“You didn’t jump him, did you?”
“Flora, if I did, it’s none of your business.”
“Oh, sure it is,” she said, meeting her gaze with tears in her own. “What am I going to do without you, honey?” she asked. “This is worse than when you went off to college.”
“I’ll come back to visit,” Amanda said, feeling as if she’d swallowed a whole bale of hay, and that she was allergic to that hay, too, because, darn it, her eyes watered up again.
“It’s not the same,” Flora said, and they both knew it wasn’t.
“Are you going to hug her all day, or do we get a turn?” Martha said.
Amanda drew back and wiped at her eyes, which really did no good because they just filled up with tears again. Darn it, this was why she didn’t want to see them, she thought as she hugged Martha. It felt as if she was losing her mother all over again. Three times over.
Edith hugged her next, the Biddies looking at her with a combination of pity, sympathy and love. Then Flora’s gaze moved past her, settling on her father as if she were a Supreme Court judge and her father a convicted felon. “This wouldn’t have happened, Roy, if you’d—”
“Flora,” her father said, and that was a big part of the conflict between the two. Flora always started a conversation and her father never let her finish it. “Don’t start with me.” Then her dad, her tough, hardened cowboy of a father, inhaled in a way that sounded suspiciously like a sob. When his eyes started to well, Amanda knew the unthinkable had happened. It was one thing to show emotion in front of her, quite another to show it to the Biddy Brigade. Her father hadn’t even cried at her mother’s funeral.
“I messed up,” he said with a masculine swipe at his eyes, a clumsy, fat-fingered gesture all the more moving because they all knew it was rare. “And I expect you three won’t let me forget it, either. Well, that’s fine. I deserve your antipathy. Might even need your help with my drinking problem when I move into that mental ward you three call a retirement home, but not now. Right now I just want to hug my daughter one last time.”
Amanda couldn’t believe her ears. Neither could the Biddies, apparently. The three couldn’t have looked more shocked if an alien spaceship floated above their heads. But that wasn’t surprising given the fact that her father had just done something he’d never done before: admit he had a drinking problem.
“Come on, girls,” Flora said. “Let’s give the man some privacy.”
Man, not loser, not drunk, not any of the other labels Flora usually applied to her father. Maybe her dad might actually make it this time.
But there were no words left to say, and when her father enveloped her in another hug, they both knew it. When he pulled back, Amanda knew this was goodbye. She stiffened, smiled crookedly up at him and said, “Goodbye, Pop. I’ll see you later.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you have Chase help you load your things?”
Chase did, though it didn’t take them long to put six boxes, her childhood bed and dresser, and a few other miscellaneous items away. And then it was time for final hugs all around, although when it came to Chase, there was a look of amusement on his face, not sadness.
“What’s that look for?” Amanda asked.
He gave her a grimace that she figured was supposed to be a smile. “Nothin’. I just know I’ll be seeing you again pretty soon.”
For a moment hope filled her that Chase might know something she didn’t. Maybe Scott had said something to him…
But then she shook her head. Silly, stupid, unrealistic thought. “This from a man who’s been thrown on his head one too many times.”
“Yeah, but I still have all my faculties and something tells me you’ll be back.”
“You’re right,” Amanda said, choosing to misinterpret his comment because she didn’t want to get in a debate about her relationship with Scott. “I’ll be back to visit. Soon,” she said, giving him a hug, and when she pulled back, Scott was there behind him.
Amanda’s heart clenched to a miserable stop, then leapt back to work as she waited for him to say something. Chase smiled again, stepping back, as did the Biddies and her dad, until all that was left was she and Scott standing by the side of her truck.
“So you’re really leaving?”
She had no idea why those words filled her with disappointment. Actually, she did. She’d been hoping…
What, that he’d beg you to stay?
Yup. That’s exactly what she’d hoped in one delirious, silly, ridiculous moment.
“I am,” she said softly.
He came toward her, Amanda stiffening as she waited for him to touch her. But he didn’t. He just stood there with his eyes peering intently down at her from beneath the brim of his black hat. And then he reached into his pocket and Amanda’s breath caught again. Was it a ring…?
A business card. He pulled out a business card. And why the crashing disappointment again Amanda didn’t know. Jeez, what a fool she was.
“Here’s my card in case you lost the first one. Give me a call sometime,” he said.
Amanda took great care not to crush the paper the way she had the last time she’d taken a card from him. Had that been only a few weeks ago? It seemed like a lifetime.
“Thanks,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I will. And if I’m ever driving a helicopter over your house, I’ll be sure to pop in.”
He blinked, his eyes narrowing a bit. “That sounded sarcastic.”
“Did it?” she asked innocently. “Gee, I’m sorry. I guess I just expected a little more from you.”
“Amanda, we’ve been through this. You know I want to see you—”
“You’re right,” she interrupted him. “We have been through this before. And we both recognize that what we want from each other is impossible, though I suppose I have an easier time understanding your actions and motivation than you do mine.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She sucked in a deep breath, which unfortunately only contained the smell of Scott, a warm, heady earthy smell that Amanda knew she’d never forget.
“Let me ask you something, Scott.”
