Cowboys Don't Marry Their Enemy (Sweet Water Ranch Western Cowboy Romance Book 9)

by Jessie Gussman

  He held her arms with all the suppressed energy of tectonic plates with a fraction of an inch left to shift before an earthquake exploded out of the ground.

  He looked at the sky, like he wished he hadn’t said anything, dropped his hands, and turned.

  The breeze shifted the bare branches, and something rattled at the back of the house. A loose piece of siding, maybe. Nothing she’d have to worry about in two weeks.

  “You wouldn’t have done anything for me,” she said softly, grateful he’d turned, because she’d been unable to stop the overflowing of her right eye. The tear tracked down her cheek, but her voice remained steady.

  “Yes, I would have.”

  “I told everyone the baby was yours. I didn’t realize it would get back to you before I got a chance to explain to you what happened.” Her voice was whisper soft, barely audible above the swish of the leaves on the ground. “I hoped you’d marry me.”

  “Make me understand how you think that would have happened.”

  “Maybe that’s why I waited too long. Because I was scared you’d be like you are right now. Angry.”

  “It might look like anger to you, but it feels like pain to me.”

  Cora brushed the tear off her cheek and willed herself not to let any more fall. She’d cried enough to last a lifetime.

  “I thought you loved me,” she said, her voice thin.

  “Love’s blind, not stupid.”

  Ouch. That hurt. As he intended, she was sure. She couldn’t doubt he was hurting, had been hurting all these years. As she had.

  “I thought if you loved me, you’d come to me and find out the truth. Instead, you left.”

  He spun around. “Feels like we’re talking in circles, because we’re back to the fact that you were pregnant with another man’s child. Maybe it makes me weird, but that told me loud and clear that you weren’t interested in me. Only using me to protect him.” His jaw hardened. “Unless he raped you. If he did—”

  “He didn’t.” She had to be clear about that. It might be tempting to lay all the blame at Jason’s feet, but that would be the coward’s way out. She’d known what she was doing. She’d just been stupid. Stupidity wasn’t an excuse to blame someone else.

  Her feet had taken a step back. Abner hadn’t raised his voice at all, but the tension coming off him felt sharp, like daggers in the night.

  “I’m sorry. At the time, I thought you’d understand. I can see now, there was nothing for you to see.”

  She stopped.

  “Keep talking.”

  “I was living in his house.” She shrugged. “He was handsome and charming, an older man showering attention on me. I believed him when he said his marriage was over, he was leaving her, they weren’t happy, all those things men say and they don’t mean. Lies. I believed them.” Her voice held bitterness, and she stopped to try to wrestle it back under control.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn’t say anything.

  It was a good minute of silence between them before she went on. “I’d figured out that Jason was lying, but I didn’t have anywhere to go, and I was afraid to tell him no. I needed out. I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and shoved her hands in her armpits, hunkering down inside her coat as the breeze blew again. Her stomach curled and cramped.

  Abner could have been a statue. His hair wasn’t even long enough to move in the wind.

  If he was impatient to know the rest of the story, she couldn’t tell.

  “Stephen and I had talked some, and I knew he was interested in me. He had his own place, and I could have moved out of Jason and Erin’s house. But I didn’t have a way to get to him, and I couldn’t just go up and tell him I wanted to move in with him. So, yeah. I used you. I knew if I was with you, I’d see Stephen.”

  Abner made a sound, a groan, maybe, on an expelled breath.

  She wished he’d say something, but she supposed she ought to finish her story, even if it had gotten harder with his silence.

  She fisted her hands under her armpits.

  “I wasn’t planning on falling for you. But I had. We’d known each other for a long time. You shared some of the same issues with your parents, your mother especially, that I did, and when we were finally together...well, it was easy to fall in love with you.”

  She kicked at the grass, dropping her eyes. “When Erin found the pregnancy test box in the bathroom trash can, I had to name a father.” Lying wasn’t something she did, not before that night and not after. “I couldn’t look her in the eye and tell her I was pregnant with her husband’s child. I might have been young and dumb, but I knew it was wrong, and I didn’t want to hurt her.” Lying was wrong. Every day, all day long. But she couldn’t regret that one. “I’d been aiming for Stephen. After you left, we did get together, but that night, standing in front of her, your name is the one that came out of my mouth. Because you’re the one I wanted.”

  Abner’s hands were still in his pockets. He stood facing the house. His head dropped down, like he could see the ground and was counting blades of grass.

  After long moments of silence, he finally said, “Thanks for telling me.”

  That was it? That was all he was going to say? She’d just told him everything in her heart, and he couldn’t think of anything to say in reply?

  Heat swept over the back of her neck and up her temples. Her eyes narrowed.

  Abner moved. His hands stayed in his pockets, but he shifted so his body faced hers. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m pretty angry at myself right now, because you were right. I can see how things might have turned out a lot different if I hadn’t been so sure I was right and left without talking to you.”

  She turned her head to the side and scuffed the grass with her foot. “I should have made a harder effort to see you and not been a coward.”

  “I guess we both deserve to take some of the blame. But the bulk of it falls on me. I never dreamed, in all the time between then and just now, that would be true.” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She couldn’t doubt his sincerity.

