“He is, and he was forty years ago.”
“The same man you couldn’t have?”
She nodded. “All because of my stubbornness. He was the star quarterback at Syracuse and I was the head cheerleader.” She held up the football-shaped key ring. “He gave me this forty years ago. And I’ve kept his college sweatshirt all this time.”
Charity remembered that sweatshirt well. The surprises just kept coming.
Nora smiled at her. “Hard to believe I was a cheerleader, isn’t it? But I was. Damned good at it, too. And crazy in love. Stan was drafted by the New York Jets about the time my parents died in the house fire. I became an heiress. I told Stan to forget his football career because he’d only end up getting hurt. We’d live on my money. He turned down my generous offer.”
“And forty years later he’s changed his mind?”
“Not on your life. He made a pile of money in the NFL, invested well, and doesn’t need a penny from me. The sad part is, we could have worked that out forty years ago.” She looked directly into Charity’s eyes. “Don’t let the same thing happen to you and Wyatt.”
Charity gasped. “How did we get back to that?”
“We’ve always been talking about that. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Of course! And your case is nothing like mine! Stan apparently wanted to marry you, he just didn’t want to be controlled…” Charity stared at Nora.
“It’s very easy, sweetheart,” Nora said. “The two of you agree to love, honor, and respect the individuality of the other. You and Wyatt are smart people. I know you can do it.”
Charity’s heart began to pound. “What makes you think he wants to try?”
Nora gave a hoot of laughter. “For the brief time he stayed on Friday, all he talked about was you. No intimate details, mind you. And you two must have put the fear of God in Alistair, because he won’t even give me details, either. But, trust me, Wyatt thinks you hung the moon. I told him to go over to your house and tell you how he feels, but he’s convinced you’re a thoroughly modern woman who would throw a ring back in his face.”
“That’s what I wanted him to think,” Charity whispered.
“And would you?”
Tears brimmed in Charity’s eyes. “No way.”
“As I thought.” Nora shrugged out of her coat. “Show me how to work that cash register. I’m minding the bookstore for the weekend while you go to New York.”
“Oh, Nora, I couldn’t ask you to—”
“You didn’t. I insisted. Look, I’ve been waiting to marry Stan for almost half a century.” She rolled her eyes. “God, does that make me feel old. Anyway, I don’t want a couple of hangdog faces lousing up the happiest day of my life.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “Here’s the phone number for Wyatt’s hotel, but he’ll probably be at the Garden by the time you arrive, so I’d go there first.”
Charity took the paper in fingers icy with fear.
“Now get your coat on and get out of here.” Nora waved her toward the back room. “You can still catch a train into the city if you move that little fanny of yours.” She laughed. “Which was, I understand, the first part of you Wyatt fell in love with.”
AFTER CHARITY LEFT the bookstore Nora picked up the phone and dialed her brother David in Arizona. “She’s on her way to New York,” she reported. “If that dimwit son of yours has any sense, they’ll be engaged by tonight.”
“Have either of them mentioned the L word?” David asked.
“No, but they are both in deep. I told you this was the one for him, David.”
“I hope you’re right. This is the most catastrophefilled matchmaking effort I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“The snowstorm was an unexpected bonus. I wish I could take credit for it, but I can’t.”
“And the complete trashing of your house? You’re delighted about that, too?”
“Who needs a house when you have love?”
David chuckled. “I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth, sis. But I’m happy for you. And now we can finally show Wyatt the old scrapbooks of you in your cheerleading outfit.”
“Don’t get carried away, David. Listen, a customer is coming into Charity’s bookstore. I have to go. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do that.”
Nora hung up the phone as Alistair pushed open the door, jangling the bell overhead.
He stopped short when he saw Nora behind the cash register. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m minding the store for Charity.” She folded her hands on the counter. “What can I help you with, Alistair?”
Alistair pulled his scarf from around his neck. “I wanted to put in my order for the next Sue Grafton.”
“And you planned to apologize to Charity, I expect.”
Alistair looked surprised at the suggestion. “But it was an honest mistake. If they really had murdered you, you would have been happy to know that I acted so promptly in your behalf.”
“If they really had murdered me, I wouldn’t be happy or sad, Alistair. I’d be dead.”
He waved a gloved hand. “Well, of course, technically, but speaking in the abstract sense, you certainly would have wanted someone to avenge the scurrilous—”
“Alistair, I appreciate your risking life and limb to avenge my imagined murder. However, you came perilously close to shooting two of my very favorite people in the process. In the future, please leave firearms out of your repertoire.”
Alistair sniffed. “You needn’t concern yourself about Alistair Updegraff’s behavior any longer. You can house the entire Ringling Brothers Circus, complete with elephants, tigers and seals in your house and I won’t lift a finger to interfere.”
“Alistair, please don’t think that I—”
“No, no.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I understand that people don’t appreciate neighborly gestures anymore. You don’t have to hit Alistair Updegraff over the head.”
“How is your head, by the way?”
“Better, thank you. But I’m through trying to go that extra mile. Times have changed.”