And she had to still the sudden thudding of her heart as she prepared to say her next words. “Have you ever not lost someone you’ve loved? Anyone?” she asked with a tip of her head. “Foster brother, sister…girlfriend?”
He stiffened, his pupils dilating, then shrinking to pinpoints as he blinked. “What kind of question is that?”
She moved away from him, though it felt as if there was an invisible rope that tugged at her as she did so. “Nothing,” she said as she opened her truck’s door. “And everything,” she mumbled, feeling, darn it, tears fill her eyes again. So she climbed in, though her palms had turned sweaty and she fumbled with the seat belt.
She could do this. She really could.
Taking a deep breath, she turned. He stood by the doorjamb. “Goodbye, Scott. I hope you find a love that fills you with happiness, not fear.”
“Amanda—”
But she leaned out, clutched the door and slammed it shut.
He tapped on the window. She started the truck, her ears still ringing from the obnoxious door banging. But she didn’t care. In fact, she hardly noticed as she put the big diesel in gear, backed up and then waved goodbye to everyone, including Scott.
A Scott who didn’t bother to wave back.
A Scott who didn’t move.
A Scott who she would never, ever see again. It wasn’t until she reached the end of the drive that she realized she was sobbing.
Chapter Nineteen
As he sat down, his lawyers and CEO hashing out the terms of a deal that would make him an even richer man, his attention wandered again.
What was she doing right now? he wondered.
And had those really been tears he’d seen in her eyes as she drove off?
“Sco-ot,” his CEO, Chuck Rogers, said.
Scott blinked, realized he’d been asked a question, then sa
id, “What was that?”
Six faces—four male, two female—stared at him in astonishment. “You all right, buddy?” Chuck asked.
“Actually, I’m not,” he said, meeting each of their eyes from across a glass-topped conference table that Amanda would likely think large and overly grandiose with its cherry-wood surface and matching chairs. He almost smiled.
“You know what, guys?” he said, looking at each of them one by one. “I don’t think I care what you do.”
Mary gasped. Chuck’s mouth dropped open. Tim looked ready to choke on the swallow of vanilla-scented coffee he’d just taken a sip of.
“Where are you going?” Chuck asked as Scott rose from the table.
“To get some fresh air,” Scott said, because they didn’t need to know the truth. Heck, if he told them, they’d likely call him crazy. And you know what? Maybe he was. Just maybe he was.
TWO WEEKS.
It’d been two weeks and Amanda still couldn’t get used to the concrete and asphalt that seemed to hedge in the very small ranch her friend owned and used as a boarding stable.
The L.A. sun beat down on her head, the habitual brown gunk that hung overhead casting everything in a murky glow. She hated that brown sky. At least in Los Molina the sky had always been blue, the grass green, the steers calling to one another in the distance.
Gone. All gone.
Her dad had moved out last weekend, the estate-sale company had removed the furniture. All that remained to be done was for Scott to level the place.
Scott.
Time was supposed to heal all wounds, Amanda told herself, but it sure didn’t seem to be helping out this one. She thought about him at least a hundred times a day. Wondered what he was doing. If he thought about her at all. Probably not. He did, after all, have a business to run. He didn’t need Amanda Johnson to keep him happy. And that hurt most of all, because as each day passed by, a part of Amanda always listening for that stupid helicopter of his, she realized it was over. Really and truly over. She just needed to get over him, too, she thought as she headed toward the main barn, a horse nickering when it saw her coming.
But a slamming door brought her up short, and when she saw who it was, she froze in her tracks.
Flora got out of her Camaro. And from the other side, Martha got out, saying, “…the most ridiculous excuse for a car I’ve ever ridden in. Don’t they realize there’s no leg room?”
“It’s a sports car, Martha,” Flora said. “It’s not supposed to be comfortable. It’s supposed to be fast.”
“Out of my way,” said Edith, emerging next. “I think I’m gonna toss my country-fried steak and eggs.”
Amanda stared. Then she lifted a shaking hand to her mouth and began to cry.
“There she is,” Flora said. “Look, she’s crying again. Ah, honey, don’t look like that.”
“What are you doing here?” Amanda asked as she ran into Flora’s arms. Flora, always Flora first, Martha second, Edith last.
“We’re here to bring you home,” Flora said.
Home?
“Back to Los Molina,” Edith added—as if there was more than one home Amanda cared about. “Though I almost feel like letting you go on without me. I don’t think my stomach can take any more of Flora’s driving.”
“But—” And as much as Amanda wished for the windswept hills, rolling green pastures and blue, blue skies of home, she said, “There’s no home for me to go back to. Besides, I can’t leave. I manage this place.”
“Pish-posh,” Flora said. “Though I’m with Edith on the staying-behind thing. You, however, need to go home. Now.”
“Is it my dad?” Amanda asked, sudden dread making her skin leach of color.
The three ladies looked at one another, seemed to have a private and silent conversation between them that ended when Edith said, “Guess we better show her.”
“Show me what?”
Edith went back to the car, reached in, then grabbed something that looked like a folded newspaper. “Here,” she said when she got back to her. “Think you need to see this.”
