by Jule McBride
Hearing it again made his heart pound. “You said.” And nobody else ever had. He wasn’t sure what kept him from saying the words now. Wouldn’t she think he was saying it because she’d done so? Wouldn’t it be better to wait for another time?
“I want to...be with you, Luke.”
From the way she said it, he knew she was talking about something significant, the kind of “being with” that led to marriage. He knew he should be careful—he never really trusted himself when he talked about emotions—and yet he felt compelled to say what was on his mind. “I want us to be together, but...”
His arm tightened around her, and he slid a hand into her hair, feeling the soft weight of it. “I’ve missed knowing you in the years since that summer....”
“Me, too.”
“But you understand this is the way I live, Claire? I mean, it’s a simple cabin. It’s not like your folks’ place, or the A-frame you and Clive built.” He glanced down at where she’d curled on his chest, darkness clouding his features. “That was your dream home, Claire. I remember the summer you drew all those sketches.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I remember it as the summer I fell in love with you,” she said quietly.
“That’s the way I remember it, too, Claire. I’m just saying I want you to think about this.”
She scooted up, holding the covers against her breasts, hurt in her eyes. “I’ve thought about it. And...if you felt as strongly as I do, you wouldn’t keep trying to dissuade me, Luke.” With a sudden sigh, she simply dropped the covers, got out of bed and circled around it to find her clothes.
“You’re so amazing to look at, darlin’,” he murmured. He reached for her hand, but she was already dressing faster than he would have imagined possible. Was she
really upset? Feeling strangely bewildered, he got up, lifted his jeans from the floor and pulled them on.
“Claire?” he said. “Would you just listen to me?”
“I’ve listened, Luke,” she said, zipping her skirt.
He squinted. Was she really going to get dressed and leave? “Claire. I just want to make sure you under-stand—”
She turned fully toward him, now buttoning her sweater. “What I’m giving up?”
He edged closer, his eyes probing hers. “Claire, by your own admission, you chose Clive because you thought Clive could offer you a good future. You said you’d marry him because you loved him, not because you were in love with him.”
She came closer, her skin suddenly flushed, her eyes turning violet with emotion. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You want me to understand that if I married Clive, it would enable a merger between the Stop Awhile and the Lazy Four? That I might miss not living in my dream house?”
“That’s the simple truth,” Luke agreed. “And we both have to face it.”
She was clearly fighting to control her voice. “Evander has a lot to gain if Clive and I marry on Christmas, but he definitely wouldn’t want us to wind up unhappy.”
Luke wanted her back in his arms and in his bed, but he was beginning to fear this fight proved what he suspected, that he was no good at love. “I just want to make sure you’re thinking this through.”
“Luke,” she said. “I’m only going to say this once. Love isn’t practical. Being in love isn’t something you can think through.”
“I’m just saying maybe we should give it a while.”
Her eyes widened. “What’s ‘a while’? Until we find Clive? Or do you mean a few months, Luke? Maybe years?”
“Months, I guess.”
She drew a deep breath. “So that I can be sure I’m comfortable with the mistake I’m making by loving you?”
“I’m not saying us being together would ever be a mistake, Claire.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest. “But you’ve got to face the realities. You’d have to keep working if we...”
Her voice caught. “Have babies? Have you thought about that? Would you ever want kids?”
He’d never known how much until this moment. He nodded, his heart hammering at the seeming impossibility of raising kids with Claire. “But what if...” Something goes wrong? At the corners of his consciousness, Luke saw the woman in the yellow dress. Was she his mama? And what circumstances led to him being left on a doorstep? If he was three or four years old, why couldn’t he remember?
Claire was watching him carefully. Her lower lip suddenly trembled. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid I might have to soil my lily-white hands with some hard work.”
“That’s not how I’d put it.”
“Well, just so you know, I love my work, and I’d never give it up for anyone. Not that it matters, since I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“About?”