Nora rested her chin on her hand and smiled at him. “If you say so. Want me to leave a note for Charity about the Sue Grafton book?”
“Uh, yes. And there, uh, was a book I ordered two weeks ago. It might be in, if you could check for me.”
“Certainly. What is the title?”
Alistair shifted his weight and glanced up at the ceiling. “Surveillance Techniques Made Simple, I believe.”
Nora waited until she got into the storeroom before she allowed herself a good laugh. In the midst of so much change, it was comforting to know that some things would always be the same.
14
CHARITY PAUSED before approaching the ticket window at Madison Square Garden. The crowd inside sounded like the ocean during a winter gale, and as Charity listened to the enthusiastic cheering she almost turned around. Wyatt was inside, perhaps the object of that cheering. With that kind of adulation, who needed a bookstore owner from Old Saybrook?
But she’d promised Nora she’d at least talk to him. Her promises to Nora were becoming increasingly difficult to keep.
She paid for her ticket and walked inside the circular building, where the roaring of the crowd drowned out any other sound. The sawdust-covered arena lay below her, bathed in lights and filled with the churning energy of the biggest bull she’d ever seen. A man flopped on the bull’s back like a rag doll. He could be Wyatt or some stranger—Charity couldn’t tell from this distance. It didn’t matter. If the rag doll wasn’t Wyatt at this moment, it would be soon. The thought made her stomach pitch.
The rag-doll man flew from the back of the whirling bull and landed in a crumpled heap in the sawdust. The crowd surged to its feet as the bull charged the downed cowboy. Rodeo clowns rolled barrels at the bull, distracting him, changing his focus.
Charity clutched her stomach and prayed she wouldn’t throw up. She couldn’t do this.
If Wyatt needed to ride bulls to maintain his sense of self, she wasn’t the right woman for him, because she didn’t have the fortitude to hang around and watch. As it was, she’d probably have nightmares for the rest of her life about him being killed in the arena. She turned to leave.
“Charity!”
She swung back to find Wyatt Logan, rodeo cowboy, mounting the aisle steps toward her. Black leather chaps encasing his legs rippled and spurs clanked as he climbed upward. Light from the back of the auditorium winked off the polished championship belt buckle at his waist. His black Western shirt was unwrinkled, his black Stetson dust-free. Obviously he hadn’t been the cowboy thrown just now. She fought the urge to run into his arms. That wouldn’t help her do the right thing, which was to leave this man to his dangerous life-style.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“Nora had me tracked down.” He reached her and paused about two feet away.
Charity breathed in the scent of animals, sweat and dust. She’d never experienced such a powerful aphrodisiac.
“Nora said to expect you about now,” he said, “so I’ve been watching. I saw you come in.” He adjusted his black hat. “Looked as if you were about to leave.”
She relearned the rugged planes of his face, the sculpted beauty of his mouth, the comforting breadth of his shoulders. She wanted him so much, but she couldn’t be the kind of woman he needed. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Why did you?”
“Because Nora said…because I thought…never mind. I should have left it the way it was. I’m sorry, Wyatt.” Drawing on strength she didn’t know she had, she turned and started toward the door.
“Wait.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.
She noticed they’d attracted the attention of people sitting in the back of the auditorium. They craned their necks to get a better look at what was obviously one of the rodeo stars. “We have an audience,” she murmured, gazing up at him.
“I’m getting used to that.” A muscle worked in his jaw and he kept his hand clamped firmly on her arm. “Something made you show up here tonight. I want to know what it was.”
“Well…” Even through the quilting of her jacket she could feel the strong print of his fingers. She looked into his face, shadowed by the broad brim of his hat. His stern expression, combined with boots and a hat that made him seem taller and more imposing, intimidated her. She had a hard time squaring this image with the man who had lived with her so intimately. “I guess you know Nora’s getting married,” she said.
“I do.”
“It’s probably just the romantic fog she’s in that made her talk like this, but she seems to think that you and I shouldn’t…reject the idea out of hand. But, of course, I know how you feel, so—”
“Don’t bet on it.”
Her heart skipped into a higher gear as she gazed into his eyes.
There was no softening of his expression, no hint of a smile. “If a guy’s going to survive on the rodeo circuit he has to learn to adjust. He may have a technique that’s worked great for years, and then he hits the moment when it doesn’t work anymore. If he can’t adjust, can’t innovate, he’ll be gone.”
She could barely breathe. “And you…hit that moment?”
“About three o’clock Thursday afternoon.”
When they’d first made love. She began to tremble.
“But when I tried to talk to you about it, you cut me off. I figured I was the only one who’d changed and I’d have to find a way to live with it. Then you showed up tonight. And you still haven’t told me why.”
“Because I changed my mind, too.”
The fierce light that leapt into his eyes broke her heart because she knew her next words would extinguish it.
“But it won’t work, Wyatt.”
The light blazed higher in his eyes. He captured her other arm in the same iron grip and pulled her close. “That’s so typical of you, Charity Webster. You’re the queen of obstacles, but I’m not letting you get away with it this time. All I need to know is that you want me. The rest is details.”
