Reclaiming the Cowboy. Kathleen O'Brien
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It shocked him, the hot knife blade of pain that sank into him when she spoke the words. It shouldn’t have been a surprise—couldn’t have been a surprise. He wasn’t a fool. He knew that if she’d trusted him, she would have confided in him months ago.
And yet, hearing her dull monotone confirm it...
“Well, that’s direct.” He leaned back, trying to project a detachment he didn’t come close to feeling. “Guess there’s no point in sugarcoating anything, not now.”
“Mitch, be fair. How could I trust you? How could I trust anyone? My life was at stake. Even more importantly, my mother’s life was at stake. Once he’d gotten rid of me, how long would he have let her stand between him and the inheritance? How long would he have let her live?”
“Did it ever occur to you,” he asked slowly, “that I might have been able to help?”
She hesitated, then swallowed and shook her head. “No.”
Heat radiated across his shoulders and down his arms. He couldn’t decide whether it was anger or shame coursing through his buzzing veins. No? No? Damn it...he would have died for her. Literally. He would have killed for her.
But she hadn’t believed him capable of providing any security. She hadn’t seen him as up to the task of protecting her.
“Jacob is ruthless,” she said, bending forward as if she could close the emotional distance between them by shrinking the physical gap. “He’s vicious and such an expert liar. You have no idea—you can’t imagine. And I’m glad you can’t. You’ve lived with love all your life, surrounded by a family that adores you. You’re sunny, and you’re kind, and you think the world is good. You aren’t consumed by ambition and greed. Those were the things about you I most...”
She stopped, swallowing the next word oddly. “I mean...that’s what drew me to you in the first place. You were light, when all I’d known before was darkness. You understand laughter and joy. You don’t understand cruelty and greed.”
He made a harsh scoffing noise. “You make me sound like the village idiot.”
She straightened up, as if scalded by his sardonic tone. “I’m sorry you take it that way. That isn’t even remotely what I meant.”
“Sure it is.” He was so angry he could hardly keep his voice steady. He was doomed, wasn’t he? He would eternally be the dopey younger brother. The likable goof. The good-time Charlie. He was used to being written off as a gadfly by Dallas, but he’d imagined that Bonnie was the one person who saw him differently.
Wrong again, moron. Maybe that just proved how naive and gullible he really was.
“Mitch, that isn’t what I meant at all—”
“It’s exactly what you meant. You meant that I’m good for a few laughs. I can provide a little comic relief on a boring road trip. And I’m not bad in the sack, of course, so that part was fun, too. But I’m not the kind of guy you take seriously. I’m not the person you’d trust with your secrets, your problems.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not the man you’d trust with your life.”
She was shaking her head. “No. You’re twisting my words. This struggle with Jacob doesn’t have anything to do with my real life or my real feelings. I just had to get through this one dangerous moment, and then—”
“And then what? Don’t be so naive. Do you really think this is the last terrible thing you’ll face?”
He stood. Coming here had been a mistake. There wasn’t any such thing as “closure.” There was only loss and more loss. If he’d never seen her here, with her Titian-red hair and her backdrop of opulence, he could at least have kept the memories of his Bonnie intact.
Now Bonnie and Annabelle would be forever tangled in his mind. And he would always know that neither of them had really respected him. Neither one of them had loved him. Not the way he’d dreamed.
“Mitch.” She didn’t move, but she looked up at him with those complicated, beautiful, haunted blue eyes, overflowing now with unshed tears. “Mitch, please.”
“Troubles come to everybody, Bonnie,” he said roughly. “If you live long enough. People, even careful people, occasionally end up in dark places—in a courtroom, in a wheelchair, in chemotherapy, in disgrace. In tears, in therapy, in pain—all that’s part of life. And it should be part of love, too.”
“Yes. And it is.” She held out one slim lily-pale hand. It trembled. “It will be.”
“No, it won’t. You don’t think of me as a partner. You think of me as a plaything. And I have no interest in settling for that role in any woman’s life.”
She made a choking sound. He shrugged, thankful that, finally, numbness had set in and the pain had eased off, allowing him to come up with one final smile.
“Goodbye, Bonnie.” He cast one last glance at the purpling sky, lowering itself over her mansion like a shroud. “Have a good life.”
TEN DAYS LATER, when Annabelle arrived at Bell River Ranch with three suitcases in the trunk of her cheap rental car, she was carefully dressed—costumed, really—in worn jeans, faded flannel and scuffed boots. It was the way she used to look when she’d lived here before.
Except for one thing. Her hair had been dyed dark back then, and she’d quit coloring it long ago. Today, the red flame was tucked away in a coiled knot.
And her heart was in her throat.
She parked as far from the house as she could, giving herself time to adjust. She hadn’t set foot on Bell River land in almost a year and a half, if you didn’t count that night...the night her mother had died.
That night had been different. It was one thing to steal back in darkness as Bonnie O’Mara, to be seen by only Mitch, to spend a few secret hours in the comfort of his arms and then run away again.
It was quite another to show up in broad daylight, to announce herself to the whole family as Annabelle Irving and to face their questions...and, quite possibly, their hostility and rejection.
She’d decided not to approach by the front door, but to look around outside, hoping she’d find Rowena at work. Maybe she’d even find her alone.
Luck was on her side. There Rowena was, standing by a fancy structure that must be the new stables. Her black hair flew in the spring breeze as she talked animatedly to a crowd of people...guests, judging from their too-expensive brand-new Western wear.
Ro must be matching the riders to the horses they’d use during their stay at the ranch. Annabelle had left before the dude ranch opened, so she’d never actually seen her friend do this. But they’d talked about it so often. Annabelle would be cooking or ironing, and Rowena would be dreaming out loud, building the ranch in the air. She’d made it real enough to touch.
Annabelle put her fingertips against the rough splintered side of the old barn, unable to move for a minute, overcome by a rush of emotion. She’d been gone so long. Maybe too long.
She could already see how much the ranch had changed. When she was last here, Bell River had been a scrappy start-up business, struggling to lay its ghosts to rest and build a future as a dude ranch. Now it was sleek and polished under the bright spring sun, beautiful against its jagged mountain backdrop. They’d expanded the main house and put up at least a dozen new outbuildings.
And everywhere she looked, so many people. Guests and staff and...
So much change. What if it wasn’t just the physical space that was different? What if it was the people, too? They’d been kind to her once, especially Rowena. They’d taken her in as unguardedly as they’d shelter a stray kitten. But she’d repaid them by breaking