Authors: Amie Louellen
Ritt took a deep breath. “Shelby’s here.”
A second beat between them before his mother answered. “Oh, Ritt.”
He swallowed hard, feeling like he was nineteen again and his heart was breaking anew. “She wants a divorce.”
“We’re coming home.” His mother’s voice was stern with love and determination.
“No. Don’t. I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
He didn’t, but if he kept pretending he was, that Shelby wasn’t rubbing salt in old wounds, then maybe eventually it’d be the truth. “I just need some time.”
“Are you going to give it to her?”
“I don’t think I have much choice.” He didn’t bother to tell his mom that Shelby had sent the papers long ago and he’d been putting this moment off for months. Or that he had been desperately trying to devise a way to win her back.
“Wayne, turn around. We need to go home.”
Ritt sat up straight, planting his booted feet on the hard planks of the floor. “No. Seriously, Mom. She’ll be gone before you get here.”
“You need us, and we’re coming home.”
Ritt shook his head at her resolve. He did need his family right now, but he could always drive to Lubbock and spend the week with Kyle. “I’m fine,” he said.
“We’ll be home in a couple of days,” she said despite his protests. “Maybe by Sunday afternoon.”
“Sunday night.” He heard his father yell.
Ritt smiled. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Yeah, sweetie, we do.”
He knew his mom would answer that way. “Be careful.”
“We will. And Ritt…we love you very much.”
“I know. I love you too.” He hung up the phone and turned to Shelby who stood in the doorway from the hall. How long she’d been there he wasn’t sure.
“I take it that wasn’t my mom.”
Ritt grabbed his beer and sat back. He adopted his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and flashed her a cocky smile. “Nope. It was my mom.”
Shelby shook her head. “Why do you do that?”
He took a drink of his beer to soothe his suddenly dry throat. “Do what?”
“Get all…” she waved a hand in front of her, clearly at a loss for words. “Get all cocky and arrogant.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She slammed her hands onto her hips. “You do.”
“Not.” He hated how juvenile he sounded, but he couldn’t let her know his secret. That it was the only defense he had against her.
“Whatever.” At least she sounded as childish as he did. “I’m going to bed.”
It was barely nine o’clock, but he didn’t point that out.
He stood and stretched. “Fine by me,” he said, starting for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped two steps shy of his goal. “Wow, Shelby. You sound suspiciously like a wife.” Then he slammed through the door and out into the night.
It was after three when she heard him, his careful footsteps shuffling through the kitchen. Something rattled, as if he’d bumped into the curio cabinet where his mom displayed her collection of blown-glass figurines.
Clyde barked.
Ritt hushed him.
She heard another small crash and rose from the bed.
He was drunk, and she’d better go help him before he destroyed his mother’s house.
“Shelby.” He opened his arms wide as he caught sight of her. His grin stretched from ear to ear and if she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was actually glad she was there.
But she had heard the solemn tone when he had talked to his mother. Her presence was taking its toll on him. Did he think he was the only one hurting? A myriad of emotions swamped her. Being back in Randall brought up more memories than she cared to relive. Some good, some not so good. And others…well, they were heartbreaking.
“Come here and give me a kiss.”
Shelby crossed her arms in front of her and planted her feet. She hoped the stance looked secure and firm when in reality it was to keep her from taking him up on his offer. “You and I both know that’s a bad idea.”
His baseball hat was pulled down low, the bill shadowing his eyes. “There was a time when we thought it was a good idea.”
Memories of those times were the ones that haunted her the most. “That time is over.” Hopefully he was too far gone to hear the crack in her voice.
Being here, being so close to him was getting to her. If she hadn’t promised Craig and Delilah that she’d make their wedding cake, she would leave right now. Throw a shirt over her nightgown and head straight for the airport and out of his life.
Ritt braced an arm against the wall, balancing himself as he tried to pull off his boots. He wobbled, and Shelby was there in an instant, supporting him in his efforts.
“We weren’t so bad together. Right, Shel?”
“I don’t think now is the time to talk about that, Ritt.”
“Can I tell you something?” He continued without waiting for her answer. “I’ve missed you.”
Shelby swallowed back the knot of regret that formed in her throat. “I don’t think it’s the time to talk about that either.”
He gave a jerky nod and started toward her. His feet were suddenly steady. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as she had originally thought. By the time she realized his intent, it was too late.
One arm snaked out, wrapping around her and pulling her to him. His lips captured hers, swift and sure. Her knees buckled with surprise and desire, but he was there to hold her up. And she was lost.
Her fingers went to the bill of his hat, tipping it up and off his head like she had done a thousand times before.
Memories teemed around her, fueled by the night and his lips on hers. All the days she had spent in his arms, in his bed. Regret mingled, but she pushed it away. She should do the same to him, push him away. Fight the passion rising to the surface.
But she had been fighting her feelings for so long she didn’t have the strength anymore. Or maybe it was the desire. It took so much to protect herself. So much to pretend that this wasn’t what she wanted. That he wasn’t what she needed.
She sighed, melting into him. And he pulled her closer still, turning and walking her toward the bedroom.
She forced herself to pull away. “Ritt, I—”
“We were good together, Shel.” He kept moving.
She kept letting him. “That was a long time ago.”
“This feels like now.”
And now felt amazing…wonderful…right.
