A Husband for the Holidays (Made For Matrimony 1)

by Ami Weaver

  She talked a few more minutes and Mack made all the appropriate noises before hanging up with a promise to be on time.

  He tossed the phone on the counter and sank down at one of the bar stools lining it. He covered his face with his hands and braced his elbows on the counter. Darcy. All those things he’d worked so hard to avoid were staring him in the face.

  He slammed his palms on the surface, and both dogs looked up from their bowls.

  “Sorry, guys,” he said, and they looked at him as if they saw more than he wanted them to. Wanted anyone to, for that matter.

  After a shower, he lay on his bed and turned the TV on, more for distraction than anything else. He flipped through the channels until he found a hockey game he wasn’t going to watch anyway.

  She’d looked shocked when he said he didn’t know why she’d left. How could that be? She’d never told him, she’d just said she wanted a divorce. She’d left in a hurry after that, without so much as a glance back.

  He’d been looking for her ever since.

  * * *

  Thanksgiving passed in a blur of fantastic food and frantic preparations for the season opening of Kramer Tree Farm the next morning. Darcy knew Mack was around, but there were so many other people and so much to be done she had no time to dwell on it.

  But she was always aware he was in the vicinity. Somehow she was very tuned in to him. That wasn’t a good thing.

  She hadn’t slept so well the previous night, dreaming of Mack. Now, fired up on caffeine and nerves, she figured tonight would be a repeat of the last.

  She thought of her quiet condo in Chicago, her refuge from all this emotion and pain. She missed it and the safety it offered—even if it was apparently safety from herself and her memories.

  The chatter of the employees, the Christmas music, all combined to make a festive atmosphere. The fresh six inches of snow added to it. Her aunt and uncle were thrilled. She tied the last sprig of bittersweet to the wreath she’d made as Marla came over.

  “Looks lovely,” she said with a smile. “You haven’t lost your touch.”

  Darcy laughed. “I think I can make these in my sleep. Everything going okay?”

  “Yes, thankfully. We’re pretty much set. Can I get you to take the ATV out to the warming stations and make sure they are ready to go in the morning? Hot chocolate and coffee out there, and both that and mulled cider up here.”

  “Sure.” Darcy left the completed wreath where it was and stripped off her pitch-sticky work gloves. It only took a couple minutes to gather the supplies she needed and put them in a bag. Outside, she fired up the ATV and drove down the plowed paths to the first—and largest—warming shed. Someone had left the lights on. She parked outside and went in.

  Mack turned around, surprise on his face. Darcy squeaked.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted, and realized as his expression closed up how rude she sounded. “I mean—I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant.” He nodded toward the heating unit. “Wasn’t running right, so I told your uncle I’d take a look at it.”

  “Oh. Well. I’ll be just a minute.” She held up the bag as she edged inside. “I’ve got cocoa mix for tomorrow. Got to stock up.”

  She had every right to be here. She couldn’t let him intimidate her, not that he was trying. She had nothing to hide or defend to this man. Their marriage was over.

  So why were her hands shaking?

  When she stood back up, she bumped a can of coffee, which fell off the table and crashed on the floor, leaving a fragrant trail of grounds as it rolled around. Her face burning, she practically dived for it the same moment Mack reached for it.

  “I got it,” she muttered, then inhaled sharply as Mack’s hand closed over hers. His palm was warm, and while she knew she should yank hers back, her gaze flew to his and locked on.

  He was only inches from her. His blue eyes were serious and heat sparked in them—and an answering heat spread through her. She wanted to lean forward, just a little and close the gap, see if he tasted like she remembered—

  She couldn’t afford to remember. She’d spent far too long trying to forget.

  “Darcy.” His voice was low, a little rough. She swallowed hard and pulled away, gathering the errant coffee can in her arms like a shield. His gaze was shuttered as he sat back on his heels. “Need a broom?”

