The Accidental Bride (25 page)

She glared at him. “I am not frigid.”

He frowned, watching her open the door, her jaw set.

“Never said you were.” Shoot, frigid was the last word that came to mind when he thought of Shay. She was full of passion and life. “Is that what your ex-husband said?”

“None of your business.” She entered the house and flipped on a lamp.

“Shay, I'm trying to understand.”

She turned in the kitchen doorway, heaving a deep sigh. “Just leave me alone, Travis.”

He dragged in a breath and blew it out silently. Patience. He needed patience.

He crossed the living room, emptied his pockets. A handful of coins, his wallet and cell, a ponytail holder Olivia had handed him halfway through the night.

He heard the cupboard door fall shut, the faucet running in the kitchen. He heard the abruptness of her movements. Was she cross because he'd paid her mortgage? Maybe so, but she'd been distant before that.

Had she felt forced into the dance by the crowd of neighbors? Her body had seemed willing enough, but maybe he was wrong. Or was it his clumsy comment on the porch?

He didn't know, but he knew he didn't want the evening to end on this note. He reached the passage between rooms just as she did.

She stopped short, and the water in her glass sloshed over the rim and onto her shirt.

“Sorry.”

She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way. “Shay, wait.”

She shot him a look.

He was getting that look a lot these days, and he felt his patience draining. “What? What did I do?”

“Move.”

He could be stubborn too. “Not till you tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong.”

“You could freeze water with those looks.”

She shoved him with her palm. “Stop saying that.”

“Is that what's bothering you? I didn't mean it like that. Blast it, Shay, you're the furthest thing from frigid there ever was. If your ex called you that, he was an idiot.”

“He never called me that—now move.”

Travis sighed hard. “Then what's the problem?”

“There is no problem, Travis. Not a single one. Everything is just hunky-dory!”

“You're yelling.”

“Well, you're blocking my way.”

He moved aside, rubbing his jaw. “Fine, go on.”

“Fine.”

She took her half-empty glass and passed. He ran his hand over his jaw. That woman was gonna be the death of him. He watched her enter her room and give the door a shove. It hit the frame with a slam.

“You can't hide forever, Shay,” he called.

If she had the last word, he didn't hear what it was.

28

O
ctober morphed into November. The leaves no sooner turned vibrant than the wind tugged them from their branches. Shay watched them fall with equal measures of anticipation and dread. They lay on the cool, spongy ground where they faded to drab earth tones, then curled into brittle skeletons.

November swept across the valley, bringing snowstorms and gusts of frosty wind. Maddy spent the night with Olivia during one such storm, and the next morning Travis helped them build a snowman that didn't melt away until the middle of the month when an unseasonable warm front moved through the area. Warm, down-filled coats were happily traded for lined jackets for several days before winter claimed the valley once again.

Shay and Travis had reached an unspoken truce. They worked efficiently together, shifting to the chores required by the colder season. He'd made no overtures since the night they'd danced, and he never mentioned the jewelry he'd purchased. But Shay couldn't help but wonder what he'd bought and for whom.

Working together required closeness, and sometimes his hand or knee would brush hers and she'd retreat. Each night Shay struck another day off her mental calendar.

When they were one month from the end of their arrangement, a nervous anticipation climbed onto her back and rode with her everywhere. She was glad. Relieved. Only one more month, and Travis would be gone from their lives.

But as soon as the thought surfaced, dread and fear sank like heavy weights into her unwanted backpack. He'd leave and then what? They'd never see him again?

Lying in bed at night, listening to the quiet strum of hymns on his guitar, Shay wondered how deep her feelings had grown. She worried about how attached Olivia had become to him.

Travis seemed to sense her trepidation as the month slid by. Either that or he had apprehensions of his own. Tension mounted with each day that melted off the calendar, accumulating like snow on the ground outside.

Shay was checking Olivia's school papers on Monday evening after supper when she found a crinkled blue paper in the bottom of her daughter's book bag.

“What's this?”

Olivia looked up from the game of Scrabble she and Travis were playing at the kitchen table, her new layered haircut framing her face. She tossed her swingy hair over her shoulder. “Oh, that.”

“You have a group project due tomorrow? Is it done?”

“Uh . . . not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, me and Rachel Lewis were supposed to do this science experiment with her horse, but we didn't have everything we needed, and now . . .” Her shrug was the sentence's final punctuation mark.

“Says here it's 40 percent of your science grade. Olivia, you have to do it.” Shay was surprised she hadn't heard from Rachel's mom, but maybe she didn't know about the assignment either.

“Isn't that Tina's daughter, from the coffee shop?” Travis asked.

“Yeah.”

“I can run her over there,” Travis said. “Can you finish it in one night?” he asked Olivia.

She shrugged. “Guess so, but we'd be up pretty late.”

Shay got on the phone and made arrangements for Olivia to spend the night with Rachel. She took the list of supplies to the market, then dropped Olivia at her friend's house.

It was only on the way home that she realized what she'd done. The last thing she wanted a week from the end of their arrangement was to spend a night alone with Travis. Well, she'd just stay busy and out of his way. She'd work on some barbed wire baskets for the tourist shops. She'd have less time to work on them once she was working part-time for Hank. Travis would be gone, along with his financial support, and every basket would help. She'd work late tonight, until Travis was asleep, then she'd creep into the house. Before she knew it, it would be morning.

