image of Jack Riley. But that couldn’t be. They said everyone had a double, this must be his. Jack was a love-’em-and-leave-’em rogue she’d never expected to see again.

      “Hello.”

      Now she was hearing things. One word, and she knew his deep, gravel-roughened voice.

      “Jack?”

      “Yeah, Maggie.”

      It was him. God help her—Jack Riley had returned. And she didn’t know whether to hug him or hit him.

      Trembling started in her hands and spread to her legs, turning them the consistency of crème brûlée, the soft part just below the crunchy, crystallized top. As if that wasn’t bad enough, her heart pounded almost pain fully. Then her palms began to sweat, making a friendly handshake out of the question. But then, considering what they’d done ten years ago, shaking hands with sweaty palms was small potatoes.

      The man standing close enough to reach out and touch had been her first time, something a girl never, ever, forgot. But she couldn’t say the same for him. He’d walked away and never looked back.

      And, damn him, he was still so bad-boy handsome he trapped the breath in her lungs until her chest was near to bursting. Eyes as deep and blue as a field of Texas blue bon nets and fringed by in credibly thick, sooty lashes looked her up and down. He had the same black hair cut conservatively short—military short, she noted with a catch in her heart.

      She hadn’t seen him since he’d left Destiny hardly more than a boy. It was ten years later and he was back—bigger, broader, built.

      Jack Riley was a man.

      “It’s good to see you, Maggie,” he said as she continued to stare.

      How could he just disappear for ten years, then show up without warning at the North Texas High School Rodeo Championships? What was she supposed to say?

      “Cat got your tongue?” he asked as if he could read her thoughts.

      She shrugged, shook her head and extended her hands palms up in a completely helpless gesture. After all that, the best she could come up with was, “Wow.”

      “That’s a start.”

      He studied her with eyes that looked as if they had seen too much, as if they could laser all the way to her soul. If there was a God in heaven or any justice in the world, he wouldn’t be able to see her secret. Not now. Not yet.

      “How’ve you been?” she asked.

      “Fine. You?”

      “Great.” Could this be more awkward?

      “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

      “Probably because I feel that way.” She brushed her hands down the sides of her jeans and took a deep breath. “Earlier, I thought I saw you. I mentioned it to Taylor Stevens, but I figured I must have been mistaken. Ever since, I’ve had this weird, déjà vu-ish kind of feeling.”

      “It was me.”

      “Why didn’t you come over then?”

      Instead of answering he picked up one of her business cards in the holder on the ledge of her booth. “This ’N That? Maggie Benson, owner?”

      “It’s my shop. I opened it in downtown Destiny five years ago.”

      “What kind of shop?”

      “Collectibles, antiques, crafts. Souvenirs, shirts, hats, beaded purses. I’m in charge of selling the official T-shirt for the North Texas High School Rodeo Champion ships.” She picked one up and unfolded it, displaying the back for him. Why did her hands have to shake so? “See? All the kids’ names are on the back. I also personally embroider and paint jackets and T-shirts,” she said, indicating the samples hanging from the wooden walls of the booth.

      She opened her mouth to say more, then caught the inside of her top lip between her teeth. Drastic situations called for severe measures. She really did need to stop babbling. It wasn’t her job to fill awkward silences. He’d turned his back on her. Let him do the talking.

      “Impressive,” he commented, gazing at the scene on the back of a jacket, as well as the other goods arrayed on the wooden walls.

      “Thanks.” She met his gaze, determined to see his one-word answer and not raise him.

      He leaned a broad shoulder against the corner two-by-four holding up her booth. “Surprised to see me?” he finally asked.

      Try shocked. Add dumb founded, amazed, astonished, disconcerted, then toss in a healthy dose of confusion and that might just about describe what she was feeling. A little surprised? Apparently sometime during the past decade he’d taken a crash course in the finer points of under statement. He might have thrown her for a loop, but wild horses couldn’t drag the nerves out of her—in spite of the fact that they were bucking through her like a spooked stallion.

      Casually, she rested a hip against the wooden ledge mere inches from where he lounged. “Why would I be surprised to see you? You went to boot camp. We exchanged some letters. You disappeared without a trace.” She shrugged, struggling for non cha lance, but very afraid she’d failed miserably. “Happens all the time.”

      “I’m not much of a letter writer.”

      “Really? Your last one was pretty straight for ward. You dumped me.”

      Along with a girl’s first love, she never forgot the details of her first broken heart. Maggie’d wadded up the one sheet of paper and tossed it into the trash, but certain phrases were forever branded on her mind.

      Getting too serious. Not fair to you. Best to go our separate ways.

      But she didn’t say any of that. It was ancient history. “If I remember correctly, you said your life was too unstable for a relationship with anyone.”

      “Yeah.” His gaze slid away and he stared off into the darkness over her right shoulder. A muscle in his lean cheek contracted as his lips thinned into a straight line.

      “I sent one more letter after that. It came back with Return to Sender in your hand writing. Not a single word from you since. Now here you are.” She lifted one shoulder in what she hoped was a carefree, un concerned gesture.

      But she was very concerned. Her returned, unopened letter had come as a shock, followed quickly by panic and unbelievable pain. She’d been a scared teenager with a small problem that would get bigger by the month—not to mention raging hormones and a romantic streak a mile wide. She’d thought she loved him and would never stop. But she wasn’t a teenager any longer. Circum stances had forced her to grow up fast. And her romantic streak had been pounded, if not into sub mission, at least into realistic expectation СКАЧАТЬ