"So, you are free, too. Now let me past. Goodbye."
"But—"
"Go."
"No."
They glared at each other. Cash's jaw clenched. Milly's lips pressed into a hard, tight line.
"What guy?" he asked after a moment. He needed to know whose block to knock off.
"You don't know him."
"What's his name?"
Milly tipped her chin. "His name is Mike Dutton."
"Where'd you meet him? How do you know he's somebody you should be spending any time with?"
"There's a laugh," Milly said scornfully. "After all the time I spent on you. I should get a medal for smartening up. Mike is a solid, dependable, responsible man with a steady full-time job, who is looking to settle down. He's a CPA."
Cash's teeth came together with a snap. A CPA? She was dumping him for a number cruncher?
"Sounds boring as hell to me."
"He would to you. To me he's a breath of fresh air. And I'm intending to enjoy it. Now, I really must be going." She stepped out and shut the door firmly behind her. "Goodbye, Cash."
And damned if she didn't brush right past him down the stairs!
Milly didn't realize how badly she was shaking until she got into her car. She actually needed the anchor of the steering wheel to stop trembling. Her stomach was doing somersaults even then, but there was no help for that.
There was no help at all except turning on the engine and getting away from Cash as quickly as she could.
She'd told herself she could handle seeing him. She knew she would see him—"someday," as he so blithely intended everything to happen in their relationship—and she'd promised herself she'd be prepared.
Prepared had meant talking hours on end to Dori and her friend Poppy about the mistakes she'd made. It had meant talking herself out of making any more mistakes where Cash was concerned.
She knew she'd been a fool. She had, as she'd just told him, assumed too much. Way too much. He'd wanted the long-term equivalent of a roll in the hay—and nothing more.
She didn't know whether she was more angry or hurt or embarrassed at her own naiveté. But she was done being a fool in any case.
She wasn't letting it happen again. She'd changed the locks. She'd steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation. She hadn't cried.
She'd been prepared.
Sort of.
Basically she knew she would never be prepared to deal with Cash—not like this. She either needed to be married to him—or she needed him out of her life.
"Those cowboys," her mother had said grimly. "I'd reckoned he was different. There aren't any of 'em any good."
"Oh, Mom, there must be one," Dori had said, though heaven knew her own experience had certainly given them no cause to believe it.
"One," Milly had echoed miserably.
Just not the one she loved.
"The best thing," Dori had advised, "is not to sit home. You need to get out, meet people. Meet men," she said more firmly, before Milly could tell her she was going to the garden club meeting with Poppy the Wednesday after next.
"Men?"
"I'll introduce you," Dori said firmly. Even though she wasn't dating anyone, she seemed to know every man who passed through Livingston in particular and southern Montana in general.
Milly hadn't been enthusiastic. But Dori had been firm. She'd pushed Milly into going to local baseball games and to picnics sponsored by the outfitter downstairs, to church socials and to fly fishing tournaments.
"You canoe. We'll find you a canoer."
"Canoeist," Milly corrected.
"Whichever. A man," Dori said.
"I don't want another man," Milly protested.
"You don't have to marry him. You just need to get your mind off Cash."
To Milly's surprise, Dori's prescription worked. It was hard to spend her every waking moment thinking about him when she was in the company of other men.
They were nice men, too—most of them. Especially measured against a certain rodeo cowboy.
And one of the nicest things about them all was that they weren't Cash.
Milly didn't need any more feckless roaming cowpokes. She didn't need any more men who would ride off into the sunset at the drop of a hat. She didn't need any more males whose staying power was something short of the ten-second mark.
"Eight, to be exact," Dori said. Well, in a word, yes.
At first Milly told herself that she was just using these men to keep thoughts of Cash at bay. But eventually she realized that one, at least, was worth another look for himself, and not just because he wasn't Cash.
Mike Dutton was lean and blond and handsome in his own less lethal way. That was appealing for starters. He didn't physically bear any resemblance to Cash. But he was also quietly determined.
He called her when he said he would. He came in the store and talked to her. He asked her to go to the movies and to concerts in Billings. He took her to an art exhibit in Bozeman, and to a coffee house to hear a reggae group.
He didn't seem to mind when she stopped in the middle of sentences or stared off into space sometimes, caught in a time warp of remembering Cash.
He was patient. He had staying power.
Milly liked staying power. She liked Mike.
A good thing, too, because seeing Cash again so unexpectedly today had rattled her down to her toes.
She had told Mike she would meet him at his office because it was on the way to Bozeman where they were going to a movie. She practically flew at him when she got out of the car.
"Hey!" He grabbed her and hugged her close. "What's up?"
"N-nothing. J-just glad to see you." Her teeth were chattering, and it was summer, for heaven's sake!
Still holding her, he nodded. "Cash in town?"
Her head jerked up. "What?" She felt her face burn and wondered if Mike could see that, too. From the look on his face, she knew that he could. "I'm sorry," she said miserably.
"Me, too," he said, his tone a little grim.
"I told him to leave," she said. "I practically knocked him over on my way down the stairs."
Mike's brows lifted. A ghost of a grin flickered across his face. "Did you? I'd liked to have seen that."
