by Liz Isaacson
She giggled, cutting off the sound when she realized he wasn’t kidding. One hand pressed against her pulse. “You’re not joking.”
“Not joking.” He looked exhausted and maybe like he’d been crying. But she couldn’t imagine the tough, tall, thoughtful man being tearful.
She searched his face for more of an answer, but came up blank. “What happened at dinner?”
His features iced over. “Nothing.”
Leaning into the doorframe, she folded her arms. “I’m gonna call liar on that one.”
“Call it what you want. Do you want to marry me or not?”
Adrenaline poured through her in waves, almost drowning her. “Not like this, I don’t, no.”
“Okay.” He turned and moved down her steps with the fluidity of a much smaller man.
“Jace, wait!”
But he didn’t wait, and she wasn’t dressed. She watched him get in his truck and tear through the neighborhood, absolutely baffled as to what had just happened.
So she did the only thing she could think to do. She got dressed, made a phone call, and got in her car.
18
Belle sat across from Laura Lovell in a diner that served breakfast twenty-four hours a day. Jace would’ve been horrified.
Laura ordered coffee and looked Belle straight in the eye. “Wendy’s back in town. We ran into her at dinner tonight.”
The wind left Belle’s lungs, knocking her backward into the padded seat of the booth. “Oh, wow.”
“What did Jace do?”
“He showed up on my doorstep and demanded that I marry him.”
Laura shook her head and wiped her eyes. “It’s my fault he’s all messed up.”
“I don’t think so,” Belle said though she didn’t feel a whole lot of compassion for the woman. She was Jace’s mother, and he’d figured out a way to exist with her in his life. Wendy, he obviously had not.
“Is she going to be in town for a while?” she asked.
“I didn’t talk to her,” Laura said. “After Jace walked out, I stammered something about needing to go, and I left too. He’s fast, that man. He was long gone before I even made it to the parking lot.”
“And that was about seven.”
“Right.”
Belle added cream and sugar—and lots of it—to her coffee when the waitress brought it. Jace had likely driven around for a couple of hours before showing up on her doorstep. He’d been thinking, but he certainly hadn’t seemed to be in the right frame of mind. She’d never pictured herself getting engaged to an exhausted, angry man while leaning into the doorway of her rental.
No, her ideas were much more grandiose than that.
“I’ve called him and he won’t answer.” Belle stirred and stirred and stirred her coffee.
“Give him a day or so. I’ll try to talk to him.”
Belle frowned. Maybe calling Tom to get Laura’s number had been a bad idea. She didn’t need a middleman to make things right between her and Jace. She needed to know what had triggered his impromptu proposal, and she’d gotten the answer.
“He said you’ve been helping him the past week or so,” Belle started, hoping the prompt would get his mom talking.
“Yeah, just trying to make him see that he isn’t the one at fault for what I did, or for what Wendy did.”
“And that I’m not either of you, and won’t abandon him.”
“I never actually said that,” Laura said. “He has to come to that conclusion on his own. I think he’s getting there.” She flashed a warm smile and Belle returned it. She didn’t want to talk about Jace anymore, but thought it rude to leave before they’d even finished one cup of coffee. So Belle made small talk and sipped quickly, all the while a feeling simmering just below the surface that said Jace’s mom knew more than she’d said.
“Please call me back,” she said to Jace’s voicemail for the third time on Wednesday. She’d called him five times on Tuesday, spaced a few hours apart. The stubborn cowboy had stayed silent.
Belle worked with her phone propped up so she’d see it if it rang or someone texted. She had a month left on the Rimrod Lodge remodel, and everything there was set to wrap on time. Calvin drifted by her desk, his gaze full of disapproval. Belle couldn’t conjure the energy to care.
She’d asked if she could move her remaining projects to other associates, but he’d declined. Part of the benefit of the conglomerate was working on the projects she felt passionate about, and she couldn’t just pawn them off on someone else, he’d said.
