A Cowboy Returns. Kelli Ireland

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      “You said you’d come home. Promised, in fact. But I’d be willing to bet you hit the county line at a dead run and never thought about us again. Good on you, Esquire.” The last was offered with near indifference or would have been if she hadn’t begun to clap slowly for emphasis.

      It was that last action that betrayed her, because, despite their fourteen years apart, Eli knew her.

      The aged and seasoned hurt that lurked beneath the surface of her words sliced through his conscience with cold efficiency. He’d wanted her to come with him, but she’d made it clear her life was here. And his life could never be here.

      “You knew we wanted different things. I was never going to fit in here. Not like you did. My dad. My brothers. Leaving was my only option. And I didn’t just skip out on you.” Running his hands through his hair, he huffed out a heavy breath. “Look, Reagan,” he started, and then the wind shifted, carrying her smell to him, all fresh-cut hay and sunshine on warm skin.

      Overwhelmed with sensory memories, his gaze homed in on lips that parted in almost curious shock. And just like that, she was the girl he’d loved. And yet, with time and distance, she had somehow evolved into more.

      She’d always been his sun, chasing away the shadows he hadn’t been able to banish himself. Unwelcome memories of yesteryear hovered at the fringes of his consciousness. He needed to touch her, needed the tenderness he’d always found waiting in her.

      He closed the distance between them. His lips closed over hers and he pulled her into his embrace. The shock of cinnamon on his tongue told him she still loved Big Red gum, and the flavor transferred between them. Her lips were soft, pliable and so familiar his heart ached with the memories of a thousand and more shared moments. Being here, in New Mexico, didn’t hurt so much with her in his arms.

      He wasn’t only “Covington’s oldest boy.” He wasn’t burdened with the unshakable disappointment his father had found in him. He wasn’t a failure of an older brother. He was Eli. Just Eli. And he could survive that.

      His troubles became manageable as their tongues touched, tentative for the briefest moment. Then he took over the kiss. Dominating the moment, he took comfort in her nearness and yelped like a scolded pup when she bit his lip. Hard.

      Parking both hands on his chest, she shoved and shouted, “What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” Eyes wild, she dragged a hand over her mouth. “You don’t waltz into town after fourteen years, run me off the road and then... You don’t... You can’t kiss me like...like...you ass!”

      “‘Ass’? I kiss you and you call me an ass?” Eli’s lips thinned as his once-infamous temper, second only to hers and all but squashed under years of educational and professional training, raced forward like a laser-guided missile, target locked, impact imminent. “I’m going to point out the obvious here, Reagan. You kissed me, too.”

      “I didn’t... That is... No. There was no mutual... No, I didn’t!” Chest heaving, she drove a finger into his chest. “Why are you even here? The funeral was two freaking weeks ago. You should’ve been here then. But you show up now, expecting everyone to bend to your expectations. That’s so typical, Eli. It’s always been the way you operate,” she snapped, backing up until she bumped into her truck. She hopped in, never taking her eyes off him. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still smart as shit when it comes to business and dumb as dirt when it comes to people.”

      “Hey,” he objected, but she powered on without pause.

      “You’re too late to do any good, Eli, but, then, you taught me what to expect a long time ago. I’d truly thought you’d show for the funeral, though. For your blood.” She looked him up and down with a critical eye as she delivered the blow he should’ve anticipated but never saw coming. “I might have been your girlfriend once, but Cade and Tyson are your brothers, Eli. They needed you.” Her gaze met his, anger turning the normally moss green color of her eyes deep and vibrant. “They needed you here to help them manage the mess your old man left behind, but you clearly couldn’t put your high-society life aside for a few days to come home and help them out of the bind they’re in. You never could be bothered. Not for them. Not for anyone.”

      She moved to slam the door, but he grabbed it, stepping close. “That’s why I’m here now—to probate my father’s estate. But that’s irrelevant. You don’t get to sit there in your shiny truck, that captain’s chair your personal throne, and pass judgment on me, Armstrong.”

      Jerking away as if struck, she stared at him with wide eyes. “It hasn’t been ‘Armstrong’ for eight years. It’s Matthews. And to you? Dr. Matthews. Nothing less, and never, ever anything more. Now let go of the door, Eli.”

      His hand fell away from the truck.

      She’d married Luke Matthews. He’d had no idea.

      The reality he’d likely see her and Luke together while in town made Eli’s stomach lurch up his throat until he seriously wondered if he might puke. Wouldn’t that be awesome.

      Then there was the fact she was a doctor. From the size of her truck and the type of work boxes, he didn’t have to ask what kind. A vet. She’d always wanted to be a large-animal vet.

      He cleared his throat once, then twice, before he managed to croak, “Great. Happy for you.”

      Slamming the truck door shut, she made it a point to click the locks down. Couldn’t get much clearer than that.

      Her dog whined loud enough for Eli to hear the cry over the soft rumble of the truck’s engine. Reagan absently soothed the animal, her hand shaking.

      Eli could totally relate. Years in court had trained him to present a totally calm and controlled exterior under extreme pressure. That didn’t mean his insides weren’t rattling, though. The emotions buffering him now were both uncomfortable and unrecognizable. But there was no point examining them too closely. This visit didn’t center around assuaging years of curiosity and doubt; nor did it have anything to do with healing old hurts. It was about finally closing this part of his life. Permanently.

      Swallowing his anger and determined to keep things civil, he motioned for her to roll her window down.

      Green eyes that had always before met his with open trust and absolute passion narrowed and glared. She punctuated the stare with a one-fingered salute. Without waiting for him to move, she slammed the truck into Reverse and punched the accelerator.

      He leaped aside with a shouted curse.

      The truck surged off the curb, suspension squeaking in protest. She shifted the truck into gear and, leaning on the accelerator, she rapidly put distance between them.

      The dog, its tail still wagging, watched him with open curiosity thought the rear window.

      Closing his eyes, Eli parked his fists on his hips and let his chin fall to his chest.

       What the hell am I doing here?

      “Settling an old debt,” he answered quietly. He was here to make sure his brothers were okay. Yet according to Reagan, he was already too late for that.

      Trying to wipe the unforgettable taste of her off his lips, he crossed the still-vacant street and crammed himself into the compact car before making a left and heading up Highway 54.

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