Читать книгу A Husband For The Holidays - Ami Weaver - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Opening day flew by in a merry haze of families and Christmas trees. Darcy was thrilled with the number of people who came out to the farm. The weather cooperated, too, with a very light snow and no wind. She worked the register, greeting old friends and new faces alike. She saw Mack often from her post, as he was helping with tree processing and loading for anyone who needed it. She actually began to suspect there were a few women who didn’t need it, but took advantage of the fact they’d get his attention for a few minutes.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

She tried very hard not to stare at how perfectly the faded jeans he wore hugged his butt and strong thighs. She also tried to avoid eye contact with him, but it seemed they glanced off each other every time he came into her line of sight. She did note how much the people loved him. Which made sense. As a Lawless, he’d be well-known.

And sometimes she caught him looking at her. Those small moments thrilled her in a way she knew they shouldn’t. There was nowhere it could go that would end well.

Only a handful of people alluded to their past and none of them made hurtful comments, even though Darcy had been braced for the worst.

So she was relaxed and happy when they closed at eight that night. Enough that when Marla invited Mack to the house for a hot supper and a drink, she smiled at him.

He accepted without even looking at Marla.

* * *

Talk at dinner was minimal, as Marla and Joe were clearly exhausted and they were all starving. But the stew was hot and good and just spooned from the slow cooker. After dinner, Darcy sent them to relax. “I’ll get the dishes.”

“We both will,” Mack said and stood up from the table.

Marla and Joe exchanged a look and Darcy wished he hadn’t said anything. Now it was clear what her aunt and uncle were thinking. She didn’t want to give them the chance to do any misguided matchmaking.

“Okay,” Marla relented. “Thank you.”

In silence, Darcy and Mack cleared the table. She was thankful there were only a handful—Mack was doing the suck-all-the-air-out-of-the-room routine that made it hard to concentrate. And he smelled so good, like fresh air and snow and pine. She wanted to burrow into his plaid flannel shirt and just breathe him in.

Wait. No, she didn’t. She was over him, remember?

She turned the water on and added soap while he quietly got out a clean towel. From the living room, the TV added a nice undertone and helped fill the silence, but didn’t do anything to cut the tension.

“So,” she said as she slid plates into the sink, “a good day, huh?”

“Very,” he agreed. He took the plate from her instead of waiting for her to put it in the drainer. She pulled away quickly. She’d have to be very careful not to touch him accidentally.

“Tell me about your job,” he said.

She relaxed. This was a safe topic, not likely to venture into territory she wasn’t comfortable with. She filled him in on her PR career, stressing how much she enjoyed it and the city.

Or used to. No point in mentioning the dissatisfaction she’d had over the past few years.

“You love Chicago.”

It wasn’t a question, almost an accusation. Surprised, she forgot she wasn’t going to make eye contact and looked at him. His jaw was tense.

“I do,” she said because it was true. She loved the city, the pulse, the vibrancy. The quirky atmosphere.

“So you’re happy.” The words were quiet, but Darcy recognized them as a minefield. No answer would be the right one. She swallowed hard.

“I am, yeah.” She carefully washed the last plate and handed it over, mindful of his long fingers and the memories she had of them, both tender and erotic.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said quietly, and she looked up to catch his gaze. It was sincere and regretful at once. Her heart stuttered. Maybe she could get him to see what had been in her head and heart back then. Maybe she could apologize and he’d accept it. Maybe this was the opportunity she needed to finally move on and find peace.

“Thank you,” she murmured, but couldn’t look away, gripping the dishcloth because she was afraid she’d reach for him. Touch his face, with the faint shadow of whiskers on his strong jaw. Bury her hands in the longer length of his hair.

Or kiss him.

With a hard swallow, she turned back to the sink. None of those were options. Not a single one. To even think so was madness of a truly bittersweet kind.

He folded the towel and she drained the sink, bumping his arm with hers as he hung it up. She gritted her teeth against the little prickle of heat the contact generated. She didn’t want this, but didn’t know how to make it go away.

“How about you?” The question was more of a desperate deflection. “How’s the vet practice? What else are you up to these days besides helping here?”

