The Baby And The Cowboy Seal
Laura Marie Altom
A Broken SealEx-Navy SEAL Wiley James is lucky to be alive, but the war destroyed his health, his confidence and his livelihood. Now, back at his family’s Montana ranch, Wiley struggles to find new purpose. Instead he finds an old childhood pal—little Macy Shelton, who has grown into a beautiful woman. Wiley knows he should steer clear of the cheery single mom…if only she’d let him.Macy doesn’t recognize this new Wiley. A bitter stranger has replaced the young man she fell for as a teen. Though Macy’s heart still wants so much more, what Wiley needs most right now is a friend, and Macy is the only one he’ll let in. Her friendship is a lifeline, but will Macy’s love be the one thing that can finally help Wiley begin to heal?
A BROKEN SEAL
Former Navy SEAL Wiley James is lucky to be alive, but the war destroyed his health, his confidence and his livelihood. Now, back at his family’s Montana ranch, Wiley struggles to find new purpose. Instead he finds an old childhood pal—little Macy Shelton, who has grown into a beautiful woman. Wiley knows he should steer clear of the cheery single mom...if only she’d let him.
Macy doesn’t recognize this new Wiley. A bitter stranger has replaced the young man she fell for as a teen. Though Macy’s heart still wants so much more, what Wiley needs most right now is a friend, and Macy is the only one he’ll let in. Her friendship is a lifeline, but will Macy’s love be the one thing that can finally help Wiley begin to heal?
“Maybe I do need you. Would that be so bad?”
Wiley turned. “Macy, that wouldn’t just be bad, but a full-on disaster. I thought we’d already been over this?”
“You know what I think?” She passed on his right, giving him too good a view of her amazing behind.
“No, and I don’t care.”
“I think you’re chicken.”
He snorted. “I think if you don’t stop walking backward, you’re gonna fall.”
“You’ll catch me.”
“Nope.”
Sure enough, she tripped. Though his reflexes were sluggish on the meds, his hands connected with her waist in time to pull her up against him.
“You’re welcome,” he said with his mouth an inch from hers.
“Told you you’d catch me.” Her smile brought on a heat wave that had nothing to do with the day’s waning sun. “Wiley James, I think there’s a part of you, who, to this very day, still wonders what might’ve happened had my dad not interrupted.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_4c827c2a-e34f-56c5-9541-6ca56c678e4a),
I’ve written over thirty books for Mills & Boon American Romance, and I’ve never had a story affect me so deeply. Without giving away too much of Wiley and Macy’s journey, let’s just say a lot of their issues center around this SEAL’s heartbreaking PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).
One of the things that most surprised me about this anxiety disorder is that it’s not strictly a military issue. According to ptsdunited.org, “PTSD affects about 7.7 million American adults in a given year, though the disorder can develop at any age, including childhood.” Most sufferers have been exposed to not only combat, but “...terrorist attacks, natural disasters, serious accidents, assault or abuse, or even sudden and major emotional losses.”
“An estimated 8% of Americans—24.4 million people have PTSD at any given time. That is equal to the total population of Texas.” Also surprising to me is the fact that, “One out of every nine women develops PTSD, making them about twice as likely as men.”
If you or a loved one suffers from this often silent and misunderstood struggle, please know there are many organizations ready to help. Your primary care physician or ptsdunited.org is a great place to begin the healing journey.
All my best,
Laura Marie
The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL
Laura Marie Altom
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAURA MARIE ALTOM is a bestselling and award-winning author who has penned nearly fifty books. After college (Go, Hogs!), Laura Marie did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy-girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.
When not immersed in her next story, Laura plays video games, tackles Mount Laundry and, of course, reads romance!
Laura loves hearing from readers at either PO Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or by email, balipalm@aol.com.
Love winning fun stuff? Check out lauramariealtom.com (http://lauramariealtom.com).
This book is dedicated to the millions of men and women suffering from PTSD. While there is no “easy” cure, my prayer is for love to ease your healing journey. xoxo
Contents
Cover (#u5aa89f32-9b6c-5308-b2a1-f8e4396e814b)
Back Cover Text (#u57983a0f-189d-5367-9b36-8c9fa8de803b)
Introduction (#u83a40bdf-1e40-5da8-92a9-d5d085050096)
Dear Reader (#ulink_4898d613-4b0b-5b38-90fa-5dc0d917c9db)
Title Page (#u90cc9ede-9b66-5ee2-99b6-9005c6b71796)
About the Author (#u5aab9c96-3756-5c2e-88ec-3cce1a2b6223)
Dedication (#uf7afc14f-77b9-58bd-bd4b-db53f7e5c691)
Chapter One (#ulink_9e734239-db22-5612-af32-30e15fac05e9)
Chapter Two (#ulink_2c7189e1-efd5-561e-956d-6409c7816fcb)
Chapter Three (#ulink_485a0eb0-0b9b-5feb-b413-ef21cbd38d07)
Chapter Four (#ulink_a02d3028-35c9-5c36-89c2-ebd34fd461b7)
Chapter Five (#ulink_6575d1f8-16aa-538c-9024-b7fe6353d985)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_d4e98cce-8dc4-5507-bada-679a9bb48cc3)
“Get out of here! Get!” Wiley James waved his battered straw cowboy hat at the miserable beasts, but four of the llamas kept right on munching the tops off his carrots.
A fifth stared him down, then spit.
“Oh no, you didn’t...”
Wiley tried charging the damned thing, but with his bum leg, he lost his balance and fell flat on his ass. Adding insult to injury, dust rising from his fall made him cough. It was early June, and his slice of northwestern Montana hadn’t seen rain in a couple weeks.
His hat tumbled off in the breeze.
Frustration and sheer rage tightened his chest—not so much at his neighbor’s escaped llamas, but his own situation. Six months earlier, he’d been at the top of his game—a Navy SEAL who never backed down from any challenge. Then he’d gone and done a Texas two-step with a Syrian cluster bomb and life had never been the same. Hell, he was lucky to even have his leg, but after a string of reconstructive surgeries and months in rehab, to now be stuck on this old run-down ranch instead of working with his SEAL team to do his part in saving the world... Well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly thrilled with his current lot in life.
“I’m so sorry,” a female voice called from behind him. “Chris, Sabrina, Kelly and Jill! Shame on you. You know better! And Charlie—I told you no more spitting!”
The beasts stopped chewing long enough to give her a curious look, but then returned to their meal.
“Can I help?” The woman belonging to the voice stepped in front of Wiley, blocking the too-bright sun. Standing in shadow, he couldn’t make out much of her besides a giant mass of red hair.
She held out her hand.
He refused to take it. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Wiley scrambled back onto his feet, but downright humiliated himself in the process. He had a cane somewhere in the house, but he was only thirty-two. No way would he consider using the thing till his eighties.
“I really am sorry about your garden.”
“Me, too.” It had taken weeks to get his plants to this stage, and her llamas had ruined damn near all of them in minutes. Now that he’d taken a good look at her without the sun in his eyes, he noticed the baby she held on her hip. The little guy had her red hair and even a few freckles. Her sky-blue eyes looked familiar. He knew her—he’d always known her. The realization that this woman was little Macy all grown up made his throat tight and chest ache.
“Henry and I will help you replant.”
“Who’s Henry?” he asked, playing it cool. “Your husband?”
“This is Henry. Wave,” she coached the baby. “Wave hello to our nice neighbor.”
The chubby baby not only flapped his hand, but grinned.
“Doesn’t look like much of a gardener.” Wiley fought to maintain his scowl, but it was kind of hard when faced with this level of cuteness. In another lifetime, he’d wanted to be a father. Wiley’s already battered ego couldn’t help but wonder why Macy hadn’t recognized him. Did he look that bad?
“Oh—he loves digging, but needs help planting.” She held out her free hand for Wiley to shake. “I’m Macy Stokes—well, used to be Shelton. Henry and I live just down the hill.”
“I know. Clem and Dot’s place.”
Her smile faded. He cringed at being the subject of her appraisal. “Wiley?” As if coming in for a hug, she raised her free arm and stepped forward, but then seemed to change her mind and step back. “I didn’t recognize you with your long hair and stubble. Dad told me you were back, but it’s been so quiet over here, I thought he was wrong. It’s great seeing you again.”
“Likewise,” he lied. What was the point of moving out to the middle of nowhere if you weren’t going to be left alone? He didn’t want the social responsibility of making small talk with the neighbors any more than he wanted to clean up after their nuisance animals.
The Veterans of Foreign Wars—VFW, for short—welcome committee had already been out on three separate occasions to invite him for Tuesday night poker, but he’d sent them packing. The last time in what he hoped was a definitive manner. When he said he didn’t want to see anyone, he meant it.
He turned to hobble after his hat.
“I guess you heard about my grandfather?” Time hadn’t changed their roles. She chased after him just as she had when she’d been a little girl.
“Nope. But I wish him and Dot well.”
“That’s just it—my grandpa died.”
He paused. “Sorry to hear it. Clem was good to me. Dot, too. She okay?” Even this modest bit of pleasantry cost. More than anything, he wanted the freedom to be as glum as he liked. Pretending to be civil had proven far too much of an effort, which was why he’d chosen to hide where there were far more soaring pines than people. The ranch was twenty-five miles from town. Macy was his closet neighbor. The next closest was a good five miles down the road.
