by Carly Bloom
Nobody’s princess.
His woman.
When he was finally able to inhale, his hand was over his heart, clenching at his vest.
Beau walked by. “Hey, bud,” he said. “You okay? You look like you’re having a heart attack.”
“I’m—”
What was he supposed to say? That he was fine? There wasn’t a single word in the dictionary that could possibly express what he felt when he saw Claire.
The only word that came close was home. He wanted to rush to her, bury his face in her hair, and stay there forever.
“Fine,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Beau pounded him on the back. “If you say so. Want a beer?”
“No thanks. You go ahead.”
Claire’s eyes met his with a wary gaze. Who could blame her? What could he ever say to her that could possibly come close to an explanation for the heartache he’d put her through?
I love you.
That’s what he would say.
The music from the ballroom floated out to the courtyard, and the DJ was playing “Bless the Broken Road.”
It was their song.
Claire’s face softened. Ford took a few steps toward her, tilted his hat, and then he tentatively held out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”
Claire headed his way with small, hesitant steps. As she came out of the shadows, Ford could see that her nose was red and her eyes were shiny. A small trail of mascara ran down her cheek.
“Darlin’,” Ford said. “What’s wrong?”
In a blur of blue motion, Claire stumbled toward him. He opened his arms to catch her and hold her, but…
She ran right past him.
“Claire!” he called, turning to watch her flee. “Wait!”
He took a step, and something crunched beneath his boot. He bent over and picked up a pretty silver spur, set with rhinestones.
He’d crushed it.
It had to be Claire’s. He ran after her, but just as he rounded the corner, she climbed into a horse-drawn carriage and rode away.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Claire blew her nose into a tissue and watched Maggie sweep the floor. This was probably not what helping your pregnant friend should look like, but Claire hadn’t slept at all last night and was totally useless.
Maggie stopped sweeping and stared at her, eyes filled with mischief. “Let me get this straight. He asked you to dance, you rushed toward his open arms, and then swerved at the last second?”
That was pretty much it. Although she hadn’t done it intentionally. The last-second swerve had surprised even her. She’d wanted so desperately to fall into his arms.
“Stop being so impressed by my cruelty, Maggie.”
Maggie put her hand up. “It’s just that that is such a classic Big Moment Move. I mean, Claire. Seriously. The arms were out and open…”
“And whoosh,” Claire said. “Blew right past him.”
“And he looked so hot,” Maggie said. “I saw him talking to Alice when he first came in.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. And then I saw him chatting with George—”
“Ugh. George. I wonder if he blabbed to Ford about Dad selling the ranch.”
“What did your dad have to say for himself this morning? Did you let him have it?”
“He’s bald from chemotherapy, Maggie, so no, I did not let him have it.”
Maggie shrugged. “I didn’t know. You did that swerve move with Ford, and I thought maybe you were targeting chemo patients next.”
Claire sighed. “He wasn’t up yet.”
“Oh?” Maggie furrowed her brows. “Is he feeling poorly again?”
“He’s fine. He’s just discovered the joy of sleeping in.”
Maggie’s face relaxed, and she put the broom down and walked over to Claire. “Hey, I’m sorry if I’m flip and irreverent. It’s what I do when I get nervous. Which is very unfortunate. You deserve a friend who can provide real comfort instead of just farting out of her mouth.”
“I realize it’s a nervous thing for you,” Claire said. “Like how you giggle at funerals.”
“Which is also really unfortunate,” Maggie said.
“What are you nervous about?” Claire asked.
“Well, there’s this,” Maggie said, pointing at her pregnant belly. “And there’s the fact that my store is closed. And sold. And therefore, not mine anymore. And then there’s my best friend, who’s in a lot of pain.”
“I’ll be okay,” Claire said. She wasn’t sure she believed it, though.
Maggie sighed heavily. “This is all such crap timing. If you’d known your dad was going to sell Rancho Cañada Verde, you could have bought Petal Pushers.”
No kidding. Claire had lain awake last night thinking about it. She’d given up her dream. And for what?
Nothing.
“It’s too late now,” she said.
“Maybe they’ll back out,” Maggie said. “Or maybe it’s not too late for me to back out—”
Claire put her hand up. “No way. It’s asking price. They’ve put down earnest money. And honestly, now I don’t even…”
“What?”
“I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
Or even who she was.
“You shouldn’t let your dreams die,” Maggie insisted.
“A dream is just a wish your heart makes,” Claire said. “And wishes don’t come true.”
Maggie patted her awkwardly on the head. “Now you’re just being morose.”
Claire snorted. Because that’s exactly what she was doing, and it felt good. She’d spent the first twenty-nine years of her life spewing rainbows and looking at the bright side of things. But it turns out the glass was half empty all along, and she’d just dumped it over.
“I feel empty,” she said.
Maggie hugged her. “Aw, Claire. You’re breaking my heart. But on the upside, you’re probably really rich now.”
Claire pulled away from Maggie’s embrace and put her head on the counter. She had no idea how much the ranch was worth. Probably a lot. But she didn’t care. She looked at her hands and thought about how the Rio Verde no longer ran through her veins.
