Authors: Amie Louellen
As the thought crossed her mind, he stood. “You know what? I’m outta here.”
“Ritt.” Craig’s voice was low with warning.
“I don’t have to sign. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.”
She watched speechless as he walked out the door. That was so like Ritt. He accused her of running, but who was the coward now?
The paneled oak slammed behind him, and Shelby turned back to Craig.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said.
She pressed her lips together and nodded. What else could she do?
Craig picked up the thick packet of papers that held her dreams, her do-over. “Would you like to take a look at these?”
She forced a smile. “Not right now.” Her head was starting to pound, her thoughts chasing themselves around in circles. Maybe tomorrow he’d said, which meant another night at the hotel. She’d have to call the shop and tell Kathryn that she’d be out for a couple more days. Luckily she didn’t have anything waiting for her attention. There was the Anderson’s birthday party this weekend, but Kat could handle that one by herself. The Riley wedding was still two weeks away. Plenty of time to finish that when she got home.
Craig slid the papers into the manila envelope and pushed it across the desk. “You can look over them later.”
Shelby nodded. “Why is he—?” She didn’t finish. Why was he acting like this? Why was he being so stubborn?
“Your leaving really hurt him, Shelby.”
“He didn’t even know I was gone.”
Craig shook his head. “He knew all right. He lost everything when he lost you and the baby.”
It had been seven years. It shouldn’t hurt so much when someone mentioned the baby that she and Ritt had made and lost. Yet it did. Some pains never eased.
As bad as it hurt to admit it, losing the baby had been a blessing in disguise, a twist of fate that they needed. Without a baby and a wife, Ritt could play ball for Texas. Shelby’s grades weren’t bad, but not good enough to get her into the university. Her mother didn’t have the money to put her through college. What choice did Shelby have but to move to California? She was going to be left behind anyway. He’d be leaving. Her mother was leaving. What did Ritt expect her to do? Stay living with his parents?
She shook her head. “I left so he could go back to school.”
“He’d already lost his place on the team.”
“But—” Her mother had told her it was for the best. They would leave, get a fresh start. Ritt would go to school, play baseball for Texas University like had been his dream since as long as she could remember, then everybody would be happy again.
What did you think? That he’d graduated with a degree in engineering and that’s why he works at the bait shop?
“You know Ritt.” Craig’s words brought her out of her thoughts.
She thought she had. Once upon a time.
“He loved you more than anything in the world. Then you left without giving your marriage a chance.”
“But the baby—”
Craig shook his head. “The baby wasn’t the issue, Shelby. He wanted you. And you walked out.”
What a day.
Ritt let himself in the house, not bothering to turn on any lights. The remaining rays from a brilliant West Texas sunset were enough for him to get into the house and toe off his boots. Right now all he wanted was to have a beer, check the scores and forget today ever happened.
He padded to the fridge in his sock feet, opening the door and regarding his options.
“Honey? Is that you?”
If that same voice hadn’t filled his dreams for more years than he cared to remember, he might have jumped out of his skin. As it was, he peered around the door.
“Shelby?”
She stood in the archway that led to the dining room. She had on the same shirt and skirt that she’d worn to their meeting with Craig, the same sexy shoes, and one of his mother’s gawd-awful floral-print aprons looped over her neck and tied around her waist. She smiled as if she had a secret. A really evil secret, and Ritt felt a shudder skitter down his spine.
“What are you doing here?” It took everything he had not to snarl the words. He wasn’t about to let her see how much her presence affected him.
“Is this what I should expect every night?”
Ritt snatched a beer, straightened, then shut the refrigerator door. He popped the top off the brown bottle with the church key mounted on the side of the cabinet and took a healthy swig before answering. “I’m going with no.”
“So you don’t come home and have a drink before dinner?”
“How’d you get in here?”
“You know, you should really tell your mama to move the spare key. Seven years, Ritt, and it was still there. Speaking of, where are your folks?”
Suddenly the sophisticated baker from this afternoon was replaced by a Texas girl in really high heels.
Damn, she was hot. Right now she was making his blood boil, but for all the wrong reasons.
“They’re touring the lower forty-eight in an RV.”
She faltered. “They’re not here?”
“Nope.”
“Kyle?” She seemed hopeful.
“He’s in Lubbock.”
“So…we’re…alone?”
He gave a quick nod.
“Oh.” That didn’t seem to be part of her plan. The light in her pale gray eyes dimmed a tad before she covered the reaction. “Well, then more for us, right?”
“More what?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Supper, silly. Why else would I be here?”
“Funny, I was asking myself the same thing.” For the first time he noticed the smell coming from the dining room. And all the dirty dishes piled in the sink. And the splatters on the stove. It hadn’t looked like this when he left this morning. Mainly because he never cooked, preferring to stop by the diner to eat. Or drive into Amarillo if he wanted something different. Cooking for one was a hassle, a complete waste of time. “You cooked?”
She nodded, a strand of hair working loose from her librarian hairdo to brush against her cheek. “Of course, I did.”
“Of course.” He took another swig of the beer, wishing instead for something stronger. Anything to dull the longing now pounding through his blood.
She tilted her head to one side, that evil smile back on her face. Well, the smile itself wasn’t particularly evil, but it was too innocent to be anything else. What was she up to now?
