by Cindy Kirk
“A little.” Her gaze returned to the ceiling. “But I can’t seem to sleep.”
“I’m tired myself,” he lied. “Mind if I lie down next to you?”
“Okay.” Though it was hardly an encouraging response, she scooted over to make room for him on the double bed.
Brad kicked off his boots then settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her then pulling her close. “This is just how I like it.”
She snuggled against him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
For a second his heart filled to overflowing with emotion. Love, tenderness and anger at Boyd for making her cry warred for dominance.
He wasn’t blind. He’d seen the tear streaks on her cheeks and the sadness in her eyes. As she’d been perfectly happy when he’d left to drop off hay to the cattle, he had to assume it was her father’s letter that had made her so unhappy.
“Stupid jerk,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” she murmured, turning her head.
The sweet floral scent of her perfume filled his nostrils and he was filled with an overwhelming desire to protect, to soothe. She’d had to endure so much pain in the past few weeks.
“I could spend the whole day like this with you.” As he said the words, Brad realized they were true. He loved being with her.
“You’d need to eat.” The teasing lilt in her voice told him she might be down, but Margot Sullivan wasn’t out.
Some of the tightness in his heart eased.
“Or you’d get tired of cuddling and we’d both end up naked,” she added.
There were so many light and funny ways he could have taken the conversation, but instead he spoke from the heart. “It’s not about the sex.”
“What isn’t?”
“You and me.”
“I thought you enjoyed making love with me.”
Damn. Was that hurt in her voice?
“I do.” He stroked her arm. “But I like being with you like this, too. I like having breakfast with you and discussing current events and...everything.”
Brad nearly groaned aloud. Could he have sounded any more lame?
“I like all that, too,” she said softly.
He tightened his hold around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. If it made her feel better, he’d spend the entire day with her, like this, just the two of them.
It was then that it hit him. This was exactly how he wanted it to be between them, not just now, but forever. He wanted to share her joys and her sorrows and be the kind of man she deserved.
He loved her. He wanted her to be his wife, the mother of his children.
Brad only wished he knew if she wanted all those things, too.
* * *
Margot snuggled against Brad and realized that her world—which had been off-kilter only hours before—had nearly righted itself.
Being here with him, with his arms around her, made the worries dim in significance.
“I read your dad’s letter,” he confessed in a low voice.
“Did you?”
He couldn’t tell from her response how she felt about him invading her privacy. He hadn’t meant to overstep, but the urge to protect her had been overwhelming. “I realize it wasn’t addressed to me but—”
“You don’t need to explain,” she interrupted. “I’m glad you read it. You and I both needed more closure than a postcard could provide.”
“We still don’t know where he is,” Brad reminded her. “I’m not going to stop looking until I find him.”
“I’m not sure you should do that,” she said in a low voice. “It might be best to just let it go, let him go.”
There was resignation in her tone and something else: an emotion he couldn’t quite identify.
When he spoke, Brad kept his voice casual and offhand. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
He expected her to laugh or at least say that he was way off-base, that she wasn’t afraid of anything. But she didn’t. She remained silent for so long he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
“I’m afraid,” she shifted into him as if needing comfort only he could provide, “that once I know where he is nothing will change. What am I going to do? Go to wherever he is and drag him home? Why? So he can be miserable here? Or maybe so he can tell me face-to-face he no longer wants me in his life?”
Brad had no answer and only one comment. “He’s a fool.”
“No argument here.” She expelled a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. “At least we both know now that the ranch is well and truly yours.”
“No.” Brad rose up on one elbow. “It isn—”
She stopped his words by pulling him down and pressing her mouth to his. The kiss was warm and sweet and gentle and seemed to soothe them both. When it ended she spoke quickly before he had a chance. “Make love to me, Brad.”
He shook his head.
“You’re upset.” He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. “I don’t want to take advantage.”
“I need you.” Her fingers curved into his shirt. “I want to feel your touch and hear your sweet words. I need you to take me away from my worries and just let me be with you.”
He stared into her eyes for several heartbeats, then, reassured by what he saw there, slid his hand under her tee.
When she reached up to tug it off, he stopped her. “This time, we’re going to take it slow. Let me take care of you, Margot. All you have to do is relax...and enjoy.”
Something in his gaze must have conveyed this was important to him. She nodded and the gentle, persuasive onslaught on her senses began.
In a matter of minutes all Margot knew was Brad: his smell, his taste, his strong arms and those heart-rending sweet words. They took it slow this time and when they both found their fulfillment, Margot clung to him wishing the letter had never come and they could have gone on like they had been, forever.
But she’d lived long enough to know that nothing stayed the same in life or in relationships. Change was the only certainty in life.
Today hers had taken another sharp turn in an unexpected direction. And Margot wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do about it.
