* * *
BARRIE SHOT CURTIS a disappointed look as he eased into the cab of her SUV. Yeah, that was familiar. Miley jumped into the back seat, and she slammed the door. He leaned over to push the driver’s side door open, and a stab of pain shot through his ribs.
“I always hated this,” Barrie said as she hoisted herself into the driver’s seat, ignoring his grunt of pain as he pulled himself into an upright position again.
“This is my first bar brawl,” he replied with a small smile.
“I hated picking you up with broken ribs, a cast, a split lip...” She turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. “But it was your choice. You loved bull riding, and nothing I ever said could keep you from it.”
“This was a little different,” he said.
“Not to me.” She pulled out of the parking lot and onto Montana Avenue. “This is exactly the same from where I’m sitting. I get a call, and I come pick you up in pieces.”
“Barrie, I’m fine.” Curtis heaved an irritated sigh. “I get that I’m not pretty right now, but a cold steak on this eye and I’ll be presentable.”
Barrie didn’t answer, and Curtis turned his attention to the streets sliding past. He knew her well enough to see that under that veneer of anger was fear. This had scared her—and, well, it should. A fight hadn’t been his intention, but if he could redo tonight, he couldn’t say that he’d do anything differently. She hadn’t heard the things Dwight had said, and if Curtis had his way, she never would. That would scare her a whole lot more than his mangled mug. They were approaching the turn for the Honky Tonk, but she didn’t seem to be slowing down.
“My truck is in the bar parking lot,” he said.
“Hmm.” She passed the turn without even a glance.
“So you’re not dropping me off at my truck,” he clarified.
“You’re coming home with me,” she replied, her tone icy.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“I really shouldn’t have to do this!” Barrie shot him an angry look. “I’m taking you back to my place and giving you that cold steak for your eye. If you want your truck so badly tonight, you can damn well walk to the Honky Tonk, but I’m not leaving you there.”
Curtis wasn’t sure how to answer that—this was a Barrie he’d never seen before. Back in their married days, she’d have yelled and cried. She’d even kicked him out a couple of times. But whatever lecture might have been coming his way back then didn’t seem forthcoming now. It stood to reason—they were no longer married. But taking him back to her place was no longer necessary, either.
Barrie signaled the turn onto her street.
“I appreciate the gesture,” he said. “But I’m not exactly helpless here.”
Barrie pulled into her drive and parked. Then she turned toward him. “So I’m supposed to just not worry about you, then? I should just crawl back into my bed and forget all about you?”
“It’s what most exes do.”
“I guess I’m not like most.” She got out of the truck and slammed her door. Curtis looked back at Miley, who met Curtis’s gaze with a mournful look of his own.
“Women, am I right?” Curtis muttered.
Then Barrie pulled open the back door to let Miley out. The dog looked between Curtis and his mistress, then scrambled down and into the snow. Curtis opened his own door and headed around the vehicle. Barrie hadn’t waited for him, and she stood with her back to him while she unlocked the front door. Miley was marking a bush at the side of the house.
“Come on,” Barrie said, her tone softening, and when he and Miley both moved toward her, he suddenly wondered which one of them she’d been talking to. Whatever. He’d take her up on that offer of a cold steak, and after that, he’d leave her alone.
When Curtis got inside, he managed to ease out of his coat without any help. Those ribs were bruised, not broken—he knew the difference from experience. Bull riding was harder on a body than bar brawls.
“Sit,” Barrie ordered, pulling out a kitchen chair.
Miley dropped into a seated position, and the dog shot Curtis a sidelong look.
“He seems to know when you’re serious.” Curtis chuckled, and he headed for the chair that Barrie indicated.
“Not you, silly,” Barrie said, rubbing her hand over Miley’s head. Then she went to the fridge and pulled out a bowl of fresh meat cuts.
“So you just have beef in your fridge all the time?” he asked incredulously.
“It’s Miley’s, so yes,” she said, picking through the bowl until she came up with a marbled, gristly piece of meat that looked big enough. Then she came over to where he sat and looked down on him. Her eyes had lost the angry glitter, leaving her looking tired and sad.
“You sure you don’t want to just yell at me like the good old days?” he asked testily. Honestly, it would have been easier to tune her out if she’d just tell him off.
“I think we’re past that, aren’t we?” She carefully laid the meat over his swollen eye. “There.”
Miley, still seated, eyed the meat on Curtis’s face covetously. Barrie took another couple of pieces of meat to Miley’s bowl and dropped them in. Miley followed and gulped them down in two mouthfuls.
“Why did you like it so much?” she asked after a moment of silence. “The bull riding, I mean.”
“Adrenaline,” he replied. “It makes you feel alive—man against beast.” Not unlike a bar fight with Dwight, ironically enough.
“Hmm.” She turned on the tap and washed her hands. “And that was enough to endure the broken bones and concussions and—” she turned the water off “—the pain?”
“I survived.” He attempted to turn and look at her, but his side was too sore to allow the twisting motion.
