“Seven
figures?” Macy said, sliding down beside him. “Dude!”
Finn laughed as she propped her head on her hand. She traced a line down his chest. “Still—are you certain?”
“For us, I’d do anything. Including accepting seven figures to talk about my time in captivity.”
“All of us?”
Finn touched his fingers to her lips. “What is the matter with you tonight? Yes, all of us. Never doubt it, Macy. It’s not exactly the way I wanted to start our family, but it’s our family nonetheless. The way I see it, we’re all made up of pieces of the people who love us. That baby will have pieces of us both…and of Wyatt, and whomever he ends up with. I don’t know how that is going to work, and I’m not crazy about it, but it’s unavoidable.”
Macy thought about Wyatt’s angry letter regarding custody. She could feel his pain in that letter and understood he was lashing out at her in his grief. “I hope he does find someone. I hope he finds what we have with each other.”
“Well, whatever happens, whatever our life looks like, I want our family. Never, ever doubt that is true.”
“Okay, you are making me insane with wanting you,” she said, and leaned over to kiss him.
Finn shoved his hand into her hair and hungrily kissed her back. The way he touched her, looked at her, made Macy feel like she was the most desirable woman on earth. She kissed him again, this time climbing on top of him to straddle him.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Finn said. “What if we get a nibble?”
“Oh, you’re going to get a nibble,” she said, and grabbed the hem of her peasant blouse and lifted it up over her head.
“Lord, Macy,” he said, looking at the skimpy bra she wore. “You’re going to give me a damn heart attack.” He cupped her breasts; something flowed between them, something that only two people who loved each other as much as they did could feel, and Macy was hopelessly, utterly lost.
Finn wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to him. He pressed his mouth against her cheek, her eyes, and then her lips. “I can’t ever seem to stop wanting you,” he said.
The heat of the early evening, the wind rustling the trees, the water running all seemed to fade away as Finn kissed Macy and stroked her body. His rough hand on her smooth skin excited her beyond reason; she quickly removed her bra so that he could put his hands on her breasts. She gasped softly in his ear as he squeezed her nipple between his fingers and pressed herself against him, her body stretched the length of his.
He moaned, lifted her up, and took one breast in his mouth. The sensation of it was excruciatingly arousing—Macy slid her hand down his leg and cupped his erection.
“You’re beautiful,” Finn said, panting a little. His fingers splayed across her breast and nipple and squeezed gently.
Macy sighed with pleasure. “So are you. Now please take your pants off.”
Finn grinned and caught her mouth with his at the same moment his hands went to his belt, fumbling with it. She rose from him, helped him shove his pants down, and, as he kicked them off his legs, took off her shorts.
He gazed at her naked body with such obvious longing that Macy felt beautiful, especially with the slight swell of her pregnancy. She straddled him again, rubbing against him, pressing her breasts against him. A giggle of pure pleasure escaped her, but Finn didn’t seem to hear her. His hands were running over her body, making her pulse beat too fast, making her heart pound in her chest. One hand floated down her abdomen, slipping in between her legs. Macy closed her eyes and submerged herself in the sensation of his fingers stroking her. Then Finn muttered something incomprehensible against her breast and slipped his fingers deep inside her, and Macy was intensely, deeply aroused.
A moment later, she was sliding down on him, her body taking him in. Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she began to move on him, sliding up, then down, as deliberately as she might. But she was fast losing control, and Finn, who knew her body almost as well as she did, laughed breathlessly against her neck. “No, no, not yet, not that easy,” he said.
He suddenly twisted her onto her back and came over her. He looked down at her, roughly caressed her hair. “You lay right there and let me show you how crazy you make me. Can you handle it?”
“No,” she said honestly, but Finn just grinned and moved his thigh in between her legs, pushing them apart. He pressed himself against her, laced his fingers with hers above her head, and entered her.
Macy shuddered at the primal sensation and grabbed his hips, pulling him deeper inside her. Waves of pleasure were already rolling through her, the crescendo building. But Finn seemed to enjoy torturing her and watched her as he slid slowly into her depths, adjusting himself to her body, then sliding deeper still with small, rhythmic movements.
Macy’s control was almost gone; he was so hot and thick inside her, and she arched her pelvis against him, silently demanding more as she gasped for breath. Finn at last gave in. He kissed her as he began to thrust harder and longer inside her, pushing her to new heights. As the earth began to fall away from her she cried out with pleasure and lifted her body to match his rhythm. His breath was hot on her shoulder, his grip of her hand almost painful.
The last hard wave of pleasure carried her off—he was her river. She heard the strangled groan, felt the last powerful thrust of his body as he sank his fingers into her hips.
A moment later, Macy opened her eyes. Finn was holding himself above her. His hair dipped over one eye, and he had an unfathomably deep look in his copper-brown eyes. He carefully lowered himself onto his elbows and cupped her face in his hands. “God, Macy,” he whispered, and tenderly kissed her mouth and her shoulder before dislodging himself and lying beside her. They lay on the blanket looking up at the dusk sky, their fingers entwined, their hearts beating in unison.
