The Christmas She Always Wanted. Stella Bagwell
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as her eyes flicked up and down the long length of him, she realized his body had remained fit the past five years. His shoulders were still broad, his thighs muscular, his waist just as trim as the day she’d first seen him, squatted on his heels, doctoring her father’s sick goat.
After a long silence between them, he spoke again, “I’ve been waiting a few minutes in hopes of catching you. I didn’t get a chance to speak to you inside.”
Hurt and anger swirled together and simmered in the pit of her stomach. “I served five courses. Guess I wasn’t around the table long enough for you to look up and say hello.”
He let out a long breath and wiped a hand over his face. She could see his discomfort. See that he didn’t know how to deal with her presence. Well, she couldn’t feel sorry for the man. He’d made his bed and she hoped he’d been miserable in it.
“Looks like you’re not going to cut me any slack, are you?”
“Why should I?” she quickly countered.
He looked toward the big house, then wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right, I deserve that. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner.” He looked at her. “But seeing you—damn it, I was shocked. What are you doing here on the Sandbur? I never expected to see you in a place like this.”
Her nostrils flared as she tried to hold on to her temper. What the hell did he think she was doing? Serving a dinner party just for the fun of it?
“I’m working. What are you doing? Rubbing elbows with the rich?” Instantly, she plopped a hand over her mouth in feigned regret. “Oh, sorry. I forgot—you are the rich.”
Frowning, he stepped closer as his gaze swallowed up her pale face. “I expected you to throw some cutting things at me, Angie, but not that.”
The last he said with a hint of regret and a glaze of tears was suddenly started burning the back of Angela’s eyes. She wasn’t a vengeful, vindictive person. So why was she behaving this way to Jubal?
“I’m not a girl anymore, Jubal. I’m a woman. And I guess things—people—look different to me now.” Which was true enough, she thought. When she’d been dating Jubal she’d been a happy, loving, carefree person. There hadn’t been a bitter bone in her body—until he’d decided to end their relationship and run to another woman. Now she was cautious about putting her trust in anyone.
Drawing his hands out of his pockets, he folded his arms against his chest. Angela’s gaze zeroed in on his left hand where it curved around his right elbow. Not for the first time tonight, she noticed his wedding-ring finger was empty. Again, she was reminded that Evette hadn’t been by his side tonight. She could only speculate on the woman’s whereabouts. This was a big night for Jubal. Angela couldn’t imagine the socialite not wanting to share the spotlight with her spouse.
“I had no idea that you were here on the Sandbur,” he admitted. “If I’d known—well, I would have looked you up before now.”
Five years had passed and she’d not heard a word from him. Until tonight, when happenstance had forced him to see her. She found it difficult to believe that he would have sought her out.
Pain crept through her chest, while sarcasm edged her one word question. “Really?”
From the grimace on his face, he obviously considered her presence on the ranch a nuisance. Well, she could tell him that having him around wasn’t exactly making her want to shout hallelujah, either.
“I’m not quite the bastard you think, Angie.”
There was no malice or anger in his voice, but then, he had no reason to be spiteful, she thought as she struggled to keep from breaking into sobs. He’d gotten what he wanted.
“I came to work here two months ago,” she said hoarsely. “A few days after I’d been on the job, I heard through the grapevine about the ranch hiring a resident vet. I didn’t know—until tonight—that it was you. But don’t worry, Jubal, I’m not going to give you or your family any problems by trying to stir up old ashes.”
He looked uncomfortably down at his boots. “I…wasn’t exactly worried about that.”
When he didn’t add more, Angela decided to plunge ahead. After all, she didn’t expect that they would be speaking to each other again. His work here would hardly cause them to brush elbows.
“So—where’s Evette? Didn’t she want to come to your party tonight?”
His gaze lifted to hers and something in his expression made her heart leap.
“I’m not married to Evette anymore.”
Chapter Two
Shock hit Angela’s stomach and twisted it into hard knots. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Our marriage ended in divorce—about a year after it began.”
His features were expressionless as though he were talking about the weather or something mundane, not a life-altering event. As for Angela, emotions were colliding inside her, sending tiny tremors through every nerve in her body. He’d gotten divorced shortly after Melanie had been born. Oh God, if she’d known, what would have happened? Anything?
“Well, I should say I’m sorry. But it’s just not in me, Jubal.”
His shrug was negligible, as though his divorce meant nothing to him. Angela wanted to scream at him for being so casual. Did he not understand that his marriage had totally devastated her life? Or did he just not care?
“That’s all right. Being sorry can’t change what happened.”
Angela couldn’t believe she was standing here with the father of her child, whom she hadn’t seen in five long years, discussing his marriage to and divorce from another woman. It was like a ridiculous scene out of a soap opera. And it was angering her like nothing had ever angered her before.
When she finally managed to speak, bitterness coated each word. “You’re right. Nothing can change things now.”
His features twisted. “Evette was the sort that wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. And then the game was over.”
Is that what Jubal had been to the mayor’s daughter? A game? A pawn? The idea made Angela feel even sicker.
“What about your child? Does he or she live with you or Evette?”
Suddenly his face was a mask of cold stone and when he answered, Angela felt as though she’d been punched by a fist.
“She lost the baby midterm. There was a problem with the placenta.”
Oh, God. How utterly awful. Not just for Jubal, but for Angela, too. She’d given up this man so that he could marry Evette and be a father to the baby the other woman was carrying. Now he was telling her that the baby hadn’t survived.
Angie hadn’t believed her heart was capable of breaking any more than it already had, but she’d been wrong. At the moment, it was tearing into tiny, throbbing pieces.
“I don’t know what to say, Jubal,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. “That I’m sorry for you? Sorry for me? Sorry for the whole damn bunch of us? Telling you how I feel right now is…impossible!”
Shaking her head, she turned to her car. “I’d better go,” she muttered more to herself than to him.
Jubal couldn’t let her go. For the past five years, she’d haunted his days and nights. He’d tried to forget her, tried to tell himself that it was best he let her get on with her life. But that hadn’t stopped him from wondering where she’d gone and agonizing over what could have been if things had worked out differently. Tonight when Jubal had looked up and seen her, his heart had somersaulted. Even now, he wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real and not one of his tortured dreams.
“Angie, wait! We