“Yeah.”
“You must be mighty worried about her.”
He took her empty bowl, giving her a searching look. “Mary Beth can fend for herself.”
Right. Because Mary Beth was a paragon. Mary Beth wouldn’t need a man to split her logs or shovel her snow or keep her warm. Mary Beth wouldn’t place a knife in the center of his heart and give it a good, hard twist.
She dragged her eyes away from Noah.
She exhaled in relief when he disappeared into the kitchen, but he returned a moment later, toting a bucket of snow. She moved aside as he hung it on the hook over the fire.
“Once this heats up we can wash up at least. Better than nothing.”
“Sure.”
Noah joined her by the fire, hands extended. Moments ticked by. The silence was like a tight line, stretched taut between them. Maybe the tension was a might uncomfortable, but it was better than the alternative. Safer.
“What’s wrong, Josie?”
She steeled herself against the use of her nickname. “Nothing’s wrong.” She could feel his gaze on her for a long, painful moment.
“You seem . . . on edge this morning. Are you worried about your event?”
The event. She’d completely forgotten about it. What was wrong with her? Even now Callie was probably up to her eyeballs in work, trying to get the shop ready in time. If they’d even been able to fix the broken pipe. The girls at the Hope House would be waking soon, possibly to some very disappointing news. And all she could think about was herself.
“Josie?”
She gave him a strained smile. “I’m fine. I’m sure Callie’s doing everything she can. And I’ll be getting back to town just as soon as the wind dies down.”
Josephine squirmed as he looked at her long and hard. She was suddenly too warm under Mary Beth’s uncomely parka. She moved to the sofa and reached for the book on the floor. Not that she’d be able to pay the story much mind. But maybe it would keep Noah from pestering her.
A moment later the sofa sank beside her as Noah lowered himself. Close, but not touching. Her gaze bounced off him, settling back on the book.
“I’m sorry I brought up the past last night.” His low voice rumbled through the quiet room. “We called a truce and I broke it.”
Her heart leaped at his words. Leave it to him to bring up the very thing she was working so hard to forget. He’d never been one to beat around the bush.
“Josie?”
She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”
She lifted her shoulder in a careless shrug. “It just doesn’t.”
She ducked her head, focusing on the book. Her hair fell forward, a convenient curtain, blocking out Noah.
The words, Josephine. Read the words. She managed a sentence, a paragraph. Not that she understood any of it. She turned the page anyway.
Noah brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin tingled under his fingers. Her body flushed with warmth. There was no numbness with Noah. No siree.
“What’s going on inside that head of yours?”
“I’m just reading, Noah.”
“I didn’t know you were such a Dungy fan.” His tone rang with sarcasm.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? He was supposed to be cross with her. He was supposed to sign the papers and tell his friends what a man-eater she was.
The fire snapped and sparks shot up the flue, but Noah couldn’t tear his eyes from Josie’s face. He could see some kind of battle raging behind those baby blues.
He took the book from her hands and closed it on his lap. “Talk to me.”
“You didn’t mark my page.”
“Talk to me, Josie.”
She sighed. “Let’s just get through this, all right? It’s almost over.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“There need to be boundaries. We can’t be . . . sharing our hearts and—and cuddling up on the couch and playing games like it’s old times or something.”
“You’re the one who started with the—”
“I know, I know. I was stupid. We’re divorced, Noah. It will be official in a matter of days, and I just think . . .”
He frowned at Josie. Her cheeks were flushed and not from the cold. Something sparked in the depths of those eyes. Fear? Anger? What he’d give to read her mind right now.
“What, Josie? What do you think?”
She finally turned to him, her eyes snapping with fire. “I think we should just cut this out, that’s what. We’re not together anymore. We’re not married. We’re not even friends. We’re just—enemies, stuck together by chance.”
His gaze roved over her face, his fingers remembering the softness of her skin, his body remembering the feel of her against him.
“You’re not my enemy.”
She leaped off the sofa. “Well, I should be!”
She moved in front of the fire, arms crossed, chin jutted. Her shoulders rose and fell with shallow breaths.
What was going on here? Everything was fine last night. At least until he’d opened his big mouth.
He’d had plenty of time to ponder his feelings as he’d lain awake for hours. He didn’t know what was happening between them. Maybe he just wanted closure. Maybe he wanted to understand what he’d done to fail her so horribly that she’d—
He gave his head a shake. Clearly Josie didn’t want to talk about that now any more than she had then. And he’d be a fool to let her back into his heart when he didn’t even know what had gone so wrong before.
Right?
Her sharp laugh snagged his attention. “Do you even have any idea how many men I’ve slept with, Noah?”
He blinked at her. “What the heck, Josie?”
“It’s true.”
He frowned at her back. At the confidence, almost smugness, in her tone. She’d hinted as much during their courtship, but he’d always shut her down. He didn’t care about her past. At least that’s what he’d told himself. Mostly he just didn’t want to think about it. He still didn’t.
“I can’t even remember them all. Sometimes I didn’t even know their names.”
