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“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?