* * *
Later that day, on the pretext of picking up some supplies, Brad got in the truck and met his brother at the donut shop.
He got a coffee and a muffin then sauntered across the small dining area where Nate sat reading emails on his phone. His older brother looked up when Brad plopped down in the seat across from him.
Nate lifted a dark brow and slid the phone into the pocket of his jacket.
For Brad, sitting across from Nate was similar to looking in a mirror. They shared the same brown hair and green eyes, same build and facial features. In fact, those who didn’t know them often mistook them for twins. But in the past few years things had changed.
The transformation had occurred when Nate met Callie Kennedy. His brother had fallen hard. Now the popular nurse practitioner was his wife. And Nate was a businessman, managing Maverick Manor, a hotel he’d built last year in Rust Creek Falls.
What Brad saw on his brother’s face went beyond the fact that the arrogant cowboy had turned successful businessman. Nate wore an air of contentment as if it was a favorite coat wrapped around his shoulders. That, Brad knew, had nothing to do with the business and everything to do with Callie Kennedy Crawford.
“Something on your mind?” Nate washed down a bite of chocolate donut with a gulp of steaming coffee.
“Of course there’s something on my mind.” Brad expelled a frustrated breath. “Would I have asked you to meet me at this place if there wasn’t?”
Nate took another chunk out of the donut. “You could have just been in the mood for something sweet. Although, you do have something sweet at hom
e.”
Brad’s gaze narrowed. The comment wasn’t about pastries, but Margot. Still, there was nothing lecherous in Nate’s gaze, only mild interest.
“I do.” Brad took a sip of coffee, warming his hands around the ceramic mug.
“You’ve grown attached to her.” Nate spoke in a conversational tone. He leaned back in his chair and studied his brother. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s complicated.” Brad sat down his mug, wondering why he was really here and what he wanted his brother to do for him. From the look on Nate’s face, he was wondering that, too.
“I’m in love with her,” Brad blurted out, surprising them both.
“She’s only been in town a few weeks.” Nate didn’t bother to hide his surprise. Obviously, whatever he’d expected his brother to say, it wasn’t a confession of love.
“It is what it is.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
Brad raked a hand through his hair. “I feel as if I’m on a bull and the eight seconds has come and gone and I’m still being tossed around on the animal’s back. Part of me finds it exhilarating, part of me is scared to death—and I’ll deny that if you tell anyone—the other part doesn’t want the ride to end.”
Nate simply nodded and finished off the donut.
His brother had his own share of experience with love and heartbreak. When he was a student in Missoula, Nate had fallen in love with Zoe Baker. They’d married and been happy. Heck, Nate and Zoe had been expecting a child. But the delivery had gone horribly wrong and both Zoe and the child died.
Nate had been inconsolable. For ten years he’d accepted that there would never be anyone else like Zoe. Then, on a cold winter day, nurse practitioner Callie Kennedy had run out of gas on the side of the road and Nate had stopped to offer assistance. The rest was, as they say, history.
“What do you want?” Nate finally asked. “I mean, really want from Margot?”
“I want to marry her,” Brad heard himself say. “I want her to stay here in Rust Creek Falls. I want to build a life with her on the Leap of Faith.”
“Her father’s ranch?”
“It’s mine now.”
“I thought you told me you planned to give it back to the old guy.”
Brad took a few moments and explained about the postcard and the letter. “I don’t think he’s coming home.”
Nate shook his head. “The old guy sounds crazy.”
“It’s impossible to predict what he might do,” Brad agreed. “But Boyd is the least of my concerns. If he comes back and wants the ranch, I’ll give it to him. I don’t need his land. The Crawfords have plenty.”
It was true, of course. It was also true that Brad’s father had, up to now, refused to parcel off some acres for Brad to have his own place. His dad had said he didn’t seem ready, whatever the hell that meant. But he’d been pleased with Brad’s efforts in restoring the Leap of Faith to a well-run spread and Brad surmised if he asked again, the response would be different.
Nate finished off the last of his donut. “So what’s the problem, little brother?”
“I don’t want to screw this up, Nate. Not like I did with Janie.” The admission embarrassed Brad. He was a man used to being in total control of his emotions and his life.
Nate’s expression revealed nothing. “Is Margot like Janie?”
Brad knew what his brother was asking. Is Margot self-centered and spoiled? Nate had never liked Brad’s ex-wife. But Brad knew the failure of their marriage wasn’t just on Janie’s back, but on his, too.
“Margot is nothing like Janie,” he told his brother. “But I played a part in the failure of my marriage. I swept things under the rug. We had disagreements and problems but either we fought about them at the top of our lungs or we ignored them. I’m not proud of that.”
“Everything that happens in our lives, good or bad, changes us in some way.” Nate gazed down into his coffee mug as if thinking back. “One thing I’ve learned. The growing comes, not by simply recognizing what you did wrong or where you fell short, it’s when you dig deep and make changes.”
