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A Husband For The Holidays
Ami Weaver
A FLURRY OF REIGNITED PASSION IS IN THE FORECAST!What would the holidays be without joy and cheer? A regular Christmas for Mack Lawless. Along with the first snow come regret and confusion when his ex-wife, Darcy Kramer, returns to Holden’s Crossing. Even seven years later, her abrupt decision to file for divorce burns deep. And it doesn’t help that he’s practically forced to bump elbows with her at a Christmas tree farm during the most festive time of year….Why did she leave? Darcy’s deeply buried secrets still hurt, just as much as seeing Mack again does. But time and distance had done nothing to help her forget about their love. Now, with the holiday spirit on her side, she can try to make amends. Can a sprig of mistletoe lead to a real forever family?



Maybe they’d seen the same thing and had the same regrets?
Why would she tell him?
Darcy lifted her gaze then, and the pain in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. “There’s nothing you can do.”
If that was the truth, then what the hell. Mack cupped her chin in his hand, saw her eyes widen. “I saw it, too. I felt it, too. Lie to me, but not yourself.” His voice was rough in his throat. “Don’t think this is easy on me, Darce. It’s not.” Then, because he couldn’t not, he bent forward and planted a soft kiss on her cold lips, lingering for a heartbeat before he pulled away. Now there was surprise in her eyes, and that was better than pain. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, then turned to go back inside.
Because if he didn’t, he’d kiss her again. For real. And once they started down that path, there’d be no going back.
* * *
Made for Matrimony: The road to the altar is paved with true love
A Husband for
the Holidays
Ami Weaver


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Two-time Golden Heart Award finalist AMI WEAVER has been reading romance since she was a teen and writing for even longer, so it was only natural she would put the two together. Now she can be found drinking gallons of iced tea at her local coffee shop while doing one of her very favorite things—convincing two characters they deserve their happy-ever-after. Ami lives in Michigan with her four kids, three cats and her very supportive husband.
To the baristas at my local Biggby, who keep me supplied with gallons of iced tea and a place where I can write without feeling I have to clean my house. You guys are awesome!
Contents
Cover (#u16ed3f06-88ec-56c2-beab-1155f84c046e)
Introduction (#u378b6f01-0b6a-58f7-b943-8c4fc19321b5)
Title Page (#ub9e88c8a-404a-5e48-8405-e5e45c49b3da)
About the Author (#u335ffcc2-5e50-5bad-a95d-a7d485a24a58)
Dedication (#u56e3b393-f173-5cfa-ae48-0e53ef62656f)
Chapter One (#u70016883-72b7-5ba2-b24e-940f3d6cc422)
Chapter Two (#u055e44da-30fb-5498-b8d1-8916a387c11e)
Chapter Three (#u11aa311f-7f46-5a0f-9974-f37ef859c2f5)
Chapter Four (#u4ffadc20-211b-5012-8894-df82c4b94caf)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_692fd5cd-2c3a-58c3-8959-ad4bfa35e6a8)
“She’s back.”
The grim tone of his brother’s voice told Mack Lawless all he needed to know, and his heart gave an unwelcome thump. Still, since he hadn’t heard from the she in question in almost a decade, he deliberately uncoiled more of the pine garland he was hanging on the front of his veterinary practice and kept his voice level. “Who’s back?”
Chase moved so he was at the periphery of Mack’s vision. Even out of the corner of his eye, Mack could see the tight set of his brother’s mouth. Damn. He willed his hands not to shake. He refused to let on that the mention of her—even indirectly—could still affect him. He came down the ladder, leaving the boughs hanging and ignoring the sting of the snow that pelted his face. “Chase?”
Chase met his gaze. “Darcy.”
Darcy. Her name was a hard punch to his gut. Still. After seven freaking years. He’d gotten over her, and yet...
And yet hearing her name tore the lid off the memories he’d worked so hard to bury.
He forced himself to hold Chase’s gaze and not show anything but indifference. “Are you sure?”
Chase nodded. “Saw her at the gas station a bit ago. Thought I’d—thought I should be the one to tell you.”