“You never did think of what it did to me, did you?” She pulled out the chair opposite him, then sank into it. “Do you know what it’s like to see the man you love in that state?”
“It’s part of the sport, Barrie—”
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “And it’s no longer my business. But all of this—” she gestured to his face “—is a little too familiar.”
Her sitting in the kitchen late at night, looking pale and drawn—yeah, this was pretty familiar to him, too. Them butting heads over what he wanted, and what she wanted... It was exhausting.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you back then,” he said. “I needed the outlet. I mean, I was no good at school, and bull riding was the one thing that people gave me some credit for. I needed that. You were smart, going places. Everyone said so. I was—” He shrugged, unsure of how to finish that. He was the guy no one thought was good enough for the likes of Barrie Jones.
“You were smart, too,” she countered.
Curtis didn’t answer. He didn’t need to be soothed or mollycoddled. He knew the score, and he’d made his peace with it over the years. Some guys were better at book work, and some guys had better instincts with hands-on work. Curtis was the latter, and that eight-second ride was his proof. That was the one place that his skill set—agility, instinct and bullheaded courage—seemed to matter. Because it sure hadn’t been enough to keep him married.
“I loved you, Curtis.” She sighed softly. “I really did. And every time you came home with a broken bone or a nasty sprain, it meant that you were choosing an eight-second thrill over me.”
“You had me for life, Barrie. You couldn’t give me eight seconds?”
“It’s my fault, really.” Barrie pushed herself to her feet, one hand in the small of her back. “I thought I could tame you.”
She started to move past him again, and he shot out his hand and caught her wrist. “You did.”
“I thought you’d turn into a family man,” she said. “I thought you’d come home to me in the evenings, and we’d t
alk and cuddle. I thought you’d become a husband and maybe—” she tugged her wrist free of his grasp “—and maybe a father.”
Curtis dropped his hand. “I wasn’t ready to be a dad back then. I told you that all the time.”
“I know.”
That had been a source of arguments, too. She wanted a baby right away. That was before she changed her mind and decided she wanted school first. They’d both been young, and she hadn’t found her path yet, apparently. For Curtis, he’d wanted to have some fun. Just because they were married didn’t mean they had to start with all the heavy responsibilities so soon. They were young and healthy and in love... Frankly, he was more concerned about his time with her between the sheets than he was with starting a family.
“A baby wouldn’t have made things easier between us,” he added.
“I know that, too.” She smiled tiredly. “And you want to know something? I was dumb enough back then to think that a baby would nail you down with us, give you another reason to drop the bull riding and do something serious.”
“Yeah?” He’d suspected as much, but he was surprised to hear her admit to it. She went back to the counter and flicked on the electric kettle. Her voice came from behind him, so he couldn’t see her face.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking about it over the years, and I realized that while I loved you for who you were, I wanted to marry you for your potential to be...more. And that doesn’t work. I was trying to change you into a different man, and I thought that marriage would change you.”
Which was why she never should have married him to begin with. He heard that loud and clear. And while he could agree on a logical, mental level, his heart ached.
“I always was too stubborn for my own good,” he said.
“Yes, you were.” She came back and sat down again.
“I think we both had an idea of what marriage would be, and we never really talked about it,” he said. “Or maybe we already knew that if we put all our cards on the table it wouldn’t work.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Everyone told us to think it through, and we were determined to plow ahead anyway.”
More than determined. Desperate. All he’d wanted was to make it legal, claim her as his... If only he’d known how hard marriage would turn out to be. Love wasn’t enough when building a life with a woman.
“I might have been a stubborn lout, but for what it’s worth, I loved you.”
She smiled sadly, then dropped her gaze to the table. “I know.”
Of all the tangle of things he wished he could tell her, that was the most important. They might have been mismatched from the start, but he’d been there for the right reasons. The kettle started to whistle, breaking the moment.
“Do you want tea?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” He pulled the piece of meat off his eye. “What I want is for you to go to bed and get some rest. I feel bad enough having woken you up.”
“I can make you a bed on the couch,” she said.
“No.” That’s where this ended. He wasn’t a bedraggled kitten to be cared for by Barrie’s big heart. Besides, if he had to spend the night a stone’s throw from her bedroom, she’d either end up kicking him out, or he’d convince her to do something they’d both regret the next morning. “I’m going to walk over to the Honky Tonk and pick up my truck.”
“But you’re—”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted her. “Look.” He could feel that the swelling on his eye had gone down already.
Barrie put out one hand and gingerly touched his temple. Her fingers lingered, and Curtis put a hand over hers. Looking at her—her eyes bleary with exhaustion, her hair mussed and her belly domed out in front of her—he wanted to be the one to take care of her, not the other way around. He wanted to pull her into his arms and prove just how “fine” he really was, and that mental image was so strong, he had to shut his eyes to vanquish it. He’d already let things go too far in this kitchen once already, and he wasn’t going to do that again.
“I’ll get going,” he said, and he rose to his feet.
This time when he went to the door, he kept his hands to his sides. “Thank you, Barrie.”