“Stop it.”
“I was an early bloomer.” She tossed him a look over her shoulder, her chin jutting out. “I was only twelve that first time.”
Good gosh. He rocked back in his seat, his breakfast congealing in his stomach.
“Yeah, twelve. He was older though. Much more experienced. I learned a lot.”
“That’s . . .”
She quirked a brow, gave that little smirk. “Messed up? Yeah, Noah. I’m messed up. And that was just the beginning. I was pretty much the Cartersville High School whore. Did you know that? Need a sure thing for the prom? Ask Josephine Dupree. Feeling lonely? Give Jo a call. Need a little revenge—?”
“Stop it.”
“What for? It’s all true.”
“That’s in the past, Josie.” Even he heard the hardness in his tone.
Well, what did she expect? He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to think about all the men she’d given herself to. Not even now. Some part of him argued that Josie wasn’t like that anymore. But the part of him she’d hurt, the part of his heart that had been left in tatters, raised a finger of doubt.
He stared at her back, her stiffened posture. Daylight trickled in through the curtains, and he suddenly needed to see the look on her face. The look in her eyes.
She must not have heard his approach, because she jumped when he took her elbow, turning her. Something flickered in her eyes before she blinked it away. Her expression was classic Josephine: proud, carefree, cynical.
“Why are you doing this now?” he asked.
“Just thought you had a right to know.”
His eyes pierced hers. “You’re afraid.”
Her face gave nothing away. Her lip curled in a w
ry grin. “Whatever do I have to be afraid of, Noah?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m not afraid, sugar. I’m just trying to assuage any misplaced guilt you might have over our divorce. It’s all on me.”
“I don’t feel guilty about it.” But that wasn’t entirely true. How many hours had he spent wondering where he’d been lacking? What he’d done wrong? If he wasn’t enough?
“Good. You shouldn’t.”
He looked closely at her. Past the smirk. Past the jaunty thrust of her chin to the twin pools of her eyes. To the flush that stained her cheeks.
This little show might’ve worked once upon a time. But he knew better now. Knew her cynicism was just a hard, brittle shell that protected a soft heart.
His gaze sharpened on her. “Did I get a little too close last night, Josie? Is that it? I think you’re just feeling a little uncomfortable, and you don’t like that. You’re trying to scare me away.”
She gave a sharp laugh. “Haven’t I already done that, Noah? I mean, when your wife rolls around in the sheets with another man—”
“That’s enough.”
The image flashed uninvited in his mind, repulsing him, making him burn with anger. Heat flushed through him, making his muscles quiver, and his body tensed.
He let loose of her arm and stepped back. If he didn’t, he was going to grab her and shake her silly. He took three long breaths and dragged his eyes back to her face.
She’d gone pale, her shoulders were pulled in and upward. The smirk trembled on her lips. Not so brave now.
She curled her arms around her waist. “Let’s just go back to our own corners, hmm, Noah?” Her voice was flat, emotionless.
Noah’s eyes snapped with fire. “Fine, Josephine. Have it your way.”
Chapter 19
Noah brought the ax down on the log, and it split with a thwack. He kicked the halves out of the way and set another log on the stump. His breath fogged in the afternoon air. The snow had finally stopped, and the wind was beginning to taper off.
Good. He was that much closer to getting rid of his house-guest.
He’d put coats on the horses and put them out to pasture. He’d taken extra time with Kismet, trying to settle him. The horse would need a lot more one-on-one time before it really felt at home.
Noah adjusted his gloves, his eyes glancing off the darkened house. This had to be the longest day in history. He and Josephine had hardly spoken all day. Granted, he’d spent much of it in the barn. And it wasn’t as if they were out of firewood either. He’d take any excuse to escape the house. Plus, it felt good to work off some steam.
He wished he could call someone. Seth. His mom and dad. Someone who would talk some sense into him.
He stopped a moment to catch his breath. Once he took Josephine home he could start getting back to normal. If all went well it would be safe to take her home by late afternoon. She was missing most of her event—provided it hadn’t been canceled—but that was the least of his concerns right now.
His mind reviewed once again the things she’d said this morning. He’d have to be made of stone not to be bothered.
Josephine wasn’t the woman he’d made her out to be in his own mind. He’d ignored the things Seth had told him. The warning Jack had tried to give him. He’d told himself her past was in her past. Put her up on a pedestal.
And boy, had she come crashing down.
He needed to remember that. What’d he want with her now, anyway? Hadn’t she already caused him enough trouble? What was he thinking, letting her back in?
He brought the ax down with more force than necessary. But he had a feeling there weren’t enough logs in the county to work Josephine Dupree Mitchell out of his system.
Josephine shifted on the sofa. She pulled her knees to her chest and covered her nose with the blanket, capturing her warm breath. Her fingers were stiff with cold, and she could hardly feel her toes.