“Grandma’s alive...” Though her eyes welled, Macy forced a smile and jiggled her baby. “But not especially well. A few years back, she started forgetting things—at first, leaving the teapot too long on the stove or her friends’ names—but when it started getting out of hand, my mom took her to the doctor, and Grandma Dot was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Grandpa was gutted. Honestly, I think the pain of losing her—even though she was right there with him—is what literally broke his heart.”
Wiley knew he should say something. Dot used to make him oatmeal cookies with butterscotch chips. He’d loved those cookies, and he’d loved her. So why couldn’t he move his lips?
He’d reached his hat, but without something to lean on, there was no way he’d be able to grab it without losing what little remained of his dignity.
“You all right?” Macy asked. She’d cocked her head, and the breeze captured her mess of red hair.
Her baby giggled when the curls tickled his chubby cheeks.
The two seemed so happy, Wiley couldn’t help but stare.
“Wiley?” Never dropping her gaze from his, Macy crouched to retrieve his hat then hand it to him. “Everything okay?”
His throat constricted.
“Because if not, I’ll be happy to help. If it’s the garden you’re upset about, it’s early enough in the growing season that we can replant everything that’s ruined.”
“I appreciate the offer,” he said, “but what I’d really like is for you to take your furry friends back to your pasture, and keep them off my land.”
“Okay. Sure.” Her smile faded to a crestfallen expression he wasn’t proud to have caused, but also wasn’t particularly inspired to change. What did that say about him? About the man he’d become? He couldn’t bear for her to compare him to the fit, capable, cocky teen he used to be.
“Doing it sooner would be better than later.” She needed to go now. Because he could no longer stomach the sight of her adorable, cherub-cheeked baby or her direct gaze or crazy-curly ginger hair. Her creamy complexion with its smattering of freckles or her full, bow-shaped lips. Most of all, he couldn’t stand this new expression of hers that he interpreted as disappointment. As much as she’d admired him when they were kids, to now see the disaster he’d become must be a letdown.
Instead of leaving as he’d asked, she just stood there, staring. And then, she cocked her head. “You never wanted me to hang around with you when we were young, but you never used to be mean about sending me on my way.”
“Your point?” He crossed his arms. Her stare made him feel exposed, as if she were trying to figure him out. He didn’t like it.
“No real point.” She shifted the baby to her other hip. “It’s just been a while since I’ve encountered anyone quite so rude.”
Sorry, is what he should have said. It’s nothing personal. It’s me, not you. What came out was, “I’m busy, and wasn’t expecting company—especially not a herd of llamas.”
“Whatever. Can you please at least help me get them back home?”
“I would, but...” Wiley had a white-knuckled grip on the porch rail for support. “Like I said, I’m busy.”
“You’re not busy.” She narrowed her gaze. “You’re just a big old horse’s behind. Forget I asked.” She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. “Chris, Sabrina, Kelly, Jill! Let’s go! Charlie, you, too!”
Even though Wiley had spent his entire adult life helping others in need, on this day, he stubbornly held his ground—not because he didn’t want to help, but because pride wouldn’t let him.
* * *
“...AND THEN HE told me he couldn’t help round up my llamas because he was busy. Who says that?” After the morning she’d had wrestling her mischievous livestock back to their pasture, Macy was all too happy to unload on her parents who lived in Eagle Ridge—the nearest town to her grandparents’ cabin and acreage. The hodgepodge A-frame and ranch combo where she’d spent her childhood was always sun-flooded and usually scented by some sort of baked good. On today’s menu—zucchini bread.
“Word around the VFW is that Wiley hasn’t been the same since his last trip to the Middle East.” Her father, Steve, jiggled a giggly Henry on his knee.
“What happened to him?” her mother, Adrianne, asked from the dining room table, where she worked on her scrapbooking obsession. She belonged to a club, and the one-upmanship sometimes got a little out of hand.
“Guys down at the VFW say he came darned close to losing his leg in Syria. He was in one heck of a skirmish—won just about every medal a man can for bravery and valor. But he’s not right up here.” He tapped his forehead with his index finger.
“Now, Steve, that’s not nice. We can’t know that.”
“I served in the first Gulf War, and plenty of the men I came home with were never the same—you hear about it all the time—think about those poor guys who served in Vietnam. Personally, when the time is right, I wouldn’t mind talking to Wiley about what he’s been through. I know we had our differences, but that was back when he was a teen and our daughter was moon-eyed over him. That said, I’d feel more comfortable if Macy kept her distance—especially with the baby.”
“Dad...” Macy sat beside him on the sofa, and took Henry’s tiny hand. “The Wiley I knew was strong, and filled with self-confidence, and maybe even a little wild—but never dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, you knew him as a teen—and I didn’t much like him then. Now, he’s a Navy SEAL—or at least was—you don’t know what kind of hell those special ops guys go through. Stuff probably straight out of the movies. As far as I’m concerned, you’d be better off safe than sorry. Just stay away.”
“Is Wiley still handsome?” Adrianne asked. “You used to have the worst crush on him. Your grandparents once bought you one of those disposable cameras and when we had it developed, the whole thing was full of sneaky pics you’d taken of him.”
“Mom!” Macy’s cheeks no doubt glowed from excess heat. “That’s so not true. I remember that camera, and I had lots of horse pictures, too.”
“Whatever you say. You know how I love my pictures. If you’d want to launch a friendly wager, I’m sure I can find them around here somewhere.”
Macy rolled her eyes. “You’re acting nuts. I don’t know why I even came over.”
Her dad snorted. “You’re here for free dinner.”
Adrianne laughed. “True! And don’t think you’re getting out of here without telling me if Wiley’s still handsome.”
“He’s okay.” And by okay, she meant, good Lord, was he hot!
Macy wasn’t even sure where to start.
That morning, Wiley hadn’t been just easy on her eyes, but steal-her-breath-away gorgeous. His brown gaze was so intense she’d had to look away. He wore his dark hair on the long side, and judging by his scruffy facial hair, he hadn’t shaved in days. And his body—whew. His broad shoulders barely even fit in his faded PBR T-shirt she remembered him getting when his grandpa took him to the Vegas finals.
“Just, okay?” Her mom frowned. “That’s disappointing. I had visions of a romantic reunion.”
“Don’t encourage this,” Steve said. “Do you want our girl to get hurt?”
“Oh, quit being a worrywart.” Adrianne waved off her husband’s concern. “Wiley’s a fellow veteran. I would think you’d give him your respect.”
“He has my highest admiration and thanks. One day, I’d be honored if he considered me a friend. But when it comes to giving my blessing for him to marry our daughter and become Henry’s stepfather, can you blame me for wanting to be cautious?”
Macy sighed. “Hate to interrupt this charming debate, but you two are aware of the fact that at no point when Wiley ordered me, Henry and our llamas off his land did he ever once propose?”
* * *
WILEY HAD NEVER been a morning person, but his leg pain made it especially tough to get out of bed with a smile. The constant ache shaded his life in gray, and turned even cheery sun dull.
He tossed back the sheet and quilt to ease from the bed. The cold plank floor nipped the soles of his feet. Having spent the past decade on base in Virginia Beach, and in mostly hot-as-hell Middle Eastern locations, the chilly mountain starts to his days took some adjusting to.
After using the bathroom, then splashing cold water on his face, Wiley wound his way through the four-room log cabin to the kitchen. The place had been in his family for three generations, and though it had been updated with modern plumbing and electric, the hand-hewn logs held on to the original character. Age made them glow with a golden patina.
He rummaged through the fridge, but shouldn’t have bothered. No food fairies had shown up in the night. He settled on a protein bar and steaming mug of half coffee, half whiskey to dull his pain.
With his second serving of fragrant, fresh-brewed java and Jim Beam, he wandered out to the covered front porch only to get a shock.
Macy was hard at work in his garden.
She’d woven her mane of wild red hair into a loose braid, and hummed while planting green beans that looked larger than the ones her llamas had eaten.
Baby Henry sat beside her, happily shrieking each time he raked his fingers through the soft soil.
The sight of mother and child both incensed and mesmerized him.
Why were they on his property when he’d told Macy he didn’t need help? Why couldn’t he look away from the quintessential slice of normalcy they represented? Lord help him, but he envied her ability to find joy in the simple work.
He shouted from the porch, “I told you I could handle replanting.”
“Good morning!” Her pretty smile didn’t help his dour mood. “Gorgeous day, isn’t it? But I hear it’s supposed to be rainy by tonight—which is good. We could use a good old-fashioned toad strangler.”
“Why are you here?”
“Aren’t you cold with no shirt? It’s chilly.”
She’d pulled this same crap when they’d been kids—purposely ignoring him until she wore him down to do her bidding—usually, manipulating him to give her a ride on his horse or hike to the mountaintop lookout where Dot and Clem had forbidden her to ever go alone. How many times had he almost kissed her in that spot before chickening out?
Annoyed by the fact that part of him still craved kissing her, he asked, “How is it that you’re a full-grown woman, yet every bit as annoying as back when you weren’t tall enough to reach my belt buckle?”
She laughed at the dig. “For the record, I wasn’t that short, and at least I’m not lazy—still loafing around in my pj’s at almost ten o’clock.”
