Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

  “Think we lost them.” He slowed the horse a bit. “There’s a park up ahead. Doing okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  He nudged the horse into a gallop, and the scenery blurred past. Abigail held on tightly. When they reached the wooded park, he slowed, guiding the horse deeper into the park through a copse of towering evergreens. They emerged by a riverbank.

  “Whoa.” He pulled back. When the horse stopped, Wade dropped the reins. “Come sit by the river with me.”

  He dismounted, then helped Abigail from the horse. She followed him, the bed of pine needles shushing their footsteps. When they reached the grassy shoreline, they sank down into its softness.

  She waited, watching him. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. Was afraid if she did, he’d disappear, turn out to be a figment of her imagination. “Are we safe here?” she asked. “What if the reporters followed us?”

  “Had some friends detain them. They’ll find me after the interview anyway.”

  If Viewpoint published his interview, the media would be all over Moose Creek. She couldn’t let him sacrifice his privacy. It was too much. “No, Wade.”

  “It’s already done. Worked it out with your mom. I want to do this.”

  “But your privacy . . . Maddy.”

  “I’m done hiding.” He looked at her, his blue eyes intense. “I want to do this . . . for you, Abby. I don’t expect anything in return.”

  What did that mean? He didn’t want her anymore? When he looked away, she was suddenly uncertain and afraid. Afraid all this hadn’t been about them at all. Had she read too much into his grand gesture?

  She wanted to reach out and touch him. Wished he would take her into his arms. But instead he stared over the water that rippled past.

  “I want to tell you about Lizzie,” he said finally.

  You don’t have to, she was about to say. But the purpose in his voice stopped her. It was something he needed to do.

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  He pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on them. “I told you before that we were happy in the beginning, but that something happened after Maddy was born. Lizzie became depressed, agitated. It was subtle at first, but it got worse as the years passed. I begged her to see a doctor.”

  “She wouldn’t go?”

  Wade shook his head. “Didn’t believe in drugs, and after a while she blamed her moods on me.”

  The sadness in his voice made her want to wrap her arms around him. Instead, she wrapped them around her knees. “Was it postpartum depression?”

  “I think so. She was always the jealous sort, but after Maddy was born, it got out of hand. She imagined I was cheating on her. But it wasn’t true. Even in the darkest days of our marriage, I never touched another woman, despite how the tabloids made it look.” He looked at her as if he needed her to understand.

  His vulnerability made her melt. “I believe you. You’re not that kind of man.”

  Seemingly satisfied, he looked back out over the river. “Lizzie had a fit whenever I went out. But I had to get out of there sometimes— away from the dark cloud that hung over our house, over our relationship. It was suffocating. She stopped going anywhere by the time Maddy was a toddler. Our relationship was . . . strained. I almost took Maddy and left a few times, but I still loved Lizzie, worried about what would happen if we left.”

  “What about her family?”

  “They were messed up, dysfunctional. Never even came to her funeral.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Our life looked so enchanting, but it was just painful and lonely. The day Lizzie died, I’d placed first in the qualifying rounds, and I was in the mood to celebrate. Came home, showered, begged Lizzie to come. I was meeting Dylan and a bunch of friends for supper at a local hangout.

  “I was high on success when I came home, thought I had a chance of convincing Lizzie to go.” He shook his head. “She was mad that I wanted to go out. When she wouldn’t go, I offered to take Maddy, but she started making accusations about a certain cowgirl on the circuit. I’d admitted to Lizzie at one point that Celeste had made overtures. I never encouraged the woman, but Lizzie didn’t believe me.”

  She could feel his desperation to make his wife believe him, and her heart ached for him. “Must’ve been frustrating.”

  “I was making more money rodeoing than I ever dreamed, but all Lizzie wanted was to move away and start a ranch somewhere. I kept putting her off, wanted to earn as much as I could while I was in my prime.

  “We had a huge fight that night. I left angry and stayed out late. When I got home, Lizzie was asleep on the couch. I saw her in the darkness, thought about carrying her to bed, but I was still mad. I checked on Maddy and went to bed.”