“Wanting to try to be with you, Luke. It’s just so... difficult.”
Everything inside him went utterly still. He’d half expected this. Suddenly he ached to reach out, to hold her and ask her to never leave him. This whole conversation had tapped into powerful emotions that could get dangerous. He hated to be left. “Don’t play with me, Claire,” he said. He stepped close enough that it brought a wave of her body heat and a memory of the touch and taste of her creamy skin. “I never had folks,” he continued, “and I can’t imagine what it was like to be raised the way you were. Nobody ever even told me they loved me until last night. Do you understand that, Claire? You were the first.”
With a strange mix of anger and triumphant satisfaction he watched her eyes widen. Good. Maybe she was beginning to get the picture. “Before you walk away from what people like me never had,” he said, “I just want to make sure you know the score.” Another wave of frustration washed over him. “Claire,” he added, his voice turning hoarse. “I know you try to understand, you always have. You’re a perceptive woman. But I’m trying to look out for you.”
“By telling me how unhappy we’d be together?” Her eyes were so beautifully blue that they seemed to burn right through him. “Don’t you see that approaching a relationship like that could make it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Luke, what’s wrong with living right here? Last night, this little cabin was heaven for us. And I love what I do. Like I said, I’m never giving up my work. You’re scared, Luke, and I understand, but all I’ve ever wanted to do with you is try...”
She was right, of course. But she had practice at love; she’d been raised in a house bursting with it. “I know.” It was all he could honestly say.
“I’m understanding you, Luke. But getting in deep with you, then having you leave me, would kill me now. And I’m beginning to think that all the understanding in the world couldn’t make you want to take a risk with me.”
His heart was beating dully in his chest. “A risk?”
She nodded. “Of sharing a life someday.”
“I don’t know what to say, Claire.”
“I know,” she said simply. “Maybe I should just go. Maybe we both need to think.”
Last night had changed everything. They weren’t strangers who’d become lovers. They had a history, and he knew what she meant when she said she needed him to risk his heart. “Maybe so.” He nodded.
Stepping back, she turned and strode from the room on those long, shapely legs. He meant to let her go, but after a moment, he changed his mind. By the time he reached the front door, she’d already grabbed her purse and parka. Outside, the Wrangler’s engine was idling. Stepping barefoot onto the porch, Luke barely felt the cold. He waved her toward him, but she only returned the wave, then pulled out. Sighing, he watched the Jeep disappear under a canopy of trees, then he went back inside.
His eyes landed on the painting she’d brought him. He’d left it propped on the dining table, and now he took in the homey log cabin.
She was right about so many things.
Last night, this cabin had been hea
ven for them. He’d always let his personal demons get in the way of him and Claire being together, too. And while he’d been moved when she said she loved him, he hadn’t been surprised. Deep down, he’d always known it. He didn’t even really believe she’d given up on him. But thinking she might someday made Luke understand that he was never going to get her out of his blood. He loved her, too. But could he conquer his own emotions?
CHAPTER TEN
LUKE FINISHED KNOTTING a scarf around the neck of a snowman, then glanced from Lost Springs’ main house to Brady. “Sure you haven’t seen Claire, pardner?”
“Nope.”
Leaning back, Luke surveyed his handiwork. Some older boys had built the snowman, but Brady had rounded up a hat, scarf and carrot nose. “Definitely more personality,” Luke commented.
Instead of responding, Brady thrust his gloved hands into his parka’s pockets and stared down the road at an approaching red-white-and-blue Jeep.
Luke’s mind was still on the earlier conversation. “You’re positive Claire didn’t come by?”
Brady shook his head. “Nope. I’ve been out here awhile. I woulda seen her, Luke. I was kinda looking for her.”
“Any particular reason?”
Brady shrugged. “We made some ornaments at school, and I thought maybe she could put mine on her Christmas tree. I meant to give it to her yesterday, but I forgot.”