The wind kicked up and the tail of the abandoned garland lashed Mack in the face. He winced, caught it and turned back to the ladder. Mack and Chase were planning to buy her family’s tree farm after Christmas. He hadn’t thought it would matter to Darcy. She hadn’t been back since their divorce, even to visit her aunt and uncle.
His brother angled so the wind was at his back. “You okay, man?”
Irritation flared, but Mack tamped it down. Chase meant well. They all would mean well. As if he was still the heartbroken mess Darcy’d left in her dust all those years ago. “Yeah. It was a long time ago.” He fitted the garland over the next hook and pretended the acid in his stomach was because he’d had a burrito for lunch and not because the only woman he’d ever really loved had returned to Holden’s Crossing. The woman who’d broken him into shards when she left.
But his damn heart had never fully let her go.
“All right, then. Let me know if you need anything.”
In spite of the tension coiling through him, Mack laughed. “Like what?”
Chase shrugged. “Whatever you need. We can talk to her...”
“Oh, no. No talking.” He could just imagine how that particular conversation would go. He could almost pity Darcy. Almost. “Leave her alone, Chase. I’ll deal with her when I have to.”
“If you say so.” Chase jingled his keys, then walked away. Mack heard his brother’s truck start up and forced himself to focus on his task. Now he felt exposed. Anyone who’d seen Darcy, anyone who knew the story—or thought they did—could be driving by right now, staring at him, whispering.
He hated the whispers.
He looped the last of the decoration over the final hook and secured it so the winter winds wouldn’t rip it free. Since the weather was steadily getting worse, he opted to leave the Christmas lights for another day. He hoped the wind wouldn’t rip them down—the way Darcy had ripped his heart.
He closed the ladder and tried damn hard to ignore the mental picture of his ex-wife, with her long coppery locks and golden brown eyes. Damn it. Now he’d have Darcy on the brain after he’d been so successful at getting her out of it. He forced himself to turn away and haul the ladder back inside, banging it hard on the door. He swallowed a curse as pain radiated up his arm.
“All done?” Sherry’s voice was cheery and he relaxed for a moment. His office manager didn’t know anything too personal about him, thank God. At least not yet.
“Weather’s getting worse,” he said as he lugged the ladder down to the hall closet. “Wind is picking up, so I’ll finish tomorrow.”
She gave a quick nod. “You’ve had a bunch of calls in the past half hour,” she said. “Your family, mostly.” She held the messages out, her attention back on the computer screen.
“Ah. Thanks.” He took them and beat it back to his office. He skimmed through them quickly, then dumped them in the trash. Mom. Chase. His sister, Katie. How sad was it to be a thirty-two-year-old man and have your entire family band together over an ex-wife? Had the whole thing really been that bad?
He closed his eyes, then opened them.
Well, yeah, actually it had. Worse, probably.
He stared out his office window at the snow, which had changed from pellets to flakes. The radio station playing in the waiting area announced, between Christmas tunes, that three to six inches of the white stuff was expected by morning. It’d be a white Thanksgiving. Not uncommon in northern Michigan.
Darcy’s uncle would be thrilled. And so should Mack.
Mack rubbed his hand over his face. Had Joe and Marla told their niece how he’d been helping out at the farm? Would she have come back if she’d known? He liked them. He enjoyed the labor of trimming the trees, mowing, whatever Joe needed done on the farm. They’d become friends, even with their shared history, but it was funny how the older man hadn’t mentioned Darcy’s imminent return. Mack was supposed to go out there tonight and help with some of the prep for the tree farm’s official opening the day after Thanksgiving. He wanted to make sure this last year went off flawlessly.
Canceling wasn’t an option. He knew Joe needed the extra hands more than ever.
Would Joe inform Darcy of the evening’s plans?
A small part of him acknowledged the appeal of showing up and seeing her shocked reaction. Letting her see he was fine and completely over her. He’d moved on with his life. Seven years was a long time and he wasn’t that man anymore.
Maybe she isn’t that woman anymore, either.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to go there. He’d managed to compartmentalize his relationship with Darcy’s uncle away from what he’d had with her. That part of his life was over. At least until now, when it looked as though the past had come back to haunt him.