  She could see the pain on his face and wanted to soothe him with a touch but wasn’t sure it would be welcomed.

  “I woke early,” he continued. “And when I went into the living room . . .” He swallowed hard. “She was gone. There was an empty pill bottle on the floor. The woman refused to take medication to help her, but took a whole bottle to kill herself.” His jaw worked.

  Abigail felt his sorrow as her own. What a tragic thing to experience. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Called for help, but it was too late. If I’d checked on her when I came in, maybe . . .”

  She set a hand on his arm. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. She was ill, Wade. She needed help and refused it. You can’t blame yourself.”

  He drew in a breath and blew it out. “All hell broke loose after that. I was in shock, had Maddy to take care of—a little girl who’d just lost her mommy. Our housekeeper had heard us arguing the night before, and that caused speculation—” He shook his head.

  Abigail’s eyes burned at the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry. That’s so unfair. It must’ve been horrible.”

  “By the time I was cleared, I just wanted to take Maddy and disappear. So I looked into property in Moose Creek. Had no ties there or anything that would leave a trail. The property was on the market at the right time, and I bought it.”

  “Do you ever regret leaving Texas? Leaving everything behind?”

  “I brought the only thing that mattered. Moose Creek was out of touch with celebrity gossip, and the few who recognized me respected Dylan’s grandfather enough to keep quiet. They gave us a soft place to fall.”

  Just what he and Maddy needed at the time. “Does Maddy know the truth?”

  “After we settled in Montana, I told her. Didn’t want her finding out some other way, and I didn’t want her thinking Lizzie didn’t love her.”

  “It’s good that she knows.” It would make it easier on her when the interview hit the stands.

  It hit her then that Wade had finally told her, that he trusted her enough to reveal that wound. That alone meant the world. “Thank you for telling me, Wade. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  Wade tugged his hat, a familiar move that set her heart aflutter. “I wanted to.”

  He looked at her again, and she wanted to drown in the warm pool of his eyes, wanted to dive right in there and wallow around for an eternity or two.

  “I was a jerk that last day at the ranch. Jumped to conclusions, didn’t give you a chance to explain—”

  He had it all wrong. “No, Wade. I’m the one who’s sorry—so sorry for hurting you and Maddy. I never meant to, it’s the last thing I wanted to—”

  “Hush, Abby.” He reached out, laid his palm on her cheek.

  She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. His touch felt so good; she hadn’t known how much she’d missed it until that second.

  And the way he was looking at her now . . . She heard everything those eyes said, and she soaked it all in. Her lungs were ready to explode, her heart was ready to burst from her chest.

  When he leaned toward her, she forgot everything. Everything but his touch. His lips found hers, brushed gently across them. They were warm and soft and everything she remembered. She touched his f
ace, loving the familiar angles, the rough feel of his jaw.

  Could he have forgiven her? Could he love her? Please, God. Being with him felt so right. Like she was home in her cowboy’s arms.

  She buried her fingers in his hair, dislodging his hat. He pulled her closer, and she relished his warmth, his strength. She couldn’t get close enough. She wanted all of him and so much more. Abigail drew in a breath and savored the familiar scent of him. Heaven.

  When Wade pulled away, she was breathless. His arms came around her waist, and he pulled her into him. “Ah, Abby, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Abigail leaned into his strength. It felt so good to be in his arms again. Her eyes burned with relief, and she closed them. “Me too.” The words didn’t begin to describe the ache of sheer longing. She’d missed him so much. His strong hands, his gentle touch, his passionate kisses. She held on tight, not willing to let him go again.

  He tipped her chin up and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Abigail Jones,” he whispered.

  “Oh, Wade.” Maybe she shouldn’t have needed the words, but she did. They were like fresh water for her thirsty soul. “I love you too. I’ve missed you something fierce. You have no idea.”

  “ ’Fraid I do.” He brushed her lips, once, twice, then pulled her close.

