About ten miles north of the old Lockhart place, Wyatt stood on the deck attached to the back of his house, staring at the lake that looked black as ink now that the sun was going down.
Milo was sprawled in the open doorway, his head between his paws, his eyes following Wyatt’s every move. Just beyond Milo was a pristine house scented with fresh flowers—Wyatt had filled the vases and even a couple of buckets with the armload he’d bought at Austin Flowers. In the kitchen, in a warming oven, was a meal of sea bass and asparagus. Wyatt had picked it up from Twin Sisters Catering after calling one of the sisters and pleading for a special meal. When he said the name Finn Lockhart, they had jumped at the chance to cook something for “The Hero.” Wyatt had tried to explain that it wasn’t for Finn, but he wasn’t certain they’d understood him. He was beginning to think that if he uttered Finn Lockhart’s name, he could get the keys to any bank vault in town.
Wyatt checked his watch again. Two minutes had passed since the last time he’d looked. “Damn,” he muttered, and glanced at Milo. “How long does it take to drive from the airport?”
Wyatt wasn’t exactly the type to feel anxious about a woman. He’d always had a lot of feminine company; he dated his way through college, dated more when he graduated and got into the development business. For a long time, he’d believed he wasn’t the marrying type—he liked his work, liked having time to play golf on weekends. He was the guy who could get in a round or two, then clean up, go to Austin, and hit the clubs.
But then he’d met Macy at a country club event. He knew of Macy—everyone knew of everyone in a town like Cedar Springs—but he’d never been formally introduced to her. That night, her dad, Bob Harper, was in town from Dallas and was trying to sell Wyatt some land he needed to unload. Bob had introduced Wyatt to his daughter, and Wyatt had thought Macy looked sad and vulnerable. But he also thought she was really pretty in a down-home way. There was something about her, something he wanted to hold and protect.
That night, he’d coaxed her number out of her and called her. He’d long suspected that they went out the first time because Bob Harper pressured her to do so for the sake of the deal.
If that was true, it worked. Macy had charmed the socks right off of Wyatt. She talked about being a social worker, a line of work she’d recently returned to after her husband was killed in action. She was so exuberant about it, so funny with her anecdotes about some of the children she’d mentored.
After a few weeks, Macy felt comfortable enough to ask Wyatt along to a Harper family picnic. At that picnic, Wyatt watched Macy with her cousin Chloe’s twin boys. Macy was jubilant with those children. She chased them around a tree, jumping out from behind it to scare them into uncontrollable laughter. She held their hands and walked them down to the lake so they could feed the ducks. She took turns swinging one up in the air, and then the other. All afternoon, her expression was one of pure joy.
Wyatt knew that day he wanted her and he wanted children with her. That desire had only gotten stronger with time.
At last he spotted car lights on the road below, wending their way up. He walked into the house and to the windows that overlooked the drive, saw Macy’s mother’s car, and felt a surge of elation and relief—and a twinge of foreboding.
He walked out onto the drive to meet them. Macy looked exhausted when she climbed out of the backseat of Jillian’s BMW and walked straight into his arms. At the same time, Jillian got out and pulled Macy’s suitcase from her trunk. Wyatt let Macy go to help his mother-in-law. “Jillian, Emma, do you want to come in?” he asked, bending over to wave at Emma in the car.
“No, thank you, Wyatt. It’s late and I’ve got to go to work in the morning,” Jillian said. She patted his cheek. “Anyway, you need some time with Macy.”
“Bye, Mom. Thanks for everything,” Macy said wearily.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, honey.”
Wyatt waited until Jillian and Emma had backed out of the drive before following Macy inside. She was still in the foyer, fending off an exuberant Milo, who was thrilled to see her. He butted her with his head and rubbed against her leg until she leaned down and scratched him behind the ears. Then she stepped into Wyatt’s open arms again.
“Macy,” he said, and kissed her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and resting his chin on the top of her head. “My God, I have never been happier to see anyone in my life.” He reared back and looked at her; exhaustion shadowed her eyes. “You’re worn out. Let me pour you a glass of wine.”
“Wyatt—”
“I’ve got supper waiting. Have you eaten?”
“No, but I—”
“You are going to love this, then,” he said, as he pushed her bag out of the way and removed her purse from her shoulder. “I actually convinced Twin Sisters Catering to make a meal especially for us. It took some doing, but it’s in the oven. Sea bass and asparagus and a polenta that made my mouth water. Oh, and they even threw in a couple of slices of their flourless chocolate cake.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it, but I’m…I’m not really hungry,” Macy said.