He leaned a hip on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m good. The practice is good. I’ve got another vet working with me now, too. We’re a good team. The practice is expanding and we need more room, so that’s why your aunt and uncle are selling to us.”

She blinked and went cold. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He looked at her strangely, then comprehension dawned. “I’m buying the tree farm, Darce. With Chase. Didn’t they tell you?”

She turned to the sink and swiped at it with the cloth, fighting the sense of betrayal that flooded her. “It must have slipped their minds,” she muttered.

What else hadn’t she been told? Had things been so bad when her marriage ended they’d tried to shelter her to the point of simply not telling her anything?

He swore, then rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I wouldn’t have—”

“Told me. I know. No one around here seems to think I need to know anything that’s going on.” She sounded put out but couldn’t help it. What else didn’t she know?

“You’ve been gone a long time,” he pointed out, an edge creeping into his voice.

“I know.” The words were bitter on her tongue, all the more so because he was right. “What are you going to do with it?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

He pushed off the counter. “Chase has an ecologically sound plan for the place, Darcy. If you stop by my office I’ll show you—”

“Wait.” She held up a hand. Ecologically sound were pretty words that hid a nasty truth. “Is he turning this into a subdivision?” The thought made her sick to her stomach. All the trees leveled, the ponds filled in, the buildings that had been here forever torn down.

“Not like you’re thinking, I’m sure. The barn will hold my practice. The rest will be a sub, which will have large lots. The plan is to preserve as many of the trees as possible. It’ll be natural, with trails and everything.”

The roaring in her ears intensified. “You’re taking my childhood home and tearing it down so you can build a subdivision.”

Alarm crossed Mack’s face as he narrowed his eyes. “You make it sound personal.”

“Isn’t it?” The bitterness spewed out of her now. “I hurt you. Badly. I took everything from you and now here’s your chance to hurt me back.” This farm had always been here, always been a constant in her life. Now it’d be torn down and replaced with houses and people. And no longer part of her.

“Oh, come on, Darcy. It’s been seven years! And you haven’t been back since to the childhood home you love so much. Your aunt and uncle are important to me. This has nothing to do with you.” His voice had risen to match hers, and she glanced at the living room, worried her aunt and uncle would overhear.

She stared at him, the final realization he’d truly moved on hitting her right in the heart. “You knew. And you’re still going to destroy it.”

“We gave them a fair price,” he said simply. “They know my plans. They know Chase’s plans. No one’s destroying anything. It’s why they agreed to sell to us. They had opportunities to turn us down. I’d never pressure them, Darcy. Give me some credit.”

The tight edge of anger in his voice forced her to bring it down a few notches. “Right. It’s not about me. As long as they are okay with selling the farm to you for a subdivision, it has nothing to do with me.” Were her words for Mack, or for herself?

“No, it doesn’t.” There was a challenge in his eyes. “Because you’ll leave. You claim to love it here, but you’ll leave it without a second thought. And not ever look back.” He snagged his jacket off the back of a chair. “Never mind, Darcy. I’ve got nothing to justify to you. It doesn’t involve you.”

His words followed him out the door and she resisted the urge to scream and throw something after him. Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed hard. He had a point. She’d seen firsthand how little they needed her here, how they didn’t see how much she’d loved it. How she’d dreamed of being back.

Whose fault was that? Her own. She’d needed to get away from Holden’s Crossing so badly she hadn’t thought about what it would mean to relationships with those she’d left behind. Even being in touch long-distance hadn’t been enough, though she’d tried to convince herself it was.

It hurt they’d opted not to keep her in the loop. Worse that Mack had been the one to tell her.

Aunt Marla walked in. She looked around the kitchen. “Where’s Mack?”

“Gone,” Darcy said shortly. Marla frowned.

“Did you two have a fight?”

In spite of herself, she laughed. “Fight? That would imply there was something to fight over. No. He just—he told me he’s buying you out.”

“Oh.” Marla sat down at the table. “Yes. He is.”

Darcy didn’t have the energy to pursue it further. Plus, it didn’t matter, as Mack had made clear. “That’s great.”

Marla covered Darcy’s hand with her own. “He and Chase will treat it with respect, Darce. It’s a good choice for all of us.”