Wiley wanted to zing her back, but how could he when she spoke the truth? He never used to sleep this late. But when he had no goals beyond getting through the day, it wasn’t as if he had a whole lot to wake up for.
Henry shoved a dirt clump in his little mouth, then cried in protest.
“Silly rabbit,” Macy cooed while hefting the baby onto her hip. “It might look like nice, brown chocolate, but that dirt’s not quite as sweet, is it?”
She marched toward the cabin. “I hate to be a bother, but would you mind if I used your kitchen sink so I can wash out Henry’s mouth?”
Wiley struggled not to growl. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks. You’re too kind.” Her blown kiss only heightened his frustration.
While Henry roared at the indignity of having his mouth cleaned, Macy sang to the infant and hugged him and assured him everything would soon be all right. And it was. And when all that remained of his ordeal were his tear-stained cheeks and the occasional shuddering huff, the baby’s smile returned.
“He’s a charmer,” Wiley couldn’t help but note.
“Just like his momma?” Macy winked.
“Cocky much?”
“Only with smart-mouthed cowboys.”
Maybe it was the whiskey making him mellow, but he couldn’t hide his half smile. “You are something else. A sassy firecracker of a girl who drove me nuts, and now that you’re all woman, not a damned thing has changed.”
“Language,” she warned. “And thank you—I think.”
“You’re welcome—I think.” The overalls she wore were as kooky as her hair. The red long johns top clashed, yet somehow managed to only make her freckles and ample female curves pop. As a woman, the mischievous girl in her shone through, but she possessed an intriguing, all-grown-up feminine appeal from which he couldn’t look away. “Does your husband approve of you showing up on another man’s land first thing in the morning?”
Her smile faded. “Who said I was married?”
Chapter Two (#ulink_f953eb80-5ba4-550a-98f3-dd60320c83b5)
“Sorry,” Wiley said. “Guess since you have a baby, I assumed Henry has a dad nearby.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t.” When it came to discussing Macy’s ex, Rex, aside from the cute rhyme, there was nothing amusing about what he’d done. He not only cheated on her during her pregnancy, but left her two months after Henry’s birth. Macy’s best friend, Wendy, had warned her he was no good, but Macy had refused to listen. They hadn’t spoken since.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to start anything.” He bowed his head, and for the first time since their unlikely reunion, seemed genuinely affected by something she’d said. “I was just making conversation.”
“It’s not a problem. Talking about it makes me sad. I’m generally a happy person, and...” Her voice cracked, but she refused to give Rex any more power to darken her life. She swiped tears from her cheeks, then kissed Henry’s dirt-smudged forehead. “Anyway, thanks for letting me use the sink. I’ll finish in the garden and leave you on your own to do whatever it is you do.”
“Macy, wait.” She’d walked past him only to get a jolt when he reached out and touched her arm. Their contact had been fleeting, yet each individual fingerprint scorched through her thin shirt. She’d given him up such a long time ago, but her body remembered what her heart had tried to forget. When he’d left for the Navy, announcing he had no plans of ever coming back, she’d still been in high school and forced herself to move on. “Sorry I’ve been such a hard-ass.”
“It’s okay.” She didn’t want this attraction to him. Moreover, she didn’t understand it. Her father cautioned her to keep her distance from Wiley, but the part of her that had shared seemingly endless summers with him on this very land found it awfully hard to stay away. “Henry’s dad cheated on me. I had had a tough pregnancy, and we weren’t...together...for a while.”
“That doesn’t give a man the excuse to step out.” Was that alcohol on Wiley’s breath? “If anything, you having a rough time should have brought you closer.”
“Please, stop.” For some crazy reason, she found it easier to be with Wiley when he was salty. This new and improved kinder—possibly drunk—version knocked her off balance. “I’m over it and I suppose, in retrospect, if I’d have paid more attention to Rex’s needs, I wouldn’t be a single mom now.”
“You know how when we were kids, I used to razz you about everything from your shortness, to talking too much, to the color of your hair?”
“Yes. But how is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Hear me out. The point I’m trying to get at is that as annoying as you were, I still had—have—affection for you. You might be a pain in my you-know-what, but you’re mine, you know?”
“Oh, my God, you’re awful.” She left the shadow-filled living room in favor of occupying a rocker on the porch and plopped Henry onto her lap. “You’ve gone from telling me I’m stumpy and have ugly hair to calling me a pain in the rear.”
“You totally misunderstood what I was trying to say.” He’d limped after her, and leaned on the low porch rail in front of her chair. “Even though it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, I have fond memories. You’re the kid sister I never had.”
Yet another low blow. From the first day she’d met him when she’d been six years old, she’d suffered from a serious case of puppy dog adoration. On that day, she’d announced her plan to marry him. But now that she was grown, she realized he was nothing more than a neighbor—not even a particularly good one! If that was the case, why did her pulse quicken just being near him?
“Thank you for your help in the garden. The past few months have been tough. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. From here on, I guess we’ll just agree to keep our distance, and—”
“Why?” Macy asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Why should we make an effort to stay apart?” For some unfathomable reason, her breaths turned erratic from just asking the question. She’d meant it in a purely platonic way, yet the girl who’d crushed on Wiley as if he’d been a hunk straight off the cover of her coveted Teen magazines didn’t acknowledge that fact. Forging ahead even though her best course would probably be to hush, she said, “Think about it. You, me and Henry are all alone up here. Every day I struggle to care for the animals and garden and cook and still have time to spin my fleece and knit. You’re probably messing with the same chores. Think how much more efficient we’d both be if we did everything together—just like we used to when our grandparents made us muck stalls and weed their gardens.”
For a long time he was quiet, which made her wonder if she’d done the wrong thing in even making the suggestion.
“If you don’t think it’s a good idea,” she finally said, unable to take any more of his stony silence, “that’s okay. I mean, my feelings won’t be hurt.”
“Look, your idea has merit, and if I were in a different—”
“Forget I asked.” Because now that he was turning her down, Macy felt stupid—ridiculous, considering she shouldn’t have even asked him in the first place. But despite the brave front she put up for her parents, the truth about her daily existence was that she often felt starved for adult companionship. She hooked one of Henry’s curls with her pinkie finger. She loved being a mom, but sometimes she caught herself carrying on conversations with an eight-month-old and actually expecting him to answer. “Guess I’ll go ahead and finish planting, then be on my way.”
“I told you I’d do it.”
“Yes, you did. But I don’t like feeling indebted to someone, and the fact of the matter is that my llamas trampled your tomatoes and ruined your entire row of green beans and zucchini. Since your plants were already established, and starting you over from scratch with seed didn’t seem right, I dug up mine.”
“You what?” He frowned. “Macy, that’s crazy. It’s not like if I don’t have green beans and zucchini I won’t survive the winter. You do realize there’s a grocery store just down the mountain in Eagle Ridge?”
“I know, but—”
“Look...” He sighed. “You were honest with me about your ex, so I’m going to return the favor. You might not have noticed yesterday, but I don’t get around as well as I used to. God’s honest truth? My pride didn’t want you seeing me in my current condition. The fact that you dug up your own garden to replace mine? Well, it’s real decent of you—especially after the way I acted. And since we’re now down to only one patch of beans and zucchini between us, how about we share?”
“You sure it won’t be a bother?”
He scratched his head. “Forget all I said about your plan, and let’s team up on our gardens—but that’s it, okay? I’m not good company right now, and—”
She rose from her chair to hug him.
“Please don’t say that about yourself.” She’d meant for the gesture to be no big deal—a casual hug between old friends. But with the baby between them, and her past feelings for Wiley creeping in like a seductive fog, she couldn’t help but long for something more. But was that longing so much about Wiley? Or her desire to go back in time to a period when life had been uncomplicated and happy, with her only cares centered around where she’d traipse after her favorite cowboy on any given summer afternoon?
What she hadn’t expected was for Wiley to hug her back—fiercely, as if she were a lifeline. “Thanks.”
“For what?” When she summoned the courage to pull back, she peered up at him, halfway expecting to find the answers in his brown eyes for why he’d turned so bitter. But then did she really need further explanation beyond the aggravation he must feel about his leg? And about being forced by circumstance to retire from a job that—if her dad’s VFW hall gossip was correct—had been more like his life’s passion?
“I’m thankful for your help with the garden—but mostly, for you being you. I’ve been so wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself, I never stopped to consider just how many folks have it worse than me. Raising Henry on your own can’t be easy.”
“It’s not, but...” Did he really equate her son with his having a disability? Just when they’d taken a baby step forward in behaving civilly toward each other, why did she feel as if they’d now taken two giant leaps back? “You do understand that no matter what happened with my ex, Henry’s a blessing?”
“Oh, sure. I meant that we all have our own crosses to bear.” He conked his forehead. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to imply you’re not a great mom, and your baby’s not cute as a button—just that it’s tough enough caring for your livestock and garden on your own, caring for a baby alone must be ten times harder.”
“True. But I don’t dwell on the fact. I prefer to look on the bright side, which is that I’ve been gifted with an angel to remind me how sweet life can be.”
“Wish I were able to share your optimism.” He looked down. “Right now all I can see is about three steps ahead, and that’s scary. I’ve always believed I could weather any storm, but this thing with my leg is different. From the start, it was totally out of my control—and I hate that. If something’s happening in my life, I ought to be able to confront it head-on.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What you’re going through—I can’t imagine. But things are going to be okay. They always are.”
