Patricia Johns – Montana Mistletoe Baby (страница 6)

“You always wanted kids, though,” he countered.

“I know, but sometimes life works out different than you planned,” she replied. “Exhibit number one, right here.” She patted her belly.

According to Aunt Betty, he’d been the reason she stayed single and childless, and he didn’t like that theory. So their marriage hadn’t lasted. The rest of her life’s choices couldn’t be blamed on him any more than her successes could be attributed to him. He stayed silent for a few beats.

“What?” she said.

“Betty kind of—” How much of this should he even tell her? “She said I’d done a real number on you.”

“You did,” she retorted. “But like I said, I’m fine.”

“So you don’t blame me for...anything?”

“Oh, I hold a grudge, Curtis.” She shot him a rueful smile. “But you’ll just have to live with that. Divorces come with grudges built in.”

Curtis nodded. “Alright. I guess I can accept that.”

Besides, from where he was sitting, her life hadn’t turned out so bad. And as for the kids—she was having a baby, wasn’t she?

“So, you’re done with bull riding, then?” she asked.

“Yeah.” She’d been right about the longevity of it. “It’s tough on a body. I can’t keep it up. Besides, it’s time to do something where I can grow old.”

“Like a stud farm,” she said.

“Yep. As half owner, I’ll be managing the place, not doing the physical labor.”

She nodded. “It’s smart. I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks.”

“Will you miss it—the bull riding, I mean?”

He rubbed his hand down his thigh toward his knee, which had started to ache with the cold. There was something about those eight seconds in the ring that grew him in ways Barrie had never understood. It was man against beast, skill against fury. He was proving himself in there—time after time—learning from mistakes and fine-tuning his game. He never felt more alive than when he was on the back of an enraged bull.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I will miss it. I do already. My heart hasn’t caught up with my age yet, I guess.”

“It never did.” Her tone was dry, and she cast him one unreadable look.

He chuckled. “Is that the grudge?”

“Yep.” And there wasn’t even a glimmer of humor in her eye.

But that wasn’t entirely fair, either. They’d been opposites, which was part of the fuel of their passion. She was almost regal, and he was the scruffy cowboy. She came from a good family, and he came from a chronically overworked single mom who’d consistently chosen boyfriends over him. Barrie had been the unblemished one, the one life hadn’t knocked around yet, and he’d already been through more than she could fully comprehend by the time he’d landed in Hope at the ripe old age of sixteen. If anyone should have been the obsessive planner at that point, most people would have assumed it was Curtis—just needing a bit of stability—but it had been Barrie who wanted everything nailed down and safe. And she had her untainted life here in Hope as her proof that her way was better than his. What did a scuffed-up cowboy like him know about a calm and secure life?

Curtis had known exactly how lucky he was to have her in his life, and his heart had been in their marriage. The problem, as he saw it, was that she hadn’t trusted him enough to risk a single thing after those vows. He’d wanted to make something of himself, and she’d dug in her heels and refused to budge. Her safe and secure life was here in Hope, and he was welcome to stay there with her, but she hadn’t trusted him beyond those town limits. So he had a grudge or two of his own.

“How is your dad?” he asked, changing the subject.

“As well as can be expected since Mom passed away. He’s looking at retirement in the next couple of years.”

“He isn’t retired yet?” Curtis asked. “He’s got to be, what, seventy?”

“Sixty-nine,” she replied. “And who can afford to retire these days?”

Sixty-nine and still working as a cattle mover—that would take a toll on a body, too, but Steve Jones didn’t have the luxury of a career change.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he added. “Betty told me about her passing away when it happened, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t clarify if he’d made the right call in staying clear, so he’d just assume he’d been right. He was the ex-husband, after all. Not exactly a comfort.

“That must have been a shock,” he said.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “You don’t see that coming. This will be our first Christmas without her.”

“I’m sorry, Barrie.”

“Me, too.” She was silent for a moment. “I guess you’ll have Christmas with Betty, then.”

