Beth Cornelison – Rancher's Hostage Rescue (страница 6)
“Don’t bother,” she said giving him a flat look. “My opinion of you and how you treated my sister is not going to change in the next twenty minutes while you get your things from her house.”
Dave firmed his mouth, and his eyebrows dipped in a low line over his dark brown eyes. Bedroom eyes, she could remember Helen calling them when she’d first started dating Dave and she’d gushed to Lilly about her handsome new boyfriend.
Okay, he was handsome. She’d give him that. But the mess in his car underlined the impression she’d formed in subsequent conversations about Dave. A man who was just too casual in his relationships, in his housekeeping, in most aspects of his life. No plan for the future. No commitments and few responsibilities.
She spotted a distinctive cone-shaped plastic sleeve on the floor and bent to pick it up. The grocery store sticker on the plastic wrap verified what the contents had been.
“Wooing a new girlfriend?” she asked, knowing her tone was brittle and not caring.
He started the engine and sent her a cool look. “No. Visiting the grave of the woman I miss every day.”
His reply shocked her. Shamed her. She hadn’t been to Helen’s grave since the funeral. She planned to go before she left town, but...it was too painful, and she hadn’t yet mustered the nerve to go.
“Oh.” She let the wrapper fall back to the floor. “Sorry. I...shouldn’t have assumed—”
“Like I said earlier,” he said, facing the road as he drove, “I was going to give her an engagement ring on New Year’s Eve.”
Lilly’s heart contracted. “She’d have said yes. She loved you, despite—”
He cut a sharp gaze toward her, his dark eyes full of pain, but said nothing.
Lilly cursed under her breath. “Dave, I guess it’s obvious I’m no fan of yours. You strung her along for five years, forgot important anniversaries—”
“I know.”
“—dismissed her unhappiness when she tried to talk about it, flirted with other women in front of her—”
“Now that’s not true!”
“—stood her up on her birthday—” Lilly’s volume grew as her anger heated.
“That wasn’t my fault!” he argued, matching her volume. “There was an emergency at the Double M, and I couldn’t get away. I explained that to her, and we went out the next night!”
“And you were always making excuses for your shortcomings. Never taking responsibility for your screwups with her!”
He smacked the steering wheel and shouted, “I know I did! I hate myself for it!”
She fell silent, studying him. He flexed his hand then squeezed the steering wheel. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply.
After a moment, he cut a dark glare toward her, his tone calmer, quieter. “I regret it every hour of every day. She deserved better. I let her down. I
Lilly turned toward the side window, blinking away the tears that stung her eyes. Why had she lit into him like that? Berating him wouldn’t change the past, wouldn’t bring Helen back. Helen had loved him, despite his shortcomings, and she’d be appalled to know Lilly was calling him to task for the things she’d confided in sisterly phone conversations. Venting, Helen had called it. Maybe all women needed to let off steam now and then about their mates’ foibles. If she’d vented to Helen about Alan’s faults and transgressions, would she have been in a better position to have saved her own marriage? She’d never know. Alan was gone, remarried, and she was...
Lilly closed her eyes. Never mind what she was. Where she was. What she’d do next. She just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. She might be alone in the world, but she would not wallow in self-pity. She would be strong, like her mother had been after Dad left.
But in the short term, she simply wanted to complete her business with Dave Giblan and see him on his way so that she never again had to see the man who was a painful reminder of Helen’s too-short life. After that, she’d pour a large glass of wine and put this horrible day behind her.
* * *
After their brief shouting match, Lilly grew sullenly silent. Dave wasn’t proud of himself for responding to her anger and accusations with the heat he’d used. After all, everything she’d said was true, was something he’d castigated himself for in the last few months. Most everything. But the fact that he had a legitimate excuse for missing her birthday dinner was cold comfort in hindsight. Had he not been so prone to disappointing her, the birthday dinner would have been more easily forgiven. Instead it had been just another letdown on a long list that she’d reported to her sister.