  Abigail couldn’t lose the smile on her face, even when a tear made its way down her cheek. She was home, right where she belonged, and she wasn’t going anywhere. But there was more to say. A lot had changed.

  She hoped he wouldn’t be angry that he’d saved a magazine she didn’t work for anymore. It had never been her job she’d cared about.

  “I learned some things about myself and about God and about the path my career’s taken. I’ve done a lot of praying about this and—” Just say it. “I’m finished writing. I’m going to be a teacher.”

  “That so . . .”

  “My reasons for writing that column were tied to my past. And now that it’s resolved, the desire is just . . . gone.”

  “Sad about that?”

  “No.” Abigail leaned back, looked at him. “I’m finally discovering who I am.”

  He brushed the tear from her face. “I kinda like who you are.” The way Wade gazed at her now was enough to make her fall in love all over again. “You’ll make a great teacher, Abby.”

  “If you want to change your mind about the exclusive—”

  He shook his head. “I know saving the magazine was never about keeping your job.” He brushed her hair behind her ears. “Guess you’ll be going back to school, getting a part-time job . . .”

  “Something like that.”

  He gazed lovingly into her eyes. “You know, Montana State isn’t far from my place. And I know a little girl who’d like her nanny back.”

  His invitation made her smile. “That sounds appealing.” But she wanted so much more.

  His eyes, the color of faded denim, were the softest of caresses. “Much as Maddy liked you as her nanny, she was really hoping for a mom.” There was a question in his eyes.

  Something bubbled up inside, something that felt like joy and peace and rightness all blended into one happy cocktail. “Really?” She felt the fresh sting of tears. Abigail ran her thumb over his lower lip.

  He pressed a kiss to the pad of her thumb. “The position comes with a husband, though. Guy used to be a big-shot celebrity; now he’s just a humble rancher.”

  She smiled through her tears. “I like humble ranchers.”

  Wade had never looked more serious. “I’m talking about forever, Abby. Marriage and Maddy and ranching, maybe even another baby or two . . .”

  “Only two?”

  “You’d have to move to the back of beyond. Leave your home, your city, your family . . .”

  She shook her head. “The whole time I’ve been in Chicago, all I thought about was being back in Moose Creek with you and Maddy. It’s all I want.” She framed his face. “You’re all I want.”

  He lowered his face, and she was lost in his kiss. Lost in his love. His touch stirred her in ways she’d never experienced, this cowboy of hers, and she was going to lean on him for the rest of her life. She couldn’t think of a more capable man to put her trust in.

  He kissed the tip of her nose, then drew her into an embrace. “We should get back,” he whispered a few moments later. “Your family will be wondering what I did with you.”

  Abigail wanted him to herself for a little while—was that too much to ask? But he was right.

  After they saddled up, he nudged the horse into a walk and wrapped one arm firmly around her middle.

  Abigail sank into his chest and rested against him. She’d never tire of being in his arms. They had a few hurdles to cross, but all that mattered was that she had her cowboy. And the sooner their forever started, the happier she’d be.

  The ride back seemed too short, and when they rode into the parking lot, she could see the entrance of the arena. A horde of reporters waited, the bulky cameras ready and waiting.

  “Uh, Wade . . . how are we going to get home?”

  He gave her a squeeze and set a kiss on her head. “Very carefully, Abby,” he drawled. “Very carefully.”

  The

  Accidental

  Bride

  For am I now trying to win the favor of people, or God?

  Or am I striving to please people?

  GALATIANS 1:10 (HOLMAN CHRISTIAN STANDARD BIBLE)

  I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb.

  JEREMIAH 1:5 (NEW LIVING TRANSLATION)

  1

  The bell above the diner’s door jingled and—despite her most valiant effort—Shay Brandenberger’s eyes darted toward the entry. An unfamiliar couple entered—tourists. She could tell by their khaki Eddie Bauer vests and spanking-new hiking boots. Look out, Yellowstone.