He meant for tonight, for fifteen years ago when she’d shared her life with him for just a short while...for enduring the frustration that came with an emotionally stunted bull rider.
“Don’t mention it.”
Curtis settled his hat back on his head and opened the door. He’d get his truck and go back to the ranch. Chores would be waiting at 4:00 a.m. whether he was ready or not. And he needed to think clearly. Frustrating as it was, Barrie still seemed capable of firing his blood without any effort on her part.
Chapter Eleven
Barrie stood in her kitchen the next morning, a mug of tea on the counter next to a stack of buttered toast. It was Saturday, and her clinic was closed, except for emergency calls. She was glad for the quiet and the time to herself. She’d slept in after her late night with Curtis, and she’d woken up feeling restless and uncertain.
Curtis was getting under her skin again, and she hated that. They’d always had an unexplainable chemistry. Even when she’d been furious with him last night, she’d felt it—that desire to take care of him, clean him up, give him some comfort.
“Miley, that man isn’t my problem anymore,” she said, carrying the tea and toast to the table. “You’d think I could remember that.”
Miley followed her, his eyes pinned to her plate of toast. She chuckled and tore off a crust for him, which he swallowed in one gulp.
But Curtis had felt it, too, last night. She’d seen that hungry look in his eye and the dogged determination to keep it in check. She knew his tells, and when his jaw tensed and his gaze grew laser focused, she knew what he was thinking. The realization sent shivers through her. The physical aspect of their relationship had always been amazing. He could coax pleasure out of her that she hadn’t even known was possible. But she pushed those memories back. Their sensual connection hadn’t been enough to save their marriage, and it wasn’t enough to start something up again.
He’d been right to leave instead of staying the night. She’d never have slept properly knowing he was out there on the couch. She was as bad as he was when it came to their attraction. Their feelings for each other had always been intense—both the chemistry and the frustration when they just couldn’t seem to get on the same page, and she knew better than to toy with impulses that strong.
Barrie’s cell phone blipped, and she glanced down at an incoming text from Mallory:
Mike told me about Curtis. What happened?
Long story, she typed back. Too much to text.
How about a little shopping? Mike will take the kids for the morning.
Barrie sighed. Did she really want to do this? She was already wound up about Curtis, and shopping wasn’t exactly relaxing... But this might be good for her—get her out of her head a little bit. She picked up the phone and typed back:
Sure. I’ll meet you at the store. What time?
An hour later, Barrie arrived at Hope’s one and only maternity shop, Blooming Motherhood. Mallory met her on the sidewalk out front, holding two coffees. Mallory’s sandy-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She passed a cup to Barrie.
“Really?” Barrie broke into a smile. “Thanks.”
“I had a feeling you could use it after last night,” Mallory replied. “So how are you?”
“I’m fine,” Barrie said, taking a sip of what turned out to be a hazelnut latte. “He’s the same guy he’s always been, just a bit older. I don’t know what to say.”
“What happened after you picked him up from the station?” Mallory pressed.
“I took him back to my place and put a steak on his eye, and then he left.” Bar
rie shrugged. “It was all so familiar—bandaging up my broken cowboy... I can’t do it anymore.”
“But this was different, wasn’t it?” Mallory asked. “He wasn’t bull riding, at least.”
“When he left, I went to bed, and instead of remembering the good times with Curtis, all I could think about was how shredded I felt when he left me. I still remember waking up the next morning after he’d packed his bag and stomped out, and thinking, ‘He’ll come back. He always comes back.’ And I was planning on punishing him a little bit. Maybe being gone when he finally did. Let him feel some of the pain I felt. But...” Barrie shrugged. “That was the last time.”
“What did you fight about?” Mallory asked.
“Curtis was offered a chance to do the bull riding circuit,” Barrie replied. “We’d been fighting about everything at that point, and when I said forget it, he said that I was controlling. And that stabbed, because I wasn’t trying to control him...” Barrie sighed. “Or maybe I was. I wanted to make him into a stable husband, and that wasn’t Curtis. Long story short, we both said things that we couldn’t take back, and I told him to get out. And he did.”
Barrie’s eyes misted and she shook her head. “You see? This is stupid! It was fifteen years ago, but seeing him again has been harder than I thought.”
Mallory reached out and squeezed Barrie’s hand. “We never quite forget the ones that got away, do we?”
“Apparently not,” Barrie agreed. “But it was for the best. If he was going to leave me, better sooner than later, I guess.” She hadn’t intended to get into all of this on the street, and her cheeks flushed. “Let’s go in. I’m cold.”
Once they were inside, the shopkeeper called out a cheery hello. Barrie looked around at the various pregnant mannequins and heaved a sigh. She didn’t know where to start. Before this belly, she knew what she liked—jeans, fitted tees and the odd sweater. But even her largest sweaters were starting to get snug.
“What about this?” Mallory asked, holding up a shirt.
Barrie eyed it for a moment, not sure what to think. Mallory’s expression softened, and she stepped closer. “Do you hate it? Like it? I need a reaction here.”
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