  It made it easier for her to explain everything else. “I...I guess after that, I let myself get caught up in needing to have a man beside me. Maybe it was proof that someone loved me. Maybe it was a security thing because after I hit my teens, I was never sure what house I’d be staying in. Maybe I just have some kind of personality flaw, but I couldn’t be alone, and I made a lot of bad choices because of that.”

  She was talking about the children she had and the men she’d been with. Somehow it seemed important that Abner know.

  “Maybe that wouldn’t have happened if I’d made one different choice.”

  She wouldn’t allow him to shoulder all the blame. “I guess that’s possible. But every choice I made is mine. I have to own them. After the last guy left, it was clear. I needed to be sober, and I needed to stop depending on men to help me or make me feel worthy or good or whatever. My kids come first. No more alcohol. No more men.”

  That’s exactly what she’d decided. She thought it was a good decision, and she thought Abner would agree.

  But there was no flash of teeth in the moonlight. No turned-up lips. His gaze seemed sad and serious as he stared down at her. Maybe he was still thinking about what might have been. He shouldn’t.

  “I regret the sin. It always bites. But I don’t regret my children. I just feel bad that I haven’t been a better, more responsible parent. I decided to change, and so far, it’s worked.” She deliberately lightened her voice. “I guess it’s none of my business, but I just bared my whole sordid history to you. Tell me about you. You’re so good with kids. You must have lived with someone who had them or had a girlfriend with a few.”

  “No.”

  Her eyes swept over his face, and her smile faded. He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, and her lips pressed together. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard for him
to give her a little of his history, make her feel less exposed.

  But he didn’t say anything, so she asked, “Where’d you get so good with kids?”

  “Until I was thirteen, I had little brothers and sisters.”

  She hated the way he said that. Like somehow one had brothers and sisters, then one didn’t.

  Her heart broke for him, just a bit. Wished she could have made different choices. She wanted to be the one to fill his need for a partner. To walk this life beside him. But she was too messed up to be of any good to anyone, let alone a man like Abner.

  How different her life might have been if she’d been raised in a home with a mom and a dad who cared for her, rather than living in her half-sister’s basement and becoming enamored with her husband.

  Chapter 12

  Cora didn’t want a man.

  He couldn’t blame her for swearing off men. He’d be afraid if he were her too. Afraid of choosing another man who was just going to leave. Seemed like she’d had a pile of guys, but no good ones.

  His heart still hadn’t settled down, pounding in an angry rhythm, and his neck was hot. Anger at himself. He couldn’t unclench his jaw.

  Why hadn’t he gone and gotten the story from her?

  He could ask that question all day long, but he knew. He knew.

  Pride.

  He’d been hurt, hearing that she was pregnant. The idea of her with another man. It had burned like peeling membranes off his heart. Like wire in his veins. Like a stiff-bristled brush over third-degree burns.

  He could take the pain. He would have.

  But he couldn’t stand the thought that she’d cheated on him. That she’d used him, toyed with him, that he’d walked with her, his heart in his eyes and on his sleeve, told her things no one else knew, and she hadn’t cared, wanted someone else instead.

  His pride had been wounded, and he thought he’d walked away with dignity, but he’d slunk away like a coward, because he didn’t want to go to her and have her laugh in his face. Hadn’t wanted to risk the rejection.

  A real fear.

  One he should have faced.

  But he’d run instead.

  He’d already apologized.

  Everything that had happened to her since then had hinged on that one decision of his—the decision to believe the worst and walk away.

  And now, he was back, having never stopped wanting her. But she didn’t want a man.

  Maybe he could change her mind.

  “I’d like a chance to be your friend.” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

  Her head snapped up. Her eyes were wide. But the moonlight shone on her cheekbones, emphasizing the heart shape of her face, and he remembered another night, what seemed like a lifetime ago, when they’d strolled under the stars together, along the railroad tracks in the moonlight. They’d walked on the rails, keeping their balance and seeing how fast they could go. Something so simple, but they’d laughed and had fun, and he’d loved her easy laughter and how she didn’t need anything fancy to be happy.

  “I’ve sworn off men.”

  “I’m not asking to be your man. I’m asking to be your friend.”

  “I think friendship is earned.”

  She was definitely stiff-arming him. But he was the don’t-quit king. “Give me the chance to earn it.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. He figured she must really not like him since it seemed to be such a huge decision to even be friends.

  “Honestly, Abner. You’re leaving. And I think it’s better that way. I swore off men, and I don’t think we can be friends.”

  “What about the friend you mentioned?” He tried to keep the heat out of his voice. Jealousy masquerading as anger.

  She pursed her lips. “Bob? What about him?”

  “He’s your ‘friend.’” He used air quotes. “You’d live with him.”

  A thought hit him. Hard enough to take a step backward.

  Cora could live with him.

  Only, no. He couldn’t do that, exactly. Lots of people did it, and it might be fine for them, but his Amish roots would never allow him to do that.

  Visiting was one thing. But if she were going to share his home, he’d want there to be rings and vows.