"He's a jerk," Milly said.
Mike grunted and led her to his car, tucking her into it, then he went around and got in beside her. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. "He's a fool. I'll say that."
Obviously she needed more time.
Women were like that. They didn't realize right off that love wasn't just promises and wedding dresses. But Milly was sharp. She'd figure it out eventually.
She probably just had a bee in her bonnet since he didn't knuckle under and go down on one knee and propose just because she thought he ought to. Well, okay, he could be tolerant—to a point—as long as it didn't take her too long to wake up and remember who really loved her.
Next time he came through, Cash assured himself, things would be fine.
He made it a point to come back to Livingston sooner than he might have otherwise. He didn't want to make her wait too long. He thought she ought to have a chance to apologize pretty quick. It would eat at her otherwise.
This time he didn't try his key. He even knocked politely and waited. Her car was there, so she had to be home.
Probably she was washing her hair or maybe she was in the shower, he thought, when his first knock wasn't answered within a decent amount of time. He knocked again. Maybe she had the stereo turned up so she couldn't hear him. But he couldn't hear any music. He just heard himself banging.
"Milly!"
Where the hell was she? It was seven o'clock on a Saturday night. She wouldn't be at the store now. He banged again. Louder.
There was a sound on the steps behind him. He turned to see a middle-aged man in yuppie camper gear. "You know where Milly is?" Cash asked.
"She went to Seattle."
"Seattle?" Cash frowned. "Why?"
The man
shrugged. "Dunno. She just asked me to take in her mail. She'll be gone over the weekend. Went with her boyfriend."
Boyfriend?
"What boyfriend?" Cash demanded.
The yuppie backed down a step. "Er, blond guy. Name's Mike, I think."
"Mike." Cash fairly spat the name. "She went for the weekend?"
"That's what she said. Want me to tell her you came by?"
"No." Cash barked the word. He clattered down the steps and brushed past the man, jumped into his truck and burned rubber on his way down the street.
Seattle? Boyfriend? Weekend?
What the hell did Milly think she was doing?
He'd cleared his whole evening to be with her. He figured her apology would take maybe five minutes and they could put the rest of the time to good use getting "reacquainted." He wasn't planning to leave until tomorrow at ten. And now not only wasn't he going to get an apology—she wasn't even home!
He practically sideswiped a Suburban wheeling into the parking lot outside a local watering hole. The man in the Suburban yelled at him. Cash yelled back and made a rude gesture besides. He banged the door to his truck, headed straight into the bar and finished the night right there.
The bartender peeled him off his stool at closing time. "Let me find you a ride."
"Got m'truck."
"You're in no shape to drive."
"I ain't goin' nowhere," Cash gave a vague wave of his hand and wobbled carefully out the door to make his way to his truck.
He slept in the truck. It wasn't the first time. It probably wouldn't be the last.
But the combination of alcohol and cramped sleeping quarters and faithless women didn't do a lot for his frame of mind or body.
When the sun blinded him awake the next morning, he felt like a herd of elk wearing horseshoes and brandishing whiskey bottles had done disgusting things to his body and to his head.
He found a café and used the bathroom, sticking his head under the faucet and keeping it there until the drum roll in his brain got so intense he felt like throwing up. Then he jerked his head up and took great lungfuls of air, shuddering and gasping and trying for sanity and sobriety and a whole lot of things that had been eluding him lately.
He stared at his bleary reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink. He was sallow-cheeked and sunken-eyed, his whiskery features relentlessly grim. It was a face not even a mother could love—let alone Milly.
Didn't she love him anymore?
The thought he'd done his best to keep at bay wouldn't be denied any longer. Didn't she love him?
She had to. He couldn't imagine that she didn't. But then—why had she gone with Dutton?
He tried to think rationally. Not easy. Logic had never been Cash's strong suit. But maybe there was a logical reason for Milly going to Seattle with her reliable accountant. Maybe they were studying urban bookkeeping methods, or he was advising her on stocking a new product line.
That sounded reasonable. Yeah, it really did. Cash felt a glimmer of hope. He rubbed a hand over his whiskers. If he shaved them off he'd feel more like coping and less like lying down and dying right where he was.
He shaved them off. Then he combed his hair and set his hat back on his head. His clothes still looked slept in, but he had a clean shirt he'd been planning to wear for the rodeo tonight. He'd turn his horse out and put on his clean shirt and stick around. He'd go sit in the parking lot in his truck until she and her number-cruncher got back tonight.
After all, there was no sense in imagining the worst. And he really did want to hear Milly's rational, logical, reasonable explanation for having gone to Seattle for the weekend with another man. There had to be one.
There was, Milly assured him coolly when she and Dutton tooled into the lot at quarter past nine that evening.
Cash scowled at her. "I'd like to know what," he said sharply.
"We got engaged."
Engaged?
He couldn't believe it.
How the hell could she do something so damn dumb? She loved him, damn it, not some solid, dependable, accountant Dutton jerk!
Cash ranted. He raved. He banged and crashed. Dutton watched him with the fascination of someone witnessing a car wreck. Milly didn't react at all except to say quietly to her fiancé—fiancé!—that there was no use in his staying.
