The Rancher's Wife. April Arrington
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baby girl—
Amy’s lungs burned, sharp pain searing in all directions. That dark day had seemed like retribution. A justifiable punishment for her grievous sin.
Amy curled her toes and looked down at her shoes. She’d refused to give up on her dream of being a mother, though. But several failed attempts had forced her to finally accept that it was never meant to be.
She raised her head and straightened. That was all in the past. She’d moved on since then. She no longer mistook her admiration for Logan as love and she had let go of her dream of becoming a mother. All she wanted was to proceed with her respectable new life and continue giving Logan back his.
“The move to Michigan is why I decided to come home for the holidays this year,” she said, working the words through her constricted throat. “I’m using some vacation time I have saved up to visit the ranch for a few weeks, see everyone and—”
“Say goodbye?”
Logan’s accusing rasp shot across the room. He turned, yanked his hands from his pockets and rubbed them over his denim-clad thighs. The action seemed nervous and hesitant. Both emotions uncharacteristic of him.
“You sure are making a lot of decisions for everyone else,” he said. “Doing a lot of assuming. As usual.”
Amy rolled her lips and bit hard, a spark of anger lighting in her chest. One she hadn’t felt in years. A product of the impulsive nature she’d worked so hard to shed.
Logan’s dark eyes roved over her face, peering deep. He nodded toward the papers on the desk. “You gonna look at those?”
She held his sharp gaze, tensing and tempering her tone. “Later.”
“Now’s as good a time as any.”
“I know what they are,” she forced out.
The corner of Logan’s mouth lifted. “I don’t think you do. Take a look.”
“You came all this way to boss me around?” Amy wrapped her fingers tighter around the chair. She tried to stop. She really did. But the words kept spewing. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Logan. You can’t stroll into my life, toss orders about and demand I do things your way. Matter of fact, that never worked out for you back then, either, did it?”
“No, it didn’t.” Logan crossed the room, leaning into his palms on the desk and drawing close. “But it can work this time with the right persuasion.”
Amy hissed and lifted her chin. “You think so?”
“I know so.” A broad smile broke out across his lean cheeks, warming his expression. Logan lifted his hand, the blunt end of his finger smoothing over the tight line of her mouth. “There’s my girl,” he whispered. “I miss you, Amy. I miss us.”
Amy sagged against the chair, shoulders dropping. “Us fighting?” She shook her head. “Because that’s all we’re good at anymore.”
His big palm cradled her jaw, calloused thumb sweeping gently over her cheek. “We’re good at a lot more than that. We just need to work at it. Do things right this time.”
Amy drew back, slipping away from his touch. “No. That’s not why I’m coming home. And I don’t plan on staying permanently. You already knew that.” She nudged the papers with her fingertip. “That’s why you signed these.”
His eyebrows rose. “Did I?”
“Good Lord, I’m glad you’re here.”
Traci rushed into the room, sweeping past Logan and barreling into Amy’s middle. Grateful for the distraction, Amy wrapped her arms tight around her sister’s waist. The bulk of Traci’s coat made it difficult to pull her close.
“We’ve been waiting out there for hours,” Traci mumbled against her neck. “It’s cold, I’m bored and Logan refused to go anywhere. He wouldn’t do anything but sit there and wait.”
Traci’s frantic whisper tickled her ear. Amy laughed, drawing back to say, “Why did you ride out here anyway? You knew I was coming home today.”
Traci shrugged, stepping back and tugging at her hood. “You know Mama always starts cooking the night before Thanksgiving. If I’d stayed home, I’d have had to peel all the sweet potatoes for the soufflés.” She curled her lip. “A girl can get carpal tunnel doing that.” Her fingers picked at the cuffs of her jacket. “And I missed you.” She shrugged. “Besides, there were too many people stuffed in that house. I needed to get out of there for a little while.”
Amy smiled. “I take it Raintree’s packed for the holidays, as usual.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. I spend one summer visiting you in Augusta and munchkins invade while I’m gone.” Traci shook her head. “When I got back to the ranch last August, six-year-old twins were tearing up the place.”
“Twins?”
“Yeah,” Traci said. “Dominic married their aunt last fall. They’re seven now and I swear those boys got wilder. You’ll see what I mean.”
Dominic, Logan’s younger brother, had been Amy’s friend the moment she’d arrived at Raintree all those years ago. She couldn’t imagine Dominic getting married and settling down. He was a nomadic bull rider, living in the moment and always searching out adventure.
“Dominic got married?” Amy glanced at Logan for confirmation.
Logan nodded, a small smile appearing. “He came home for good last year and he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.” His smile slipped. “You’ve missed a lot.”
Amy tensed, looking away from the sad shadows in Logan’s dark eyes.
“We’re really glad you’re coming home for a visit,” Traci said, squeezing Amy’s arm. “It’ll be nice for us all to be together again.” She withdrew, moving around the desk to tug at Logan’s elbow. “Can we start back now?”
“Soon.” Logan nudged Traci toward the door. “Go on out and warm up the truck. We’ll swing by Amy’s, load up her bags, then head out.”
Amy watched Traci leave then cocked her head at Logan. “Who’s doing the assuming now?” she asked. “I never said I was riding back with you.”
“No. You didn’t.” Logan walked to the door. “But I promised Betty I’d get you home safely, and I always keep my promises. Plus, your sister’s been looking forward to catching up with you and there’s no way I’m letting the two of you ride back alone in this weather. We’ll follow you back to your place, get your stuff and you’ll ride back with me. So lock up and meet us out front.”
He left, leaving her glaring at the empty doorway. Amy huffed. It looked like Logan was getting his way again. At least, for the moment.
She firmed her mouth. Her plans hadn’t changed. Not really. She’d accepted the new job and was moving to Detroit. Just as intended.
This trip home would still serve its purpose. She’d spend some time making amends, visit with family and find a gentle way to break the news of her move to her mother. Then, she’d move on to a new life and a fresh start.
It didn’t matter what mode of transportation she took to the ranch. The path she’d follow would still be the same and her ticket to a new life was now in her possession.
Relaxing, Amy glanced down at the folded papers balancing on the corner of the desk, their ivory shade a stark contrast to the deep tones of the wood. She retrieved them, unfolded the pages, and slid her thumb over the bold heading.
Divorce Settlement Agreement.
She scanned the papers, each glimpse of blank space tightening her chest to the point of pain. Her fingers flipped up the corner of each page with a more violent flourish than the one before.
“If you’re looking for my signature,