Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

  “You still eat ketchup on everything,” Travis said.

  “Not everything.”

  “Just meat,” Olivia added. “It’s gross when she puts it on turkey. Ick!”

  Shay made a face at her daughter.

  The meal hit the spot, and by the time Shay finished, she was bone weary. Travis and Olivia had kept up the conversation, but supper was winding down. It wasn’t even dark yet, and she longed to turn in. But she had to get her bills paid, especially the mortgage.

  “Olivia, do the dishes, please?” she asked.

  Her daughter stacked the plates and carried them to the sink with Travis’s help.

  Shay stood, balancing on the knee walker. A pain shot through her foot all the way to her knee. Where had she put her meds?

  Travis was there before she released the brake.

  “One or two?” He opened the bottle and shook some out.

  “Two.”

  “Thanks,” she said after she downed the pills.

  Bed. That’s all she wanted. But she might not get another chance to talk to him without Olivia nearby. It was humiliating enough to admit her financial crisis without her daughter knowing too.

  “Travis, we need to talk.”

  “Let’s get you settled first.”

  She followed him to her room, where he pulled back the bedding. “I can settle myself.”

  “No doubt.” He set the pill bottle and water on her table as she lowered her body onto the bed and propped her foot.

  She stifled a yawn. “We need to talk about money.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  If only it could wait. But the bank was starting foreclosure proceedings as they spoke.

  She choked back her pride. “I need to pay the mortgage soon.” Like three months ago. “I’m . . . a little behind.”

  Travis pulled the covers over her. She pushed them back down.

  “Relax. I took care of it this afternoon. Went into the bank—you’re all paid up. The electric’s paid up too. I set up a joint account, and if you tell me where your bills are, I’ll get those in the mail tomorrow.”

  “I can pay my own bills.” Okay, so she couldn’t really pay her own bills, but she wasn’t so useless she couldn’t sit down with a checkbook and calculator. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

  He didn’t deserve her ire. She should be more grateful. It just rankled to need his money. She’d never get out of this with her dignity intact.

  He smiled just a little. “Don’t know anyone less helpless than you, Shay.”

  She had mixed feelings about the joint account. What if she got used to this? When he was gone, the money would go too.

  “You don’t need to open your wallet like that.”

  “We’re married, after all.”

  “Well, it’s bound to be all over town by now, what with you setting up bank accounts.”

  His grin broadened. “Fine by me. Can’t wait to show off my new bride this weekend.”

  She nearly groaned. Was it just her, or did her foot seem suddenly too wrecked to even think about leaving the house?

  He flipped off the lamp. “Sleep tight.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Like she was going to do any sleeping at all with him all stretched out on her couch a mere ten feet away.

  17

  Why aren’t you dressed?” Travis asked as he entered the house.

  Shay took in his form, his nice yoked shirt tucked into the narrow waistband of his clean jeans, where a trophy buckle gleamed.

  “I am dressed.”

  “You’re wearing pj’s to the Fourth of July Festival?”

  Shay shifted her foot on the ottoman. “Who said I’m going?”

  Travis looked away, offering his profile. The afternoon light filtered through the window and flickered on his clenched jaw. “I get it, Shay. I do.” There was some look in his eyes that conflicted with the sharp tone of his voice. “You don’t want to be seen with me, but you’ve been—”

  “I have a broken—”

  “—hiding in this house all week so you don’t have to—”

  “I am not hiding.”

  “—face our adoring public. But you can’t hole up here for five months.”

  “It hurts.”

  “You’ve been wheeling all over the house on that thing.”

  Her breath heaved. Her foot did hurt, but she couldn’t deny she’d been up and around. A lot. There were things to do. He was already taking care of the ranch, she wasn’t letting him do her laundry and cleaning too.

  “I’m tired of explaining to everyone why my wife has yet to make an appearance. They’re gonna think I buried you out back or have you stuffed in the attic.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “Seriously.” His jaw twitched. “I want you to go with me today.”