He pulled his shirt over his head and her heart pounded in her throat.
Who was to know but the two of them?
She didn’t protest as he nudged open the door to his room and urged her inside. Didn’t protest when he stripped her T-shirt over her head and lowered her to the bed.
A sigh escaped her lips as he moved away, trailing kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, into the hollow of her throat.
“I’ve dreamt of this, you know. Holding you again.” One callused hand moved from her hip to the curve of her waist and higher still to palm her waiting breast.
His touch was like coming home. Filled with warmth and comfort, all the things she had been missing in her life.
Suddenly respectability wasn’t so important anymore. Not if she could have this, this fire blazing between them. This love burning her from the inside out.
He had changed little in the years they had been apart. His chest was a little broader. She traced her fingers across the star-shaped scar just under his collarbone. “What happened?”
He chuckled, low and sexy. “Fishing accident. Took a lure for the team.”
She leaned in and kissed it.
He stopped laughing, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue met his bare skin.
“Shelby,” he groaned.
She raised her head. “What?” Her gaze met his. She wanted him to see the light in her eyes, the desire and longing she held only for him.
“Nothing.” He dipped his head and kissed her again.
Shelby fisted her hands in his hair, holding him to her, perhaps even trying to hold on to him forever.
Then he pulled away. His hair slipped from between her hungry fingers, her body chilled as he moved his heat from on top of her.
“Where are you going?” she asked, still reeling. Her head was spinning with desire, her heart full to bursting with the realization that she loved him. She had always loved him. Her Texas husband.
“Condom,” he said, digging through the nightstand drawer. “Can’t have a repeat of last time.”
Shelby’s heart fell into her toes. She felt as if a bucket of snow had been dumped on her desire.
Ritt froze, realizing he’d said the wrong thing. His eyes reflected the regret that turned down the corners of his mouth.
“Shelby.” He licked his lips as if they had suddenly gone dry. “I—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand as she reached for her clothes. Her insides were raw with the realization that she loved him, but he didn’t love her back. How could he, if he said things like that to her?
Humiliation snaked through her. Degradation, remorse. She shouldn’t feel that way. She and Ritt had shared equal responsibility in making the baby that changed both of their lives. But she had been the one who wasn’t able to carry the child, nurture it and make it grow.
She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head, not bothering to turn it right side out. Or around. The tag tickled under her chin as she shook her head. “Don’t, Ritt.”
He ran his fingers though his hair, massaging away whatever demons plagued him.
Shelby scrambled to her feet, using his moment of weakness to be strong. He opened his mouth to protest or lie to her once again, but she ducked her head and hurried from the room. Down the hall she fled, him right behind her.
“Shel?” His vice was soft and questioning as she stepped into his parents’ room. She shut the door between them before he could follow.
“Good night, Ritt.” She was proud of how steady her voice sounded, even though her knees trembled and her hands shook as she turned the lock.
“Shel? Shelby!”
She crawled back into the bed, surrounded by his scent and memories, and somehow managed to hold the tears at bay.
Ritt stared at the old wooden door that separated him from the only woman he’d ever loved.
“Well, you’ve really done it this time, McCoy,” he muttered to himself.
He gave the door one last look, then turned back to the kitchen. He stopped momentarily to pick up his hat, slapping it against his thigh before settling it back on his head.
He needed a cold shower to wash away the heat of his desire and the last vestiges of alcohol clogging up his system.
But it was late…or early, depending on how he looked at it and he was tired.
He made his way back into his bedroom, wondering how one man could be so stupid.
Without bothering to change clothes, he flopped onto the bed. Pulling the pillow over his head in a poor attempt to stop the parade of memories behind his closed lids.
He hadn’t intended his caress to be more than a simple, sweet kiss. He just wanted to touch his lips to hers and then sleep it off. But he should have known that nothing was simple where Shelby was concerned.
In the span of one heartbeat, he’d sobered up and fallen prey to an even bigger intoxicator—his wife.
It was a short ride to hell from there. Or was it heaven?
He had no defenses where she was concerned, no way to block out what she did to him, his love for her. All-consuming, ever-burning, more than he could even understand.
A wet nose nudge his hand, then Clyde whined and gave him a reassuring lick. A second later, the mattress dipped with the canine’s solid weight.
Ritt expelled a heavy breath. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Once the words were out, he wanted to call them back. The hurt in her eyes was like a physical blow to his heart. Any chance he had for winning her back had been blown away with that one sentence. A stupid thing to say to the one person he loved more than the air he breathed.
Ritt had spent more than one night half-drunk, with only the canine for company and dreaming of Shelby. Why should tonight be any different?
He scratched the dog behind one floppy ear and drifted off, dreaming of being her one and only once again.
Chapter Six
Sunlight cut like a knife through hot butter, slicing into the best dream he’d had in a long time.
Ritt flopped onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes to block out the cruel light. He wanted to sink back into the bliss of the dream, but his head was pounding.
And through the pain came a familiar heartache.
He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. He breathed in deep. Shelby.
Last night came crashing back. He and Shelby at the diner. His parents calling. Tying one on at the Longbranch, coming home, and… Shelby.
With a groan, Ritt wiped the last of the sleep from his eyes and rolled from the bed. He owed her an apology. An explanation. Something. She wouldn’t forgive him. And he couldn’t blame her.