A Husband for the Holidays (Made For Matrimony 1)

by Ami Weaver

  Darcy hesitated. “I see it needs a little work,” she said softly.

  Marla nodded. “We’ve focused on the trees, not that fence out by the road. We couldn’t do it all, although—” She stopped, and Darcy could have sworn guilt crossed her aunt’s face.

  “Although what?”

  Her aunt gave her head a quick shake. “Nothing. We’ve done what we can. Now it’s time to turn it over to someone else.” She nodded at Darcy’s bags. “Why not take those up to your room, honey? It’s all fresh for you. We’ll eat shortly. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Her stomach chose that moment to unleash a rolling growl. Her aunt cocked an eyebrow. Darcy gave a little laugh. “Guess that’s your answer.” She’d been too much of a wreck about coming back to Holden’s Crossing to do much more than nibble on a protein bar in the car.

  “Good thing, too. We’ve got a lot of food and I don’t want your uncle to eat it all. Here, let me help you.” Marla picked up one of her bags and Darcy grabbed the last two.

  As she followed her aunt to the stairs, she noted the decor hadn’t changed much, either. Clean, same plaid couch from when she’d left, same curtains. A large blue spruce stood in front of the big window, lit with hundreds of lights and covered in ornaments. A fire crackled on the hearth, which made the whole place seem homey and cozy.

  Sadness gave a little twist under her heart. She’d miss this house when they sold it.

  Marla set the small duffel on the bed. “I know it was hard for you to come. I just want you to know how much we appreciate it. And I wish—I wish you hadn’t thought you couldn’t come home.”

  Caught, Darcy sank down on the bed. “You know why I couldn’t.”

  Marla held her gaze and Darcy saw understanding and compassion there. “I know why you thought you couldn’t. There’s a difference.”

  Darcy dropped her gaze to the quilt and ran her hand over it, the slightly puckered fabric cool under her hand. Leaving gave both of them a chance to start over after the divorce. “Not to me.”

  “I know that, too. Your dad would be proud of you for coming back. So.” She headed for the door. “Come down when you’re done. Dinner’ll be ready soon. Then we’ve got work to do.”

  Darcy stayed on the bed, hearing the stairs creak as her aunt went downstairs. She took a deep, shaky breath.

  The memories weren’t going to go away. In fact, being here pretty much ensured she’d be assaulted by them at every turn. So she’d deal.

  Determined, she stood up and unzipped the nearest bag. She wasn’t that naive young woman anymore. She’d been to hell and back. She’d lost her baby and her marriage. There was nothing the Lawless family could dish out she couldn’t take.

  But she did need to make things right. So she’d apologize to Mack, make him see her intention had never been to cause him any more pain. Maybe then she could forgive herself.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  Two hours later, at the kitchen table, her stomach full of Marla’s excellent roast, she smiled at her aunt and uncle. “Thank you. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” And tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Two excellent home-cooked meals in a row. Amazing.

  They exchanged glances, and then her uncle spoke, his face serious. “Darcy, there’s something we need to tell you.”

  Worry rose so fast she thought she’d choke. “Are you okay, Uncle Joe?”

  He patted her arm. “Yes. Oh, yes, Darce, it’s not me. It’s—well, it’s just that Mack has been working here.”

  That couldn’t be right. She clearly had her ex on the brain, because she thought she’d heard her uncle say he was working here. At the farm. Which wasn’t possible. Why would Mack be out here? He was a vet. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

  He met her gaze. “Mack’s been helping me.”

  The air whooshed out of her lungs. She hadn’t misheard. No. Way. “My Mack?” She winced at her mistake. He hadn’t been hers for seven years. “Why?”

  Marla laid her hand on Darcy’s arm. “He’s young and strong. He’s been out here for years helping. I know this must be upsetting for you.”

  She looked away, betrayal humming in her veins. Upsetting put it mildly. But they were all adults. What right did she have to expect her family, who lived in this community, to not interact with the Lawless family? “Ah. Well, that’s nice of him. I know his vet practice must keep him very busy.” She gave a little shrug, trying for casual and fairly sure she’d failed. “Why would it be upsetting? It’s been a long time.”

  Her aunt made a distressed little noise. “Oh, Darcy.”

  Joe cleared his throat. “One more thing. He’s on his way here.”

  Her gaze snapped to his, panic coiling in her belly. “What?”

  Marla looked at her with concern. “He’s been out here every night for the past couple of weeks. I know this is a shock—”

  “You couldn’t have given me a little more warning?” Oh dear, was that a squeak of hysteria in her voice?

  “We didn’t want to upset you,” Marla said simply. “We thought it would be best not to tell you. We talked about it at length, trying to decide how to handle it. Things were so hard for you after the divorce.”

  She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm her quickly frazzling nerves. Or course they meant well; she didn’t doubt that. They were only trying to protect her. Mack, at least, wouldn’t be blindsided. Chase would have taken care of that before Darcy got back in her car at the gas station.

  “When will he be here?” Amazing, her voice sounded almost calm. Thank God.

  Joe glanced at the wall clock. “He’s usually here by six thirty. Please understand, Darcy. I know we should have said something before now, but...” He trailed off and looked helplessly at his wife.