  It wasn’t the foot and he knew it. Why was facing everyone so hard? Harder than a broken foot.

  “Not up to it yet,” she said. “All the people, all the questions. Pretending our marriage is real . . .”

  “It is real.”

  Why did he have to be so literal? “You know what I mean.”

  “I’ve already answered the questions. All you have to do is show up on my arm.” His voice had quieted. A lock of hair fell over his forehead. “Is that so hard?”

  The look in his gray eyes . . . cloudy with a chance of pain. She’d hurt his feelings. Seeing him standing there, all masculine and . . . built—she sometimes forgot he had feelings.

  Well, this wasn’t her fault. This whole marriage thing had been his idea.

  “Olivia’s waiting outside. She’ll be disappointed if you don’t go. And you have to face it sometime. Everyone’ll be there. You can get it all over with at once.”

  There would be a lot going on with the festivities. People would be distracted. Maybe they’d hardly notice she was with Travis.

  “Fine.” She lowered her foot and shot him a look just so he knew she wasn’t happy. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  The smile on Shay’s face felt as fake as the stitched grins on Miss Lucy’s dolls. No questions, my foot. How long has this been going on? Were you corresponding with Travis when he was in Texas? How did you keep such a secret?

  Evening had arrived, and the smell of fried pork and funnel cakes filled the town square. A country-and-western tune blared from the distant stage. Friends and families were spread out across the broad expanse of lawn, crowded around picnic tables and checkered tablecloths. Olivia had taken off with Maddy hours ago, and Shay and Travis hadn’t seen the girls since.

  They’d been lucky enough to score a picnic table on the town square. At least she’d thought it was luck when Ida Mae and Vern, friends of Miss Lucy’s, waved them over twenty minutes earlier.

  Now she wasn’t so sure. The older woman had been waxing poetic about the wedding reenactment like it was Shay’s Cinderella moment. Shay avoided Travis’s eyes, wished he weren’t sitting across from her.

  “And, oh my, that kiss . . .” Ida Mae fanned her pudgy cheeks. “I just knew it was real. I looked right over at Vern and said, ‘Vern, that kiss was for real!’ I did, just ask him.”

  “She did,” Vern said.

  Memories of the kiss surfaced, and Shay felt her face warm. Do not look.

  She took the last bite of her sandwich. Travis was probably eating up every minute of this bunk. Enjoying her misery. Do. Not. Look.

  She looked.

  His lips twitched, and his eyes sparkled like the fireworks that would go off later on the town square. He took a bite of his sandwich, holding her gaze.

  You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, McCoy?

  Every minute, his eyes replied.

  “You two always did know how to light up a room,” Ida Mae said. “Isn’t that something, you being back together. Just goes to show true love never dies. I always say that, don’t I, Vern?”

  “She does.”

  “And there is just something about that first love, you know, everyone says
so . . .”

  Shoot me now.

  “The feelin’s are so strong, and you got all those hormones humming through your veins . . .” Her jowls shook as she nodded. “Remember that, Vern? All those feelin’s?”

  “Yep.”

  Any minute now the woman was going to bring up the past. Shay’s hands went clammy in her lap, and she looked around for an escape.

  “I can see them in you two clear as a bell, just clear as a bell, always have. I was so surprised when y’all didn’t elope. I was there when you stepped off that bus in that pretty little gown, remember, Shay? I took your hand, pulled you right into Pappy’s Market, and called your daddy for you—”

  Shay popped to her feet, scrambled for the crutches she’d graduated to. “I have to go. The pie bake-off . . .”

  Travis abandoned his sandwich and stood. “Right. The bake-off. Pies.” He smiled at Ida Mae and Vern. “Thank y’all for sharing your table.”

  “Our pleasure, kiddos. Best of luck to y’all,” Ida Mae called.