“I can’t stop seeing Ford’s eyes,” she said. “He looked so utterly devastated when I ran past him.”
“Swerved,” Maggie corrected. “You swerved at the very last second.”
“Even after everything he’s put me through, I don’t feel good about it.”
“That’s because you’re an inherently kind person. And because you’re in love with Ford, and it hurts to hurt the ones you love.”
Claire groaned. “How can I still be in love with Ford after all he’s done?”
“I don’t know. How could I still have been in love with Travis after what he did? Remember how he kept that big secret from me? Even though he knew that brutal honesty is the cornerstone of my personality?”
Claire remembered. After their anonymous hookup, Travis had figured out Maggie’s identity. And then, out of a fear of losing her, he’d kept it to himself. She hadn’t known that he was the masked man she’d had sex with at Anna’s Halloween gala.
“You and I sat right here, at this very counter,” Maggie said. “And you convinced me that sometimes things aren’t at all what they seem, and that Travis deserved a second chance.”
“Ford has had his second chance. And he messed it up. Pulled the exact same stunt he pulled the first time.”
“Not entirely,” Maggie said.
“How’s that?” Claire asked. “He led me on, and then he left.”
“Except he’s still here,” Maggie said. “And he’s in Bubba’s freaking bowling league.”
“He is?”
“Yep. And don’t forget he’s wearing shorts to baby showers and tuxedos to galas, even though we both know he probably hates shorts, baby showers, tuxedos, and galas.”
Most definitely.
“I don’t know what demons he has, Claire. But
I think he’s at least trying to outrun them. And it’s because he loves you.”
It would be so easy to accept that Ford could change if she hadn’t already made that mistake once. But she had. And guess what? No change.
“I don’t want to keep talking about Ford,” she said. “Aren’t you curious about who is buying Petal Pushers? I can’t believe George didn’t tell you who they are.”
“Maybe they’re the same people buying Rancho Cañada Verde. Maybe they’re buying the whole freaking town.”
The bell over the door jingled. “Ah, we forgot to take that down,” Maggie said.
“Is that the buyers?” Claire asked, peeking over Maggie’s head.
“No,” Maggie said. “It’s just your dad.”
“My dad?”
“And Ford.”
Great. What the heck were they doing there?
* * *
It had been a quiet ride over to Petal Pushers. Ford didn’t know why he had to come, but Gerome had insisted. You’re the ranch manager, and this whole thing was your idea.
Yesterday, when he’d dropped Gerome back at the house after visiting with Ruben, he’d asked to see the quarterly business reports. And then he’d made a big suggestion. Buy Petal Pushers and turn it into a ranch store.
They’d stood in awkward silence while Gerome considered the idea. Ford had grown so uncomfortable that he’d almost taken the suggestion back. But then he’d thought about Claire.
She’d given up her dreams for her family. She deserved to finally have her store and be back in town, where she could flourish and thrive. And besides, buying the store was a damn good idea.
Gerome apparently thought so, too, because after a few minutes, he nodded his head and called George Streleki. And while he’d had the man on the phone, Gerome had set up the sale for Ruben’s property, as well.
Everything was moving right along, so why was Ford so nervous and uptight?
Because last night, Claire had taken one look at him and run. What would she do this morning? And was any of this worth it if the woman he loved could never forgive him?
Life was no fucking fairy tale.
They entered the empty store to the sight of Maggie holding a broom.
“Gerome!” Maggie said. “Look at you! It is so good to see you out and about.”
“It feels good to be out and about.”
“Hi, Dad,” Claire said.
Her voice sounded cold and distant, and Gerome raised an eyebrow.
“Good morning, princess.”
Ford backed up and moved out of the way. Then he took his hat off and stared at it. Neither he nor Claire said a word to each other, and it was agony.
“Are you two just out for a joyride?” Maggie asked.
At least she’d noticed Ford was in the room. Claire was still pretending he was invisible.
“No, ma’am,” Gerome said, walking behind the counter to perch on a stool. “We’re here on business.”
“Business?” Claire asked. “What kind of business?”
“Ranch business, of course.”
Claire bit her lip. Scrunched up her eyebrows. “Do we even still have a ranch?”
“Of course we do. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because George Streleki told me he’d drawn up the papers for the sale.”
Gerome almost smiled. “I didn’t sell a damn thing. I’m just buying.”
Maggie snapped her fingers. “You’re buying the store!”
“Yep. On the advice of our new ranch manager, we’re opening a ranch store to sell our branded merchandise.”
“But we don’t have a ranch manager.”
Claire snapped her head around to glare at Ford.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “Him?”
Good Lord. Ford felt like shrinking into the small crack in the floor at his feet.
“I’ve also got a new vice president of marketing,” Gerome said.
“And who would that be?” Claire asked. “Darth Vader?”
“No,” Gerome said with a snort. “More like…” He snapped his fingers, trying to come up with the name.
“Leia!” Maggie shouted. “Claire, you dummy. It’s you!”