She understood his reasoning, even if she didn’t agree with it. And she wanted her clients to be happy so they’d refer her to others.
Calvin had expressly told her she couldn’t start any new projects on her own, and she’d declared that she wouldn’t be bringing in any more accounts. So they lived with the stalemate, and would for three more months until the Flathead Lake project completed.
Belle didn’t mind so much. She enjoyed working with hotels, and she’d made a plan for how to contact several more in Gold Valley—and beyond. She could become a name in the hotel industry. Or at least her dreams told her she could.
But she also knew sometimes dreams could lie, or cause false hope, or create unrealistic expectations. As the days passed, she made her calls to Jace less frequently, until finally, by the time July rolled around, they’d achieved complete silence.
She found herself weeping at random times, and took to working at home so she didn’t have to see the curious glances from her coworkers or explain anything to Calvin. One morning, someone knocked on her door, sending her heart right up into her throat.
She half-expected to see Jace there, but Ashley stood on the porch with her son, Jackson. “I heard about Jace,” Ashley said by way of hello.
Belle’s bottom lip quivered, so she just stepped back so the pair could enter.
“Wow, Belle, this place is beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“How long are you staying here?”
“I’m meeting with the landlord tomorrow. We’d done a month-to-month lease, but I’m going to sign for six months and ask him about buying it next year.” She glanced around at the work she’d put into making this house a home. “I like it here. The neighbors are nice. I’m creating the spaces I want.”
“So you won’t be living out at the ranch, then.”
Belle shook her head. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but Jace won’t even answer my calls.” She shrugged like his behavior didn’t affect her, but in truth, every breath felt like a hot knife through her chest. “We’re not speaking at the moment, so I guess that means we’ve broken up.”
“I heard his ex was in town.”
“I heard the same thing. Haven’t actually seen her.”
“She’s here visiting for a while. The girls at the park say she’s giving her dad some real estate advice, helping with his firm, that kind of thing, and then heading back to LA by the end of July.”
“Sounds great.” Belle’s voice sounded wooden, hollow, detached. She didn’t much care what had brought Wendy back into Jace’s life, only that he’d reacted badly to it. She’d been second guessing everything she knew about him, and she didn’t like the feelings of resentment or anger than came when she wondered if he knew how much his silence hurt her.
“Well, I just came to check on you.” Ashley smiled and gave Belle a hug. “You’re doing okay?”
“Just fine.” Belle covered over the lie with a false smile and a promise that she’d come to the Fourth of July parade the next morning. But as she padded back to her office after saying good-bye to Ashley and her son, Belle knew she wouldn’t go to the parade. That meant being in public, and she certainly didn’t want to do that. She’d learned to hide after the debacle in Sacramento, and she knew if she stayed off the radar long enough, people would stop talking. So she intended to keep her head down and her mouth closed until something more interesting came up in Gold Valley to gossip about.
Ja
ce hadn’t left the ranch in three weeks, hadn’t spoken to anyone but his brother and his cowhands in that long, and had no plans to rectify either of those situations. Embarrassment more than anything kept him confined to his cabin, or the barn, or the lodge. He actually craved his payroll days, because then he could seclude himself in his office and no one found it odd.
Not that anyone had said anything to him, not even Landon. That had surprised Jace, but he didn’t seek out the cowboy to detail how he’d performed a rage-a-holic proposal. He was actually relieved that Belle had been thinking clearly, because he hadn’t been, and he’d tapped out at least a thousand texts to her. He’d queued up her phone number a dozen times a day.
In the end, though, he needed more time. More time to heal, more time to think, more time to just be. He didn’t think it fair to her to keep going over there and apologizing just to do something equally idiotic the next day.
He’d realized through all his chats with his mom that he needed more help than he was currently getting. The only person besides himself and Tom that knew Jace had started to see a grief counselor was the ranch owner, Rob. The hardest part about going to his appointments was the fact that the building sat right next to Belle’s office. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for her every time he went. He never did see her, and as the days passed, he wondered if he ever would again.
