Craig was already there.
“You clean up nice, bait man.”
Ritt shot him a look. “Let’s get this over with.”
The seamstresses bustled around, making marks here and there to fit the tux. Jacket shoulders, arm lengths, hems. Ritt stood as patiently as possible when he really wanted to run and duck for cover. Seeing Shelby again had been like a knife to the heart. Everything he had wanted, everything he hadn’t gotten in his life all rolled up into one.
“So Shelby’s back.”
Ritt snorted. “For a day.”
“She said she’d come to the wedding.”
Ritt shrugged.
The seamstress frowned and pulled on the shoulders of his jacket.
“Sorry,” Ritt murmured.
“You know you don’t have to make this so difficult.” Craig’s voice was patient and understanding. But how could he know what Ritt was feeling?
“Why should I make this easy on her?”
“Well, you love her for one.”
Ritt stifled a snort. “That was a long time ago, buddy.”
“Then let her go. She’s made good for herself, you know.”
“How do you know?”
“Facebook.”
“That’s just what she needs.” Respectability. That was the one thing that Shelby cared most about. With a mother like hers, who could blame her?
“She owns a bakery. Cupcakes and designer cakes. That kind of thing.”
“Shelby?” he scoffed. “Shelby Patterson?”
“Shelby McCoy,” Craig corrected.
Ritt shook his head. “Shelby can’t cook.”
“Evidently she learned.”
“You know this how?”
“Google. You really got to get out more.”
“So that’s how you spent the afternoon, Googling my wife?”
Craig made a face. “That sounds dirty, but yeah… And looking over the papers.”
“You told her that you couldn’t get to them till tomorrow.”
“You know I’m going to have to draw up new ones.”
Ritt nodded. “I suppose.”
The seamstress tugged on his hem one last time. “All done, sir.”
Ritt turned to look at himself in the mirror. Monkey suit. Pomp and circumstance. All this wedding jive. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done all this for Shelby if maybe she would have stayed.
No, the voice inside him whispered. They were doomed from the beginning. An unplanned pregnancy was the bottom of the respectability barrel. There was no getting out of that one. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she ran. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Chapter Two
Promptly at three the next afternoon, Shelby entered the offices of Coltrane, Elliot, and Johnson. They had a cool and breezy look, like a slice of the Caribbean had been brought to the Texas panhandle. Pale, aqua-tinted walls, crisp white trim and large potted plants. Only the golden-toned wood floors added a touch of the real locale.
A small brunette sat behind a large desk, her breezy white outfit in perfect harmony with her surroundings.
“Shelby Patterson. I’m here to see Craig Combs.”
The receptionist smiled and scanned her appointment calendar. “I have a Shelby McCoy.”
How long had it been since someone had called her that? Seven years if a day. She’d never really gone by Ritt’s name. There hadn’t been any time. But using Patterson had taken away some of the sting and made the biggest mistake of her life seem like…less. “McCoy is my married name.”
The woman raised one dark brow in question. “Second door on the left. Go on back. They’re expecting you.”
Shelby nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. It was all about to end.
Craig was seated behind a large dark wooden desk. A computer monitor flashed in front of him, a familiar envelope lying open on the large calendar/blotter.
Ritt slouched in one of the leather chairs facing the desk, his booted feet stretched out in front.
Shelby stopped short. Her breath caught in her throat. A hand fluttered to her hair to smooth down her tidy chignon. She was grateful she had taken the time to buy a new shirt and skirt for the occasion. She had been tempted to pick up a tracksuit at Penney’s to see her through, but instead had splurged on a short gray skirt and a silky white button-down from Dillard’s. It seemed like today she was going to need all the confidence she could muster.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
Ritt rolled his head in her direction, the brim of that stupid orange baseball hat hiding his eyes. “It’s my divorce too.”
“There was no need…” Her words trailed off as Craig stood.
He smoothed a hand over the front of his shirt and motioned with the other for her to sit. “Glad you could make it, Shelby.”
She nodded, then cautiously picked her way around to the front of the chair. She had to step over Ritt’s feet to do so, and she wondered if he’d positioned himself like that to make it difficult for her. She wouldn’t put it past him. It seemed he had no desire to let things happen smoothly. He hadn’t been so opposed that one night down by the lake…
She wiped that thought from her mind, setting her handbag on the floor next to her chair and giving Craig a respectful and attentive look. It beat the heck out of staring at Ritt’s biceps. Even out of the corner of her eye she could see the ripped muscles as he sat with his shoulders hunched, his arms crossed over that so broad chest.
“You both know why we’re here. Now, in light of other circumstances, there are a few things we need to discuss before getting down to the business of signing.”
“What? He hasn’t signed them?” Shelby was on her feet in a heartbeat.
“Shelby, there’s more to talk about than—”
“Why hasn’t he signed them?” Her temper would get her nowhere, but she was two days off already. She wasn’t about to spend any more time in Texas than absolutely necessary.
“I’m right here. You can talk to me, you know.”