  She blinked at the coffee mess on the floor. “Looks like it.” Hopefully, there was a backup coffee can somewhere, or else everyone would have to make do with cocoa. “There’s one in the closet. I’ll just clean this up and get out of your hair.”

  She couldn’t even tell the heater wasn’t working. It was awfully hot in here right now.

  She suspected it had everything to do with how Mack managed to kick up her internal temperature.

  “You’re not in my way,” he murmured and retreated to the heater when she came back with the broom. It was as if they were performing some kind of awkward dance. She managed to clean up her mess and stock up the packets with no further incidents, even though she kept sneaking looks at his broad back as he worked on the heater. She put the broom away and turned toward the door, wanting only to escape the oppressiveness of the room.

  “Okay, well, bye,” she said in an overly bright tone. “Sorry for the interruption.” She made a beeline for the door, unable to resist a last look at him.

  He looked up and caught her. “No apologies necessary,” he replied quietly.

  Darcy escaped outside and took a deep lungful of the cold, crisp air in hope it’d settle the crazy butterflies in her belly.

  She didn’t care so much about making a mess in front of Mack—though she really hoped Aunt Marla had an extra can of coffee on hand—but her response to him scared her. She’d worked long and hard to move on past the guilt and grief, to build a new and successful life in Chicago. It’d been a long road, and hard won. But seeing Mack threatened all those carefully constructed walls. She couldn’t afford that. If she hadn’t promised her dad all those years ago she’d be here for this, she’d pack up and leave on Monday.

  It wasn’t running away when your sanity was on the line. Right?

  Chapter Three

  Opening day flew by in a merry haze of families and Christmas trees. Darcy was thrilled with the number of people who came out to the farm. The weather cooperated, too, with a very light snow and no wind. She worked the register, greeting old friends and new faces alike. She saw Mack often from her post, as he was helping with tree processing and loading for anyone who needed it. She actually began to suspect there were a few women who didn’t need it, but took advantage of the fact they’d get his attention for a few minutes.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  She tried very hard not to stare at how perfectly the faded jeans he wore hugged his butt and strong thighs. She also tried to avoid eye contact with him, but it seemed they glanced off each other every time he came into her line of sight. She did note how much the people loved him. Which made sense. As a Lawless, he’d be well-known.

  And sometimes she caught him looking at her. Those small moments thrilled her in a way she knew they shouldn’t. There was nowhere it could go that would end well.

  Only a handful of people alluded to their past and none of them made hurtful comments, even though Darcy had been braced for the worst.

  So she was relaxed and happy when they closed at eight that night. Enough that when Marla invited Mack to the house for a hot supper and a drink, she smiled at him.

  He accepted without even looking at Marla.

  * * *

  Talk at dinner was minimal, as Marla and Joe were clearly exhausted and they were all starving. But the stew was hot and good and just spooned from the slow cooker. After dinner, Darcy sent them to relax. “I’ll get the d
ishes.”

  “We both will,” Mack said and stood up from the table.

  Marla and Joe exchanged a look and Darcy wished he hadn’t said anything. Now it was clear what her aunt and uncle were thinking. She didn’t want to give them the chance to do any misguided matchmaking.

  “Okay,” Marla relented. “Thank you.”

  In silence, Darcy and Mack cleared the table. She was thankful there were only a handful—Mack was doing the suck-all-the-air-out-of-the-room routine that made it hard to concentrate. And he smelled so good, like fresh air and snow and pine. She wanted to burrow into his plaid flannel shirt and just breathe him in.

  Wait. No, she didn’t. She was over him, remember?

  She turned the water on and added soap while he quietly got out a clean towel. From the living room, the TV added a nice undertone and helped fill the silence, but didn’t do anything to cut the tension.

  “So,” she said as she slid plates into the sink, “a good day, huh?”

  “Very,” he agreed. He took the plate from her instead of waiting for her to put it in the drainer. She pulled away quickly. She’d have to be very careful not to touch him accidentally.