His gaze turned cold. “Wish that were true, but it’s been my experience that a lot of times, shit goes from bad to worse.”
“I think you were right...” It was on the tip of her tongue to scold Wiley about cursing in front of her baby, but why waste her breath? Considering his dour frame of mind, he’d only do it again. “It’s probably best if we keep to our own parts of this old mountain. All the plants I owe you are in my wheelbarrow in your side yard. I’ve got the roots wrapped in damp paper towels, but you’ll probably want to get those in the ground sooner as opposed to later. Leave the wheelbarrow by my gate. I’ll come around to get it.”
Before she lost her resolve, Macy hiked Henry higher on her hip, then took off across Wiley’s yard.
“Aw, hell...” She barely heard Wiley mutter. “Macy, wait!”
“Can’t!” she called with a backward wave after stooping to pluck Henry’s backpack-style carrier from where she’d left it in the garden.
And that was the God’s honest truth. She no more trusted herself to turn around for one last look at Wiley than she did not to eat an entire plate of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.
He’d always represented something larger-than-life. Years before he’d been a hotshot SEAL, he’d possessed a cocky swagger. A way of squaring his shoulders and jaw that had not only mesmerized her, but alerted her to the fact that he was beyond her reach—not that he’d ever said it in so many words, but in her heart, she’d known.
Even when she was fourteen and more than ready for her first kiss, she hadn’t dared hope to experience the feel of her lips grazing Wiley’s. He was destined for better than her—a greatness she’d recognized even all those years ago. At the time, she’d predicted he’d one day be a famous bull rider—maybe even a movie star—and considering he had a face handsome enough to charm the devil, Macy figured Wiley would end up with a rodeo queen or a brilliant doctor or lawyer. Never in a million years would he end up with a girl as ordinary and plain as she.
And yet now, walking away from him, she recognized the tables had been turned. Oh, he was still every bit as handsome as he’d ever been. And his slight limp didn’t bother her in the least. What she did find inexcusable was his attitude. She was sorry for what he’d been through—couldn’t even imagine the horror. But that didn’t give him the right to abandon life. Where his gaze had once been vibrant and sparking with energy, those same brown eyes now looked dead. And that scared her.
* * *
FOR ABOUT FIVE SECONDS, Wiley considered chasing Macy, but what was the point? They’d said all they had to say—he’d spilled far more than he’d ever planned to share with anyone—let alone the firecracker who’d tormented him for as long as he could remember.
He exchanged his flannel pajama bottoms for jeans and a red plaid shirt, rammed his bare feet into socks and then cowboy boots, then headed to the garden.
The notion that Macy had uprooted her plants for him had him all messed up inside.
Who did that?
Sure, they’d been friends back in the day, but they were nothing now—less than acquaintances. Which begged the question, why had he spewed all that personal BS? And why did he now feel like crap over the fact that yet again he’d sent poor little Macy skittering as if she was Beauty and he was the Beast?
So what? Why did he care?
Maybe because that story she’d told about her cheating ex hadn’t set well. She deserved better. With that crazy-colored hair of hers and freckles that looked as if angels sprinkled cinnamon atop the bridge of her button nose, she was more than pretty. In fact, there had been a point before his grandfather died when Wiley had started to look at Macy in a much different light than merely the pesky little kid from next door.
She’d been fourteen, and he’d just turned eighteen—too old for her, yet incapable of turning away from the kid-transformed-into-sexy-young-woman stealing the show at his high school graduation party.
Macy had tagged along with Dot and Clem.
He closed his eyes and saw her as plainly as if he’d stepped back in time.
The night was unseasonably warm and scented with a bouquet of feminine perfumes. A thunderstorm approached and lightning backlit the partiers making good use of O’Mally’s deck. Every so often thunder boomed. Eagle Ridge had only four restaurants, but this was his favorite, which was why his parents held his party there. So many people had come that the event spilled out of the private dining room and the local band his dad hired set up on the covered stage located just off the spacious deck. The stage was two-sided, which allowed whoever was playing to perform inside or out. In the winter, a garage door closed it off from the snow, but tonight, that door stood open for the band currently performing a Bon Jovi classic.
Liquor was flowing, and Wiley’s grandfather kept sneaking Wiley and his friends steady rounds of whiskey shots and beer.
“Hey, Wiley,” Macy said when she left the dance floor for a cup of his mother’s virgin punch. She looked different—better. “Excited to be out of school?”
“Hell, yeah.” He couldn’t stop staring. What had she done to transform herself from pain-in-his-ass to hottie? When had she gotten boobs?
“Got big plans?”
“Nah. Grandpa needs me to help on the mountain. I figure I’ll do that in the off-season, then hit the rodeo circuit. You know I won my last three bull-riding events.”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh—like you’ve only told me ten times. Get a new story.”
“Kiss your mom with that sassy mouth?”
“Nope, but I wouldn’t mind kissing you.” She raised her chin, and the challenge in her eyes did funny things to his stomach. She’d put her long curls up, and instead of her usual T-shirt and jeans, she wore a blue sundress that made it all too easy for him to peer down at her female assets. Her mounded boobs had him not only hitching his breath, but shifting his weight to hide the instant action beneath his fly.
“You’re just a kid,” he mumbled.
“Not anymore.” In the shadows with the band now playing a slow country song, she sidled up close—uncomfortably close. Not because he wanted her to go away, but because in that moment, he didn’t want to let her go.
She escaped his hold to dance solo, waving her arms above her head, which only put more of a strain on her dress’s thin fabric. Lord, her boobs were nice. How had he never noticed?
Thunder cracked.
Other guests shrieked while running inside to get out of the sprinkles promising to soon be a downpour, but she stayed.
The rain made good on its promise, and even though the band had stopped playing to move their gear inside, Macy danced to her own music, swaying and laughing with her eyes closed. As long as he lived, Wiley doubted he’d ever see a more beautiful sight. Her hair had fallen and her soaked dress had turned see-through. She wore no bra, and in the light cascading through the windows, nothing was left to his imagination.
She was no longer Little Macy, but a girl he had to have.
“You’re wild!” he called above the storm.
She giggled. “I know.”
“I’ve got to kiss you.” Wind pushed him closer, and with his hands on her sweet ass, he pressed himself against her, needy for release.
“It’s about time.”
A gust stole his straw cowboy hat, but he hardly noticed on account of how badly he wanted her. He leaned in for that kiss, but then her dad charged onto the deck and grabbed hold of the back of Wiley’s shirt.
“Boy, what the hell are you doing?” To his daughter, Steve barked, “Macy, get inside!”
“Y-yes, Daddy.” Her teeth chattered.
“I—I’m awfully sorry, sir. It—this, won’t happen again.”
“Good. It better not,” Steve said. “Get out of this rain and sober up. You smell like a damned brewery.”
“Yessir.” In the packed restaurant and bar, the increasingly drunken crowd turned rowdy, but Wiley’s brief interaction with Macy’s angry father turned him sober.
Wiley tried finding Macy, but her whole family was gone.
Hours later his parents were, too—only forever.
Having had too much to drink, his father had taken a curve too fast on the slick, winding mountain road leading to their home. The car careened off a steep embankment, and according to the sheriff, his folks had died instantly.
By all rights, Wiley should have been with them, but he’d been back at the bar, shooting pool and drinking beer with his friends.
A week later, Wiley joined the Navy and didn’t return to Eagle Ridge for ten long years until his grandfather’s funeral—which, considering what a great man his grandfather had been, pretty much made Wiley scum. Now, four years later, the only thing that had brought him back was his bum leg. Otherwise, he would still be doing the job he loved, with the friends he loved. He sure as hell wouldn’t be back on this mountain where everything he saw and touched reminded him of all he’d lost.
Not just his health and way of life, but his entire family.
It was too much loss for him to cope with, let alone understand, so he finished in the garden, then retired to the front porch with a bottle of Jim Beam. And he drank and drank until the whiskey’s warmth dulled the physical and emotional pain, and Macy was no longer an attractive, vibrant woman from whom he still craved that long ago stolen kiss.
Chapter Three (#ulink_57abef73-3c31-53aa-874f-9d76d5e18016)
“Ever going to spill the real reason why you dragged me out here? I doubt you needed help finding just the right cucumbers for your new pickle recipe.”
“Busted.” Macy cringed, hating that her mother knew her so well. It was Saturday, and while her dad had stayed home with Henry, Macy and her mom strolled Eagle Ridge’s farmer’s market, winding their way past vegetable and fresh-cut flower and artisans’ stalls. A local bluegrass band played in a cordoned-off section of the parking lot. A trio of bare-bellied, long-hair hippy-types from a local commune danced with tambourines and streaming ribbons. Sunshine and cool mountain air laced with pine and incense reminded Macy why she’d come home from Billings after Rex had gone.
It had been two days since she’d last seen Wiley, yet their simple hug—and the electric jolt she’d received from that most basic touch—had been branded into her short-term memory. As for her long-term memories? Those were a tad more complex.
Macy said, “I have a question for you that Dad’s not going to like. So please don’t tell him, okay?”
“Promise, my lips are sealed.” Adrianne pretended to lock her lips.