Wyatt put her purse down. She was looking at him strangely, almost as if she was trying to work out where she’d seen him before. Or maybe that was Wyatt’s fear talking, fear that had held him by the damn throat the last couple of days.
He reached for her again, slipping his arm around her waist. “Come and have a drink and unwind a little, sweetheart.” He ushered her into the sunken living room. He’d paid a premium for this lot, high on the cliff, just so he could build a house like this with a stunning view. He’d just started building it when he met Macy. Before too long, he knew the house was for her. “How was the flight?” he asked.
She sighed and shook her head. “Long.” She slipped out of his embrace and walked to the door that led onto the enormous deck, Milo on her heels.
At the bar, Wyatt quickly poured her a glass of wine, grabbed a beer for himself, and followed her outside.
A breeze had cooled the evening; it wasn’t quite as sultry as it had been earlier. Wyatt handed the wine to Macy, who was staring out over the moonlit lake.
Wyatt put his arm around her middle and pulled her back against his chest. He could feel some of the tension leave her body; she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Can you imagine,” she said wearily, “what it must have been like for him, chained to a wall for three years?”
Wyatt closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about Finn. He didn’t want
her
to talk about Finn. He kissed her temple and asked softly, “Don’t you want to take a break from all that imagining?”
“I wish I could.” She took a sip of wine and stepped out of his embrace. “Wyatt, I…I…”
She looked as if she was in physical pain. Wyatt reached for her hand, but Macy shifted slightly, just out of his reach. “Jesus, Macy, what is it? Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding, then abruptly shook her head. “No. No, I’m not all right. I am so confused.”
A tic of panic shot through him. “There’s nothing to be confused about. I know how hard this has been for you, but you’re home now, and I—”
“I think I should go stay with Laru for a few days.”
He was too stunned to respond at first.
Macy pressed her lips together as if she were steeling herself for his reaction and put the wine glass down. “Please listen to—”
“
What
?” he demanded. “You’re going to
stay
with Laru? What does that mean?”
“I just think that given the circumstances, I need to go someplace where I can be alone and…” She glanced down at Milo, who was lying at her feet, panting. “And think.”
“Why can’t you think here? This is your home,” Wyatt said, his pulse ratcheting up with his alarm. “And it’s a big damn house. There are plenty of places to think here. What is it you need to think about that requires you to be at Laru’s?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” Wyatt said emphatically. “No, it sure as hell isn’t obvious, Macy. Why in God’s name would you go stay with Laru?”
“Because I don’t know what to do!” she cried, throwing her arms wide and startling Milo to his feet. The dog raced to the railing and barked. “I can’t
think
. I don’t know which way to turn. If I turn left,” she said, jabbing her left hand in the air, “there is the man who was the love of my life, the man that I married seven years ago. But they said he died, and I believed them, and now, if I turn right,” she continued, jabbing her right hand in the air, “there is the man that I fell in love with, the man who
saved
me. So there are
two
men who I love more than I can say, and I am desperately confused.” She dropped her hands. “I don’t know what to do!”
“There’s only one thing you can do, Macy,” Wyatt said sternly. “I am not going to let you go because the army got this all so goddam wrong.”
“You can’t blame the army!”
“The hell I can’t!” he shouted. “You are married to me, and I love you. You can do your thinking here.”
“Actually, I don’t think I
am
married to you.”
“It’s not so clear-cut,” he said, working to stay calm. “I know your mother thinks she’s got this all figured out, but
my
lawyer thinks the law is open to interpretation,” he lied. “As it stands, you are married to me until declared otherwise by a court.”
Macy started to turn away from him, but Wyatt put down his beer and caught her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I know you loved him, Macy, I’ve always known that. But I know that you love me, too. We’ve shared some extraordinary moments, haven’t we? You have to face what is and deal with it.”
Macy’s blue eyes suddenly flashed. “I have to
deal
with it? What exactly do you think I’ve been doing? I am dealing with it the best way I know how, Wyatt. Only I can work through it, but I have to be alone to do it, away from
both
of you. I am going to leave so you don’t have to.”
She was serious. She was going to walk out the door. Wyatt’s pulse jumped another notch. “You can’t do this. You can’t walk out on our marriage.”
“I’m not walking—Wyatt.” She abruptly caught his face between her hands and her eyes roamed over it as if she were memorizing it. “You are right—I love you so much. But I loved—love—
Finn
, too, and I have to think how this is all going to work. I have to figure out how to live with two of you in my heart. Can’t you see that?”
“Do you want to be with me?” he asked gruffly, appalled by how much he needed her to say yes.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.” She went up on her toes and kissed him sweetly before sliding down again and dropping her hands from his face. “Just give me some time, will you? That’s all I am asking. I am going to get some things together—”
“You’re going
tonight
?”