A few minutes later, Finn sat up and handed Macy her clothes. They dressed quietly, their eyes on one another, their smiles warm. When they’d dressed, Finn wrapped his arm around Macy’s neck and kissed her forehead. “We gotta get a place, and sooner rather than later. I don’t care if it’s a cracker box, and I don’t care what the lawyer says—I need to be with you.”
“Me, too,” she agreed, and kissed his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “I’ll look tomorrow. Someplace small.”
He chuckled. “Too poor to paint, too proud to whitewash. But it can’t hurt to look. I’m going to go to New York in the morning and meet this book guy,” he said. “I should be back before the end of the week. If you find something, maybe we can wrap it up then.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked.
“I’d love for you to go with me,” he said. “But I’d rather just get in and get out, and Brodie is tagging along in case I…well, flip out,” he said with a self-conscious laugh. “And besides, you need to find us a place before l lose my freaking mind.”
Macy laughed. “Can’t have that. God, Finn…I am so ready to be us again.”
“Me, too, baby,” he said softly.
Wyatt made a cup of instant coffee and grimaced at the taste of it. He was ashamed to admit it, but he’d never figured out how to work Macy’s high-dollar coffeepot. He sat down at the kitchen bar and pushed aside a pile of mail, old newspapers, his empty bottle of blood pressure medicine, and some fast food bags, and opened the newspaper. He skimmed the front page—a lot of politics, more trouble at the border. He flipped through the paper to the Metro section when a headline caught his eye:
LOCAL HERO OPENS HEART AND LAND TO UNWANTED ANIMALS.
Wyatt slowly put down his coffee cup and picked up the paper. There was a picture of Finn Lockhart, his hand on the bridle of a horse. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but there was a subtle hint of one. It almost seemed to Wyatt as if Finn were smirking at him.
Wyatt quickly scanned the article. In it, Finn talked about how he’d shared his scraps of food with a starving dog while he was held in captivity in Afghanistan. “Oh, yeah,” Wyatt muttered, “a hero
and
a soft-heart.” Finn said he’d always had an affinity for animals, and since he’d been home, he’d learned of several big animals that needed new homes: a pair of horses, a longhorn steer, and, of course, dogs. So it seemed “only natural” to start up a rescue ranch. When asked where and how he was going to manage it, Finn said that he was in the process of selling his story and hoped to make enough to buy land and get it started. The article concluded with information on how to donate to Finn’s cause.
When Wyatt finished reading the article, he flung the paper across the kitchen. Sheets drifted to the floor. He buried his face in his hands for a moment and wondered if he would ever be able to shake Finn Lockhart from his life.
His anger and frustration and sheer helplessness were getting the best of him. Even Milo seemed depressed—he lay with his head between his paws, staring at Wyatt, as if he expected him to do something. Wyatt stood up. “Come on, pal,” he said to Milo. “Let’s go get a decent cup of coffee.” He walked to the front door, his gaze moving over the big, gilt-edged mirror over the mantel. He’d thrown something at it one night in a fit of rage. The other stuff he’d trashed that night—a lamp, a vase, a picture of him and Macy—he’d picked up. Mostly. But the mirror he’d left hanging there like that. He liked it better. He didn’t like looking at himself these days.
At the Saddle-brew, Wyatt ran into Caroline, who was a whole lot happier to see him than he was to see her. “Wyatt, just the person I wanted to see,” she said, standing too close to him.
Wyatt looked behind the counter. “Sam’s not working?”
“Not today. How about some coffee?”
Wyatt looked at Caroline. “Sure,” he said halfheartedly. “Why not?”
Macy couldn’t get hold of Wyatt. He wasn’t at the office, he wasn’t at home, and he wasn’t answering his cell. She needed to get some things from the house, but she didn’t want to go alone. She called Emma and asked her to ride along.
“Anything to get out of the house,” Emma said. “If I don’t get a job soon, I am going to go
nuts.
”
At the house in Arbolago Hills, Macy rang the doorbell twice.
“Just stick your key in the door and let’s go,” Emma urged her. “He’s not home. Get in, get out.”
“You’re right,” Macy said, and opened the door. “Hello?” she called out.
Milo was there, his paws sliding on the hardwood floors in his eagerness to reach her. She squatted down to pet him, then popped up. “I’ll be just a minute, Emma.”
“Cool,” Emma said, and went down on her knees to greet Milo.
Macy walked down the corridor to the master suite. The door was closed, and as she neared it, she heard something like a moan. Was he sleeping? “Wyatt?” she said softly, and opened the door a crack. “Are you awake?” She pushed it open a little further. When she peeked inside, she jumped.
“Macy!” Wyatt shouted.
She was too stunned to move. Wyatt was in bed with another woman. Macy stared at the floor, trying to process it.
The next moment, Wyatt yanked the bedroom door open wearing his boxer shorts. She could see the bare legs of the woman on the bed behind him.
