And so everywhere she looked,hewas there. In the riding ring, continuing his lessons though she wasn’t sitting on the fence watching him; chopping wood, his muscles bulging, his bare back gleaming in the sun; pushing that damned wheelbarrow from the barn to the compost heap. Taking care of the horses, his hands smoothing over their coats with such gentleness, she ached to be touched the same.
There was no escaping the man. In fact, it seemed that he turned up everywhere she happened to be, and she didn’t think it was an accident.
On the contrary, she was convinced it was a damned conspiracy, perpetrated by her family. Every single one of them. The only way to truly avoid Jake was to stay locked in her room.She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. There was just simply too much to do for her to take to her bed and wallow in self-pity. And anger. Though if she was truthful with herself, she had to admit she wasn’t nearly as angry as she had been for the truth he omitted. No, it was the other thing—the prospect of King finding him on the ranch, endangering her family, that frightened her, keeping her on edge, causing panic to grab hold of her heart.
On the other hand, Jake had been on the ranch for almost three months, and no one had come looking for him. Perhaps, King wasn’t nearly as ruthless and persistent as Jake thought him to be. Perhaps, he wasn’t looking for Jake at all. Perhaps Jake had done a good job of covering his trail.
She opened the windows to let in some fresh air, the slight breeze moving the lacy curtains, then strode toward the little sink and the long, skinny cabinet beside it. From the bottom shelf, she grabbed a bottle of liquor, not caring which one, and a glass, then pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sank into it. She poured herself a glass of the fine sipping whiskey—just a little—then poured a little more, filling the glass half-way, and placed the bottle on the table within easy reach. A vase full of cheerful yellow roses sat in the center. Someone had been here since her night with Jake. One of the boys? Marisol and Sergio?
She took a sip of whiskey. The heat flowed all the way to her stomach, spreading warmth, but did nothing to dull the pain in her heart, as her gaze flew to the open bedroom doorway and the big brass bed. Memories of their night together assaulted her. She could feel the touch of his hand, the sweetness of his kiss, the pleasure that had rocked her soul.
She shouldn’t have come here. Jake was here, too.
Biting her lip, she averted her gaze from the bed and brought the glass to her lips to take another swallow. A big one. The whiskey clogged her throat, making her cough, but still, shefinished what was in the glass then placed it on the table and pushed it away.
Footsteps sounded on the porch a moment before she heard a decidedly feminine giggle come through the window. “Put me down, Charley. I’m too heavy and we’re both too old for you to be?—”
The rest of her sentence was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a kiss and then another giggle. “Oh, Charley.”
Evie stiffened, her mouth dropping open in surprise. What were Charley and Felicity doing here?
A blush rose to her cheeks as she answered her own question. They were here for the same reason everyone else came here—stealing a moment alone. They were in their seventies! Or at least their late sixties. Surely, they didn’t still….?
Perhaps, they did.
Charley’s deeper voice floated through the open windows. “We’re not too old, sweetheart. We’ll never be too old. Besides, you don’t weigh a pound more than you did the day we married.”
Evie rose from the table and just stood there, not knowing where to go, wishing for all the world that she could fall through the floor and disappear. A moment later, the door swung open and there they were, Aunt Felicity in Uncle Charley’s arms—like a bride being carried over the threshold. It took a moment for them to realize she stood there.
“Evie!” Charley exclaimed, his face flushing. Even the tips of his ears reddened. “We…I…wasn’t expecting to see you here!”
“That much is obvious, Uncle Charley.” She nodded toward her uninvited guests. “Aunt Felicity.”
Felicity’s face blossomed with color as well, and the smile faded from her lips. “Put me down, Charley.”
He did as she asked, then took a few steps into the room, his hands on his hips, once again in full control of his composure.“What areyoudoing here?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. “You look like hell.”
“Charley!” Felicity admonished him, her voice filled with dismay.
Leave it to Uncle Charley to state the facts as he saw them, without sugar-coating his words. Evie couldn’t refute his statement. How could she? She did look like hell. Dark circles were under her eyes from not sleeping. Unless, of course, she’d been crying, which she seemed to be doing a lot of within the last two weeks, and then her eyes were all puffy and red.
“Thank you, Uncle Charley.” She took the handkerchief and swiped at her eyes, which had started watering again. “I feel like hell. And a fool.”
“A fool? No, you were never a fool, Evie.” Sympathy flashed in his light blue eyes. “What happened between you and Jake?”
She shook her head and sank into the chair she had recently vacated. “Teddy was right. Heisa maverick, following his own rules.” She glanced at Felicity then turned away, unable to stomach the empathy in the woman’s eyes, then poured more whiskey and took a big gulp. It burned her throat, but she didn’t care. “Teddy warned me that he’d break my heart. I didn’t listen.” She gave a rueful laugh, though it sounded more like a choked cry to her own ears. “Oh, no, I just had to be stubborn, like I always am.”
Charley squeezed her shoulder, offering comfort, which only made the ache in her throat worse. “Tell me,” he said, his voice soft and full of affection.
She could always count on Uncle Charley. He was level-headed and calm. He would listen without judgment. “He lied to me.”
“What did he lie about?”
“Everything.” She let out a huff, still reeling from the truths Jake had admitted. “His past. The reason he came here.” Shepulled in a deep breath, frustrated with the lump in her throat which made doing so difficult, even more annoyed with the tears that kept leaking from her eyes, no matter how many times she wiped them. “It wasn’t about wanting to get married. Not at all. He was looking for a place to hide.”
“I see.” He took a moment before he spoke. “That may be why he came here, but it isn’t why he stayed. He didn’t have to tell you.” His voice changed, becoming deeper and more authoritative, as if she were on trial and he needed answers. “What about you? When you found out about Lucy’s plan, you were one hundred percent against marrying anyone.”
“That is true. I was. I was perfectly happy, content with my life.”