“Fireworks tonight?” Tom’s voice came from the doorway of Jace’s office.
“Can’t.” Jace didn’t even look up.
“Yes, you can.”
“Don’t want to, then.”
“You love a good rodeo.”
Jace sighed and looked at his brother. “I don’t want to go into town.”
“It’s one night. A big crowd. You won’t see her.”
“Which her?” Jace had done a little investigating, and he’d discovered that Wendy would be in town until the end of the month. With Tom nearby, Jace had no need to leave the ranch.
“Which one you worried about seein’?”
“Both of them,” Jace answered honestly. “One messed me up, and I hurt the other. Not interested in seein’ anyone, even those in the PRCA.”
“Belle would forgive you if you’d just talk to her.”
“What’s the point, Tom? So I can hurt her again? No, thanks.” He never told Tom what he and Dr. Fletcher talked about, but if the psychologist didn’t think Jace needed to socialize right now, he wasn’t going to.
“Who says you’re going to hurt her again?”
“I do. She deserves…I don’t want to hurt her again.” There was only so much a person could take, and Jace didn’t think he could strike out again and have her come back to him. This way, when he felt better, when he didn’t want to leave town, when he spoke to her again, she might be able to forgive him. They could start over, the way they had before.
But if he messed up again? No, she wouldn’t keep forgiving him.
“Please come to the rodeo,” Tom said, his voice possessing a quiet kind of power that struck Jace in the chest. “You need to get out.”
Jace let out a long breath. “What time you goin’?”
Tom grinned. “Seven-thirty. Come by the house, and we’ll go.”
When Jace showed up at Tom’s that night, the front door stood ajar. The sounds of crying came from inside. But this didn’t sound like Mari’s frustrated wails or her furious sobs. No, this was Rose.
Jace hesitated, one hand on the door. “Rose? Is Tom here?” He didn’t enter the house.
A few seconds later, Tom pulled open the door, his face wet with tears.
Concern spiked and panic rose. Jace had never seen his brother cry—at least not since their mom left two decades ago. “What’s wrong?” He scanned what he could see of the house, and it looked a mess. Maybe Mari had freaked out, broken things.
Tom ground the emotion from his throat. “Rose isn’t feeling well. We’re not gonna make it to the rodeo.”
Jace’s attention flew back to his brother’s. “Tell me what happened,” he said, because he knew something was seriously wrong here, and he loved Tom, Rose, and Mari. “Maybe I can help.”
Tom glanced over his shoulder and stepped onto the porch, pulling the door all the way closed behind him. “Rose….” A fresh wave of emotion hit him, and he pressed his mouth shut as new tears leaked down his face.
Jace couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take the anguish on his brother’s face, would’ve done anything to make it go away. “Tom, you’re scaring me.”
“We want to have more kids,” he finally said. “It’s not working out very well.”
Compassion speared him, and Jace drew his brother into an embrace they hadn’t shared in a long time. “I’m so sorry.” The words weren’t adequate, but Jace didn’t have any others.
Tom’s shoulders shook for a few seconds before he gathered himself together. “It’s her third miscarriage since we got married.” He pulled away and wiped his face. “We’re worried the doctor will tell her she just can’t have more.” He stiffened, and Jace followed his gaze to the road, where Mari walked.
“I’ll take her to the rodeo,” Jace said. “Does she know?”
“Not yet. Rose just…it happened this afternoon.”
“Should I take her?”
Relief washed across Tom’s face. “If you could, that would be great.”
“She can stay in my loft too.” Jace tried on a smile, but it felt all wrong.
“I’ll grab the tickets.” Tom ducked back into the house, barely opening the door wide enough to squeeze his broad shoulders through.
Jace intercepted Mari, gushing about the rodeo. The almost-thirteen-year-old smiled at him. “Barrel racing.”