Upon returning home, she went straight to the barn. The sturdy timber-framed barn held back the bite of the cold wind. Inside, the straw provided insulation from the cold, and the body heat from the horses warmed the space. Even so, her breath fogged in front of her.

She worked with the used barbed wire, winding it into basket shapes, careful of the barbs, even with the work gloves. She made each one a little different. Later she'd lacquer the baskets, tie raffia on the handles, and attach the price tags with her simple logo.

The animals had quieted behind her, giving in to sleep despite the clicking sounds of the wires knocking together and the loud clips when she cut through them. She told herself each basket would be the last one, but then she'd find herself picking up another strand of wire and bending it into shape.

She liked the one she was working on now. It was oval shaped, and she wrapped the handle round and round with barb-free metal. Maybe she'd keep this one for Abigail's Christmas present.

“Getting late.”

She dropped the wire cutters. They hit the dirt floor with a clunk.

“Sorry. Thought you heard me come in.”

“I was busy.” She shot him a look, taking in his long, sturdy frame in that split second. Her heart galloped in her chest, and she wasn't entirely sure it was from the fright.

It didn't slow as he approached.

“I see that.” He picked up a basket and looked it over while Shay finished the one she was working on.

She hated the tension that had crawled into the barn with him. The way it had continually these last several weeks. Only now it wasn't daytime, and Olivia wasn't waiting at home. Now they faced a long, quiet night, and Shay wondered how she'd get any sleep with Travis lying so near in the empty house.

He touched her on the shoulder, and she jumped.

Why was he out here? He was supposed to fall asleep on the sofa and let her sneak in later. He was ruining the plan.

“Talk to me.”

She shrugged. “Nothing to say.”

“You're strung tighter'n these wires.”

“You scared me, is all.”

He hooked a finger under her jaw, turning her face. “It's more'n that.”

She pulled away. “You haven't exactly been Mr. Easygoing lately either, you know.”

He was quiet so long she almost looked at him. Almost. In the quiet, she could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck.

“Reckon you're right,” he said.

She could count on one hand the times she'd heard that from a man. One finger.

“It's harder than I thought.”

“What is?” she asked, then pressed her lips together, suddenly sure she didn't want to know.

“Loving you.”

She looked at him, feeling the tug of two emotions. Pleasure at his declaration of love, offense at his implication. It was easier to focus on the latter.

She dropped the basket and jerked off her gloves. “That's an awful thing to say.” She turned to leave.

If she was so hard to love, why didn't he just stop it? Why didn't he just leave now?

“I didn't mean it that way,” he called.

She made it as far as the third empty stall before he stopped her, turning her around.

“Blast it, Shay, why are you always twisting my words?”

She pulled her arm away. “I didn't twist anything.” She was surprised by the sting of his words. How did he have the power to hurt her? When had she surrendered that to him?

“It's easier to fight than admit the feelings, isn't it?”

“You're delusional.” She turned to go.

He pulled her to him, and she smacked into the hard wall of his chest. Their breath tangled in the air between them for an instant.

“Am I?” A storm surged in his eyes, gone almost black in the dimness of the barn.

Then his lips claimed hers.

Panic descended on her, a torrential downpour. This couldn't happen. It couldn't. She pushed at his chest.

Three heartbeats later a fog of desire moved in. The fight slowly drained away.

His lips were so warm, so strong and capable. Her arms slid around him, her fingers forked through his hair.

At her response, his kiss grew more urgent, and she felt months of need building inside her. Years of need. No one had ever taken Travis's place in her heart. How could she give him up again? She couldn't. Not when she had a choice. She wanted him now, forever.

He lifted her from her feet. Her body pressed against the warm length of his. She was scarcely aware of moving, and then she was lowered onto a bed of fresh-smelling straw.

Travis broke the kiss, and she heard herself whimper. She didn't want to open her eyes. She was afraid of what she'd see.
Don't
leave me. Oh, God, don't let him leave me now
.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. His breaths came quickly, bathing her with warmth. His heart thudded against her side.

She opened her eyes. He was a heartbeat away, his eyes as serious as she'd ever seen them. The clouds were gone, and in their place were all the things she needed from him.

“Shay . . . ,” he whispered.

She didn't want to talk. Talk would ruin the spell that had wound itself around them.

“Shh.” She pulled him closer and toyed with his lips. His breath caught, and the heady feeling that assuaged her took her own breath away.

He pulled back and looked at her. “I love you, Shay.”

Something swelled inside her, big and powerful. Her own declaration clawed for release and caught like a rock in her throat.

“If you don't hear anything else, hear that,” he said. And then his lips were on hers again, and she was floating in a sea of rapture.

29

C
onsciousness slowly claimed Shay. She felt warm and snug, as if she were wrapped in a cozy cocoon. She didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to check the time. Dawn would arrive soon enough, if it hadn't already.

Her body felt like liquid, languid and relaxed. The mattress was warm and soft against her belly. Her arm was under her pillow, and her leg was entwined with another.