Brad understood what his brother was saying. The way he’d dealt with Janie, his inability to discuss an issue rationally and his unwillingness to compromise, had been the death knell for his marriage.
He also realized part of the reason he hadn’t fought for his marriage was because he’d never really loved Janie. Not in the forever-after-until-death-do-us-part way that a man should love his wife.
His feelings for his ex-wife, even when things were good, hadn’t been a tenth of what he felt for Margot. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy, whether that involved him being in her life or not.
He knew what he had to do.
Brad pushed back his chair with a clatter and stood. “I’m going to be heading to Los Angeles for a few days. I’d appreciate it if you or dad would check in with Margot and make sure she’s okay.”
Nate studied his brother. “What are you up to, bro?”
“Hopefully making the woman I love very happy.”
With those words, Brad strolled out of the shop.
Chapter Nineteen
Margot told herself she was glad Brad had gone into town. It gave her some much-needed time to think, to plan her future.
She took Storm slowly around the barrels. She told herself she wasn’t racing. That was against doctor’s orders. She was simply walking her horse in the corral. The barrels were like trees in a field, you either plowed into them or you went around them.
The right, left, left turns were as familiar to Margot as tying her shoes. Just walking around the barrels that Brad had set in the standard triangular pattern had her recalling the excitement of those early years.
She remembered teaching Bonner, her first horse, how to do a perfect circle at a walk, trot and lope. They’d progressed from there.
Though her father had been a critical taskmaster, she’d known she had a natural talent for the sport. She also knew he’d never have pushed her so hard if he hadn’t recognized that fact, too.
From the beginning, Margot had loved everything about the sport: the cheers of the spectators in the bleachers, the thrill each time she’d cut her time by a second. For many years she and her father had been on the same team, shared the same goal—for her to be the best. For her to be a champion.
In the past year, even before the accident, the lifestyle had lost some of its luster. She’d grown weary of living out of trailers, of competing over a hundred times in the season, sometimes riding twice a night. Most of the prize money she earned went toward entry fees and living expenses.
If she hadn’t gotten a few sponsors this past year, with the rise in gasoline prices, Margot had no doubt her expenditures would have exceeded her income. Money hadn’t mattered when she’d left Rust Creek Falls. All that had mattered was riding and winning.
Only lately had her dreams begun to morph, to change.
Chasing the win was no longer the life she wanted. She wanted to stay here, work the ranch and teach. She wanted to do all that with Brad.
Storm pulled against the reins and tossed her head, eager for more speed. Margot gave the Arabian a little more lead as her mind settled on the one truth she hadn’t been able to accept until this moment. She’d fallen in love with Brad Crawford.
She didn’t want to crisscross the country and fight to make it to Las Vegas. Not because she didn’t think she was good enough. Margot had no doubt that next year, or perhaps the year after, she’d find herself eyeing a championship.
Yet that goal no longer gripped her and she was smart enough to know that success at that level demanded not only skill, but total dedication and passion.
Some might wonder if making it to that big stage had been more her father’s dream than her own. T
he truth was, for many years winning on rodeo’s biggest stage had been her dream, too. She’d wanted it for herself, just as much as Boyd had wanted it for her.
But now, she wanted what she couldn’t have—a life on the Leap of Faith with Brad.
The ranch was no longer hers. And Brad, well, there had been an unspoken agreement between them. Whatever happened would be short-term and fun. He’d never said he loved her, though sometimes she wondered how he could be so tender and gentle if he didn’t.
Of course, she knew his reputation and was well aware he didn’t stay with one woman for long. There was no reason to think she was any different than the numerous other women who’d flowed in and out of his life in the past few years.
Though he acted as if he didn’t want to take the Leap of Faith from her or from her father, it was obvious by how hard he worked that he’d grown to love the ranch. She also knew she couldn’t keep it up on her own.
No, she corrected herself as Storm’s walk became a lope, if the Leap of Faith was hers she could make it work. It would mean long, hard days and watching every penny to make sure there was enough for repairs and feed. It would mean hiring men sparingly to help her while doing the majority of the work herself.
She’d have to give up her blogging and her teaching; there would be no time for any of that if she was running the ranch alone.
Even worse, how could she remain in Rust Creek Falls and watch Brad fall in love with someone else? She couldn’t.
No matter how much Margot loved it here, she was going to have to find a new home.
* * *
Brad called to Margot when he entered the front door of the house, but got no response. He paused in the parlor.
Viper looked up from cleaning one of the baby vipers and gave him a cool stare. Yesterday, he swore she’d thumped her tail on the floor but that may have been an optical illusion.
Regardless, it appeared he was on the outs again with the blue heeler.
A quick scan of the parlor and the kitchen showed no Margot. He checked the upstairs before heading outside.