"Damn right there isn't!" Cash snarled at him.
Dutton didn't look convinced. "He looks—"
"He looks worse than he is," Milly said. "I'll handle it."
Cash stood there with his mouth opening and closing, like some beached fish. "Handle what? You'll handle what?" he demanded.
"You," Milly said. She put a hand on Dutton's arm. She was wearing a damned ring! Cash could see it winking in the light from the street lamp. His fingers balled into a fist. "It's all right," she said to Dutton.
"The hell it is," Cash growled.
"I don't—" Dutton began.
But Milly looked at him imploringly. "Please. He'll only behave worse if you stay."
Like he was some obnoxious child. Cash wanted to smash something.
Dutton looked doubtful, then nodded reluctantly and got back into his car. "Call me later. Or I'll call you."
Milly nodded.
Neither of them would be talking to the other, if Cash had anything to say about it. He'd yank the damn phone cord first!
He didn't say so. He didn't say anything else until Dutton had driven away. Then he turned on Milly. "What the hell is going on?"
"Nothing that concerns you." She started up the steps.
Cash went after her. "How can you say that? You love me!"
"I thought I did. But then, I thought you loved me, too." She didn't stop, she didn't even turn around.
"I do love you, damn it, Milly!"
"But you don't want to get married."
"Is that what this is all about? Getting married? You want to get married so bad you'd marry just any guy on the street?"
She turned then, and looked as if he'd slapped her. "No, I would not, as you put it, 'marry just any guy on the street.' I'd only marry one man—a man I loved."
"You love me," Cash insisted.
"Did love you. And I'd have married you! Once." She opened the door to her apartment. He came after her.
"Don't," she said. "Go away. I'm tired. I want to go to bed."
He'd thought nothing she could say would make him angrier—until she said that. I'm tired. I want to go to bed.
"Why? Didn't you get enough sleep with Dutton?"
Milly's cheeks flamed, exactly as he'd known they would. But it wasn't near the satisfaction he'd hoped for. The very thought of her sleeping with another man infuriated him more than it embarrassed her.
"What would you do," he asked her, "if I just walked right past you and went into the bedroom and lay down on your bed and waited for you?"
"Call the police."
And the firm, unblinking expression in her eyes was so unlike the Milly he knew that he couldn't be sure she didn't mean it. He couldn't say that she damned well wouldn't.
"Would you?" he finally snarled. Then he turned on his boot heel and stalked out.
Milly didn't even realize she was holding her breath until the last sound of the truck's engine died away. Then she took a deep, shuddering gulp of air and let it out slowly.
It would be better now.
She had set her course, turned her back on the past, made her peace with the future.
It was true what Cash had said. She had loved him. But a girl only had one life—and Milly didn't intend to spend hers sacking groceries and doing ledgers and watching Cash blow in and out of her life while he came to his senses.
She didn't think Cash had any sense. If he had, they'd have been married long ago.
No, she was doing the right thing marrying Mike.
As the weeks went by she told herself that a dozen times a day. More than a dozen. A hundred. Lots. Dori told her, too. So did her mother. And her dad.
&
nbsp; "Mike's a great guy."
"Mike's dependable."
"Mike's everything a girl could want in a husband."
He was. Milly knew that. But he was also, a niggling little voice inside told her, everything that Cash had said he was, too.
Cash heard, through the grapevine, that the wedding was in January.
He didn't care. It didn't matter to him. He'd be down south in January where it was warm and wonderful. After the Denver Stock Show, he was going to see his parents. He'd mosey on down to Houston, and be ready when the livestock show opened there the following week.
That was a long, long way from Livingston, Montana. It might as well be on the other side of the moon.
It was so far away that, the longer Cash thought about it, he figured he might not hear when she backed out. The news might not reach him, and he might not be there to comfort her—not just to say "I told you so," which he damned well intended to do, too—when she came to her senses and broke things off.
That would be too bad.
He still liked Milly. Still had kind feelings toward her. Still thought of her as a friend. And she would need him then.
She needed him now. She just didn't seem to know it.
Cash guessed he could swing by Livingston after Denver, hang around a few days, then make his way south.
"You're out of your mind," Dennis told him. "All that way?"
"Reckon I ought to stop and see Shane. He's probably pretty grim about now." Cash had heard about the freak accident that had torn off Shane Nichols's thumb. He'd had it sewn back on again, but he couldn't ride for a while. And Cash knew all about enforced immobility. It didn't do a guy's mind good. He could stop in, cheer Shane up. It would be the friendly thing to do.
Better than having Milly think he'd come all that way for her, too.
"I'll just stay up there a few days. Maybe get in some skiing."
"Skiing?" Walt's eyes lit up. "I ain't been skiin' all year. How 'bout we come, too?"
It wasn't that far from Bridger and Big Sky. Skiing and seeing Shane—yeah, those were reasonable excuses for being in the neighborhood—if she asked. He didn't think she would. She'd probably be too glad to cry on his shoulder to even think about things like that.
It was a hell of a shock to get there and discover she was still planning to go through with it!
THE COWBOY CRASHES A WEDDING Page 13