“How long will you be off work?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
He rubbed his leg almost without thought and sighed. How long, indeed? “I should be released by the doctor to return to limited work in another month or two.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, except...”
She turned and met his glance. “What?”
“The McCalls told me when I broke my leg that I’d have a job waiting when I was ready to come back, but...they’ve hired a couple replacement hands already. One is a woman. A former rodeo champion.”
“Really? A woman?” she asked, clearly intrigued.
“You ever meet Zoe Taylor at the diner in town?”
She nodded. “Good food. Nice lady. I remember her.”
“It’s her daughter they hired. Back right after Christmas. Then earlier this spring they brought on another guy. I can’t see them taking me back and letting one of them go, so...”
“Maybe they’ll keep them and take you back,” she offered.
“Not unless they’ve recovered more from their financial setbacks than I’ve heard. Things were real tight last year.” He shook his head and squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m guessing I’ll have to look elsewhere for work.”
She hummed her acknowledgment then aimed a finger out the side window. “This is your turn.”
He faced her and lifted a corner of his mouth in a sad smile. “Yeah, I know.”
She twisted her mouth in a chagrined frown. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
An-n-nd...the awkward silence was back.
When they reached Helen’s house, Dave parked in the side drive and cut the engine. Even before he could unfasten his seat belt and hobble around the front end of his truck, Lilly was out and hurrying up the front steps. She walked to the end of the porch, where she lifted a flowerpot with a dead plant—some kind of Christmas plant that still had tinsel and tiny red balls on it—and extracted the spare key hidden there. Dave stared at the brown needles and wilted boughs of the tiny tree while Lilly unlocked the door. Helen would be crushed to know her plants had died. She’d had the golden touch with so many domestic things. Cooking, gardening, sewing. He’d teased her about it, calling her “Mary Homemaker.” Now he wished he could tell Helen how much he regretted teasing her. That, in truth, he admired her talents.
The familiar squeak of the screen door hinges snapped him from his deliberations. Lilly pushed open the front door, and he followed her inside.
“The box of stuff I’ve been collecting for you is in the back. Wait here while I get it.” Lilly waved a hand toward the sofa in the living room as she headed down the hall.
Dave didn’t want to sit. If Lilly was selling the house, this could be the last time he was here. He had a load of memories, both good and bad, invested in this house, and he wanted a last look around. Closure, he thought people called it.
He wandered into the kitchen, the heart of Helen’s home, and he pictured her at her stove cooking up one of her many drool-worthy dishes. She’d loved cooking, baking, creating new foods that were state-fair blue-ribbon quality. He scanned the counters, imagining the cookie jar and cake stand full of her latest indulgent dessert. He’d definitely eaten well while he’d dated Helen.
He spied a glass hummingbird figurine on the windowsill over her sink and went to pick it up. He’d given her the hummingbird for her birthday the first year they’d been dating. She’d fawned over it in a gift shop when they’d gone hiking at Rocky Mountain National Park, and he’d doubled back to the shop without her knowing to buy it. One of the few romantic gestures he’d ever done for her. His lungs tightened with grief when he thought of the bright smile she’d given him when she opened the gift. Why hadn’t he tried harder to make her that happy all the time?
He would keep the hummingbird, he decided, as evidence that he hadn’t been a complete heel and a reminder of one of their better days. As he reached for the figurine, he noticed odd stains in the sink. The spots looked like...blood. Frowning, he followed the trail of drips from the sink toward the hall. Another line of blood spots went from the sink toward the back door. And there, on the door frame, was a smear of red. What the...?
A prickling uneasiness skittered up his spine. He moved to the back door to get a closer look at the smudge and, through the decorative glass door, he noticed a familiar-looking car parked behind the house. A sedan that seemed to be held together by rust and prayers.
With his next breath, he connected the dots and remembered where he’d seen the battered sedan...