Caroline Spalding.
It had to be Caroline. Macy had heard about her interest in Wyatt.
“What are you doing here?” Wyatt asked, putting his hand to his nape.
“I needed some clothes. I left you a message. Apparently you didn’t get it.” Or maybe he did. Maybe this was Wyatt’s idea of payback.
“So get them,” he said, opening the door wide. Macy’s gaze flew to the bed and she gasped loudly.
It wasn’t Caroline Spalding in bed with Wyatt. It was Samantha Delaney. Samantha Delaney, who had been Macy’s best friend, was sitting on the bed with nothing but the corner of a sheet to cover her, calmly regarding Macy.
“Oh, my God,” Macy said.
“Oh, my God.”
“What’s the matter?” Wyatt asked. “Can’t I move on, too?”
Macy whirled around and hurried down the hallway to Emma, who was standing in the foyer, her mouth gaping open.
Wyatt followed her. “What about your clothes?”
“I’ll come back another time!” she snapped.
“Right. When you do, bring the Jeep and a ride.”
Macy had no idea what he was talking about. “What?”
“That’s right, I forgot to mention—I’m taking the Jeep back.”
Macy spun around and stared at him.
“Oh, did you think you could just take that, too?” he asked pleasantly. “That I’d just give you a Jeep so you could leave me?”
“God, Wyatt,” Emma said, her voice full of disgust.
This wasn’t Wyatt. This was not the man Macy had been married to for seven months. This was a broken man, because the Wyatt she’d fallen in love with would
never
sleep with Sam.
Sam!
A dull pain started in the back of Macy’s head. “Can I at least move my things before you take the Jeep?”
Wyatt sighed heavenward. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “How long are we going to play this game?”
“
What
game?”
“Okay, maybe
game
is the wrong word,” he said. “But seriously, Macy, Lockhart can’t provide for you and the baby. He’s living with his parents for Chris-sakes. And he’s obviously got some mental issues.”
“Mental issues!”
“Everyone is talking about it,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “How long do you possibly think it can last? You’re living in a fairy tale.”
“And what are you living in, Wyatt? How does sleeping with my best friend help matters in the least?” Macy exclaimed angrily. Over his shoulder, she saw Sam appear at the threshold of the master bedroom, wearing one of Wyatt’s shirts and apparently nothing more. “I’ll have someone bring the Jeep back,” Macy said.
“Great,” Wyatt said.
“Come on, Macy,” Emma said, and opened the front door.
Macy had one foot over the threshold when Wyatt said, “Macy, wait.” She looked over her shoulder. He was standing in the foyer, his expression angry. But it was his eyes that seared into Macy’s head. His gaze was incongruently forlorn. “I shouldn’t have slept with Sam, but she was there, and I—”
“I’m sorry, Wyatt,” she said, cutting him off. “I will go to my grave regretting how much I have hurt you. You better go now. Sam is waiting.” She walked out with Emma’s arm around her waist.
Wyatt watched Macy drive away in the Jeep. In a moment of incredible stupidity at the grocery store, where he’d run into Sam, he’d made a colossal mistake. He would never be able to say why he’d done it. Because he missed Macy? Maybe because he missed sex. More likely he needed to hurt her like he’d been hurt. Whatever his reasons, Wyatt had ruined any chance of getting Macy back. He knew that. She would never get over it, and he…he’d only made it worse by taunting her.
With a sigh of resignation, he shut the door. Sam was standing behind him, wearing his shirt. “I think you should go now,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, looking at the door. “I think I should.” She retreated down the hallway, and Wyatt understood that somehow, Sam had also gotten what she wanted out of this tryst.
He followed her down the hallway. “Why, Sam?” he asked as she picked up her clothes.
“Why what?”
“Why this?” he said, gesturing to the bed.
Sam shrugged and slipped on her bra.
“She was your best friend.”
“No, I was
her
best friend,” Sam said angrily.
Wyatt was starting to get it. “She was your
only
friend after Tyler died,” he said. “You told me that yourself. You told me more than once how grateful you were to Macy for her friendship!”
“Oh, get off your high horse, Wyatt! Why did
you
do it? She was your wife!”
As much as he despised Sam in that moment, she was right. Wyatt felt like the scum that he was. “Go home, Sam,” he said, and turned away, striding down the hallway.
What a colossal mistake.
Wyatt never made it into work that day. And when Jesse Wheeler turned up later that afternoon with his Jeep, Wyatt told him he didn’t want it.
“Dude,” Jesse said. “I’ve got to give it back. I’ll just leave the keys in the driver’s seat,” he said, tossed them inside, and strolled down the drive to a friend who was waiting.
Wyatt had never felt so defeated in his life. His wife didn’t want him. Sam had used him. He had turned into a man he truly did not like.
That night, as the sun started its descent, Wyatt and Milo walked out of his house and got in his truck. He didn’t lock the door of his house. He didn’t take anything with him. He put his arm around Milo and drove down the street, away from his home.