“She’ll like that, Brady,” Luke assured him. Gazing down, he realized Claire had probably developed as many feelings for the boy as he. Just like Luke, she spent a lot of time out here, and judging from their conversations, she liked to talk about Brady—his progress at school, his hopes of finding his folks. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Claire?”
Luke nodded.
“Yeah.” Brady’s mouth quirked in a teasing smile. “What about you? Do you like her?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I like her.”
“You gonna marry her?”
Luke stared at Brady a long moment. “Right now, she’s engaged to Clive Stoddard.”
Brady frowned, his light eyebrows drawing together. “Can’t they break up? Lots of people do.”
“I guess that’s possible.” Already, they’d as good as done so. Late last night, between the times he’d loved her, Claire had told him all he wanted to know about the relationship. Still, Luke didn’t know what she’d do if Clive came home, which is why he needed to talk to her. Earlier, when Luke had tried to call, he’d gotten her answering machine. Ever since she left the cabin, he’d been trying to decide what he wanted to say, but all he knew for certain was that he wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to lose her.
“I gotta meet Mr. Garret,” said Brady, his eyes following the Jeep.
“I’ll go with you,” Luke replied with a sigh as Brady pulled his hands from his pockets, bringing out a stamped envelope. “Another letter to Santa?” Luke guessed.
“Yep.”
As they started walking, Luke grasped Brady’s elbow, half lifting the boy as they traversed the deeper snow. Luke just wished Claire had been out there. She’d said she loved him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wouldn’t marry Clive tomorrow if he showed up and was willing. Claire was ready to start a family, and she’d been prepared to do so with Clive. Hell, maybe she’d go through with the wedding if she really thought she could have no future with Luke.
Damn. Last summer the announcement of Claire’s engagement had begun what Luke now saw as a slow process of realizing what she meant to him. Even so, marriage had been the furthest thing from his mind when she’d come to the mall. Only this morning, as he’d watched her drive away, had he understood that he needed to act. If he didn’t, there was still a chance she’d marry Clive. Luke was ninety-nine-percent sure she couldn’t, not after what they’d shared last night. But the fear of the other one percent had knotted in his gut and wasn’t going away.
Besides which, after she’d left, Wesley had called again, saying somebody had spotted a Ford Explorer yesterday that matched a description of Clive’s, and that had made Luke feel vaguely threatened. He’d found himself half wishing Clive would never show up in Lightning Creek again. According to Wesley, the Explorer had been parked at the home of a woman who worked at the drugstore in town. Luke had no idea what to make of that, but after he went to the Stoddards’, he’d swing by the drugstore and question the woman.
“Luke?”
Glancing down, he forced a smile. Brady merely stared, his fair, freckled skin bright red from the cold, his blue eyes suddenly looking too worried and knowing for a boy his age. Leaning down, Luke tugged Brady’s knit hat. “Keep those ears covered or you’ll get frostbite, cowboy. Now, what were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” Brady shrugged, grabbed Luke’s hand and began pulling him toward the driveway. “C’mon, or we’re gonna miss Mr. Garret.”
Luke figured Brady had been about to discuss the search for his folks, as he so often did. “Don’t worry,” said Luke. “We’ve got plenty of time. Mr. Garret won’t leave without your letter.”
Brady pressed the envelope against his chest, as if to better ensure he wouldn’t drop it. “I’m pretty sure Christmas Eve’s too late to mail this, but I’m gonna do it, anyway.”
Luke tilted his head, as if considering. Brady was old enough that he probably had doubts about Santa Claus, but right now, he looked so hopeful that Luke’s heart pulled. He knew Brady was asking Santa to find his folks. And only Luke knew the trail was cold.
“Luke?”
“I doubt it’s too late. I figure it’ll get there.”
“If it doesn’t, it’s okay. I sent some other letters.”
“Good thinking.” As Brady dropped his hand and ran toward the mail truck, Luke lifted his voice and waved. “Hey there, John.”