Darcy’s breath caught. All of us didn’t include her, of course. And now it was too late to ask for a say. Besides, what could she do? She lived in Chicago, for Pete’s sake. Her life was there. She’d spent the past seven years making sure everyone knew that. How happy she was, how successful she was, how busy she was.

It had all been a sham.

“Of course it is.” She pushed back from the table. “I’m wiped. I think I’ll go to bed.”

Marla rose and gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry, honey. We should have told you.”

“Just out of curiosity, is there anything else I need to know?”

Marla shook her head. “No. Nothing. Darcy, I’m so sorry for how this has gone.”

Being angry with them wouldn’t serve anyone. Besides, the one she was mad at was herself. And Mack, no matter how unfair that was. “No harm done,” she murmured and hurried up the stairs to her room.

* * *

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Darcy opened it to find her uncle standing there. “Can I come in?” His voice was quiet.

“Of course.” She stepped back. The room was small, and he sat on the bed.

“Marla told me.” He took a deep breath. “I know. We should have said something. We’ve really—we’ve really dropped the ball when it comes to all this. We thought—we thought we’d kind of ease you into it. That wasn’t our intention, to shut you out.”

Darcy’s mind was whirling. It felt that way, but there was no point in going there. She was as much, if not more, to blame, letting them think she needed to be protected from all this. “I know. I understand.” She stared out the window at the light snow that fell, dancing in the reflected light of the Christmas lights on the porch. “But—how can you sell it to them, Uncle Joe?” No matter what Mack said, that he and Chase would keep it intact and not level the whole thing to build wall-to-wall cookie-cutter houses, she couldn’t believe him. Didn’t believe him. “It’s just—always been here.” But of course she could see the proof, that it needed more than Joe and Marla could give it.

“It’s been in the family for a few generations now,” Joe said. “But there’s no one to carry on the farm. Unless...” His voice trailed off and Darcy, hearing the speculation in his tone, pivoted to face him.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you want to run it.”

Darcy laughed and slapped her hand on her chest, incredulous. “Me? I couldn’t possibly.”

Joe’s gaze was steady and her laughter died. “Why not?”

She scrambled for an answer. “My life. My job. It’s all in Chicago.” It seemed obvious. Didn’t it?

“Are you happy there?”

She turned back to the window. What was up with that question? Mack had asked her the same thing. “Of course.” Wasn’t she happy? Was it her guilt that was eating at her?

She heard the creaking of Joe’s knees as he rose off the bed and came to stand beside her. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “As a child, you loved this place. Loved it, Darcy. Followed me and your daddy all over, helping. Even after he died, and you were so young, you kept on helping. With your PR skills, you could take this place and really turn it around. We have a verbal agreement only at this point. No papers have been signed yet.”

She stared at his profile, her mind whirling. She had a closet full of stilettos, for God’s sake. She’d never wear them here. She was a city girl now. And—Mack was here. Could she live in the same town and still move on with her life?

Joe looked over and slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. She breathed deeply of his outdoorsy, piney scent and squeezed her eyes shut. “Keep it in mind before you reject it totally, Darcy.”

She hugged him back. “I can’t make any promises, Uncle Joe.” She didn’t want them to pin their hopes on her. She just didn’t see how it could ever work.

She’d worked so hard to make partner, a feat that was almost in her grasp. So hard to earn the respect of her coworkers. So hard to forget what had happened here, to move past it. To come home to stay would be like throwing away the past seven years of her life. Why would she want to undo everything she’d worked so hard for?

Why would she want to face, every day, what she’d tried too hard to forget?

* * *

Damn it. It hadn’t gone away.

Mack walked into his office Monday morning in a foul mood thanks to his sleepless weekend. Ever since Darcy showed up, he’d been unable to sleep for the damn dreams.

Dreams of Darcy.

They’d managed to spend all weekend together, but not really. She spoke to him when necessary but no more than that. Eye contact was minimal but searing. Sometimes he’d catch her watching him, and he couldn’t read her anymore. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was driving him slowly insane.

Now he went into his office, tossed his coat on the coatrack and dropped in his chair to rub his forehead wearily. God help him, he’d never make it to Christmas this way. She’d kill him all over again and not even know it.

