Reunited With The Rancher. Sara Orwig
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things. I’ll take you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but before she said a word, he waved his hand. “I’m taking you to Royal. Tomorrow we’ll come back and get your car. I’d just as soon let everyone see us together—it’ll give me pleasure. Hopefully, the damned troll will see us and realize that email did no harm. Far from it. How’s that for a plan?”
She shrugged. “I have a feeling if I didn’t like it at all, I would still end up doing it. I think you’re right about letting Maverick see us together. That gives me a sense of getting even with the troll.”
“We can flaunt that we’re getting along. It doesn’t take long for word to get around Royal.”
“I agree. While it’s good to be seen together, you don’t need to stay with me,” she argued again. “I’ll be in town, where I can call for help at any hour and someone will be right there.”
“I’m staying, Emily. This is someone with a grudge and you’re on the list. That was a damn hateful message you received. Look at the results. You filed for divorce. If rumors started, they could have hurt Natalie, which in turn would have hurt her kids. Frankly, I’m not ready to divorce you when it’s because of a bunch of lies from a vengeful creep.”
“You have a point, Tom,” she said, wishing he had said he didn’t want the divorce for other reasons, yet knowing he was right. “And while we’ve been talking, I’ve been thinking—Maverick has to be somebody who lives in Royal, or has lived in Royal until recently, to know this about you and Natalie and to know to send the picture to me.”
“That’s right.” He looked down at his dusty boots, his mud-splattered jeans. “Can you have a seat inside and let me take a quick shower? I can be speedy.”
“You were never speedy when I showered with you,” she teased and then blushed. “I don’t know where that came from,” she said. “Forget it.”
“Hell, no, I won’t forget it,” he said, his voice getting soft. “You were teasing like you used to, and that’s allowed, Emily. We can have some fun sometimes—let it happen. We’ve got too much of the sad stuff. At this point in our lives, it really isn’t going to change anything to have a laugh or two,” he said.
She nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” she said quietly, thinking he was the way he used to be before the bad times set in. Relaxed, kind, understanding, practical, sexy. He had been fun, so much fun, so sexy. She waved her hand at him. “Go on, Tom. Shower. I can go get the CPU while you’re in there.”
“Nope. I want to be with you. This Maverick bothers me, I’ll admit. I can’t imagine why you’re on anyone’s hit list. That’s worrisome. You’re softhearted, generous—”
“Oh, my! We’ve turned into a mutual-admiration society, thanks to a troll.”
“It’s not thanks to the damned troll. It’s time we have something between us again that isn’t sad, even if it’s just for five minutes.”
“Tom, I agree with everything you just said. For just a few minutes, it was sort of the way it used to be, at least a tiny bit,” she said, suddenly serious, thinking it was a lot better than not speaking and avoiding each other. “I know we can’t turn back the clock, but we can at least be civil to each other.”
“Damn right. Don’t disappear while I go shower,” he said, starting inside and holding the screen door. He paused, looking over his shoulder at her. “Unless you want to come inside and join me.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He grinned. “After your remark, I had to try.” He let the door slam shut behind him and disappeared.
“Don’t make me fall in love with you all over again,” she whispered, and wound her fingers together, trying to think of seeing Nathan Battle, of her appointments tomorrow, of anything except Tom in the shower.
In less than ten minutes Tom reappeared, his hair slightly damp. He wore a clean navy T-shirt, fresh jeans, black boots and a black hat. He carried a rolled-up sleeping bag and a satchel. “I’ll put up my truck and get the car and we’ll go get the CPU.”
“Sure,” she said, walking out with him and waiting on the porch until he pulled up in a black sports car. He was out and around the car by the time she got to it. He held the door for her, and as she passed him, she glanced up and received another scalding look. She was close, her shoulder brushing his arm as he held the car door open. Their gazes met and she couldn’t catch her breath. For just a moment, she forgot everything except Tom, pausing to look into his thickly lashed hazel eyes that immobilized her. The differences between them fell away, and all-consuming lust enveloped her.
It took an effort to tear her gaze from his. In that brief moment, she had wanted his arms around her and his mouth on hers.
“Thanks,” she said, hating that it came out breathlessly. She slipped into the passenger seat and gazed ahead as he closed the door. He strode around the car. Handsome, purposeful, filled with vitality, he would be married again after their divorce, she was certain. Tom was too appealing to live alone, and he liked women. The idea of Tom marrying hurt even though they had no future together and no longer had the joy and happiness of their first years together.
She rode in silence as they drove the short distance from the guesthouse to the mansion they had shared. Now it stood silent and empty. They had been happy in the sprawling, palatial two-story house until they lost their son. She didn’t want to live in it alone. It was too big, too empty without Tom. He’d seemed to fill it with his presence when he would come home. When they had Ryan, his childish voice and laughter had also seemed to fill the big house. At present, she found it empty, isolated and sad. She didn’t like living alone in it and she didn’t intend to ever again. This wasn’t the place for her any longer.
The house had a somber effect on her and Tom seemed to react the same way. They both were quiet as they walked to the door. Tom still had a key and opened the door to hold it for her. She walked through into the spacious entryway, switching on lights as she went, although it wasn’t dark outside yet.
She suddenly thought about Ryan running around in front of the house when he was so small. Tears came and she wiped them away quickly. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder at Tom, and he looked stricken. She guessed that he, too, was thinking of Ryan and hurting because he hadn’t been in the house in almost a year. He rubbed his eyes—the tough, decorated Ranger who had been in combat, been wounded, been a prisoner until he escaped. She couldn’t bear his grief, which compounded her pain. When she turned away, crying silently while she tried to get control of her emotions, Tom put his arm around her.
“Come here,” he whispered. Sobbing, she turned to him and they held each other. His strong arms around her felt wonderful and she tightened her hold on him as if she could squeeze out some of his strength, transferring it from him to her. He was a comfort and she hoped she was for him. She stroked his back, relishing holding him. It had been so long since she had been in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Tom. Sometimes I just lose it and I guess you do, too. Having you here helps,” she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
He looked down at her, easing his hold on her slightly. “I’m glad I’m here for you. It helps me. Grieving is part of it that we can’t escape.” She nodded as he released her. She missed his strong arms around her.
“I’m okay now. Thanks.”
They went through the house to the large room that was her office. “I’ll get the CPU out for you, Emily,” he said and strode past her. “I’m sure this is futile, but it would be ridiculous for Nathan not to check it out.”
“While you do that, Tom, I’ll pick up a few things to take to Royal.”
“Where’s that white cat of yours?”
“Your cook has Snowball until I get settled in Royal. You don’t care, do you?”
“No,