“I need to have the sale finalized by Christmas Eve,” he said. “Betty says she could do without me by then, so, yeah. Christmas with Betty, and then I’m leaving.”

“So I’ll be screwed over by Christmas.” Her tone was low and quiet, but he heard the barb in her words.

“Barrie, this isn’t personal!” He shook his head. “You, of all people, should appreciate my situation. Your dad is in the same boat—working a physical job that takes a toll on a body—”

“Leave my father out of this.”

Curtis had crossed a line; her dad’s plans were none of his business, and he knew that. It was hard to come back to Hope and pretend that the people he’d known so well were strangers again just because he and Barrie had broken up. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had been a huge part of his life back then, but obviously, her father would feel different about him postdivorce.

“Like I said before, you were right,” he said. “Bull riding was hard on my body, and this isn’t a matter of choice anymore. I simply can’t keep going. My joints are shot, I’ve broken more bones than I can count, and I couldn’t get on another bull if I wanted to. You told me all those years ago that this would happen, and I said I was tough enough to handle it. And I was—until now. So... I don’t have a lot of choice here, Barrie. I have to establish a new career and get some money in the bank so I can retire at a reasonable time.”

She sighed and adjusted the bag on her lap. “I always thought saying I told you so would feel better than this.”

Curtis smiled ruefully. Yeah, well, he’d always thought hearing it would sting more. But fifteen years had a way of evening the scales, it seemed. She used to be the one with all the cards, and now he was getting his turn at being the one with the leverage. Still, tilling her under hadn’t been the plan...

“You worked with Palmer before,” Curtis said. “Would it be so terrible if you ended up working together again? You’ve got some loyal clients—”

“I worked too hard to get my own practice to just cave in like that,” she interrupted. “And no offense, Curtis, but I don’t need you to solve this for me.”

“Just trying to help,” he said. Which really felt like the least he could do considering that he was selling the building to her direct rival.

“Well, don’t. I’ll figure it out.”

The same old Barrie—single-minded, stubborn as all get-out and perfectly capable of sorting out her own life. That’s what their married life had been—her way. And if you just looked at what she’d done with herself in the last fifteen years, it could be argued that the best thing he’d ever done for her was to get out of her way. He’d never been a part of her success—and she hadn’t been a part of his. From this side of things, it looked like a life with him had only slowed her down.

The truck rumbled over the snowy road, tires following the tracks from that morning. Fresh snow drifted against the fence posts and capped them with leaning towers of snow. Beyond the barbed wire, the snow-laden hills rolled out toward the mountains, the peaks disappearing into cloud cover. He’d learned to love this land those few years he’d stayed with his aunt, and having Barrie by his side as he drove out this way was frustrating. Curtis might be a constant irritation to Barrie—even now, he was realizing—but he wasn’t useless, either. So if he and Barrie were only going to butt heads, he might as well focus on the work ahead of them.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Around this next corner.”

Barrie sat up a little straighter, her attention out the window.

“I left the cow with some feed and a blanket—you know, just in case. I wasn’t sure how sick it was, so—”

“That was a good call,” she said, glancing around. “How far out into the field is it?”

“A few yards,” he said. “Not too far. I found it when I was filling feeders this morning.”

He pulled up to the gate that allowed trucks access to feeders in the field, and got out to open it. The cows looked up at him in mild curiosity—an older calf ambling over as if interested in some freedom beyond the fence.

“Hya!” he said, and the calf veered off. Curtis jumped back into the cab and drove into the pasture, then hopped out again to close the gate behind them. By the time the gate was locked and he’d come back to the truck, Barrie was standing in the snow, her bag held in front of her belly almost protectively. Her hair ruffled around her face in the icy wind, and her breath clouded as she scanned the cattle that were present, her practiced gaze moving over them slowly. She was irritatingly beautiful—that was the first thing he remembered thinking when he’d met her in senior year. She was the kind of gorgeous that didn’t need what he had to offer, but he couldn’t help offering it anyway.