Sherry appeared in his door. “Jim Miller and Kiko are here. Jennifer’s not back from lunch yet,” she said, then really looked at him and frowned. “You okay, Mack? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
She wasn’t too far off the mark. In a way, he had.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ll be with them in a few minutes.”
As she exited his office, he sighed and pulled up Kiko’s chart on the computer. Kiko was one of many pets he’d see today. Jim and his wife were getting a divorce, and the older man had gotten Kiko, a Siamese cat, as company. Some marriages weren’t meant to be, no matter how promising they started out.
Like his and Darcy’s.
He filed the unhelpful thoughts away and went to get his patient, whom he could hear yowling from the waiting room. Still, in the back of his head, all he could think was She’s back.
His ex-wife was back.
* * *
Darcy Kramer drove through downtown Holden’s Crossing, her hometown until she’d fled after the bust-up of her marriage at the young age of twenty-three. She’d always loved the town at Christmas. The cheery decorations, the snow, the old-fashioned charm of the buildings added up to magic for a young girl. Somehow there was comfort in knowing it hadn’t really changed.
Had it really been almost eight years since she was here? She truly hadn’t intended to stay away so long. Shame tugged at her conscience. She knew Mack’s older brother, Chase, had seen her back at the gas station. The look he’d given her was far colder than the wind that whipped outside. Had he gone straight to Mack? Probably.
Pain bloomed in her chest. The Lawless family pulled together tight when one of their own was hurt. Except, apparently, those related only by marriage. Those weeks after the accident and the loss of their baby, as her marriage crumbled under the weight of shared grief and her guilt, they’d set themselves firmly in Mack’s camp. And he’d turned to them for comfort, rather than her.
She inhaled deeply and forced the memories down. To get through these next two weeks, she had to keep Mack out of her mind as much as possible. Her focus was helping her aunt and uncle, who’d raised her after she lost her parents, with their last Christmas season with the farm.
She gripped the wheel a little tighter. One last Christmas before the tree farm went up for sale. Before he’d died, her father had asked his brother to include Darcy in the final season if they ever sold the farm. So she’d agreed to take two weeks’ vacation from her PR job in Chicago and come home.
Home.
Even though she hadn’t been here in many years, it was still her childhood home, entwined in her heart and her memories, both the good and not so good. She’d missed being here. But coming back—and possibly facing Mack—hadn’t been an option. Until now.
She accelerated as she exited the town limits. The steadily falling snow wasn’t yet sticking to the roads, though it was starting to coat the grass. Figured, she’d get up here just in time for the first real snow of the season. Good timing, really. The snow added to the festive holiday atmosphere Kramer Tree Farm prided itself on.
She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. Two weeks. She could do it. Then she could go back to Chicago and her carefully ordered life. She’d worked so hard for some measure of peace.
She turned on the road leading to the farm. Right away she saw the fences lining the property by the road were faded, even broken in some places. She pulled over in one such spot and got out, zipping the down vest she wore over a fleece jacket to her chin as she walked over to examine the broken board.
The chill that ran through her had nothing to do with the cold. The farm’s financial situation must be much worse than her aunt and uncle had let on. Why hadn’t he or Marla said anything to her? She’d offered help over the years as her career took off, but they’d always turned her down. She touched the jagged end of the wood, and tears stung her eyes. Her uncle and father had always been so adamant about the appearance of the farm. She swallowed hard as she looked out over the field beyond, with its neat rows of trees. Those, at least, looked well cared for. The wind bit through her fleece jacket and she folded her arms tight over her chest as she walked back to the car.
The farm entrance came into sight up the road and she turned into the drive with a sense of trepidation. She drove past the low-slung barn that housed handmade wreaths and other decorations, relieved to note at least here the fencing here was in good shape and the area was trimmed festively. There were a half dozen cars parked in the lot and she knew inside the barn would be four or five people making wreaths, grave blankets and other decorations. No doubt her uncle was out in one of the fields somewhere, when he should be taking it easy. The road forked just past the barn, and since her aunt had requested she come to the house first, she continued up the driveway.
The house, a white-painted bungalow with green shutters, already sported lights and garlands and little wreaths hung from wide red ribbons in every window. Smoke curled from the chimney and a sense of relief, of rightness settled in Darcy’s bones. When she pictured home, this was exactly how she thought of it. She grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.