  Shay struggled across the uneven ground. Travis tried to help, but she shook off his hand.

  By the time they finally reached the boardwalk, perspiration dotted her forehead. Her crutches thumped on the planks, interrupted by the step of her good foot. The sun had sunk behind the mountains, and twilight was falling like a hazy curtain.

  “You took the bus?” Travis asked.

  “How’d you think I got home?”

  “I didn’t know—”

  “That’s right, you didn’t.” He hadn’t thought about her at all. Didn’t know the first thing about love.

  “Why didn’t your dad come?”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “He said I’d managed a way to Cody and I could manage my own way back. They didn’t speak to me for weeks. Wouldn’t even let me back in the house. I lived with Miss Lucy for three months, McCoy.”

  She was just getting warmed up. “And did you realize, while you were busy turning yellow, that you had my belongings in the back of your truck? That I had not a stitch of clothes other than the gown on my back? I had no money, nothing, did you realize that? Did you know I had to beg a stranger for bus fare to get me home?”

  He pulled her around a corner, away from the crowded walk. They came to a stop in the long narrow alley between the post office and Pappy’s Market. So close to where she’d been unceremoniously deposited that day.

  Shay’s breath came fast and hard, her hands clenching the handles of the crutches. Travis stood too close, and she fixed her eyes on the pearly buttons of his plaid shirt.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She could tell he meant it, but it would’ve been real nice to hear it sooner, like fourteen years ago when she thought he didn’t give a flying fig.

  “Shay, look at me.”

  He tipped her chin up, and she let him, though she was sure sparks were shooting from her eyes. What he’d done was inexcusable, and to wait so long to acknowledge her feelings was worse.

  “I wish I could do something. I wish I could make it up to you.”

  He had all kinds of regret in his eyes. That stubborn lock of hair protruded from under his hat, falling across his forehead and tangling with his lashes. His eyes were bold, almost burning her with intensity.

  She lowered her gaze, following the straight line of his nose. A fine layer of stubble covered his upper lip and jaw. Her fingers twitched with the desire to feel its roughness against her skin.

  The familiarity of him made it way too easy to slip right back into their old roles.

  Drat the man. He was too darn handsome for his own good.

  She was suddenly weary. So tired. Today had been wearing. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wood siding.

  “We should get you off your feet. Let’s find a seat for the fireworks.”

  The thought of more people, more questions, was overwhelming. “I want to go home, Travis. I’m so tired . . .” Of being married. Of people staring. Of fighting the pull of Travis McCoy.

  “I have the perfect spot. No people, just wide-open sky. You can lie down and watch in peace. I promise.”

  Like she’d get any rest with Travis stretched out beside her. Sleep had been nothing but fitful since his arrival. Maybe that’s why she was so worn out.

  “Come on, Shay . . . I haven’t seen Moose Creek’s display for years. I’ve missed it.”

  At the tone in his voice, she opened her eyes and fell right into his. I’ve missed you, they seemed to say.

  “What d’ya say? I’ll call Wade and ask them to bring Olivia home after the show.”

  Wasn’t like Shay could drive herself home. “Fine, whatever.”

  Several minutes later they were pulling into her long drive. “I thought we were—”

  “Shh.” A hundred yards into the drive he eased the truck to a stop, put it in park, and shut off the engine. “Wait here.”

  Like she had a choice. She heard him fumbling around in the bed of the truck and then her door was opening.

  She turned on the seat, but he was empty-handed. “My crutches?”

  He turned his back to her. “Hop on.”

  Wrap her arms around his neck? Her legs around his waist? It was the last thing she wanted to do.

  He backed his tush up to the seat, and she fought the urge to scoot away.

  “Sometime tonight?”

  “How far we going?”

  “Five whole feet to the back of the truck. Come on, night’s a-wasting.”

  Just around to the back. A three-second ride was all.

  She huffed, then put her hands on his shoulders and curled her legs around his middle, attaching herself to him like an awkward backpack. “Just so you know, I’d rather be in bed.”

