In the Arms of the Rancher
Page 12
With a final sniff and a final stroke of the mare’s long nose, she took the apple from her pocket and fed it to the horse. “Spring’s almost here, Baby. I want winter back. I want the Hawk I knew in Vegas back.” The mare finished chomping the apple and Kate turned away.
“I want, I want,” she muttered, sighing as she left the stable. “And I’m talking to a horse. Sheer idiocy.”
While Kate grew more quiet, more withdrawn, Hawk was wrestling with uncertainties of his own. Throughout the past few weeks the coolness in the house had nothing to do with the heating system, and everything to do with the chill between him and Kate.
Riding in late one warm afternoon in the beginning of April, Hawk walked his horse to cool him down. After grooming the roan, he stabled him then walked down the aisle of stalls to the one holding Babycakes, the mare he had given to Kate for her exclusive use while she was at the ranch. Now he couldn’t think of the animal as anything other than Kate’s.
Stepping into the stall of the gentle chestnut, Hawk took up a brush and began to groom her. Also, without thinking, he began softly talking to her.
“I’m in deep crap, Baby,” he murmured, using Kate’s nickname for the horse. “And I’m afraid you’re going to be mad as hell at me.” The horse nickered. “You may not believe it now,” he said, as if he had heard a “no way” in the horse’s noise, “but you’ll understand when your mistress is gone.”
The mare shook her big head. Damn, Hawk thought, for all he knew, maybe the horse did understand. Mocking himself for the very idea, he nevertheless continued talking.
“It’s my fault she is going,” he went on. “I deliberately built a wall of virtual silence between us.” The horse snorted. “Yeah, I know, pretty stupid. But, much as I hate to admit it, even to you, I was getting scared. It started after we had a silly argument about her staying inside during the worst weather. As gentle as Kate is with you, Baby, you wouldn’t believe how she blew a gasket at me for daring to give her orders.”
For a moment Hawk smiled in memory of how magnificent Kate had looked in her defiance of him. Another memory flashed and he sighed.
“But it was the night I laughed at the book she was reading, calling it a fantasy of happy-ever-after and telling her I didn’t believe in that kind of thing. She walked away from me, and since then has stayed away from me, there but cool and distant. I could kick myself in the ass. When she walked away a knot settled in my gut. It’s been getting tighter and tighter with each passing day.”
By pure coincidence, Hawk felt sure, the mare moved her large head, trapping Hawk’s head against her long neck. The curry brush fell unnoticed to the ground. Hawk rested his forehead on her smooth coat.
“And now our bargain time is up, Baby. Kate’s going to leave us both.” A shudder ran through him. The horse shook her head. “I know, you don’t want her to go. You think she’s yours. Well, I don’t want her to go, either. I love her. I—who has never felt anything deep or lasting for any woman—love Kate more than my own life.”
Hawk shuddered again and felt a sudden sting in his eyes. Tears rolled down his face. Damn, he never cried, hadn’t shed a tear since he was nine or ten. He didn’t make a sound but the tears continued to flow until the mare moved her head and he noticed the wet spot on her coat.
“Sorry, girl,” he drew a deep breath, scrubbed his big hands over his face and stood up straight. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions? No? I didn’t think so.” Stepping back out of the stall, he closed the gate. The mare stuck her head out and with a shaky laugh Hawk stroked her face. Her big brown eyes appeared sad.
“I’ll see what I can do for the two of us, sweetheart,” he promised. “I’ll beg her to stay if I have to.”
Stepping out onto the porch for a breather late one afternoon early in April, Kate felt the first mild breeze of spring. The last remnants of happiness and contentment she had enjoyed until recently with Hawk, while working, laughing, making love with him, dissolved like the small patches of snow from the last snowfall.
It was almost time for her to leave. Her six months were up. Sadness welled up in her; tears stung her eyes. Where had the days gone, one after another, fading from month to month? Kate loved spring, but she wanted winter back. She didn’t want to return to Vegas or to her father’s farm. She didn’t want to go, couldn’t bear the thought of being away from Hawk forever.
But his coolness, his near silence for nearly two months, said it all to Kate. It was time for her to go, to give Hawk’s life back to him.
Tears streaming down her face, Kate squared her shoulders and walked into the house. A deal was a deal. Pain twisted in her chest as she remembered the way they had “double” sealed their deal with a handshake and two kisses.
Going to Hawk’s bedroom, their bedroom, Kate swiped the tears from her cheeks, impatient with herself for wanting, longing to renege on their bargain.
It wasn’t fully six months yet; she could wait until the end of the month. The thought wriggled its way into her head, tempting her to hang on to him every last minute.
Kate shook away the thought. It would only get harder for both of them if she lingered longer. Dragging her suitcases from the closet, she began packing her things. For a moment, she stroked the beautiful scarf Hawk had given to her at Christmas. The tears started again.
Ignoring them, sniffing, Kate continued until she had packed all her belongings but the clothes she was wearing and the those she planned to wear tomorrow, when Hawk, she hoped, would take the time to drive her to the airport.
Hawk entered the house and frowned at the lack of aromatic cooking scents wafting on the air. It was quiet, too quiet. There was no sight or sound of Kate.
He smiled softly, thinking she had probably lain across the bed to take a nap and had overslept. His smile growing sad, he went down the hallway to their bedroom, planning to take advantage of the opportunity to join her on the bed…and sleep had nothing to do with his plan.
The door was partially open. Quietly pushing it in, he stepped inside the bedroom and stopped dead. Kate was sitting on the side of the bed, her suitcases on the floor next to her, unchecked tears running down her flushed face.
“Kate?” Hawk crossed to her in three long strides. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? And what are your suitcases doing here on the floor?”
She drew a long, shuddering breath and, without looking up at him, said, “I’m leaving, Hawk. The six months are almost up. Will you drive me to the airport tomorrow, please?”
“No.” His heart was racing.
Her head flew up and she stared at him. “Oh, well, if you’re too busy, perhaps Jack or Ted can take me.”
“No.” Now he could hardly breathe.
“Why?” She swiped a hand over her red-rimmed eyes.
Hawk couldn’t stand seeing her cry. Kicking her luggage aside, he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her up to face him.
“I don’t want you to go, Kate.” He heard the pained rawness in his voice and didn’t care. “I want you to stay here with me.”
“After the coolness between us for two months, you want to extend my stay?” The tears had stopped but her lips still trembled.
“No, dammit!” Throwing caution and possibly his hope of continued happiness away, he gazed directly into her red, puffy eyes and said, “Will you marry me, Kate?”
She blinked, then blinked again. “Hawk, what are you saying? We are married.”
He shook his head. “I mean, will you stay married to me? Can we renew our vows to each other, for real this time?” He caught his breath. “Kate, I love you so much. If you leave me now, I’ll live. But I won’t like it.”
Kate had the audacity to laugh…right before she threw herself against him, wrapped her arms round his neck and joyously shouted, “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll stay, Hawk, because maybe you’ll live if I go…but I don’t know if I will. I love you.” She raised her voice even louder. “I love you, Hawk McKenna. I believe I have from our fir
st kiss.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4281-8
IN THE ARMS OF THE RANCHER
Copyright © 2009 by Joan Hohl
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit Silhouette Books at www.eHarlequin.com
*Big, Bad Wolfe
*Big, Bad Wolfe
*Big, Bad Wolfe
*Big, Bad Wolfe
*Big, Bad Wolfe