* * *
Claire leaned against the counter so her knees wouldn’t buckle.
Her dad hadn’t sold the ranch! And she had a store!
Her emotions were going to give her whiplash.
And speaking of emotions…
Ford.
He was across the room, leaning against the wall. His hat was pulled low, and he appeared to be examining a crack in the concrete floor. But he was grinning to beat sixty.
Claire’s heart wanted to respond to that grin, but it was being held hostage by a frozen nugget of anger and resentment. She could feel it pounding against her rib cage like a prisoner beating against the bars of a jail cell.
I want out!
George showed up, and while he and her dad and Maggie started discussing details, Claire sneaked out to the patio and sat on a whisky barrel. Her mind hummed along.
She’d renovate the outside of the store to look like an old ranch house. And inside, there would be themed rooms, according to the merchandise. The cookware, spices, and kitchen gadgets would go in Lilly’s Kitchen. The fashion (because of course there would be fashion!) would go in Claire’s Closet. Soaps, linens, and toiletries would go in the Washroom…
The door opened, and Ford walked out, holding his hat. “Want some company?”
Did she have a choice? Her dad had hired him as ranch manager. They were going to be working together from here on out.
And yes, she wanted company. She wanted to talk for hours about everything she was going to do to make the ranch store a one-of-a-kind experience, and she wanted to do it with someone who would listen patiently, soaking up every word, while his hazel eyes silently said, I believe in you.
She’d missed this man, but she wasn’t ready to let him back in, and she didn’t know if she ever would be. Much to her heart’s dismay, the frozen nugget of anger and resentment had made itself pretty dang comfortable over the past few weeks.
“This was your idea?” she said.
“No, darlin’. It was yours, remember?”
She wanted to tell him he could drop the darlin’ business and call her Ms. Kowalski from here on out, but it would be silly, and besides, the way he said darlin’ with that Abilene twang was somewhat pleasing to the ears.
She’d allow it.
“I thought I’d lost the ranch, so this is all a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”
“I told you I’d help you hold on to it, didn’t I?”
“You told me that, and then you left. Don’t forget that part. You left me with plenty of worries. More than you can ever know.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, taking a few steps toward her.
Her legs were itching to stand up. To meet him halfway. But the frozen nugget in her chest wouldn’t let her.
Ford sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I thought I was doing what was best. Jarvis men are—”
“If you’re going to mention that ridiculous curse, you can haul yourself out of here right now,” she said.
“You know about the curse?”
“Caroline told me. And it’s no excuse for what you’ve put my family through.”
Ford removed his hat and came to stand in front of her. She stood, because she didn’t want him towering over her.
“You are absolutely right. And any apology I offer for the way I’ve treated you and your family is going to fall way short. I don’t think there are any words I can come up with to do it justice. But I am sorry, Claire. More than you can ever know.”
“My dad seems to have forgiven you.”
“I didn’t earn it, but yes—”
“Don’t expect me to be a chip off the old block,” Claire said. “I’m not that easy.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to protect the frozen nugget ne
stled inside. She liked it there. It was steady and reliable and not nearly as sensitive and vulnerable as her dumb heart.
“I can’t go through this again,” she said. “You can apologize if you feel it’s necessary, but it won’t change anything between us.”
You are locked out, buddy.
“All I’m asking is that you listen,” Ford said. “I know you don’t want me anymore, and I promise not to pester you after today. But I owe you an explanation, if you’ll hear me out.”
It wasn’t true that she didn’t want him anymore. She wanted him with every fiber of her dang being. That was the problem.
She sighed. “Go ahead.”
Ford took a deep breath. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to outrun my feelings. And I was pretty good at it, until I met you. You made me feel all kinds of crazy things I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel. Mostly, you made me happy, and that was the one emotion I didn’t think I deserved.”
“Everybody deserves to be happy,” Claire said.
Ford shook his head as if he didn’t quite believe it. “I’d already broken myself, Claire. And I figured I’d break you next.”
“You did break me. Can’t you see that?”
“I can see it now, and I’m so sorry, darlin’.”
None of this really explained anything. Curse be damned, all it amounted to was that Ford Jarvis couldn’t keep a promise.
“When Abby died, I was responsible—”
Claire held a hand up in front of Ford’s face. She might be confused about a lot of things, but this was not one of them. “No. You were a child yourself. It is not your fault that Abby drowned.”
“She died on my watch,” he whispered. “Do you know what that does to a boy?”
Claire looked into Ford’s eyes and saw that little boy. The one accepting all the blame and guilt for an accident that was nobody’s fault. No wonder he felt cursed.
The outer layer of the ice nugget started to sweat a little.
Ford swallowed. “She was my light. The one thing that was pure and good in my life. And I let her die.”
“No, you—”
Ford gently put a finger to her lips. “I carry it with me every second of every minute, and every hour of every day. There’s no respite, even when I sleep. I ran from you, because I couldn’t handle the responsibility of loving you. The very notion that something could happen to you, and that it could happen on my watch—”