  She jumped in seamlessly. “But we weren’t sure how you’d react. It was hard enough for you to come back as it is. I’m sorry.”

  Darcy managed a laugh. “I’ve been over Mack Lawless for years now. If he helps you out, that’s great. I’ve got no problem with it at all.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. But she chose to believe it was because they hadn’t told her.

  It had nothing to do with maybe not being over him.

  Chapter Two

  “Well,” Marla said as she stood up and began to stack dishes. “I’m going to take care of these and then I’ll join you in the barn. Darcy, if you’d rather not go out there tonight, we’d understand.”

  “No. I’ll be fine.” She hoped like crazy it was true. She couldn’t let her aunt and uncle know how rattled she was.

  Marla wouldn’t hear of Darcy helping her clean up, which was probably a good thing, as her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since they’d told her about Mack, so she got into her down jacket and boots and followed her uncle down the snowy path to the barn. Any other time, she would have found the quiet and the falling snow peaceful. Right now, she found herself too keyed up to enjoy it.

  “Finances are a little tight around here, as I’m sure you noticed when you drove up,” her uncle said finally. “Mack offered to help out. He won’t accept any pay. Likes the work, he says.”

  Her heart tugged. That sounded like the Mack she’d known and loved.

  “It’s okay, Uncle Joe.”

  He took her hand for the rest of the brief walk and she was grateful for the simple touch. In the workshop, he introduced her to his employees, then said, “We’ll be in and out. You remember how to make a wreath?”

  In spite of her nerves, she smiled. “I can do it in my sleep, Uncle Joe.”

  He gave her a quick hug. “Stay strong, honey.” He headed outside with his crew and left her alone.

  She took a moment to inhale the sharp scent of pine. Some things never changed, and this room was one of them, thankfully. Long
scarred tables, open shelves with wire, twine, cutters, pinecones and different colors and styles of ribbon along with boxes of assorted decorations. She admired a finished wreath. It was beautiful—spruce and juniper, with berries, pinecones and a big gold ribbon.

  Forcing herself not to watch the clock and failing—just how much longer till six thirty anyway?—she kept busy by gathering supplies for and starting a wreath. Her aunt walked in five minutes before Mack was due to arrive.

  “I thought maybe it’d be best if I were here,” she said, and Darcy gave her a tremulous smile. “I see you haven’t lost your bow-tying skills.”

  Her aunt kept up a steady chatter, not seeming to expect Darcy to reply, which was good because she had one ear tuned for an approaching engine. When she finally heard it, she took a deep breath.

  Marla gave her a sympathetic look. “Relax, honey. It’ll be okay.”

  But Darcy barely heard her as the barn door rolled open and Mack’s familiar, long-legged form stepped through. Her breath caught.

  He hadn’t changed. If anything, he’d gotten even better looking, even in old jeans, boots and a down vest, with a Michigan State ball cap. His brown hair was a little longer, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He’d always hated the curl, worn it short. Somehow the new style was a sign of how much she’d missed.

  His gaze landed on her and he gave her a cool nod. “Darcy. Nice to see you.”

  It’d been seven years since she heard her name on his lips in that delicious deep voice of his. Longer still since he’d said it with affection, love or passion. Pain and regret hit her like a tidal wave. She’d botched things so badly. She swallowed hard. “Mack.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.

  Before she could say more he shifted his attention to her aunt. What they talked about, Darcy couldn’t say. She turned back to the table to busy herself by tying bows. Her hands shook so hard she kept fumbling the ribbon.

  Watching Mack now—because her gaze kept pinging over there on its own—it was clear to her that he wasn’t having the same issues she was. He’d gotten over her.

  That was good, right? That was why she’d left. Mission accomplished.

  Too bad she didn’t feel accomplished. She felt torn up inside. Raw.

  She started to reach for the scissors when her neck tingled. When she looked up, her gaze locked on Mack’s. Even across the barn and over her aunt’s head, she felt the heat of it to her toes.

  Oh, no.

  She looked down at the bow she’d botched and untied it with trembling fingers. Oh, this was bad.

  True, in the years since the divorce she’d barely dated. The few times she’d gone out? Her friends had talked her into it and there’d never been a second date.

  She’d never reacted to anyone the way she did to Mack.

  “We need to talk.”

  Darcy jumped at the sound of his voice right behind her. She turned and looked up at him, at the hard set of his jaw, the iciness of his blue eyes. Oh, how she’d hurt this man she’d loved with all her heart. If only she could go back and undo the past.

  But she couldn’t.

  “About what?” Panic fluttered in her throat. He couldn’t want to get into their failed marriage already, could he?

  “Why we’re here.”

  Darcy put down the scissors she could barely hold anyway and crossed her arms over her chest, needing the barrier it signaled to both of them. “I know why I’m here. My aunt and uncle asked me to be.”

  His eyes flashed. “You could have come home at any time.”

  She inhaled sharply. “No. I couldn’t. You of all people know why.”

  “I don’t even know why you left in the first place.” The words were simple but stark and sliced through her as cleanly as a sharp blade.