Amanda glanced down at the paper, the headline jumping out at her.
Billionaire Announces He’s Found Love.
SCOTT HAD NEVER BEEN MORE nervous in his life. From the other side of the chutes he could hear the crowd’s roar as one of Chase’s buddies caught a steer in record time.
“Do you think they’ll get her here in time?” he asked.
Chase looked over at him, and as had happened every time his former rival had glanced at him, that odd combination of amusement and disbelief filled his face as he very obviously tried not to laugh.
“You don’t know the Biddy Brigade very well if you have to ask that.”
Scott nodded, the visor on his helmet almost clinking shut as he did so. He lifted an arm to stop it from falling, no easy feat since it was encased in a steel sleeve.
“No,” Chase said. “If I were you I’d worry more about what you’re gonna do if those rain clouds over there come this way.” He shook his head, that funny half smile on his face. “Hate to see you rust up like the Tin Man.”
“She’s here,” Stephanie said, running up to them, nearly getting run down by a competitor coming out of the arena. “Flora just called me from her cell phone to tell me they’re in the parking lot.”
“This is it,” Chase said, suddenly all business.
Scott felt as nervous as the day he’d chaired his first stockholder’s meeting. To his right the Los Molina Fairground’s grandstands were full, the whole town seeming to be present, more than one member of the press and assorted news stations present, too, all to catch live a moment Scott knew would make broadcasting history.
He hoped.
Though he was one of the richest men in the world, though his face had been on the cover of more magazines than he could count, he suddenly felt like the biggest fool that ever walked the earth.
What if she said no?
You’d deserve it, a voice answered.
Scott knew things hadn’t ended well with Amanda. She’d been right. He had been afraid to trust the feelings she raised in him. It blew his mind that she’d been able to figure out why. Then again, she was the only woman who’d ever truly loved him for him.
Oh, yeah, she loved him.
He was sure of it.
He loved her.
Scott gulped. This was it, then. The moment he’d been dreading and anticipating since he’d gone to Amanda’s father and friends and asked for their help.
“Let me give you a hand,” Chase said, which Scott didn’t turn down. The two of them had become fast friends in the previous weeks, mostly because Scott realized the man wasn’t the least bit interested in Amanda romantically. That had gone a long way toward paving the path of comradery.
“Here,” Chase said, strapping on the leg armor after Scott had mounted his newest purchase—a white quarter horse gelding. When he was done, both he and Stephanie stepped back, the smiles on their faces all the answer Scott needed as to how he looked. Ridiculous. Outrageous. Romantic.
He hoped.
WHAT WAS SHE DOING HERE? Amanda thought as she walked toward the steep slope of the grandstand. Just because that headline had said Scott had found love didn’t mean it was with her, did it? Maybe?
“Are you sure he’s going to be here?” she asked.
“He’s here, all right,” Flora answered.
Something about the way her friend said that made Amanda sit up and take notice for the first time since she’d agreed to come home and find out if it was possible that the “unknown woman” in the article could possibly be her.
There were TV cameras all over the place. Of course, she’d been told by Edith that the press coverage for the rodeo had tripled thanks to Scott’s presence, but that wasn’t what tipped her off. No, it was the way those cameras pointed themselves at her, the way the crowd seemed to go silent when she climbed up the stairs and entered the stands from the right. The way hundreds of
faces turned toward her, then just as abruptly looked away, as if it’d been choreographed or they were at a baseball game watching a foul ball.
What the heck?
In the arena, the action appeared to have come to a stop. Even the stock didn’t seem to be loaded in the chutes, a rarity for a rodeo that usually kept the action rolling.
And then there was the band.
Amanda had never, ever, in the history of the Los Molina Rodeo—and she’d been to all of them—seen a band in attendance before.
What the heck—
Trumpets sounded.
Her heart leaped in her chest like a spastic puppy.
What the heck—
The announcer said over the PA, “Amanda Johnson, please report to the center of the arena. Amanda Johnson, to the center of the arena, please.”
She knew.
Her heart fell out of her chest. Lord, Amanda thought she’d have to shove it back in. Tears filled her eyes because she knew. She just knew that the band, the TV crews and, yes, those ridiculous heralds who were walking into the arena on foot, long trumpets held to their lips, blazing red surcoats flashing, had something to do with her.
“What are you waiting for, hon?” Flora said from behind her. “Go on.”
She turned, her three surrogate mothers, women who’d held her through the best and worst times of her life, came forward to give her an encouraging hug.
“Amanda Johnson, please report—”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called, wiping at her eyes, the imprint of her friend’s arms still around her, an imprint she would carry with her for the rest of her life. But she’d only taken two steps when she was brought up short by the sight of a man in full armor entering the arena on a white horse.
Scott.
“I don’t believe it,” she heard Flora say.
“He looks pretty good,” Martha observed.
And by now the crowd was into the swing of things. Every resident of Los Molina had begun to clap their hands. From the announcer’s booth she heard a voice say, “Amanda, if you don’t get to the center of that arena, I’ll disown you.”
Cowboy Lessons (Harlequin American Romance) Page 16