“Thank you, but the last time you used that gesture, your lock turned out to be made of Silly Putty. I still have nightmares about what Dad said he’d do when or if he ever sees Rex again. You didn’t need to tell Dad he cheated.”
“Of course I did. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have understood the divorce. But that’s ancient history. This time, I really won’t tell.”
“Hope not.” Macy was skeptical, but all of her high school friends save for Wendy had moved on to the big city, meaning at the moment, her mom and Henry were all Macy had to use for sounding boards, and one of the two didn’t say much beyond goo and gah. “What if maybe I was attracted to Wiley?”
“I don’t understand the question.” Adrianne plucked tomatoes from a bushel basket and dropped them in her paper bag.
Macy forced a deep breath. “Well, it’s no secret Dad doesn’t approve of him, and he’s got issues, but part of me wants to kiss him so bad I can’t hardly stand it.” Shocked by the extent of her own confession, she covered her mouth. Cheeks warm, she said, “That came out wrong. What I meant was that he looks awfully good in his Wranglers and cowboy hat. That’s all.”
“Honey...” After paying for her produce, Adrianne led her to a bench tucked alongside the stream bubbling its way through the park. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fooling around.” She winked. “After all Rex put you through, you’re entitled to some good old-fashioned noogie with a tall, dark cowboy. Which is a long way of saying, I guess I’m still confused by your question, since it’s okay—even perfectly natural—if you’re still crushing on Wiley.”
“I know, but it’s complicated,” Macy said. “He’s not the same person anymore. Sure, he was always cocky and had a sarcastic edge to his humor, but now something about him is so dark, and that scares me. But at the same time, I’m more attracted to him than ever. I’d about given up on him when he confessed he didn’t want me to see him with his bad leg, and...” Pain for him—for what he must have gone through—radiated through her. “Mom, I was lost. At that moment, I wanted to do whatever I could to help him. But then I noticed how dead he looked in his eyes—it was as if he hadn’t just lost full use of his leg, but his humanity. Maybe this time Dad was right, and I should stay away?”
“Is that what you want?” Her mom had a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “Because the way I see it, aside from those few rocky years with Rex, you’ve pretty much pined for Wiley since you were a little girl. Now, he’s back, and yes, he might be broken, but when have you ever turned away from anyone or anything in need of extra comfort? You were always bringing in strays, and you treat Clem’s nasty old llamas like family.”
“They are family.”
Her mom grinned, but also shuddered. “Last time that big one spit at me, I wasn’t exactly thinking of giving him a nice hug. Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is this is Wiley we’re talking about. Up until he left for the Navy, you thought he hung the moon, stars and every rainbow in between. Clearly, he’s in need of a friend, so why would you even think of turning your back on him?”
“Because I’m scared.” Macy crossed her arms. “Mom, Wiley’s not just a little sad, but fundamentally changed. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think something happened to him on that last mission of his that he’s not talking about—and honestly, maybe I’m not strong enough to hear.”
* * *
“AGAIN?”
Monday morning, after an endless weekend spent either drunk or sleeping or working his way to each respective state, Wiley stared down Macy’s llama who contentedly munched his newly planted green beans.
The animal spit at him. What was his name? Charlie?
Wiley spit back. “You might act all badass, but that sissy bell Macy’s got you wearing doesn’t do much for your manhood.”
The llama ignored Wiley’s speech in favor of taking another big bite. This time, the beast tugged hard enough that the whole plant—roots and all—came flying out of the ground. The shock of the dirt and dust in his face spooked the llama, and he took off running—only not toward his pasture, but Wiley’s cabin.
Upon discovering that was a dead end, the llama bolted into the side yard. This portion of land was close to the property line, and mostly consisted of a weed-choked, forgotten rust pile where his grandfather had dumped busted fridges, cars and washing machines for decades. Also in the mix was barbed wire, and when Charlie reached it before Wiley could stop him, the animal let out a sound signaling he was in pain.
“Damn it,” Wiley said under his breath, limping to the rescue as fast as his bum leg allowed. Seeing any creature hurting was awful, but knowing this big lug was a favorite of Macy’s made the situation all the worse.
“Calm down...” The rusty wire had looped around the right fetlock and knee. The more Charlie struggled, the more his heartbreaking moans dragged Wiley back to another time, another attempt to avert injury that had ultimately failed.
But not this time.
Wiley clenched his jaw, working the wire loose while somehow not getting his head stomped by one of Charlie’s angry kicks.
“Hang tight, Crow, I’ll have you out of here in no time.”
“I’m already gone,” his SEAL teammate said from between gritted teeth. “Get out of here—save yourself.”
“No way, man. Let me—” BOOM!
The final bomb’s concussive force killed his buddy, Michael Young—called Crow by his friends—and threw Wiley backward a good fifteen feet. The blast rendered him deaf for days—although he still had some ringing in his ears that sometimes kept him up nights. His protective gear saved him from extensive burns—at least everywhere except his leg. He had a few faint scars on his chin and left cheek, but that was nothing a few day’s beard growth didn’t cover.
The internal wounds hurt most. The mental images of the countless other lives taken. In the dark of night, those were the souls haunting him, clawing at his heart and mind until he damn near felt dead himself.
“There you go,” Wiley said to Charlie, stroking the animal’s back while taking gentle hold of his bell collar to lead him from danger. “You’re gonna be fine. We’ll get the vet up here to clean you and give you a couple shots and you’ll be right as rain.”
Wiley’s soothing words earned him a grunt.
When it came to horses, Wiley would have understood this noise, but llama-speak might as well have been Martian.
Wiley led Charlie to the barn, then found a lead rope to loop around his neck, only Charlie wasn’t having it. Even with his leg scratched, he dug in to the barn’s dirt floor, refusing to budge.
“Looks like we’ll play this your way.”
He slipped the rope off the creature’s stubborn head, then limped back into the sun, closing the barn door behind him. He’d long since given up on his cell having a reliable signal, so he made it to the cabin and dialed the vet’s number on his grandfather’s old-fashioned black rotary-dial phone. Affixed to the wall with yellowed tape was a sheet filled with numbers written in Buster’s familiar scrawl. The vet’s office was just one of the numbers his grandfather had jotted down for eight-year-old Wiley to use in case of emergency. The next number happened to be for Clem and Dot’s—only the voice on the other end of the line was the last he wanted to hear.
“Macy...” Wiley said. “Don’t get upset, but Charlie’s been hurt.”
* * *
WILEY COULD TELL MACY all he wanted not to be upset about Charlie, but that didn’t mean she’d listen. After hanging up the phone, she bundled Henry into his car seat, then drove Clem’s more-rust-than-red pickup the short way to Wiley’s grandfather’s cabin.
The dust from her fishtailed parking job hadn’t yet settled when she leapt from the truck to pluck Henry from his seat and into her arms, then met Wiley where he stood glowering in front of the barn.
“I told you this wasn’t an emergency.” He tugged the brim of his straw cowboy hat. “There was no need to drive over—let alone, drive all crazy.”
“Where is he?”
“In the barn, but—”
“Thanks. That’s all I need to know.” She wasn’t in the mood to decipher what Wiley may or may not deem a serious injury. When it came to her grandfather’s llamas, Macy considered them family, just like she’d told her mom.
She tugged open the heavy barn door, then paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the shadowy light.
Thankfully, the first thing she saw was Charlie, contentedly munching feed from a tin bucket. His leg was scratched from his tussle with the barbed wire, but as long as it was treated to ward off possible infection, he’d no doubt live to escape another day.
“You scared me,” she said to the infuriating, yet lovable creature. She tried hugging his furry neck, but he wrestled free before returning to his meal.
“Told you he’ll be fine,” Wiley said from behind her. “The vet’s on his way.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m just sorry it happened. Charlie got into Gramp’s old junk pile. I’ll get someone over here to haul all of it off. In the meantime, guess we should look over your fences to see how your escape artist keeps getting out.”
“Sure.” We? Wiley was the last person she’d expect to propose a group project. But now that he had, she wasn’t sure how that made her feel—especially when she once again detected alcohol on his breath. Part of her wanted to be near him—no matter what they were doing. Another part felt wary. Since her breakup with Rex, she hated the way loneliness sometimes compelled her to strike up longer-than-necessary conversations with everyone from grocery store clerks to Henry’s pediatrician. The last thing she wanted in regard to Wiley was to confuse neediness for attraction. “I’m free most any day, but Saturday.”
“What happens then?” he asked.
“Henry and I visit Dot. You should come with us some time—I mean, if you want.” The moment the suggestion left her mouth, Macy mentally kicked herself. Backpedaling, she said, “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to. Grandma probably wouldn’t even remember you.”
“Actually, it’d be nice seeing a familiar face. Hard to believe we’re the last ones standing on this old mountain.”
“I know, right?” The fact made her terribly sad, so she changed the subject. “How long ago did you call Doc Carthage?”
“Just before I got ahold of you. He was looking in on a sick calf over in Blue Valley. It’ll probably be at least thirty to forty minutes before he gets out here. Want to head home, and I’ll give you a holler when he shows?”
“I suppose that would work.” Craving company, she’d like nothing more than to stay—maybe play cards or simply reminisce about happier times, but since Wiley had suggested she leave, did that mean that’s what he preferred?
“Great,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy, so—”
“Not particularly.” Henry’s weight made her arm muscles burn.