  “Tell me about your job,” he said.

  She relaxed. This was a safe topic, not likely to venture into territory she wasn’t comfortable with. She filled him in on her PR career, stressing how much she enjoyed it and the city.

  Or used to. No point in mentioning the dissatisfaction she’d had over the past few years.

  “You love Chicago.”

  It wasn’t a question, almost an accusation. Surprised, she forgot she wasn’t going to make eye contact and looked at him. His jaw was tense.

  “I do,” she said because it was true. She loved the city, the pulse, the vibrancy. The quirky atmosphere.

  “So you’re happy.” The words were quiet, but Darcy recognized them as a minefield. No answer would be the right one. She swallowed hard.

  “I am, yeah.” She carefully washed the last plate and handed it over, mindful of his long fingers and the memories she had of them, both tender and erotic.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said quietly, and she looked up to catch his gaze. It was sincere and regretful at once. Her heart stuttered. Maybe she could get him to see what had been in her head and heart back then. Maybe she could apologize and he’d accept it. Maybe this was the opportunity she needed to finally move on and find peace.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, but couldn’t look away, gripping the dishcloth because she was afraid she’d reach for him. Touch his face, with the faint shadow of whiskers on his strong jaw. Bury her hands in the longer length of his hair.

  Or kiss him.

  With a hard swallow, she turned back to the sink. None of those were options. Not a single one. To even think so was madness of a truly bittersweet kind.

  He folded the towel and she drained the sink, bumping his arm with hers as he hung it up. She gritted her teeth against the little prickle of heat the contact generated. She didn’t want this, but didn’t know how to make it go away.

  “How about you?” The question was more of a desperate deflection. “How’s the vet practice? What else are you up to these days besides helping here?”

  He leaned a hip on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m good. The practice is good. I’ve got another vet working with me now, too. We’re a good team. The practice is expanding and we need more room, so that’s why your aunt and uncle are selling to us.”

  She blinked and went cold. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  He looked at her strangely, then comprehension dawned. “I’m buying the tree farm, Darce. With Chase. Didn’t they tell you?”

  She turned to the sink and swiped at it with the cloth, fighting the sense of betrayal that flooded her. “It must have slipped their minds,” she muttered.

  What else hadn’t she been told? Had things been so bad when her marriage ended they’d tried to shelter her to the point of simply not telling her anything?

  He swore, then rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I wouldn’t have—”

  “Told me. I know. No one around here seems to think I need to know anything that’s going on.” She sounded put out but couldn’t help it. What else didn’t she know?

  “You’ve been gone a long time,” he pointed out, an edge creeping into his voice.

  “I know.” The words were bitter on her tongue, all the more so because he was right. “What are you going to do with it?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  He pushed off the counter. “Chase has an ecologically sound plan for the place, Darcy. If you stop by my office I’ll show you—”

  “Wait.” She held up a hand. Ecologically sound were pretty words that hid a nasty truth. “Is he turning this into a subdivision?” The thought made her sick to her stomach. All the trees leveled, the ponds filled in, the buildings that had been here forever torn down.

  “Not like you’re thinking, I’m sure. The barn will hold my practice. The rest will be a sub, which will have large lots. The plan is to preserve as many of the trees as possible. It’ll be natural, with trails and everything.”

  The roaring in her ears intensified. “You’re taking my childhood home and tearing it down so you can build a subdivision.”

  Alarm crossed Mack’s face as he narrowed his eyes. “You make it sound personal.”

  “Isn’t it?” The bitterness spewed out of her now. “I hurt you. Badly. I took everything from you and now here’s your chance to hurt me back.” This farm had always been here, always been a constant in her life. Now it’d be torn down and replaced with houses and people. And no longer part of her.

  “Oh, come on, Darcy. It’s been seven years! And you haven’t been back since to the childhood home you love so much. Your aunt and uncle are important to me. This has nothing to do with you.” His voice had risen to match hers, and she glanced at the living room, worried her aunt and uncle would overhear.