“Isn’t that the job of a good wife?” she said the last two words around an exaggerated pout. “Cook for her husband?”
“Among other things.” He watched her carefully molded features. She gave nothing away at his insinuation, but she had to be thinking the same as he. All the times they’d made love, fumbling at first then learning the other’s likes and desires, all the secret places. He wondered if he kissed her on that throbbing vein in her neck if she’d sigh like she used to.
“Well, I figured that if you were having such a time signing those papers that maybe you really wanted a wife. So I said to myself, Shelby, you must get over there and do everything in your power to be a good wife to your husband.” Her voice held an inflated Texas drawl.
“Everything?”
Her look was coy, her words a purr. “I made dinner.”
Shelby had never been able to cook before, burning everything from eggs to pasta. But her culinary talents were not the reason he’d married her.
Still, what harm could it do to allow her to finish this little charade? What did she think? That she could cook him a little something, and he’d be so grateful that he’d sign her stupid papers? Not likely. But he’d get a free meal out of the deal. He smiled to himself.
This was a game he’d have to see through till the end. Or maybe until he got bored.
Why not let her grovel a little, cook and such, in her efforts to convince him to what? To let her go?
That wasn’t something he was ready to do. He was still angry. Still seething over the fact that she’d left. She’d taken his parents’ bribe and walked away without a backward glance. He’d given up everything for her and in the end he’d lost it all. So no, he wasn’t going to just sign the papers and give her a quickie divorce. She was going to have to work for it.
But there was no reason why he couldn’t benefit from this. No siree, none at all.
Except Shelby’s cooking skills hadn’t improved one iota in the seven years they had been estranged.
Ritt dragged his fork through the casserole. At least he thought it was a casserole. How did a person overcook the pasta and undercook the meat in the same dish?
“I thought Craig said you baked cakes or something for a living.” Sounded like a scam to him.
“I do.”
He looked down at the congealed mess that was in her terms “supper” then back up to those unbelievable gray eyes.
“Is your dinner not to your liking?”
“I think I’ve had enough for one night.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stood.
She sat there, innocently picking through her cooked-to-mush mixed vegetables as if searching for lost treasure.
“Come on, Shelby. Time to go.”
“Go where?”
“Your hotel.”
“But you said I never gave our marriage a chance. How can I do that if I’m staying in a hotel? Besides, there’s some big convention and a huge wedding that have all of the rooms from here to Midland booked.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, my dear husband, that I’m moving in.”
Chapter Three
Moving in. Ritt scoffed. Moved in was more like it. She already had all of her things scattered throughout the house like she’d been there forever. Toothbrush in the holder next to his, makeup all over the counter, hell, she’d even stashed a box of tampons under the sink.
She was just doing this to get under his skin. So far it was working, but he’d be damned before he’d let her know that.
Ritt punched his pillow into submission. It was impossible to sleep, knowing that she was in the rarely used guest room…so close. Short of twisting her arm behind her back and forcibly kicking her out the door, he had no way of making her leave. Now his best course of action was to pretend that she wasn’t there. That she wasn’t slowly driving him out of his mind.
“Ritt? Are you asleep?”
He propped himself onto his elbows. What was she, like a ninja or something? He hadn’t heard her walk across the creaky old hardwood floors, hadn’t heard her open the door to his room, but there she was, backlit from the light he left on in the hallway bathroom. Her silhouette enticing and doing terrible things to his resolve.
“What now, Shelby?”
“I—” She took two steps into the room, close enough he could smell her designer perfume and the hotel-provided shampoo. “I can’t sleep.”
“That makes two of us.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.
He held his breath as she came nearer, finally perching on the edge of the bed. Memories swamped him, those first days living in the garage apartment. Too bad it wasn’t livable still, he could have moved out there and let her take over the house until she was tired of this game. As it was now, he’d have to see it through till the end.
Having her this close was torture. He only had to reach out and he could touch her, smooth her hair back from her face, run his fingers down her cheek. How many nights had he prayed to have her back? To have one more chance with her? “I was wondering—” she started.
This wasn’t a second chance. Once he signed those papers, she’d be gone in a flash. This was only a delay of game.
“If you wanted to—” She reached out, laid her hand on his arm, the warmth of her fingers burning him with desire.
Just sign, his rational side demanded. Sign and get it over with. Postponing the inevitable wasn’t productive. She wanted a life without him; there wasn’t much he could do to change that.
“—play cards or something.”
Or something
came to mind. “Go to bed, Shelby.” He turned away, flopping onto his opposite side and willing his breathing to normal, steady and even. He couldn’t let her know how her presence affected him.
A heartbeat later he felt the side of the bed sag under her weight.
“What the hell?”
She hoisted herself over him, straddling him for the merest of moments before pushing herself to the other side of the bed.
He could only stare as she wriggled under the covers, burrowing down and making herself totally comfortable. She heaved a contented sigh then closed her eyes.
“Uh, Shelby?”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping, silly.”
If she called him silly one more time he was going to toss her out on her pretty behind.
“This is my bed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are sleeping in the guest room.”
“It’s lonely in there.”
“Too bad.”
“Plus Clyde is taking up all the room.”
Yay for Clyde. Ritt knew the hound was smart, but he’d never pegged him for desperate.