John Garret waved back. “Merry Christmas. How you doing, Luke?”
“Can’t complain. You?”
“Working round the clock during the holidays.” As John leaned over and took Brady’s letter and slid it into his mail pouch, Luke glanced around, suddenly reminded of a snowy landscape of Claire’s that he’d seen in a gallery in Casper. He sighed again, thinking back to the summer they’d gotten to know each other. In order to impress her, he’d read about everything from Alfred Jacob Miller’s drawings of Wyoming’s Wind River Mountains through Remington’s and Russell’s portraits of cowboys, to Georgia O’Keeffe’s sandstone landscapes. Since then, Luke had come to feel that it was Claire’s sharp, almost photographic pictures that best captured Wyoming—just simple scenes such as this, a boy running through the snow toward a mail truck.
Claire was simply the best, in every way, Luke thought with another sigh. As Brady turned and ran toward him again, Luke told himself he’d do anything to keep her. First, though, he had to find her.
* * *
ALTHOUGH THE LAZY FOUR’S stables were heated, the air remained cool enough that Claire’s breath clouded it as she cooed to Clive’s quarter horse. “Hey there, Shadow,” she whispered. Reaching into a stall, she smoothed a hand over the animal’s charcoal coat. “Where’s Clive, huh?”
With a soft whinny, the horse sidled closer, moving on sturdy legs and nudging Claire’s parka sleeve. “Here, I brought you a little something.” Claire reached into her pocket for a sugar cube, then felt a soft nuzzle against her palm as Shadow took it.
“Thatta boy.” Claire petted the long, strong neck, letting the coarse mane fall through her fingers. After a moment, she sighed. Making love with Luke had been everything she’d dreamed it would be, but now she had to face facts. While it was hardly her style to leave as she had this morning, she knew the depth of her feelings for Luke would never change him. She didn’t want him looking out for her best interests; she wanted him to see happiness as something they could achieve together.
/> Luke had so much love to give. How he’d claimed her physically proved it, as did his attention to the boys at Lost Springs, and the fact that he was Lightning Creek’s secret Santa. But even if they were together now, she feared he’d blame her for whatever might go wrong between them. She could almost hear him saying, If you wanted life to be different, you should have married Clive.
She couldn’t settle for ever hearing “I told you so’s.” Not even from Luke, no matter how many years he’d been in her thoughts. That no one had ever said “I love you” to him before last night was heartbreaking. So was the fact that his past had damaged him; she shook her head, thinking maybe she should have stayed away. Maybe trying to bring him into her life again was a mistake. When she’d decided to marry Clive, she’d been sure she’d faced the truth about Luke and moved on, but when Clive disappeared, she’d run straight to Luke, hadn’t she? “And we made love,” she murmured.
He’d find her soon enough, too. After screening his call, she’d headed for the Lazy Four, feeling she had no choice but to start repacking the boxes in the A-frame. Even if Clive returned and wanted to get married, she couldn’t after what happened last night, no more than she could settle for a less-than-equal partner who wouldn’t take his share of the responsibility for the relationship. Now everything seemed such a shame. Even the fact that the wonderful house she’d designed would probably sit empty on the Stoddards’ ranch for years to come.
“And the wedding,” Claire whispered miserably. Mama and Tex had outdone themselves, readying the barn for the hoe-down. Mama had cooked as well as hired caterers, the musicians were coming this evening, and Claire’s sisters couldn’t be more excited. Claire tried not to think of how they’d all giggled together as they’d fussed with the emerald velvet gowns, new makeup and hairstyles, and she tried not to think about facing her future alone.
She stroked Shadow’s flank in a way that probably soothed her more than the horse. What if she was wrong about Clive? What if he was really in some sort of trouble? Ever since the events at Elmer Green’s, Claire had found herself vacillating between being worried and reexamining her own inexplicable gut feeling that he was all right.