  She stared at him, the final realization he’d truly moved on hitting her right in the heart. “You knew. And you’re still going to destroy it.”

  “We gave them a fair price,” he said simply. “They know my plans. They know Chase’s plans. No one’s destroying anything. It’s why they agreed to sell to us. They had opportunities to turn us down. I’d never pressure them, Darcy. Give me some credit.”

  The tight edge of anger in his voice forced her to bring it down a few notches. “Right. It’s not about me. As long as they are okay with selling the farm to you for a subdivision, it has nothing to do with me.” Were her words for Mack, or for herself?

  “No, it doesn’t.” There was a challenge in his eyes. “Because you’ll leave. You claim to love it here, but you’ll leave it without a second thought. And not ever look back.” He snagged his jacket off the back of a chair. “Never mind, Darcy. I’ve got nothing to justify to you. It doesn’t involve you.”

  His words followed him out the door and she resisted the urge to scream and throw something after him. Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed hard. He had a point. She’d seen firsthand how little they needed her here, how they didn’t see how much she’d loved it. How she’d dreamed of being back.

  Whose fault was that? Her own. She’d needed to get away from Holden’s Crossing so badly she hadn’t thought about what it would mean to relationships with those she’d left behind. Even being in touch long-distance hadn’t been enough, though she’d tried to convince herself it was.

  It hurt they’d opted not to keep her in the loop. Worse that Mack had been the one to tell her.

  Aunt Marla walked in. She looked around the kitchen. “Where’s Mack?”

  “Gone,” Darcy said shortly. Marla frowned.

  “Did you two have a fight?”

&nbs
p; In spite of herself, she laughed. “Fight? That would imply there was something to fight over. No. He just—he told me he’s buying you out.”

  “Oh.” Marla sat down at the table. “Yes. He is.”

  Darcy didn’t have the energy to pursue it further. Plus, it didn’t matter, as Mack had made clear. “That’s great.”

  Marla covered Darcy’s hand with her own. “He and Chase will treat it with respect, Darce. It’s a good choice for all of us.”

  Darcy’s breath caught. All of us didn’t include her, of course. And now it was too late to ask for a say. Besides, what could she do? She lived in Chicago, for Pete’s sake. Her life was there. She’d spent the past seven years making sure everyone knew that. How happy she was, how successful she was, how busy she was.

  It had all been a sham.

  “Of course it is.” She pushed back from the table. “I’m wiped. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  Marla rose and gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry, honey. We should have told you.”

  “Just out of curiosity, is there anything else I need to know?”

  Marla shook her head. “No. Nothing. Darcy, I’m so sorry for how this has gone.”

  Being angry with them wouldn’t serve anyone. Besides, the one she was mad at was herself. And Mack, no matter how unfair that was. “No harm done,” she murmured and hurried up the stairs to her room.

  * * *

  A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Darcy opened it to find her uncle standing there. “Can I come in?” His voice was quiet.

  “Of course.” She stepped back. The room was small, and he sat on the bed.

  “Marla told me.” He took a deep breath. “I know. We should have said something. We’ve really—we’ve really dropped the ball when it comes to all this. We thought—we thought we’d kind of ease you into it. That wasn’t our intention, to shut you out.”

  Darcy’s mind was whirling. It felt that way, but there was no point in going there. She was as much, if not more, to blame, letting them think she needed to be protected from all this. “I know. I understand.” She stared out the window at the light snow that fell, dancing in the reflected light of the Christmas lights on the porch. “But—how can you sell it to them, Uncle Joe?” No matter what Mack said, that he and Chase would keep it intact and not level the whole thing to build wall-to-wall cookie-cutter houses, she couldn’t believe him. Didn’t believe him. “It’s just—always been here.” But of course she could see the proof, that it needed more than Joe and Marla could give it.