Page 1 of His Secret Wish

Chapter 1

Isabella cut the engine on her little hatchback and wiped her sweaty palms on the bottom of her t-shirt. Being so nervous was ridiculous. She was here to ask a simple question.

Disembodied laughter drifted through her head. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t quite such a simple question. But she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.

She got out of the car and tilted her face up to the sun. The heat of the summer hadn’t quite hit Northern California yet, so the warmth was welcome. And now she was stalling. She shut the car door and walked over to the fence.

The pasture was green at this time of year and seemed to stretch on forever. She knew that wasn’t true. She’d traveled every inch of this land at one time or another in her life. Another fence lined the far side of the pasture, the side that bordered the hilly, almost forest like section of the Callahan property. The side that led to the secluded field, where wildflowers grew in abundance, and a babbling brook cut through the landscape, its water cool and fresh. Where they used to sneak off to...

Nope, she wasn’t going there. This was not a trip down memory lane. That voyage had long set sailed and was filled with too much heartache and sadness and loss.

She scanned the field. Her gaze snagged on him instantly. He was on a horse—not surprising since he’d been born to ride. Broad shoulders tapered to a lean waist, and a butt you could seriously bounce a quarter off. They’d tried it one night, back when they were too young and blinded by each other, after a few too many drinks. The night had been fun and free, filled with laughter and innocence.

And possibility. So much possibility.

Possibility that had stretched out before them in an endless ribbon like a creek cutting through the landscape.

She shook her head, dislodging the memory, her chest on fire. Closing her eyes, she took a couple of deep breaths, searching deep inside for a calm that had vanished when she’d opened her front door to find the unsigned divorce papers stuffed under it last week.

Even though it had been a year since she’d officially filed for divorce, she could still see him storming into the diner on the day he got served, the papers clutched in his hand, flames in his eyes. It had been the first time they’d been in the same room in more than two years. The two of them had done a good job of avoiding one another since their split. Especially for people who’d spent just about every waking minute together since they were teenagers.

It was amazing what indifference could do.

She walked over and leaned against the fence, arms folded over the top rung. Sending the divorce papers had been a calculated risk, but one that needed to be taken. And while she hadn’t been sure how Owen would react, she’d honestly expected a whole lot of nothing. He’d proven over the last few years that what they’d shared hadn’t meant the same to him as it had to her. And, just because she’d cried while she signed them last year didn’t mean he’d have the same reaction. She figured, at this point, he’d be relieved to have the whole thing finally over and done with.

Yeah, and that had blown up in her face. Spectacularly.

Every time she sent them to him, he’d send them back, unsigned.

He and the horse turned in one fluid movement and trotted over to Sam, the ranch foreman. Although Owen and his brothers owned the spread—one of the largest in the state—and Owen over saw the ins and outs of the ranch, they still had a full staff of hands that needed to be managed. That was Sam’s job. He’d been working on the ranch since he was a teenager, had grown up with the Callahans. Kind of like her.

She was too far away to hear their conversation, but she knew, without a doubt, it was all about work. Something to do with the ranch or the cattle or the land. Owen’s life revolved around this place, just like his late father’s life had. He’d always sworn he’d never turn into Calvin, and yet here he was, exactly like the man.

There’d been a time when he’d been able to laugh, find the joy in the everyday. But the years and circumstances of his life on the ranch, and their life together, had stripped him of those things. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his smile.

Not that she couldn’t relate.

He turned his head in her direction, almost like he could feel her gaze on him, even from all the way across the pasture. She couldn’t see his expression because he was still too far away, but she knew he was frowning. He said something to Sam and then urged the horse in a circle. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was flying in her direction.

Her pulse kicked into a gallop to match his horse, and she wiped her damp hands on her shirt again. She could do this. It was an innocent question. A simple favor.

Why, oh why, had she decided to send the divorce papers again last week?

He got closer, and she could actually see him. Every detail. And she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Not that she wanted to. He was beautiful. But then, she’d always thought so. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t still attracted to him. Physical attraction had not been one of their issues.

With perfect control, he brought the horse to a stop next to the fence and dismounted. All strength and grace. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him, slide across all that muscle, knead the tension out of his neck, like she used to. She wrapped her fingers around the fence to stop from giving in.

He walked over to her, pulling off his gloves and stuffing them in the back pocket of his jeans. His hat was pulled down low, so she couldn’t read his entire expression, although his jaw was clenched tight.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was cold enough to freeze the Pacific Ocean.

She held back a wince, reminded herself to breathe. He was lashing out because he was upset about the divorce papers. And while she wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his frostiness, she couldn’t afford to get angry. She needed him to co-operate, and getting into a screaming match with him was not the way to accomplish that.

Not that they’d actually scream at each other. She might raise her voice, but he would just walk away. He was good at that.

That’s a low blow, and you know it. He wasn’t the one who walked away.

She held back another wince, pushing that unhelpful thought off the nearest cliff. It was not helpful in any way, shape, or form.