“Oh, well...” They left the barn to stand in the yard’s warm sun.
“This is the part when you’re supposed to say ‘in that case, how about joining me on the front porch for a nice, cool glass of tea or lemonade?’”
He winced. “That would be the civilized thing to do, only I’m fresh out of any beverages besides water, beer and Jim Beam.”
“Right about now, any of those would do.” She’d meant her statement to be funny, but considering he made her feel like a nervous teenager, she realized she meant what she said. And so she figured why not venture a step further into their land of social awkwardness. “Remember the night of your high school graduation?”
“How could I forget the night my folks died?”
“Right. Sorry.” She’d been angling to see if he remembered their almost-kiss, so ashamed didn’t begin to describe how low her spirits dipped upon realizing that of course he wouldn’t remember something so inconsequential in light of what happened only a few hours later.
“It’s okay.” He kicked a pebble near the toe of his boot. “I mean, it’s not, but you know what I mean. What part of the night were you talking about?”
Her cheeks blazed.
“Because there’s an awful lot I recall besides what happened to Mom and Dad.”
Was it possible he’d thought about their dance in the rain as many times as she had?
“Your daddy still hate me?”
His direct question made her laugh. “Hate’s a strong word, but...”
Wiley laughed, too. “Can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t have been much good for you then, and I’m a whole lot worse now.”
“Says who?” Her pulse roared in her ears like a jet engine.
“Common sense.”
“I never had much.”
“True,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I recall daring you to jump off Myer’s Bluff—never for a second thinking you’d do it, but you did. The water in that swimming hole had to be barely above freezing. Took me damn near an hour’s worth of holding you to get your teeth to stop chattering.”
She grinned. “Ever think maybe I just liked being held?”
“Talk like that—” he bowed his head, but couldn’t hide his smile “—is liable to lead to trouble.”
“Maybe I like that, too.”
“Macy Shelton, Dot was always threatening to wash your sassy mouth out with soap, and now I remember why. You can’t run around saying things like that.”
“True. But I’m not running—just standing here in the sun with an old friend. What’s the harm in that?” He was so handsome, looking at him might as well have been a dream. Macy didn’t have a clue what had all of a sudden turned her so brazen, nor did she care. All that really mattered was that she was tired of being alone, and no matter what her father said, the fact that fortune had chosen now to bring Wiley back into her life had to be a sign.
“Lord...” He took off his hat, wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm. “That always was your problem. You liked playing with fire, but at least had Clem and Dot around to make sure you didn’t get burned. Only now, you’re a single mom, charged with this little guy’s care.” He jiggled Henry’s left sneaker-clad foot. “Make no mistake, Macy, I’ll always be your friend, but I’m also the worst kind of guy—guaranteed to bring you nothing but pain.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_57b366ec-bac9-573c-8416-6890400e7d00)
“You were right to call.” Randall Carthage had been the veterinarian for the Eagle Ridge area for as long as Wiley could remember. His tall, wiry build didn’t quite match his shock of white hair or Santa-worthy beard, which was why when he played the jolly old guy each holiday season, he had to add lots of padding to the moldy costume that had probably been used back when Wiley’s dad had been a little boy. “He’ll be fine, but to be on the safe side, let’s give him some salve and a round of antibiotics.”
“Thank you.” When Macy held her baby on her hip while gifting the vet with a one-armed hug, Wiley fought a jealous pang. For an irrational flash, he wanted to be on the receiving end of her gratitude. “Charlie’s a mess, but I love him.”
The vet stroked the animal’s side, and the miserable beast didn’t stomp or spit.
Wiley asked, “How come I’m the only one who draws out Charlie’s nasty side?”
The vet laughed. “Don’t take it personal. Maybe he’s partial to the fairer sex. Although, if that is the case, I’m not sure what that means about him getting along with an old codger like me.” He winked at Macy. “Now, Wiley, if you don’t mind, let’s hold him in your barn overnight to keep him calm, and then, if he seems all right in the morning, go ahead and walk him over to his pasture.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Wiley asked. “The beast can’t stand me.”
“All right, well, Macy can put a lead rope on Charlie, and you hold the baby. Will that work?”
“Sounds good to me.” Macy jiggled her son. “What do you think, Henry?”
The baby cooed.
Wiley’s chest tightened.
While Macy and the vet talked llamas, Wiley recalled the last time he’d been around an infant—his friend Grady’s Oklahoma housewarming. A bunch of the guys from their SEAL team had flown in for the event that had been held on Grady’s family ranch. Just a few months earlier and Wiley’s whole life had been different—better in every conceivable way. Holding Grady’s infant son on that warm, spring day beneath the vast Oklahoma sky, he’d had his whole life ahead of him. He’d been surrounded by longtime SEAL friends and their families. Cooper and Millie. Heath and Libby. Mason and Hattie. He’d been thrilled for his married friends, but welcomed the companionship of his single friends Marsh and Rowdy. They’d all fished and grilled and downed too many beers and in general did plenty of good man shit until Mason’s bossy wife told them all to shut up before they woke the sleeping kids.
Crazy how fast everything could change.
His life had been measured in tragedies—first third, his folks dying. Second third—his career going to shit. For the rest of his life, he figured he’d live alone on this piece of land that was more rock than dirt, and then he’d die.
“Who gets the pleasure of paying for my good looks and company?” Randall asked.
“Me.” Macy raised her hand.
“I’ll take care of it, Doc. It was my barbed wire.” Before Macy could launch an argument, Wiley took his wallet from his jeans back pocket and fished out a hundred bucks. “Will this cover it?”
The vet nodded. “Macy, I’ll come to your place tomorrow to give him more antibiotic.”
“Thanks again.”
He waved on his way to his truck. “No problem. Oh—Wiley, wonder if you might do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“If you don’t mind, follow me, and I’ll explain.”
“Should I be worried?” Wiley asked. Maybe he ought to have asked what the favor entailed before agreeing?
“Nah...” Randall’s low, throaty chuckle had Wiley thinking the opposite. At his truck, the doc walked around to the tailgate, springing it open before tugging on a wire mesh cage.
It took Wiley a few minutes to hobble that way, but by the time he’d caught up with Randall, it didn’t take much to get the gist of the old man’s favor. “Oh, no... If you want me to give a home to this—”
“Now, Wiley, don’t you start makin’ excuses before I’ve even explained what I need.” Inside the cage was a momma hound dog and four pups that still had their eyes closed. “Some damned fool left this little lady on the clinic’s front porch, and I need someone to keep her till I can find a suitable home. Your granddad used to take in strays. I figure since you’ve got that big empty barn, well, that would make for a whole lot of space for this beauty and her family.”
“Doc, look...” Wiley shoved his hands in his pockets while searching for the right thing to say. “I would, but—”
“Nope. Stop right there. We’re a tight-knit community, and in case you forgot in the time you were gone, we all help out where we can. Now, down at the VFW, there’s been talk about your leg, but last I heard, a poor helpless animal doesn’t care how it gets fed, just that the food comes in a timely manner.”
“Randall...” Wiley had a tough enough time looking after himself. How was he supposed to care for anything else? Especially a dog and her pups?
“You’ll do it? Good man!” He slapped Wiley’s back. “I’m proud of you, son. Your granddad would be, too. Now, give me a hand hauling our momma to her new temporary home.”
Wiley’s stomach churned. “It’s just for a few days, right? You’ll put out word that she needs a permanent home?”
“Oh, sure, sure. I’ll get right on it.”
Together, they tugged the cage from the truck bed, then shuffled back to the barn where the vet led Wiley to a quiet corner in a patch of sun.
“Look, Henry! Puppies!” Macy zeroed in on the cage.
Henry stared in awe. The more the puppies wriggled and whined, the wider Henry grinned until Macy had to use her sleeve to wipe drool from his chin.
The vision of Macy and her child kneeling in dust-mote-infused sunbeams rendered Wiley incapable of focusing on anything but them—their purity and sweetness and light. His breath caught in his throat, and it took a beat to come to his senses. Macy and her boy might be a beautiful sight to behold, but they had no place in his carefully structured life of isolation. Since his accident, since witnessing death after death, he was no longer in the business of living—only forgetting.
“Doc,” he said to Randall. “It’d probably be best for this momma and her pups to move a ways farther down the hill. Little Henry’s already taken with the whole lot.”
“Oh, no.” Macy plucked up her son and backed away. “We’ll be happy to stop in for visits, but between caring for an eight-month-old, an ornery llama herd, a shameful garden and a house in constant need of work, my plate’s plenty full.”
“That settles it.” Randall patted Wiley on the back again. “Macy, I’ll be ’round tomorrow to check on Charlie.”
“Come during lunch and I’ll have something made for you.”
“Will do!” He waved on his way to his truck. After hefting a large sack of dog food from the truck bed, he left it on the dirt drive, then took off in a cloud of dust.
Cursing under his breath, Wiley hobbled to the food. He’d lost so much upper body strength, he struggled to even heft the damned bag over his shoulder, but he eventually managed, hating that the whole while he’d had an audience.
“Let me help.” Macy, with that baby of hers bouncing on her hip, charged toward him.