  When her heart rate returned to normal, she checked her watch and took a sip of coffee. Five minutes till she met Miss Lucy at the Doll House, forty till she met John Oakley at the bank. What if he said no? What would they do then?

  “Mom . . . Earth to Mom . . .” Olivia waved her hand too close to Shay’s face, her brown eyes widening.

  “Sorry, hon.” The one bright moment of her Saturday was breakfast with her daughter, and she couldn’t enjoy it for the dread. “What were you saying?”

  Olivia set her fork on her pancake-sticky plate and heaved a sigh worthy of her twelve-year-old self. “Never mind.” She bounced across the vinyl bench, her thick brown ponytail swinging. “I’m going to meet Maddy.”

  “Right back here at noon,” Shay called, but Olivia was out the door with the flick of her hand.

  The diner buzzed with idle chatter. Silverware clattered and scraped, and the savory smell of bacon and fried eggs unsettled her stomach. She took a sip of the strong brew from the fat rim of her mug.

  The bell jingled again. I will not look. I will not look. I will not—

  The server appeared at her booth, a new girl, and gathered Olivia’s dishes. “On the house today.”

  Shay set down her mug, bristling. “Why?”

  The woman shrugged. “Boss’s orders,” she said, then made off with the dirty dishes.

  From the rectangular kitchen window, Mabel Franklin gave Shay a pointed look.

  So Shay had helped the couple with their foal the week before. It was the neighborly thing to do.

  Fine. She gave a reluctant smile and a wave. She pulled her wallet from her purse, counted out the tip, and dragged herself from the booth, remembering her daughter’s bouncy exit. Lately her thirty-two years pressed down on her body like a two-ton boulder.

  She opened the diner’s door and peeked both ways before exiting the Tin Roof and turning toward the Doll House. She was only checking sidewalk traffic, not hiding. Nope, she wasn’t hiding from anyone. The boardwalks were busy on Saturdays. That was why she hadn’t come to town for two weeks. Why their pantry was emptier than a water trough at high noon.

  She hurried
three shops down and slipped into the cool, welcoming air of Miss Lucy’s shop.

  “ ’Morning, Miss Lucy.”

  “ ’Morning, dear.” The elderly woman, in the middle of helping a customer, called over her rounded shoulder, “It’s in the back.” Miss Lucy’s brown eyes were big as buckeyes behind her thick glasses, and her white curls glowed under the spotlights.

  “Okeydoke.” Shay forced her feet toward the storeroom.

  A musty smell assaulted her as she entered the back room and flipped on the overhead fluorescents. She scanned the boxes of doll parts and skeins of yarn until she found what she was looking for. She approached the box, lifted the lid, and parted the tissue.

  The wedding gown had been carefully folded and tucked away. Shay ran her fingers over the delicate lace and pearls. Must’ve been crisp white in its day, but time had cast a long shadow over it. Time had a way of doing that.

  Her fingers lingered on the thin fabric. She remembered another time, another dress. A simple white one that hung on her young shoulders, just skimmed the cement of the courthouse steps. The ache that squeezed her heart had faded with time, but it was there all the same. Would it ever go away?

  Shaking her head, Shay turned back to the task at hand. The gown seemed too pretty, too fragile to disturb.

  Oh well. She’d promised.

  She pulled it out and draped it over the box, then shimmied from her jeans. When she was down to the bare necessities, she stepped carefully into the gown. She eased it over her narrow hips and slid her arms into the long sleeves. The neckline was modest, the gathered skirt fuller than anything she ever wore. Here in the air-conditioning it was fine, but she would swelter next Saturday.

  Leaving the button-up back gaping, she hitched the skirt to the top of her cowboy boots and entered the store.

  Miss Lucy was ushering the customer out the door. When she turned, she stopped, her old-lady shoes squeaking on the linoleum. “Land sakes.”

  Shay took two steps forward and dropped the skirt. It fell to the floor with a whoosh.

  “Fits like a glove,” Miss Lucy said. “And with some low heels it’ll be the perfect length.”