Rancher's Hostage Rescue. Beth Cornelison

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      “Wooing a new girlfriend?” she asked, knowing her tone was brittle and not caring.

      He started the engine and sent her a cool look. “No. Visiting the grave of the woman I miss every day.”

      His reply shocked her. Shamed her. She hadn’t been to Helen’s grave since the funeral. She planned to go before she left town, but...it was too painful, and she hadn’t yet mustered the nerve to go.

      “Oh.” She let the wrapper fall back to the floor. “Sorry. I...shouldn’t have assumed—”

      “Like I said earlier,” he said, facing the road as he drove, “I was going to give her an engagement ring on New Year’s Eve.”

      Lilly’s heart contracted. “She’d have said yes. She loved you, despite—”

      He cut a sharp gaze toward her, his dark eyes full of pain, but said nothing.

      Lilly cursed under her breath. “Dave, I guess it’s obvious I’m no fan of yours. You strung her along for five years, forgot important anniversaries—”

      “I know.”

      “—dismissed her unhappiness when she tried to talk about it, flirted with other women in front of her—”

      “Now that’s not true!”

      “—stood her up on her birthday—” Lilly’s volume grew as her anger heated.

      “That wasn’t my fault!” he argued, matching her volume. “There was an emergency at the Double M, and I couldn’t get away. I explained that to her, and we went out the next night!”

      “And you were always making excuses for your shortcomings. Never taking responsibility for your screwups with her!”

      He smacked the steering wheel and shouted, “I know I did! I hate myself for it!”

      She fell silent, studying him. He flexed his hand then squeezed the steering wheel. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply.

      After a moment, he cut a dark glare toward her, his tone calmer, quieter. “I regret it every hour of every day. She deserved better. I let her down. I know that.”

      Lilly turned toward the side window, blinking away the tears that stung her eyes. Why had she lit into him like that? Berating him wouldn’t change the past, wouldn’t bring Helen back. Helen had loved him, despite his shortcomings, and she’d be appalled to know Lilly was calling him to task for the things she’d confided in sisterly phone conversations. Venting, Helen had called it. Maybe all women needed to let off steam now and then about their mates’ foibles. If she’d vented to Helen about Alan’s faults and transgressions, would she have been in a better position to have saved her own marriage? She’d never know. Alan was gone, remarried, and she was...

      Lilly closed her eyes. Never mind what she was. Where she was. What she’d do next. She just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. She might be alone in the world, but she would not wallow in self-pity. She would be strong, like her mother had been after Dad left.

      But in the short term, she simply wanted to complete her business with Dave Giblan and see him on his way so that she never again had to see the man who was a painful reminder of Helen’s too-short life. After that, she’d pour a large glass of wine and put this horrible day behind her.

      * * *

      After their brief shouting match, Lilly grew sullenly silent. Dave wasn’t proud of himself for responding to her anger and accusations with the heat he’d used. After all, everything she’d said was true, was something he’d castigated himself for in the last few months. Most everything. But the fact that he had a legitimate excuse for missing her birthday dinner was cold comfort in hindsight. Had he not been so prone to disappointing her, the birthday dinner would have been more easily forgiven. Instead it had been just another letdown on a long list that she’d reported to her sister.

      “How long will you be off work?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

      He rubbed his leg almost without thought and sighed. How long, indeed? “I should be released by the doctor to return to limited work in another month or two.”

      “Good.”

      “Yeah, except...”

      She turned and met his glance. “What?”

      “The McCalls told me when I broke my leg that I’d have a job waiting when I was ready to come back, but...they’ve hired a couple replacement hands already. One is a woman. A former rodeo champion.”

      “Really? A woman?” she asked, clearly intrigued.

      “You ever meet Zoe Taylor at the diner in town?”

      She nodded. “Good food. Nice lady. I remember her.”

      “It’s her daughter they hired. Back right after Christmas. Then earlier this spring they brought on another guy. I can’t see them taking me back and letting one of them go, so...”

      “Maybe they’ll keep them and take you back,” she offered.

      “Not unless they’ve recovered more from their financial setbacks than I’ve heard. Things were real tight last year.” He shook his head and squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m guessing I’ll have to look elsewhere for work.”

      She hummed her acknowledgment then aimed a finger out the side window. “This is your turn.”

      He faced her and lifted a corner of his mouth in a sad smile. “Yeah, I know.”

      She twisted her mouth in a chagrined frown. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

      An-n-nd...the awkward silence was back.

      When they reached Helen’s house, Dave parked in the side drive and cut the engine. Even before he could unfasten his seat belt and hobble around the front end of his truck, Lilly was out and hurrying up the front steps. She walked to the end of the porch, where she lifted a flowerpot with a dead plant—some kind of Christmas plant that still had tinsel and tiny red balls on it—and extracted the spare key hidden there. Dave stared at the brown needles and wilted boughs of the tiny tree while Lilly unlocked the door. Helen would be crushed to know her plants had died. She’d had the golden touch with so many domestic things. Cooking, gardening, sewing. He’d teased her about it, calling her “Mary Homemaker.” Now he wished he could tell Helen how much he regretted teasing her. That, in truth, he admired her talents.

      The familiar squeak of the screen door hinges snapped him from his deliberations. Lilly pushed open the front door, and he followed her inside.

      “The box of stuff I’ve been collecting for you is in the back. Wait here while I get it.” Lilly waved a hand toward the sofa in the living room as she headed down the hall.

      Dave didn’t want to sit. If Lilly was selling the house, this could be the last time he was here. He had a load of memories, both good and bad, invested in this house, and he wanted a СКАЧАТЬ