“Big details,” she protested, beginning to panic.
“Well, here’s the biggest one of all. I love you, you contrary woman.”
Her whole world erupted in fireworks. “Oh, Wyatt.”
He gave her a little shake. “Oh, Wyatt? Is that the best you can do?”
She forced out the words. “What difference does it make if I love you? We can’t get married!”
“Trust me, it makes a huge difference. Say it.”
“I love you, but—”
“Without the but.”
“I love you!”
“Finally.” He swept off his hat and kissed her with such competence that her glasses steamed up and she forgot the rows of people sitting a few feet away. She forgot the rodeo. She forgot the reason why she couldn’t marry this incredibly sexy cowboy.
Then he released her. “Gotta go. I’m up in fifteen minutes.”
“But that’s exactly—”
“No time, Charity.” He backed away from her and put on his hat. “We’ll talk when I’m finished. We’ll work out those details that’ve put a twist in your knickers.”
“I don’t want to watch!”
He pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes. “So take off your glasses. Just don’t leave.”
“I suppose you think just because I love you that you can order me around!”
He grinned at her. “Please don’t leave, then. I need you here.” He turned and took the steps down to the arena two at a time.
Charity watched him until he disappeared in the crowd of cowboys surrounding the bucking chutes. When she became aware that several people had swiveled in their seats to gaze at her with bemused smiles on their faces, she realized she’d just shouted out her declaration of love loud enough for people several rows down to hear.
“Well, how would you like it if the man you loved was about to climb on one of those brutes?” she questioned the group in general.
An attractive redhead sitting on the aisle laughed. “Honey, if you don’t like it, go get yourself an accountant and pass that gorgeous cowboy on to me.”
Then the bull and rider scheduled just ahead of Wyatt broke from the chute and everyone returned their attention to the arena. Charity forced herself to watch, too. The sight of the twisting, heaving bull still made her mouth go dry and her pulse race, but she was calmer than she’d been the first time around. However this cowboy wasn’t Wyatt.
He was thrown off, but he got up immediately, ran for the fence and climbed over before the bull got to him. Then the announcer introduced Wyatt Logan as the next rider up and listed his many accomplishments. The crowd cheered.
Charity remained standing, but knew she’d couldn’t run away, not after Wyatt had said he needed her. Somehow she’d would watch him ride this bull and pray he survived the experience. Then she’d explain her position—she couldn’t ask him to give up bull riding, so she’d be on her way.
It was the longest eight seconds of her life. She didn’t take off her glasses, didn’t close her eyes, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe, as if only total concentration would protect him from harm. Her enemy, the creature who could blot out all that was important to her, was a brindle monster, bigger than either of the two bulls she’d seen before. He leapt, whirled, twisted and lunged, the bell around his neck clanging a furious warning.
Sweat trickled down her back and her palms stung from the bite of her nails. The black figure on the bull’s back jerked spasmodically each time the animal crashed back to earth, but bull and rider stayed connected. After an eternity of pain the buzzer sounded, and Charity jumped as if awakened from a trance. The bull charged past a fence and Wyatt jumped. Hands grabbed at him, hauling him over the fence into safety. Charity’s knees wobbled. She staggered to the first step going down the aisle and sank down, breathing hard.
WYATT ACCEPTED congratulations from his fr
iends while trying not to seem impatient. At last he was able to excuse himself, circle the arena and start back up the aisle toward Charity. He’d banged his leg on the fence as he went over and he tried not to limp as he climbed the stairs. Charity would probably give him hell for hurting himself.
She sat on the steps high above him, and a light on the back wall shone down on her golden hair, creating a halo. Wyatt chuckled. Much as he loved this woman, he knew she was no angel. He wouldn’t have wanted one of those, anyway. This opinionated, feisty, courageous female was the only one for him. For once Aunt Nora had been absolutely right.
As he approached, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He’d just ridden the toughest bull on the circuit to the buzzer, and he was going to marry the sexiest woman in the world. Life was good. Of course, Charity wore an expression of doom, but he’d fix that.
He mounted the last step, turned and winced as he sat down beside her.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. I rode him, Charity.”
She glared down at her feet and wouldn’t look at him. “I know.”
“You watched?”
“Yes, and I won’t ever do it again. I can’t ask you to give up bull riding, so that’s it. We have no future.”
He’d pretty much expected this, but he could deal with it. “Why can’t you ask me?”
She lifted her head and stared at him. “Because the whole idea is for each of us to be whatever we want to be. I can’t ask you to be somebody different.”
He reached for her left hand and placed a kiss on her ring finger. “What I want to be is your husband.”
She made a funny little choking sound before clearing her throat. “You—you mean, you’d give up bull riding for me?”
He gazed at her. He’d give up breathing if she asked him to, but he decided against broadcasting just how far gone he was. “Sure.”
“But wouldn’t you resent that?”
“Not if we could work out a compromise.” He turned her palm up and placed a kiss there. He was gratified at the slight tremor that ran through her hand at the contact. “What would you say if I switched to saddle broncs for the time being?”
Stuck With You Page 15