“Do I look like such a cripple that you think you can do better with no hands?” Another fine sheen of sweat had popped out on his forehead from the strain, but he managed. With the bag near the dogs, he used his pocketknife to open it, then found an old chicken-feed scoop and shallow metal pan to fill. Pain shot up his back and down his leg, but he’d be damned if he’d let his uninvited guest see him hurting. After Macy left, there’d be plenty of time to self-medicate with a lunch of Jim Beam followed by an afternoon nap.
The whole time he worked, she stood at the barn’s double doors, backlit by morning sun.
The weight of her stare hurt just as bad as his physical pain. Used to be, she’d looked at him out of admiration. Now, no doubt she felt nothing but a complete lack of respect and pity.
“Take a picture,” he snapped while filling a water pan from the spigot. “It’ll last longer.”
“Why are you doing this?” She sat on a hay bale, positioning the baby on her lap.
Henry only had eyes for the wriggling, whining puppies and waved in that direction.
“You should probably get your kid out of here. Too many germs.”
She sighed. “Practically all my life, Wiley James, you’ve been a horse’s behind, but lately it’s gotten out of hand. You show glimmers of the man I know you could be, but—”
“Did I ask for a therapy session?”
“Did I ask to get my head bit off? Don’t forget, the only reason I’m even here is because you’ve got a dangerous junk heap in your yard.”
“Oh—that’s rich. Point of fact—if you’d learn to keep your goddamned llama on your own—”
Henry’s little mouth puckered and he whimpered a few times before launching into full-blown tears.
She turned him around, cradling him to her chest. “Now, look what you did. He’s not accustomed to raised voices.”
“Great! Then, might I suggest taking your kid and prancing your sweet ass off my land!”
“You’re horrible!”
“Yes, I am. The sooner that fact sinks in, the better off you’ll be.”
Only after she’d climbed into her truck and peeled out on a dust plume did Wiley grab a rusty hoe from the barn wall. He used it as a crutch while ensuring the dogs and Charlie had plenty of food and water. Finished, he closed the barn door to keep them all safe, then hobbled back to the cabin.
Once inside, the pain was so great the whole room felt as if it was spinning.
Still using the hoe as a cane, he made it to the kitchen, grabbed the nearest whiskey bottle, downed a good half of it, then collapsed onto the bed.
* * *
MACY WAS TOO UPSET to go home, where she’d have nothing to do but think about Wiley’s poor behavior, so she turned toward her parents’. But that was no good, either, because she wasn’t feeling up to answering her mom’s inevitable questions regarding her neighbor. Heck, at the moment, she wasn’t his biggest fan, but it didn’t take a fancy psychiatry degree to see that when he’d lifted that heavy feed sack, he’d hurt himself, only was too proud—or, more likely, stupid—to ask for help, either with the feed or finding the pain meds his VA hospital doctor had no doubt sent him home with.
Where her dirt road met the two-lane highway leading to Eagle Ridge, Macy took a left toward downtown. It had been a while since she’d seen her friend Wendy—at least six months, which was way too long. Macy scolded herself for accusing Wiley of being too prideful when she was no better.
Since the divorce, she’d hidden herself on the mountain, not speaking to anyone but her parents. For as long as she could remember, her biggest dream had been to be just like her grandparents in living a simple country life, raising kids and livestock and letting the seasons dictate her work schedule as opposed to a time clock. Sure, she had all of that now, but by only half. Without love, she felt empty inside. Rex’s cheating had been an awfully low blow.
She’d been too naive to have even seen it coming.
Wendy, her best friend from elementary, middle and high school, had been the one who’d told her to wake up and face reality—her husband wasn’t working twenty-hour shifts at the Boise Pepsi plant. He was working that dirty blonde down at the Lookyloo Tavern, and Macy wasn’t just talking about the woman’s hair color.
For months after Rex left, Macy had been too embarrassed to stop in at Wendy’s bakery and coffee shop, but having her behavior mirrored by Wiley didn’t show her in a flattering light. Wendy deserved an apology. And after that, she’d hopefully be willing to offer advice over the new dilemma Macy faced with her neighbor.
On this sunny summer day, Eagle Ridge’s Cherry Street bustled with not only locals, but the tourists staying at the campground and cabins at Blowing Cavern Lake. The old mining town was decked out in all its seasonal finery and with the Fourth of July right around the corner, red, white and blue bunting had been hung from the historic redbrick buildings’ porch rails. A wide wood-plank boardwalk lined both sides of the street and hanging baskets of petunias and lobelia and ivy decorated every lamppost and column.
With no parking to be had near Wendy’s shop, Macy pulled in front of the candy shop, hopped out, then took Henry’s stroller from the truck bed so she could plop him into the seat. She rolled him closer to the taffy-pulling machine hard at work in the candy store’s front window.
It seemed like a hundred years ago that she’d stood with Wiley in this very spot. Her grandmother had forced him to hold her hand so she wouldn’t get lost. Now, after smelling booze on his breath twice at odd times of the day, Macy couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one who was lost—only in a much more serious way than running off to the far end of the boardwalk.
Henry giggled at the machine’s gyrations.
“Funny, huh?”
He clapped.
She wished the sweet moment could be shared with his father, but then what would that have accomplished? She couldn’t make her ex love their son any more than she’d been able to make him love her. Last she’d heard, he’d run off with his gal pal to Florida, which left Macy feeling broken and not good enough—a bad place to be when she had such a blessing in her son. For him, she needed to be strong. While she would never forget what Rex had done, or understand how he could live with himself for abandoning his only child, she had to at least learn to place the blame for their breakup on his shortcomings rather than her own.
Past the bookstore and three antique shops and a T-shirt shop that also sold assorted souvenirs and sundries, Macy stood outside Wendy’s pride and joy—The Baked Bean. A year earlier, Macy had helped her friend load the flower boxes and put a fresh coat of yellow paint on the wrought-iron tables and chairs. On a busy day like this, Wendy would have called for emergency help, and Macy would have run right down to make mochas and lattes and double-shot espressos.
Today, however, she stood on the threshold, unsure about even going in. The inviting smells of coffee and fresh-baked cookies and scones tempted her, but it was Wendy’s surprised gasp upon seeing her and Henry that drove her inside.
Upbeat bluegrass played over the shop’s sound system, providing the perfect soundtrack for the way Macy hoped the reunion would go.
Wendy passed a tray of chocolate cupcakes to her part-time helper, Alice, then darted between customers to give Macy a much-needed hug. “It’s about time you came to see me.”
“I’m sorry, I...” Tears stung her eyes at the memory of their ugly last exchange of words.
How dare you accuse my husband of cheating? The only reason you’re saying any of this is because you’re jealous I got married and had a baby first.
Shame flushed Macy’s cheeks. Where did she start to make amends for the horrible, unfounded accusation?
“Look at you...” Wendy took Henry, holding him out for a better view.
He’d always been a happy baby, and he grinned now with Wendy’s light jiggles.
“You’re so big, and have your mommy’s pretty blue eyes.”
“Wendy,” Macy said. “I owe you a huge apology, and—”
“You don’t owe me a thing. I’m sorry your fairy-tale prince turned out to be a royal scumbag.”
That made Macy laugh and hold out her arms for another hug.
“I still have Henry’s playpen in back. As you can see, Alice and I are swamped. Mind helping out for a bit, and then we can talk?”
Just like that, their friendship was back on track.
With Henry content in a sunny corner, alternately cooing over the toys Aunt Wendy had long ago bought him and charming the customers, Macy worked the coffee machine, filling orders as quickly as they came in. Within thirty minutes, the crowd thinned to a manageable trickle, at which point, Wendy passed Alice the reins, then tugged Macy to the backroom to make more cookies and have a proper chat.
Henry had fallen asleep, and Alice promised to let Macy know the second he woke.
Once Macy and her oldest friend caught up on each other’s family news and town gossip, she wasn’t surprised when Wendy broached the subject of Macy’s pesky neighbor.
“Well?” Wendy asked after popping a cookie tray in the oven. “Are you ever going to tell me about your reunion with Wiley?”
“I’d hardly call it a reunion—more like a catastrophe.” She delivered the short version of their encounter. “I get that he’s hurting, but he acts like a grumpy old bear with a thorn stuck in his paw.”
“Then you’re not back to practicing writing Mrs. Macy James like you used to in tenth grade?”
“Um, no. He’s horrible. Just when I think we could at least be civil, he goes and says something even more outrageous or offensive than the last time we talked. My dad thinks I should give him a wide berth.”
“And your mom?”
Macy rolled her eyes. “Already picking wedding invitations.”
Wendy winced. “It’s a little soon for you to be back at the altar, isn’t it? How long has your divorce been final?”
“Six months, but our marriage was over before then. And thank you for taking my side. Even if I was in the market for male companionship, Wiley is the last man on earth I’d choose.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_a86746ed-000c-559a-a5c6-5b422cdc5c87)
“You’re the most stubborn, obstinate, downright unpleasant creature I’ve had the misfortune of stumbling across in a good, long while—and that’s saying something, considering your owner.”
It was pushing ten in the morning, and after sleeping late, the last thing Wiley needed was more grief from Macy’s stupid llama.
Charlie stared Wiley down before treating him to a hiss and spit combo, then some crazy grunt loud enough to make the pups whimper.
“Feeling’s mutual, buddy...” Wiley struggled to get a guide rope around the beast’s neck and eventually succeeded.
