Wearing the Rancher's Ring. Stella Bagwell
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“Why are we here together? Pretending we can start over?”
His hands urged her even closer, and Olivia suddenly hated the thickness of her coat. She wanted to shove away the puffy fabric separating their bodies and crush herself against him.
“Pretending?” he countered. “What makes you think we can’t start over?”
A tiny groan sounded in her throat before she glanced away. “Because I don’t think we ever really ended.”
His head moved from one side to the other in disbelief. “Livvy. Livvy.”
The shortened name was whispered with a longing that tore right through her heart, and before she could ponder or wonder about being safe or sorry, she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
* * *
Wearing the Rancher’s Ring
Stella Bagwell
STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love. The couple has a son, who is a high school math teacher and athletic coach. Stella loves to hear from readers and invites them to contact her at [email protected].
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To my sister-in-law, Dorothy Sutmiller, with much love.
Contents
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Clancy Calhoun paused among the crowded tables of the Grubstake Café and stared at the woman sitting near the back of the crowded room. Could it possibly be her? From where he was standing, he could only see a small portion of her face. But the faint tilt of her head, the nearly black hair that glistened with fiery lights, the way her left hand was subtly punctuating each word, seemed all too familiar.
Why would she be here in Carson City, Nevada?
“Clancy, there’s an empty table at the back.”
The female voice had him glancing away from the woman in question and over to Jessi, a young waitress, who was using a paper menu to direct him to follow her through the throng of breakfast eaters.
When they reached the vacated table, Jessi wiped it clean while Clancy tried to snatch a better view of the woman with the dark hair. Her table was now only a few steps away, but with her back still toward Clancy it was impossible for him to get a clear view.
“Are you eating breakfast this morning, Clancy, or just drinking coffee?” Jessi asked. “Huevos rancheros are the special today and Juanita is cooking, so I promise they’re delicious.”
“That’ll be fine, Jessi. And put some green sauce on them, will you? It’s only the first of September. We have some whacky weather going on. It’s not supposed to be this damned cold outside this morning, so I need something to warm me up.”
“I’ll have the cook put on an extra helping of chili,” the waitress assured him.
Jessi hurried away and Clancy started to take his seat when, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the mystery woman turning her head in his direction.
Dear God, it was her!
Olivia Parsons. She’d dwelt in his heart and mind for the past ten years and though he’d tried to drive her out, she’d remained stuck there, like a painful splinter, gouging him each time he tried to take a step away from her memory.
Recognition flashed across her face and she stared for only a moment before turning back to the man who was sharing her table.
Still on his feet, Clancy gripped the back of the chair, while he tried to decide whether to cross the small space to greet her. But he was suddenly relieved of making that decision when she said something to her breakfast partner, then quickly rose to her feet. As she maneuvered herself through the tables to reach him, Clancy felt his heart pumping like a jackhammer.
He’d often wondered how it would feel to see her again and what he might possibly say to her. But now that it was actually happening, he was practically paralyzed, his mind nothing more than a whirl of memories. Even though it had been years since he’d last laid eyes on her, she looked almost the same, except that her features were more mature, her curves more womanly.
“Hello, Clancy. It is you, isn’t it?” she asked.
Her voice was still