Even though Sherry would fuss at him, he went ahead and started coffee. Functioning on zero sleep required constant caffeine. Delivered by IV preferably. Since that wasn’t an option, he headed for the coffeemaker.

There was a rhythm to the mornings. Check everyone, feed everyone, take out those who needed it. Medicine to those who needed it. He embraced the routine today, relieved for the constancy of it. Today he had no truly ill animals, which was always nice. By the time the coffee perked, he was feeling more relaxed.

Jennifer, another vet who worked with him, came in on a flurry of snow.

“Morning,” she said, then looked at him hard. “Notice I didn’t say ‘Good morning,’ because you look like hell.”

He sputtered a laugh. He could always trust she’d get to the point. “Thanks, Jenn.”

“This have anything to do with the return of the ex-wife?”

He shut his eyes for a second before reaching for a food bowl. “You heard.”

“Of course. Small town means everyone eventually knows everything.” She held up a hand before he could say anything. “You don’t have to confirm or deny. Though one look at you is plenty of confirmation for me.”

He replaced the bowl and ran his hand down the back of the cat gently. She didn’t purr, but neither did she swipe at him. “There’s not much to say.” He knew his tone was curt but she didn’t flinch.

“Maybe I’m not the one you need to talk to,” she said softly.

He thought of Darcy, of her laugh, of her spill of hair, of her big brown eyes and smooth skin. Of her cute little body in worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Of how he’d thought he was over her and somehow he wasn’t.

Nope, no reason to say anything.

“I’m good,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him as Sherry entered the clinic.

The morning passed quickly. He managed to keep thoughts of Darcy to a minimum. He wasn’t due to help at the Kramer farm till the weekend. With any luck he’d have this under control by then.

His last patient of the day was a cantankerous old cat. The owner, Mrs. Harris, had known him his whole life, and she still spent most of her days at the bakery she’d owned for as long as Mack could remember.

“Hello, Mrs. Harris,” he greeted her as he entered the exam room. “Wolfie’s not eating today?”

The older lady frowned. “No. He’s just not himself.”

An exam of the animal didn’t reveal anything untoward, so Mack suggested a change of cat food and sent them on their way with a sample bag. He stood in the reception area, making his notes in Wolfie’s chart. Afterward, he ran through the closing duties with his staff and headed out to meet his brother for dinner. It wasn’t lost on him how his mother and brother checked up on him regularly. Even Katie had, all the way from California.

He tried to appreciate their concerns, but it was a little stifling.

* * *

“So. How’s it going with Darcy?” Chase’s question was casual, but Mack heard the concern under the words.

“There’s nothing to report,” he said drily. “I hardly see her, much less talk to her.” All true. She was avoiding him. He knew he should be grateful.

“Mmm. So that’s why you look as if you haven’t slept in a week,” Chase observed, tilting his beer bottle toward Mack. “You want to try again?”

Unsure actually if that question meant change his answer or give it another go with Darcy, he gave the answer that covered both. “No.”

Chase raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. Mack stared at the TV, pretending Monday Night Football was enthralling, even though he had no idea what the score was and the teams were just a blur, since Darcy’s face kept floating through his brain. He rubbed his hand over his face.

“Have you talked to her?”

“Well, yeah. I have to work with her. I’m not going to be rude,” Mack said, irritated.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Mack laughed. “Why would I do that, Chase? It’s long over. There’s nothing to say.”

Other than ask questions. Like, Why did you leave? Why didn’t you love me as much as I loved you? Why wasn’t I enough? Why couldn’t we pull through our loss?

And she might have one for him. Like, Why weren’t you there for me when I needed you?

He had no answer for any of them.

“Nothing to say,” he repeated flatly. “Chase. Drop it.”

His brother looked at him hard and Mack managed not to flinch. Chase gave a short nod. “All right.”

Mack let out a silent exhale. The only way he’d get through this was if people left him alone. All the well-meaning looks and questions were driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to self-destruct just because Darcy was home. Or because she’d leave again.

Because this time she wasn’t leaving him behind. He’d walk away first.