  He almost snorted. He couldn’t even get her to say he could be her friend. It would be hard to be any further from rings and vows.

  But he was nothing if not determined.

  “That’s different,” she finally said.

  “How?” he shot back.

  “It just is.”

  “Cora,” he said, stepping a little closer, wanting so bad to touch her, but careful to give her space. “I was wrong. I made the coward’s choice, thinking I was being virtuous. Give me as much of a chance as you’re giving Bob.”

  “You’re leaving.”

  If he knew her better, he might have said she was pushing him away in self-defense. That she was telling him no because she wanted him more than she wanted anyone else. But he didn’t know and couldn’t say.

  “I’m staying until the end of the month. If that’s okay with you.” A decision he just made, although he’d told Doug he’d see that the house was closed up after she left.

  He could spend Thanksgiving with Cora and her kids. The thought made him smile.

  “What?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I haven’t eaten a Thanksgiving meal with a family since the Thanksgiving before my dad died.” Yeah, he wasn’t above pulling on her heartstrings.

  “After all you’ve done for me, it would be an honor to have you here with us for Thanksgiving.”

  He felt a thrill of victory. He couldn’t examine why it meant so much to him. Guilt wasn’t the only thing that drove him. It was the only thing he could acknowledge.

  She twisted her hands together, then finally dropped them and looked him in the eye. The moon was behind him, so he figured his face must be in shadow and maybe she couldn’t see that his eyes were drawn to her lips. She definitely didn’t know the fight he waged to keep his feet from moving closer, his hands from reaching out and touching the soft skin of her neck, and his lips from brushing her temple and moving lower.

  “I don’t think I can be friends with you.” Her voice was husky and soft, and he almost would have said there was a bit of longing there, too, but that couldn’t be, since she’d spent the last fifteen minutes rejecting him while he begged.

  “Then give me two weeks to help you with the kids and fix the house up so Mom gets her security deposit back.” Disappointment pulled down on his chest, but he didn’t let it come out in his voice or expression. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted, anyway.

  But she’d wanted him at one time. Maybe in two weeks, he could convince her to...to what? Wasn’t there something wrong with him that he was mooning over a woman like Cora?

  “I’d like to laugh with you some. We used to laugh a lot together.” It hurt, he had to admit, that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and his pride wanted him to shut his mouth about ten minutes ago, saddle up, and ride out. But he’d coddled his pride rather than listening to his heart, and that’s what had gotten him into this position.

  He could shove it aside. And focus his perseverance and never-quit attitude on changing Cora’s mind. Regardless of how the rest of the world saw her, she was the only woman he’d ever wanted. He couldn’t walk away without fighting for her. Not again.

  At last, after long, never-ending minutes, she lifted a shoulder and spread her hand out. “I want you to stay. I’d like for you to. I just think it might be dangerous.” She stepped around him. “I’m going to bed.”

  He fisted his hands rather than take her arm like he wanted to, pulling her to him, feeling her body next to his, tucking her head under his chin, and breathing in her scent.

  He thought he knew what she meant by dangerous, and he had to agree. But he saw it as a good thing.

  She was right. He could stay. He’d make the most of the opportunity.

/>   Chapter 13

  “I need the matches, Mom.” Andrew stood in the kitchen doorway, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, leaning his shoulder on the doorjamb. Just a few days and already her kids were imitating Abner in everything. From his speech to his expressions to the casual way he leaned in the doorway and followed her with hooded eyes.

  “Please,” Andrew added.

  She bit back a grin. She’d just been about to correct him.

  Walking to the cupboard for the requested item, she said, “What are you using them for?”

  In the middle of summer, she might have allowed her children to go out and sit on the sidewalk and play with them—what was it going to hurt, short of setting themselves on fire, which, she had to admit, she assumed her kids had slightly more common sense than that. But it was fall, and there were leaves and sticks, and everything was dry. That’d be a nice exclamation point to the middle of her life—be responsible for the fire that burned the town down.

  “Mr. Abner wants them.”

  She noted he didn’t answer her question.

  “For?” she asked again, holding the box of matches in one hand while cradling Claire, who grabbed at her hair, with the other.

  “We been raking up leaves since we got home from school, and he said we could take the sticks and stuff that we got along with them and make a bonfire and roast marshmallows.”

  “I don’t have any marshmallows.” She felt a little bad about that. Abner had told her he’d take care of supper. She’d appreciated that since she’d put the babies down for naps and gotten started on the project she’d won the bid for. Claire and Luna had been up for a while now, but they’d been happy playing in the living room, and Cora had been able to keep working on her laptop. She’d only stopped about ten minutes ago.

  “He walked to Martin’s store and got them. He has hot dogs, too, and he said we’d eat supper around the fire tonight.” Andrew’s eyes sparkled.

  Conflicting emotions warred in Cora’s chest as she handed the matches over. Guilt was a big one. She’d never done anything like this with her kids. Fear. Her kids were going to fall in love with a man who was leaving. And, yeah. There was heat along with something softer and warmer that spread out from her heart and made her lips want to curl up and made her feet walk to the window so she could pull the curtain back.