“I think I should.”
“Jesus, Macy,” he said, and dragged his fingers over his neatly cut hair. “Look,” he said, “I’ll sleep on the boat.” He could see that she was about to argue. “Just tonight,” he added quickly. “Tomorrow…” He didn’t say anything else. Tomorrow, in the light of day, he’d convince her to stay.
Her smile was far too grateful. She laced her fingers through his and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
He wasn’t understanding. He didn’t understand at all.
“Will you excuse me? I’m wiped out and want to take a bath.” She started inside, Milo on her heels. She paused at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot—the closing date for the sale of Two Wishes Ranch? We need to cancel that, obviously.”
“I don’t know about that.” He snorted. “The property issue is a whole other mess.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t just turn back the clock,” he scoffed.
Macy blinked. “Maybe not, but we can give Finn his land back. We
have
to give it back. Will you please cancel the closing?”
“Then what do I do?” he asked irritably. “That land is part of the resort deal.”
“Wyatt…you’ll have to find the money someplace else.”
“It’s not just the money, Macy. It’s the land. You know that part of Two Wishes is also part of the resort footprint.”
She frowned. “You own land on the other side of the footprint. Can’t you use that for the resort?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “It’s not that easy. There are easements and ingress-egress considerations.”
“But it’s the right thing to do,” she said firmly.
Wyatt clamped his jaw shut. Macy apparently took his silence as agreement, because she walked into the house.
Macy awoke from a dead sleep and looked straight into the eyes of Milo, who had laid his head on the edge of the bed and was making little whimpering noises. When she opened her eyes, the dog began to writhe with excitement.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, shoved the hair from her eyes, and looked at the clock next to the bed. It was almost eight o’clock. “Ohmigod,” she said, and fell back onto the pillow, covering her face with her hands. Last night, when she was sitting cross-legged on her bed and drinking wine from the bottle, she knew that she was going to pay for it, but she hardly cared. She’d needed desperately to dull her senses, to numb her thoughts.
This morning, her head was killing her.
Milo’s eager tail thrashed the drapes behind him with such ferocity that Macy had to roll over, grab his collar, and tell him to sit. “Are you hungry?” she asked, and Milo gave her a high-pitched wail as he leapt over her and onto the bed, hovering over her and trying to lick her face.
“All right, all right,” Macy said, and pushed his snout away from her face as she worked to untangle herself from the sheets. She wondered where Wyatt was. It was unlike him to sleep late. But he’d spent the night on the boat and maybe he’d had a few last night, too.
Macy stumbled into the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror.
Pathetic.
Her eyes were bloodshot. Her hair looked like turkey buzzards had nested in it. There were dark circles under her eyes, the result of a lack of sleep and water for what felt like days. “You look like hell, Macy Lynn,” she announced to herself.
She felt like hell, too.
She looked down and saw that she was wearing one of Wyatt’s old T-shirts. She’d always loved this T-shirt—¥it was one he’d worn when he’d played baseball at the University of Texas. Many washings had softened it and his scent was embedded in the weave.
Milo barked at her.
“All right, all right, already,” Macy said, patting his head, and staggered along to the kitchen with Milo on her heels. There was a note on the counter from Wyatt:
Went to get some coffee. Back in a few
. Wyatt had never learned how to operate the coffeemaker. He was funny that way, so capable, so smart, but couldn’t operate a coffeemaker. And he never remembered to take his blood pressure medicine. Or refill it, for that matter.
Macy took three aspirin, filled the dog’s food bowl, refreshed his water, and left him in the utility room, munching contentedly.
The thought of getting dressed filtered into her brain, but she was feeling too sluggish to attempt it. So she dragged herself through the house, wandering aimlessly. Her gaze landed on a delicate handblown glass cow on a shelf in the den.
That blasted cow. Her mom had brought it back from Italy after she’d traveled there to celebrate a birthday with friends. At the time, Macy had been annoyed that with all the shoes and handbags and clothes in Italy, her mother had brought her a Venetian glass cow. But her mother was so pleased with it. She said it reminded her of Macy’s new life as a cowgirl with Finn.
Jillian Harper had never really warmed to Finn. She didn’t like his background. He hadn’t been to college like Macy. Hadn’t traveled like Macy. And being a rancher’s wife was not what she’d envisioned for Macy, oh no.
Then again, her mother had never had any reservations about Wyatt—she’d loved him from the moment she met him.
When Macy told her mother she was going to marry Finn, her mother had shaken her head. “Ranching is such a hard life.”