“That’s right.” Jace beamed at her as Tom returned.
“Be good for Uncle Jace now,” Tom said, most of the emotion wiped clean from his face. But when Jace looked at him, he felt it, saw it, experienced it as his own. And it hurt, hurt, hurt.
19
Jace set the huge box of food he’d purchased at the concession stand in Tom’s empty seat. “Here you go.” He passed Mari her cotton candy and her grape-lime sno-cone, a “Scooby Doo” around Montana.
“Thanks.” She focused on the horses circling the arena.
“It’s about to start.” He took a bite of his hot dog. “See the American flag?”
Sure enough, he’d barely had time to swallow before the cowgirl carrying the flag raced into the arena. The crowd stood as the announcer yelled, “Let’s cheer for Old Glory!”
Mari clapped and Jace joined her. The National Anthem was sung, and the Pledge of Allegiance recited, and then the rodeo began with the bareback bronc riding. Jace had never been into the rodeo, but Landon adored it. He’d been a contender for a few years in his early twenties. Some sort of accident had ended his career, and he’d returned to Montana and Horseshoe Home.
But Jace liked nachos and hot dogs and soda, and by the time Mari’s favorite event—barrel racing—came around, he felt sick. A smile curved his mouth. He felt sick for a good reason though, not because his heart hurt or his stomach was so twisted from his thoughts.
People streamed by on the sidewalk below the stands, and Jace caught sight of Landon. The tall cowboy would’ve been hard to miss. Jace stood and lifted his hand, calling out, “Landon!” before he could stop himself.
Two faces turned toward him.
One of them was Belle’s.
Belle’s heart stopped. Just completely stalled right there at the rodeo. She actually thought she might need to have someone dial 9-1-1, but then her most vital organ kicked into gear.
Jace stood about fifteen rows up, glorious and beautiful with the sunset creating a halo behind him. He wore clean jeans and a blue and white plaid short-sleeved shirt. His belt buckle glinted in the stadium lights, and that black cowboy hat he always wore made her fingers itch to take it off so they could feel his hair underneath.
Landon cut a glance back to her. “Belle?�
�
“You can go say hello.” She juggled the sodas and popcorn they’d bought. “I’ll take our stuff to our seats.”
“You can’t carry—”
“Well, I’m not goin’ up there.”
Jace stood as still as a statue, his gaze fixed on hers as his niece cheered for the cowgirl trying to beat the clock. Though dozens of people and dozens of feet separated them, Belle felt the heat from him, saw the desire in his face, tasted him in her mouth.
“I’m good,” she told Landon as she tucked his candy bar in the crook of her elbow. “See you later.” She hurried down the sidewalk, refusing to let herself look back at Jace. He had initiated this silence between them. He could break it. Or not. She wasn’t sure which she preferred at this point.
You never should’ve let Landon talk you into coming to this, she lectured herself as she climbed the stands to her seat. You don’t even like rodeos.
Landon didn’t return before the barrel racing ended. He didn’t come back during the team roping either. She stress-munched her way through an entire bag of popcorn and was about to start on his when someone finally came down the row toward her.
But it wasn’t Landon.
Jace sat in her brother’s seat, his eyes trained on the bucking bull in the arena. “Landon said he’d sit with Mari for a few minutes. He wants his popcorn.”
She passed it to him mutely, then handed him the soda too. Jace got up and left without another word, and ooh, if that didn’t make Belle angry. Why did the man have to be so good looking? Why did he have to smell so scrumptious? Why couldn’t she just admit they weren’t meant for each other and move on? He’d obviously figured out how.
Jace returned a minute later. “He said not to eat his Kit Kat.”
“I’m going to smash it in his face.”
Jace did the oddest thing—he chuckled. The sound grated against Belle’s nerves, the way it had as a teenager. “Maybe I should hold it for him.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, the rodeo completely forgotten.