  She lifted her chin, fought the threat of tears back. “Of course you do. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to help my aunt and uncle out, then I’ll be out of your life.”

  He looked at her, his intense blue gaze unreadable. “You’ll never be out of my life,” he said, his voice low.

  Darcy stared after him as he strode out of the barn, his words vibrating in her soul.

  Marla hurried over to her. “You okay, dear?”

  Darcy forced her lips into what she hoped passed for a smile. “Of course.” At her aunt’s skeptical look she added, “A little shaken, but I’ll be fine, Aunt Marla. It’s been a while.”

  The phone rang and her aunt glared at it, then went to answer, clearly reluctant to leave Darcy alone.

  She picked her scissors back up and decided right then not to show how much the encounter had affected her. As she started a new bow, determination set in. It might be too much to hope she could get Mack to understand now what he’d been unable to back then. But she absolutely had to try so she could finally move on.

  Wasn’t Christmas a season for miracles?

  She’d need one.

  * * *

  Mack strode out into the cold, thoughts whirling. He thought he’d been prepared for the shock, but he’d been wrong. Way wrong. Seeing her wasn’t easier after all these years.

  Especially when she looked so damn appealing.

  But it’d been the look in her big brown eyes that killed him—wary, hopeful, sad all mixed together. Regretful.

  Regrets. He had a few of those himself.

  The still falling snow swirled around him as he approached Joe, who was readying to bale and load cut trees into a truck for delivery at a local store. Joe looked distinctly guilty as he approached.

  “You saw Darcy?”

  Mack gave a curt nod. “Yeah.”

  Joe’s look was assessing and it made Mack uncomfortable. He didn’t want the older man to see how rattled he was. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about Darcy. We were afraid you’d quit or that she wouldn’t come. We didn’t want either to happen.”

  Mack shook his head. He wouldn’t have quit. And he wouldn’t have discussed Darcy with her uncle anyway—it would be disloyal and he’d never ask Joe to do that. “It’s all right. So where are these going?” He pulled a fresh-cut spruce off the trailer.

  “Tom’s. Said delivery would be first thing tomorrow.” With that, Joe turned the equipment on.

  It suited him.

  It didn’t take nearly long enough to load the truck with the trees and wreaths the grocery store owner had ordered. By the time he’d completed several other tasks and he ducked back into the barn, he didn’t see Darcy.

  The stab he felt wasn’t disappointment. It couldn’t be. He’d been there, done that.

  He wasn’t able to fool himself.

  With a sigh, he trudged toward his truck through a good four inches of snow. Joe’s voice stopped him.

  “Are you going to talk to Darcy?”

  Mack turned around. “About what?”

  “About what happened.”

  Anger surged through him, but he forced it down. “There’s nothing left to say. It’s been a long time, Joe. A long time,” he repeated, even though seeing her made it all feel like yesterday. He wanted to forget, to keep it buried. She hadn’t wanted them, their family. What good was it to rehash the whole thing now?

  “Maybe so. But you two have unfinished business. Talk to her.” When Mack opened his mouth, Joe held up a hand. “I’m not going to say any more on this. You’re adults. Thanks for the help tonight. We’ll be back at it after dinner tomorrow.”

  Mack said good-night and swiped the fluffy snow off his windshield. He stood there for a second and watched Joe walk up the lane that led to the house. With a sigh he climbed in and started the engine. As he drove back out to the road, exhaustion washed over him. No doubt there’d be no sleep for him tonight. Or he’d dream of Darcy all night. Frankly, he’d prefer no sleep.

&nb
sp; He turned in the driveway of his little house, the one he’d bought and restored after Darcy left. He’d needed an outlet for his grief, and this house had provided it. He came in through the front door, and was greeted by enthusiastic barking. Sadie and Lilly came barreling out of the living room and threw themselves at him, barking as if they’d thought he wouldn’t be back. He rubbed ears as he waded through them and headed for the kitchen.

  “You guys want out?” They zipped to the door and he let them out in the snow in the fenced-in backyard. His phone rang before he even got his coat off. A glance at the caller ID had him bracing himself.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Mack. How are you?” There was concern in his mother’s voice.

  “Fine.” And because he was feeling a little contrary with how his family assumed he wasn’t, he added, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  His mother sighed. “I don’t know. Because Darcy is home. And you help out at the tree farm. Did you see her?”

  Mack shrugged out of his jacket. “I did.” There wasn’t anything else to say—at least not to his mom.

  “How did it go?” Her voice was gentle.

  “I don’t know. Fine.” He raked a hand though his hair, remembering Darcy’s huge, stricken eyes. “Mom. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I know how torn up you were when she left. How we thought we’d lose you, too. I know you’re an adult, but you’re still my boy. And I don’t want to see you go through that again.”

  Mack turned as he heard a noise at the back door. The dogs were ready to come in. He opened it and they tumbled through in a flurry of wet paws and snow and cold air. “It’s all in the past, Mom.”

  She made a little noise that could have been disbelief. “Okay, then. I won’t keep you. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. Thanksgiving. He’d spent one of those with a pregnant Darcy as his wife. Just before—well, before. It was how he divided everything. Before. And After. He shut the images down. “Sounds good.”