“How do you know, Mom?” Macy had asked, wondering when, between college and law school and raising a family right in the middle of suburbia, her mother had lived on a ranch. “It can’t be harder than my job as a social worker,” she’d added. In Macy’s job, she’d seen some of the worst of humanity. How could Finn’s good, honest labor be harder than seeing a kid passed from foster home to relative and back again, unloved and unwanted?
“Cows smell, they bellow when they are hungry, and they require a lot of work. Your husband will never be home, you know. He’ll always be out working cattle or training horses.”
“You make it sound like one of those huge cattle ranches, Mom,” Macy had chided her. “It’s not that at all. It’s small, and he only keeps cows to train cutting horses.”
“It’s not
you
, Macy,” her mother had insisted.
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” Macy had said, ending that conversation.
But in a way, her mother was right. Macy was hardly a cowgirl. She had had pizza delivered out to Two Wishes, and had lounged in a bikini by the stock tank when she should have been doing something useful, like planting a kitchen garden or canning preserves. And Finn’s parents were right, too. When she and Finn had married, they’d warned Finn that Macy wasn’t cut out for that kind of work.
It wasn’t that Macy didn’t want to work. She
did
work. She kept her job as a social worker until she and Finn had agreed that all the driving and the hard, emotionally exhausting work was wearing her down. Plus, she and Finn wanted children, as soon as they could have them. So Macy had quit her job and had tried to help around the ranch.
She was good at cleaning out the horse stalls, but José didn’t like her doing that. She was great at keeping the books. But she wasn’t very good at doing the ranch-wife things, as defined by Karen Lockhart. Once, when one of the calves got sick, Karen showed up and told Macy, “He’s got sick cows. You need to get out there and help him.”
“Help him do what?” Macy had asked.
“Feed the calf!” she’d cried, and had marched Macy out there to show her how to stick a huge syringe down a calf’s throat and get some milk and medicine down her. It was awful—the calf struggled, spewing medicine and milk all over her.
When Finn—dirty and wearing stained chaps, and generally looking so hot he could melt a girl’s heart—found her trying to medicate the calf again later that afternoon, he grinned. “What are you doing, baby?”
“Trying to doctor this damn cow.”
Finn squatted down next to her, grabbed the calf’s head in a bear hug, opened the calf’s mouth with one hand and squirted the stuff in, then let the calf go. It jumped to its feet and, bleating, loped away.
Wide-eyed, Macy stared at the calf, then at Finn. “That’s it?” she cried. “That’s all you have to do?”
He smiled and opened his arms. “C’mere,” he said, and wrapped his arms around her. Macy remembered his incredibly arousing scent—who knew leather and sweat could be so sexy?
“Let’s agree,” Finn had said. “I’ll do the doctoring.”
“I want to help you,” she’d said earnestly, and she did, more than anything.
“Just you being here helps me,” he said, and pushed her hair from her eyes.
“Finn—”
“Hey, you do help. You drive the truck when I’m putting down hay. You keep the house and the books, and you keep me warm at night. I couldn’t ask for more.”
Macy could. She longed to be more useful, but couldn’t even ride a horse very well.
Yet in spite of her inability to assume the role of cowgirl very effectively, Macy had been happy on the ranch.
Very
happy. Happier than she’d ever thought she could be.
Macy picked up the glass cow and continued on to the master bedroom. It occurred to her that it wasn’t fair to take something that had a sentimental value associated with Finn and not something associated with Wyatt. Wyatt was her husband now, and she loved him in spite of this sea change in her life. So she turned around and walked to Wyatt’s home office. There was a picture of the two of them at a black-tie gala. Wyatt was looking adoringly at her, and Macy was smiling at whoever had taken the picture. Macy remembered that night. Wyatt was on the board of a children’s hospital foundation, and the event was a big Christmas ball the foundation held each year.
They’d gone with David and Aurora Bernard, a couple who had been friends with Wyatt before Macy had met him. She’d never really befriended them quite like Wyatt wanted. She never felt like she belonged among the country club set, and David and Aurora did not go out of their way to make her feel welcome. Wyatt dismissed her concerns as insecurity on her part.
The night of that event, Macy had worn a designer gown she’d found at Davenport Village in Austin. It was outrageously expensive, but Wyatt had insisted she buy it. “I want you to shine,” he’d said, and in that dress, Macy had felt like she was shining. It had been a lovely evening, with dancing and haute cuisine. Then Wyatt had surprised her with a stay at the Driskill, an elegant old hotel in Austin. They’d had breakfast in bed after they’d made love. And then Wyatt had handed her a Tiffany box.
“What’s this?” Macy had asked, surprised.
“It’s for you,” he’d said, beaming.
“Why?”