She kept her eyes trained on Craig. “I came here to pick up the papers. Which meant they should be signed. I don’t understand why they’re not signed.”
“See what I mean?” Ritt started. “I told you she was going to be like this.”
She rounded on him. “Like what?”
“Guys—” Craig interjected.
“A brat.”
“I am not a brat.” She stamped her foot to prove it.
“I knew you’d come flying in here, guns blazing, if you didn’t get your way.”
“Guys, really—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Guys—”
“I know how you are.”
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“I know this: You’re a coward. Come down here demanding a divorce after seven years. You didn’t give us a chance. Ever. First sign of trouble and you were out the door. Just took the money and ran. You’re running still.”
“Both of you shut up!” Craig’s command rattled the windows.
Shelby took a deep breath. Ritt was wrong. She wasn’t running. She was beginning. She could only do that with an end to her Texas life, and that started and ended with her husband.
Funny, but she hadn’t thought about him that way in a long time. Not since those first days filled with hope as bright as the sun. Those days were gone forever. Now he was merely someone she’d once known, someone she’d almost had a baby with.
“Sit down, Shelby.” Craig’s words sounded like he was talking to a pet, but she did as he asked. She wasn’t getting anywhere with Ritt like this.
As the thought crossed her mind, he stood. “You know what? I’m outta here.”
“Ritt.” Craig’s voice was low with warning.
“I don’t have to sign. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.”
She wat
ched speechless as he walked out the door. That was so like Ritt. He accused her of running, but who was the coward now?
The paneled oak slammed behind him, and Shelby turned back to Craig.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said.
She pressed her lips together and nodded. What else could she do?
Craig picked up the thick packet of papers that held her dreams, her do-over. “Would you like to take a look at these?”
She forced a smile. “Not right now.” Her head was starting to pound, her thoughts chasing themselves around in circles. Maybe tomorrow he’d said, which meant another night at the hotel. She’d have to call the shop and tell Kathryn that she’d be out for a couple more days. Luckily she didn’t have anything waiting for her attention. There was the Anderson’s birthday party this weekend, but Kat could handle that one by herself. The Riley wedding was still two weeks away. Plenty of time to finish that when she got home.
Craig slid the papers into the manila envelope and pushed it across the desk. “You can look over them later.”
Shelby nodded. “Why is he—?” She didn’t finish. Why was he acting like this? Why was he being so stubborn?
“Your leaving really hurt him, Shelby.”
“He didn’t even know I was gone.”
Craig shook his head. “He knew all right. He lost everything when he lost you and the baby.”
It had been seven years. It shouldn’t hurt so much when someone mentioned the baby that she and Ritt had made and lost. Yet it did. Some pains never eased.
As bad as it hurt to admit it, losing the baby had been a blessing in disguise, a twist of fate that they needed. Without a baby and a wife, Ritt could play ball for Texas. Shelby’s grades weren’t bad, but not good enough to get her into the university. Her mother didn’t have the money to put her through college. What choice did Shelby have but to move to California? She was going to be left behind anyway. He’d be leaving. Her mother was leaving. What did Ritt expect her to do? Stay living with his parents?
She shook her head. “I left so he could go back to school.”
“He’d already lost his place on the team.”
“But—” Her mother had told her it was for the best. They would leave, get a fresh start. Ritt would go to school, play baseball for Texas University like had been his dream since as long as she could remember, then everybody would be happy again.
What did you think? That he’d graduated with a degree in engineering and that’s why he works at the bait shop?
“You know Ritt.” Craig’s words brought her out of her thoughts.
She thought she had. Once upon a time.
“He loved you more than anything in the world. Then you left without giving your marriage a chance.”
“But the baby—”
Craig shook his head. “The baby wasn’t the issue, Shelby. He wanted you. And you walked out.”
What a day.
Ritt let himself in the house, not bothering to turn on any lights. The remaining rays from a brilliant West Texas sunset were enough for him to get into the house and toe off his boots. Right now all he wanted was to have a beer, check the scores and forget today ever happened.
He padded to the fridge in his sock feet, opening the door and regarding his options.
“Honey? Is that you?”
If that same voice hadn’t filled his dreams for more years than he cared to remember, he might have jumped out of his skin. As it was, he peered around the door.
“Shelby?”
She stood in the archway that led to the dining room. She had on the same shirt and skirt that she’d worn to their meeting with Craig, the same sexy shoes, and one of his mother’s gawd-awful floral-print aprons looped over her neck and tied around her waist. She smiled as if she had a secret. A really evil secret, and Ritt felt a shudder skitter down his spine.
“What are you doing here?” It took everything he had not to snarl the words. He wasn’t about to let her see how much her presence affected him.
“Is this what I should expect every night?”
Ritt snatched a beer, straightened, then shut the refrigerator door. He popped the top off the brown bottle with the church key mounted on the side of the cabinet and took a healthy swig before answering. “I’m going with no.”
“So you don’t come home and have a drink before dinner?”