  “Music to my ears, darlin’.” He bumped the door closed with his knee.

  She thumped him on the back of the head, and his hat fell to the ground. He just chuckled and hitched her higher.

  Up close, she could smell the faint hint of musk, feel the warmth of his back against her belly, the strength of his shoulders under her. He’d always been strong and capable. And protective. He’d gotten in a brawl over her their senior year when Zack Torrell cornered her by the boys’ locker room.

  A second later he was lowering her onto the tailgate. She inched back over what felt like a lumpy sleeping bag.

  “Go ahead, get comfy. We should have a perfect view.”

  She lay down, clasped her hands on her stomach while he retrieved his hat. Overhead, stars flickered in the velvety night sky like a million fireflies. They already had a perfect view. The air smelled of sweet hay, and grasshoppers chirped their high-pitched calls. A light breeze blew, rustling the tall grass.

  The truck dipped as Travis hopped in. He settled beside her, his movements loud and clanging against the hollow floor of the truck. His body was a hair’s breadth from hers. The warmth of his arm brushed hers. The truck seemed narrow as a twin bed. She could feel her heart thumping against the metal floor and wondered if she was imagining the vibrations.

  It was surreal, being here with him. A month ago he’d been a distant memory, and a bad one at that.

  Come on, Shay, that’s not quite true.

  He’d been her best friend. They’d spent hours together fishing, laughing, talking. And little by little, she’d fallen in love with him. She’d kept her feelings to herself, sure he liked Marla Jenkins, not her. But then she’d dared him to kiss her that day in her parents’ barn and had walked away with more than she’d bargained for.

  “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” His voice was low and quiet under the moonlit night.

  “What?”

  “Today, being together.”

  She turned her head. “You kidding me? I feel like I’ve been through a shredder.”

  “They’re just curious.”

  “Do you have any idea how many questions I fielded today? God only knows what they really think. Folks never say what’s really on their minds.”

  “Who cares
what people think?”

  She scowled in the darkness. “Easy for you to say.”

  He looked at her. “What’s that mean?”

  Could he really not know? His face was too shadowed to read. She looked away. “Never mind.”

  How could he understand? He’d never worn secondhand clothes or had to borrow textbooks from friends. He’d never worn boots until they squeezed his toes or rolled up his shirtsleeves to hide how short they’d gotten.

  The fireworks began, a starburst of red exploding overhead, followed by white fizzles of light. She was grateful for the interruption.

  Everything came so easily for Travis. He was the Golden Boy. Always had been and always would be. She didn’t resent him for it, but it kept him from understanding the likes of her.

  “You still don’t understand,” he said.

  She looked at him. “I don’t understand?”

  “That’s right, you.”

  She wished she could see his face.

  “You never understood how special you are.”

  She pressed her lips together and stared at the sky. Oh yeah, she was special. So special he’d ditched her in favor of a dusty ride to Texas. Or had he forgotten?

  Green and white bloomed overhead.

  “What was your husband like?”

  The question, coming out of nowhere, took her aback. “None of your business.”

  Two booms followed, and a slow-burning sizzle filled the silence.

  “Fair enough.” He clasped his hands under his head. His elbow rested against the top of her head.

  “I almost came back, you know. Six months later.”

  Six months. She’d just gotten married. “Oh?”

  “Took me awhile to realize what I’d left, Shay, but not fourteen years.”

  She tried to swallow and found her throat dry. Her heart echoed the booms of the fireworks. “What changed your mind?”

  “My folks told me you were married.”

  She’d wondered at the time if he knew—when he’d found out and how. Funny thing was, she’d convinced herself he wouldn’t care. But he made it sound like he did. She wondered what would’ve happened if she hadn’t married Garrett. Was Travis saying he would’ve come back?

  “In the back of my mind, when I left, I thought we’d be together someday.”