Shadow had deserted her in favor of Noah hours ago. Her husband/ex-husband napped in the recliner behind her, snoring softly. The fire crackled quietly, the flames dancing in the hearth. The wind still howled, though to a lesser degree. It was almost four o’clock now. Her event—if it had even taken place—was practically over. She could only hope that it had gone as planned and that the girls were ready to begin their exciting evening.
Today had been a trial. The hours dragged, even though Noah spent the better half of the day outside. She was up to here in guilt. But she should probably be used to that by now.
She’d second-guessed herself a dozen times. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him away. He could be behind her right now, holding her tight, keeping her warm. He could be slipping back into her heart, back into her life.
But it was too late to call back the ugly list of things she’d done. The ugly truth of who she was. She was doing the right thing, she told herself. She was saving them both from her, and if that made him angry, it was a small price to pay.
She must’ve fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes Noah was donning his coat, urgency in the quick work of his hands.
She sat up. “What’s going on?”
He shoved his feet into his boots, not sparing her a glance. “Something’s wrong. I heard a crash outside. The horses are agitated.”
Now that she stopped and listened she could hear them faintly. High-pitched neighs.
“Do you need any help?”
“No.”
She didn’t notice the rifle until he grabbed it from its spot against the wall. He rushed out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. A moment later the truck’s engine fired up.
She got up and put two logs on the fire, warming her hands. The mantel clock showed ten minutes to five. She listened for the wind and heard nothing for several minutes. It was probably safe to go home now. Once Noah tended to the horses, she’d ask him to take her.
Noah spotted the break in the corral as soon as he pulled up in his truck. He stared at the busted wood and frowned.
What in the world?
The snow had been disturbed, but with his horses possibly in danger, he bypassed the broken fence and went to check on them, gripping his rifle tightly.
He was breathing hard by the time he reached the horses. They were huddled in the corner of the corral, ears flicking, eyes wide with fear. He gave a quick scan of the surroundings. He didn’t see or hear anything that would have them so worked up.
Whatever the threat, it was gone now.
He shouldered the rifle and advanced slowly, taking care to remain calm. He went to his own horse, Sweetpea, first. She trusted him most and was the leader of the pack. She also had a calm, sensible nature that responded quickly to the unexpected.
“It’s all right, girl. Nothing to worry about.” The horse stepped toward him, giving one final neigh. But this one sounded less tremulous. “You’re all right. Attagirl.”
He stroked her withers. Already the other horses had calmed down. They were moving out of the corner, quieting a bit. He kept talking in calm tones as he did a quick head count. Nine, ten, eleven . . .
With the horses moving around maybe he’d missed one. He counted again and got the same number. He looked over the herd. Sweetpea, Rango, Bella, Octavia, Gracie, Buffer Zone . . . Where was Kismet?
He scanned the pasture, a sinking feeling in his gut. He trotted back to the break in the fence where his eyes honed in on hoofprints. What had spooked Kismet so much that he’d busted right through the fence?
The prints headed toward the road. Noah walked the opposite direction a short distance, scanning the fresh blanket of snow.
There, up closer to the house. He closed in on the marred snow and frowned. Bear prints. Gun at the ready, he followed them up to the kitchen side of the house. The garbage can was tipped over, the trash scattered. He gave the surroundings a quick scan.
The bear was gone now. He needed to give the fence a quick fix and find Kismet. Hopefully the horse hadn’t gone far.
I
t was around five thirty when Josephine heard the high-pitched buzz of Noah’s snowmobile leaving the property. That was two hours ago, and she’d been pacing the living room ever since. The horses had quieted at least. That was good, but it didn’t explain why Noah had left.
What was going on? Had he gone to Mary Beth’s for some reason? He’d said something about taking the snow machine over there when he’d been on the phone with her.
Josephine was being ridiculous. Whatever was going on with his horses had nothing to do with Mary Beth.
Right?
One thing was certain, he was going to be frozen solid when he came back. Making it back to town was also impossible, since the sun had already set. She hoped the event had gone off as planned and that all the girls were on their way to a magical evening.
She built the fire back up and heated water for coffee. A cup of decaf would warm his insides right up.
Shadow watched her scuttle around the room, his head propped on his paws, his ears perking, probably wondering why she was disturbing his nap.
The water was boiling by the time the door flew open. Noah pushed it shut, and it closed with a slam.
Josephine jumped, her heart kicking into second gear.
He jerked off his knit hat, leaving his hair in disarray. His eyebrows and eyelashes were white with ice, and his nose was pink. None of that distracted from his knotty jaw or the hard line of his lips.
She was almost afraid to ask. “What—what’s going on? Are the horses okay?”
His eyes cut to hers. Even in the dim light, they snapped with fire. “Did you take it upon yourself to put out the garbage today, Josephine?”
She blinked at the change in topic. “What—yes. I took it out this morning. Why?”
He gave her a long, steely look that only made her more uncomfortable. “Did you think to put the lid back on the can, by any chance?”
“The lid . . .” She reviewed her actions. It had been so cold, the wind whipping right through her open coat. She was in a hurry. “I-I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember.” He looked away, his jaw ticking, before he found her gaze again.
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