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Thirteen
When Farris woke up the next morning, India was gone. Damn it. His arms were empty, and his head throbbed. How had she left without him realizing? He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to ignore his aching erection. It had been that way for most of the night. Holding his ex-wife for eight or nine hours straight had been heaven and hell.
What was she up to now? The bathroom door was open. She wasn’t in there.
He rolled out of bed and went to his own room to shower and dress. By the time he made it to the dining room, the smell of food was tempting, but his mood was somewhere between rabid coyote and wounded grizzly bear.
Because his mother was at the table, he managed a smile. “Good morning, Mom. How did you sleep?”
Dottie eyed him with an odd expression. “Better than you, I think. You look terrible, Farris.”
“Gee, thanks.” He sat down and loaded his plate with eggs and sausage and homemade applesauce. “Where’s India?” he asked. “Did she eat already?”
“I assume she’s still in her room. We shouldn’t bother her until we have to... She probably feels dreadful this morning, poor thing.”
Farris felt his stomach curl as nausea flooded his system. Surely, India wouldn’t have walked out on him. She’d been pissed. That was true. And she had laid her cards on the table, so there was no mystery. But she didn’t have a car. Still, all she had to do was pluck the keys from the hook by the back door.
He cleared his plate on autopilot. He was pretty sure Dottie talked to him. Maybe he answered.
Finally, he sprang to his feet. “I have to check on a few things before we leave. Are you all packed?”
Dottie beamed. “Sure am. I’m excited, Farris. I’ve loved being here in Wyoming with you and India, but I’m ready to go home to New York.”
“Me, too, Mom,” he said. The lie threatened to stick in his throat. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
He strode out of the room and down the hall, bellowing as he neared his room and India’s. “Inkie! Where in the hell are you?” Flinging open her door, he sucked in a sharp breath as he nearly knocked her down.
She was completely dressed, with her blond hair shiny and clean. Her hazel eyes were more green than brown this morning. The minimal makeup she wore accentuated her pallor. Black wool pants and an expensive teal sweater clung to her curves. “I’m right here,” she said, her tone mild. “Why all the yelling?”
“Where did you go?”
“I don’t understand.”
He counted to ten. “When I woke up, you were gone.”
Her smile was cool. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it? But as much as I’d like to claim that little bit of payback, there was no ulterior motive. I woke up early...couldn’t get back to sleep. I’ve been in the walk-in closet packing my things. I had the door closed, so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“Oh.” Now he felt foolish. But at least his heart settled down. “Do you need help with the packing?”
India yawned. “No, thanks. I stuffed as much as I could in my suitcase and carry-on, but I’ll have to get the rest of my things shipped. Do you think your housekeeper would mind going to the post office? I saved the boxes my friend used to send my winter clothes. I’ve filled the packages and taped them up. They aren’t terribly heavy.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to do that for you.” He studied her face. “On a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling?”
“So-so.” India shrugged. “Sore, stiff. Nothing I can’t handle.”
She was telling him she didn’t need his help, his hovering. He got the message. But though he respected her wishes, he couldn’t turn off his own feelings about the matter. Today would be long and tiring. India needed his protection.
“We’ll leave for the airport at noon,” he said. “Box lunches in the car. Don’t you dare try to carry your bags. Put them in the hall when they’re ready, and I’ll take care of it.”
India stared at him, her expression impassive. “I’ll be ready.”
He hesitated, torn by decisions he’d made long ago. “India, I...”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
For one incredible moment, India thought she had finally gotten through to him. She could almost see the words trembling on his tongue, eager to be spoken. Tell me, Farris. Tell me.
Apparently, old habits were hard to break, and old secrets sacred.