“How’d you get in here?”
“You know, you should really tell your mama to move the spare key. Seven years, Ritt, and it was still there. Speaking of, where are your folks?”
Suddenly the sophisticated baker from this afternoon was replaced by a Texas girl in really high heels.
Damn, she was hot. Right now she was making his blood boil, but for all the wrong reasons.
“They’re touring the lower forty-eight in an RV.”
She faltered. “They’re not here?”
“Nope.”
“Kyle?” She seemed hopeful.
“He’s in Lubbock.”
“So…we’re…alone?”
He gave a quick nod.
“Oh.” That didn’t seem to be part of her plan. The light in her pale gray eyes dimmed a tad before she covered the reaction. “Well, then more for us, right?”
“More what?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Supper, silly. Why else would I be here?”
“Funny, I was asking myself the same thing.” For the first time he noticed the smell coming from the dining room. And all the dirty dishes piled in the sink. And the splatters on the stove. It hadn’t looked like this when he left this morning. Mainly because he never cooked, preferring to stop by the diner to eat. Or drive into Amarillo if he wanted something different. Cooking for one was a hassle, a complete waste of time. “You cooked?”
She nodded, a strand of hair working loose from her librarian hairdo to brush against her cheek. “Of course, I did.”
“Of course.” He took another swig of the beer, wishing instead for something stronger. Anything to dull the longing now pounding through his blood.
She tilted her head to one side, that evil smile back on her face. Well, the smile itself wasn’t particularly evil, but it was too innocent to be anything else. What was she up to now?
“Isn’t that the job of a good wife?” she said the last two words around an exaggerated pout. “Cook for her husband?”
“Among other things.” He watched her carefully molded features. She gave nothing away at his insinuation, but she had to be thinking the same as he. All the times they’d made love, fumbling at first then learning the other’s likes and desires, all the secret places. He wondered if he kissed her on that throbbing vein in her neck if she’d sigh like she used to.
“Well, I figured that if you were having such a time signing those papers that maybe you really wanted a wife. So I said to myself, Shelby, you must get over there and do everything in your power to be a good wife to your husband.” Her voice held an inflated Texas drawl.
“Everything?”
Her look was coy, her words a purr. “I made dinner.”
Shelby had never been able to cook before, burning everything from eggs to pasta. But her culinary talents were not the reason he’d married her.
Still, what harm could it do to allow her to finish this little charade? What did she think? That she could cook him a little something, and he’d be so grateful that he’d sign her stupid papers? Not likely. But he’d get a free meal out of the deal. He smiled to himself.
This was a game he’d have to see through till the end. Or maybe until he got bored.
Why not let her grovel a little, cook and such, in her efforts to convince him to what? To let her go?
That wasn’t something he was ready to do. He was still angry. Still seething over the fact that she’d left. She’d taken his parents’ bribe and walked away without a backward glance. He’d given up everything for her and in the end he’d lost it all. So no, he wasn’t going to just sign the papers and give her a q
uickie divorce. She was going to have to work for it.
But there was no reason why he couldn’t benefit from this. No siree, none at all.
Except Shelby’s cooking skills hadn’t improved one iota in the seven years they had been estranged.
Ritt dragged his fork through the casserole. At least he thought it was a casserole. How did a person overcook the pasta and undercook the meat in the same dish?
“I thought Craig said you baked cakes or something for a living.” Sounded like a scam to him.
“I do.”
He looked down at the congealed mess that was in her terms “supper” then back up to those unbelievable gray eyes.
“Is your dinner not to your liking?”
“I think I’ve had enough for one night.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stood.
She sat there, innocently picking through her cooked-to-mush mixed vegetables as if searching for lost treasure.
“Come on, Shelby. Time to go.”
“Go where?”
“Your hotel.”
“But you said I never gave our marriage a chance. How can I do that if I’m staying in a hotel? Besides, there’s some big convention and a huge wedding that have all of the rooms from here to Midland booked.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, my dear husband, that I’m moving in.”
Chapter Three
Moving in. Ritt scoffed. Moved in was more like it. She already had all of her things scattered throughout the house like she’d been there forever. Toothbrush in the holder next to his, makeup all over the counter, hell, she’d even stashed a box of tampons under the sink.
She was just doing this to get under his skin. So far it was working, but he’d be damned before he’d let her know that.
Ritt punched his pillow into submission. It was impossible to sleep, knowing that she was in the rarely used guest room…so close. Short of twisting her arm behind her back and forcibly kicking her out the door, he had no way of making her leave. Now his best course of action was to pretend that she wasn’t there. That she wasn’t slowly driving him out of his mind.
“Ritt? Are you asleep?”
He propped himself onto his elbows. What was she, like a ninja or something? He hadn’t heard her walk across the creaky old hardwood floors, hadn’t heard her open the door to his room, but there she was, backlit from the light he left on in the hallway bathroom. Her silhouette enticing and doing terrible things to his resolve.
Blame it on Texas Page 2