His back and leg still hurt like hell, but as he’d been taught through his SEAL training, if you have a job, do it.
No excuses.
He refused to use the four-pronged cane he’d been sent home from the hospital with, so he once again needed the hoe for leverage while opening Charlie’s pen, then tugging him toward the barn door.
After pushing and pulling the damned creature to the gate between his grandfather’s property and Macy’s, Wiley slipped off the guide rope and encouraged the llama with a light pat to his ornery ass to be on his way.
Judging by his gallop, Charlie felt right as rain and didn’t suffer any lingering pain from his previous day’s injury.
Wiley wished he could say the same for himself.
He hobbled back to the barn to check on the momma and her pups.
“You didn’t eat much,” he said to the hound. He topped off her water and food, then moved both bowls close enough that she could snack without having to upset her suckling brood.
When he rubbed between her ears, she gave him an appreciative few licks.
“You’re a good girl.” Because stooping hurt, Wiley pulled over a hay bale to perch on. “What’s the problem? You don’t like Doc’s food?”
She cocked her head. Lord help him, but her soulful brown eyes stirred something he hadn’t experienced in a long time—the desire to do a worthwhile task that didn’t involve sitting around feeling sorry for himself.
“Tell you what...” He gave her another rub. “I’m about out of the proverbial dog that bit me, so how about I grab you a treat while I’m in town.”
She wagged her tail.
* * *
MACY PUT THE VASE of wildflowers she’d plucked from a nearby meadow in the table’s center, then stood back to admire her handiwork. She’d covered the kitchen table in a green-and-white-striped cloth, then set two place settings using her grandmother’s rose-patterned wedding china and good silver. Alongside each plate were salads made from the season’s first lettuce and tomatoes, as well as rose glass tumblers filled with fresh-brewed iced tea.
It wasn’t every day she had company for lunch and she looked forward to Doc Carthage’s visit—all the more so since Charlie seemed fine. The last she’d checked on him, he’d been happily grazing in the pasture, surrounded by his angels.
“What do you think?” she asked Henry, who sat in his high chair, working over a teething biscuit.
“Arrrghuulah!” He bounced and kicked, and as always, her heart melted from the sight of his smile.
“You are too cute,” she said in a singsong voice.
He grinned all the more.
The house smelled cheesy-wonderful from the lasagna she’d made that morning, and every wood surface shone from polishing.
The cabin might be small, but every inch was filled with love—from the whitewashed walls to the wide-plank oak floor and low beamed ceilings. Antique curio and china cabinets held her grandmother’s treasures and built-in bookshelves framing the river stone hearth cradled her grandfather’s beloved books.
When the crunch of tires on gravel alerted her that her guest had arrived, she gathered Henry in her arms, then bounded to the front porch to greet the vet.
Macy was all smiles until she caught sight of Doc Carthage’s passenger.
Why in the world had he brought Wiley?
“Hey, little fella.” Upon exiting his truck, Doc made a beeline for Henry. “I swear he’s gotten bigger since yesterday.”
“He sure feels like it,” Macy said with forced cheer. Yesterday’s encounter with Wiley had been more than enough for her. Never had she come across a man who was more downright uncivilized—well, not counting her ex, but then that was a whole ’nother story.
Wiley took his time easing from the truck, clearly favoring his leg, but taking great pains not to show it.
“Look who I found out in his yard, tending that junk pile.” The vet slapped Wiley’s back. “I figured if you’re anything like your grandma, Macy, you made plenty enough to share. And if Wiley’s half as bad a cook as his grandpa, he needs all the good home cooking you can spare.”
“Yes, sir,” Macy said with forced cheer. “Grandma always taught me the more the merrier.” Although Macy was pretty sure that in Wiley’s case, the old saying didn’t apply. “Wiley, you’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t look any happier to be there than Macy was at the intrusion.
“You two go ahead and get started.” Doc Carthage waved on his way to the pasture where he’d spotted Charlie. “I’m going to check on my patient, then I’ll be right in. Macy, girl, whatever you cooked smells good enough that my stomach’s already growling.”
It was on the tip of Macy’s tongue to beg the vet not to go, but it was too late. He was already gone.
Wiley cleared his throat. “About yesterday. Sorry.”
“Save it.” She turned her back on him to head inside.
There was another place to set and salad to make. She had no time to stand around listening to an apology that didn’t come anywhere near reaching Wiley’s dark eyes. His hair was too long, and he needed a shave, yet his raw good looks took her breath away. As much as she currently hated him, she’d always pined for him, even loved him, which made his current salty behavior all the harder to bear. Oh sure, she didn’t love him, as in true love, but she felt the kind of love that came from years of companionship and togetherness and deep-down caring that refused to go away just because she dearly wanted it to.
“Really.” He limped after her, which made her feel bad when he was the one who’d misbehaved! “I am sorry. And hungry. Whatever you made smells delicious. I never would have come, but—”
“You shouldn’t have.” She spun to face him. “But since you did, wash your hands, then make yourself useful by sitting down and holding Henry.”
For the longest time he stared at her as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her new take-charge demeanor, but then a smile tugged at his lips and on the way to the kitchen sink, he shook his head. “Damn if you aren’t still a pistol.”
“Don’t curse in front of the baby.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He washed his hands, then grabbed for Henry, but then backed away, as if he’d changed his mind. Afraid he might drop him? Macy respected him more for swallowing his pride to admit to at least himself that there could be a potential problem. He sat at the table, stretching out his bum leg, then held out his arms. “Want to deliver him to me?”
Macy did.
But when Wiley held her son as if he were as exotic as a three-headed calf, Henry pouted, huffed a bit, then fell into a full-blown wail.
“I didn’t do anything,” Wiley said.
“That’s the point.” Macy didn’t want to get close enough to Wiley to recognize his old familiar scent, but for the sake of her son, she cautiously approached, taking the baby from him, only to turn Henry around so that he faced Wiley. “Hold him like you mean it, otherwise, he’ll be scared. Like this...” She bit her lip while positioning Wiley’s arms around Henry.
The mere act of touching the cowboy brought back so much she’d rather forget—the electric awareness that years earlier she’d chalked up to raging teen hormones was still there. The simple brush of forearm to forearm, fingers to fingers made her whole body hum. The simple touch reminded her how long it had been since she’d been with a man—if ever, considering the fact that she no longer considered her ex to be anything more than a self-centered man-child.
“How’s this, little fella?” Wiley’s voice had turned hoarse. Could he be as confused as she?
“If you’re sure you’re okay with Henry, I’ll grab an extra place setting and make your salad.”
“I don’t need a salad—or anything special. A paper plate will do.”
“Over my grandmother’s dead body.” As soon as the words were out, Macy regretted them. Being back in her grandmother’s house sometimes made it easy to forget Dot no longer lived on the mountain. Macy imagined her out in the garden or off berry picking, instead of being in a nursing home. “Well, I don’t mean dead, but you know—”
“I get it. And if you want to go to the trouble, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
For the longest time, she stood there, unsure what to do with her hands or pounding heart. But then she turned to take the lettuce and tomatoes from the refrigerator’s vegetable bin, trying to ignore the discomfort of being near Wiley.
As efficiently as possible, she washed and dried the lettuce, then tore it into bite-size pieces. She cut a small tomato and added it all to a china bowl.
When she turned to set Wiley’s salad on the table, the sight of him bouncing her son on his good leg was mesmerizing. Henry’s grin was huge—as was the trail of drool on his chin—but that didn’t matter. A funny tightening warred in her chest. She wanted to stay mad at Wiley, but how could she when he gave her son pleasure?
“He’s really something,” he said. “You did good, Mace.”
“Thank you.” She took an extra plate from the china cabinet, then silver utensils from her grandmother’s wooden chest.
“Your husband was a damned fool—sorry for cussing, but it’s the truth.”
A pinecone-sized knot lodged at the back of her throat, so instead of replying, she nodded.
“I am sorry for yesterday. Sometimes the pain is so much that I get a little out of my mind—it’s not an excuse. Just the truth.”
“Have you told your doctor that your pain meds don’t work?”
“Don’t take them.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Lots of guys get hooked. I’d rather just deal with the pain.”
“But don’t you see that if you’re hurting bad enough to lose your temper and drink, then you’re not really dealing with anything at all?”
“Look...” He sighed. “I’m doing all right today, so can we please change the topic? I found a guy willing to take some of the scrap metal in my yard, so I spent part of the morning loading it up. I’ve gone so soft, it’s gonna take a while, but I figure I need the exercise.”
“Would you like my help?” Her heart ached for him—for the boy she used to love and the man she didn’t yet know. He used to be a maverick—wild and free, roaming all over this mountain without a care for anything other than where his next adventure may lead.
“Nah, I can manage.”
“I’m sure, but like we talked about before you slipped back into your hard-ass routine, maybe life would be easier for both of us if we shared the tough stuff.”
“You just broke your own ‘no cursing around the baby’ rule.”
Macy tossed her head back, clasping her suddenly throbbing forehead.
“Just saying...” He shocked her with the sort of mischievous grin he might have used on her grandmother when he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Did she strangle or hug him? “You’re so confusing. Yesterday, you were out of your mind—ugly and just plain mean. And now, you’re all smiley? No. Not gonna work, Wiley. I need consistency in my life—not more crazy. You don’t make sense.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
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