“Why not?” he’d asked. “Open it.”
Inside was a diamond tennis bracelet. He’d given it to her just because he loved her.
There was another picture of Macy, the day she’d competed in the Danskin Triathlon. She’d come in the bottom third of her age group. Wyatt had taken the picture of her just after she crossed the finish line, when she was still wondering what she was doing out there in hundred-degree heat. With her hair in two ponytails, she’d stood with her hands on the small of her back and her legs planted wide apart, gasping for air while Wyatt snapped his pictures.
Why he’d framed it, she’d never know.
Macy picked up the picture. And a paperweight that looked like a miniature golf bag. And a few other things.
In fact, Macy wandered from room to room in something of a fog, picking up things that reminded her of Finn or Wyatt, filling her arms until she was forced to dig a gym bag out of the hall closet to hold all the mementos she wanted to take with her. When Finn had supposedly been killed, people had told her to get rid of his stuff if she wanted to move on from her grief. It had taken her a long time to do it, but she’d finally given in, only to discover that even though the things were gone, the memories were still there.
She should never have gotten rid of so much.
Wyatt came in, carrying two coffees, and found her wandering about like a madwoman. “What’s the matter, kid?” he asked gently.
“Just picking up a few things before I go,” she said with an insouciant shrug. She gave the gym bag a yank; it slid across the polished wood floor and the threshold of the master bedroom behind her.
“You’re still determined to leave?” he asked, his gaze flicking over her bare legs.
“Yep.”
“Are you certain?” He lifted his gaze and took a tentative step toward her, putting the coffees down in an art nook built into the wall. “I’ve been thinking…you don’t really need to go, sweetheart. We can work through this. If you want space, I’ll give you space, but you don’t need to go to find it.”
“No,” Macy said, shaking her head.
“We’ve always been able to work through things,” Wyatt said, and abruptly reached up to stroke her cheek with his knuckle. That small touch of his finger sent a shiver through her, and Macy closed her eyes.
“You know that whatever you need, I will give you. Everything will be all right, Macy, because I will walk to the ends of the earth for you if I have to.”
Wyatt was her savior.
Everything will be all right
. He’d told her that on their first date, when she’d felt so awkward and uncertain about dating. He’d said it the first time they’d made love. She hadn’t been with anyone for so long.
Everything will be all right
. He’d said it on the anniversary of Finn’s death, and other occasions when she hadn’t been able to face the world. He had saved her, had lifted her up from the depths of despair.
Macy opened her eyes and looked up into the face of the man she’d married. With his blue eyes, his thick black hair, and his easy smile, Wyatt was a handsome man. Everyone in town thought so—she’d heard it a million times. And he was a good provider, a hard worker, a good lover. Macy knew how much he loved her, and he…he was the sort of man any woman would want as a husband.
But he wasn’t Finn
. She could not seem to rid herself of that traitorous thought.
He wasn’t Finn
.
“Everything will be all right,” he said again.
She was
married
to this man, and he looked so earnest, so hurt. She didn’t want to hurt him; that was the very last thing she wanted. Tears began to blur her vision. She nodded and glanced at the floor.
His hand moved from her face to her shoulder. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”
Macy didn’t know what to say. Confusion paralyzed her.
Wyatt stepped closer, bent his head, and touched his lips to hers. His kiss was so soft, so full of devotion, that Macy felt a familiar longing in her groin. “Don’t go,” he whispered, his lips now against her temple. “Don’t go.”
Macy tried to breathe; she tried to make her body move, but instead she just stood there, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her body wanting his touch, her mind wanting distance from the intimacy. It seemed strangely wrong, as if she were being unfaithful to Finn. Wyatt cradled her face; his finger stroked her brow, her temple, and fluttered to her neck. The reverence with which he touched her made her feel even weaker, and Macy gripped his wrist, holding herself upright as his hands and mouth moved over her skin.
“Wyatt,” she said, but it was all she could manage. There was a familiar comfort in his touch, and it was something she desperately needed after the week she’d had.
She didn’t know how they came to be inside the master bedroom, and she didn’t protest when he put her on the unmade bed and came over her to kiss her, his hand on her bare knee, then her bare thigh, then sliding up beneath the T-shirt and brushing against her panties.
Warmth spread through Macy’s body, making her feel sluggish. Her hands floated up around Wyatt’s neck and her lips moved on his, her tongue against his, but she felt as if she were an observer. When his finger slipped inside her panties and dipped into her cleft, Macy was surprised by how damp she was. Her body was responding to her husband’s touch, but her mind was somewhere else. She slid her hands over his muscular arms, digging her fingers into them as she pressed against him and his erection.