But she couldn’t open the door. She’d been gone for so long, for reasons that seemed to pale in light of the farm’s plight. Even though she knew she’d done the right thing for both her and Mack, she couldn’t stop the wave of guilt that washed over her.
Marshaling her courage, she got out of the car, pulled her bags out of the trunk and trudged across the drive, the snow falling on her face and stinging her cheeks. The weight of her luggage was nothing compared to the weight of the baggage she carried within her. She knocked on the back door and waited. She could see the lights in the kitchen through the curtains, see the shadow of someone hurrying toward the door. Her aunt, of course.
Her breath caught as Marla opened the door, a smile wreathing her ageless face. “Darcy Jane! So nice to see you, honey.”
Darcy stepped through the door into her aunt’s embrace, letting her bags slide down to the floor. “Hi, Aunt Marla,” she said, breathing in her aunt’s familiar scent of Jean Nate. She squeezed her eyes shut against tears. Thank God some things didn’t change.
Her aunt gave her a squeeze and stepped back. “Let me look at you. My goodness, you don’t look any older! You’ve got your mama’s good genes. Come on in, let me shut the door.”
Darcy stepped all the way into the kitchen and rejoiced in the smell of pot roast. She never cooked like that for herself. “Mmm. Smells wonderful in here.”
Marla opened the oven and took a peek. “I try to have a hot meal for us after these long, cold days of getting ready for the opening. This roast is a bit of a splurge, since you’re here. Normally, we don’t eat red meat anymore. Trying to keep Joe on a better diet to help his heart.”
Darcy toed off her boots. “How is Uncle Joe?”
“He’s doing good. He needs to take it easy, which is very hard for him this time of year, but he restricts his working hours and we’ve got some wonderful employees who pick up any slack. Selling is going to be hard, but it’s the right thing to do. It’s time.”
Darcy hesitated. “I see it needs a little work,” she said softly.
Marla nodded. “We’ve focused on the trees, not that fence out by the road. We couldn’t do it all, although—” She stopped, and Darcy could have sworn guilt crossed her aunt’s face.
“Although what?”
Her aunt gave her head a quick shake. “Nothing. We’ve done what we can. Now it’s time to turn it over to someone else.” She nodded at Darcy’s bags. “Why not take those up to your room, honey? It’s all fresh for you. We’ll eat shortly. I hope you’re hungry.”
Her stomach chose that moment to unleash a rolling growl. Her aunt cocked an eyebrow. Darcy gave a little laugh. “Guess that’s your answer.” She’d been too much of a wreck about coming back to Holden’s Crossing to do much more than nibble on a protein bar in the car.
“Good thing, too. We’ve got a lot of food and I don’t want your uncle to eat it all. Here, let me help you.” Marla picked up one of her bags and Darcy grabbed the last two.
As she followed her aunt to the stairs, she noted the decor hadn’t changed much, either. Clean, same plaid couch from when she’d left, same curtains. A large blue spruce stood in front of the big window, lit with hundreds of lights and covered in ornaments. A fire crackled on the hearth, which made the whole place seem homey and cozy.
Sadness gave a little twist under her heart. She’d miss this house when they sold it.
Marla set the small duffel on the bed. “I know it was hard for you to come. I just want you to know how much we appreciate it. And I wish—I wish you hadn’t thought you couldn’t come home.”
Caught, Darcy sank down on the bed. “You know why I couldn’t.”
Marla held her gaze and Darcy saw understanding and compassion there. “I know why you thought you couldn’t. There’s a difference.”
Darcy dropped her gaze to the quilt and ran her hand over it, the slightly puckered fabric cool under her hand. Leaving gave both of them a chance to start over after the divorce. “Not to me.”
“I know that, too. Your dad would be proud of you for coming back. So.” She headed for the door. “Come down when you’re done. Dinner’ll be ready soon. Then we’ve got work to do.”
Darcy stayed on the bed, hearing the stairs creak as her aunt went downstairs. She took a deep, shaky breath.
The memories weren’t going to go away. In fact, being here pretty much ensured she’d be assaulted by them at every turn. So she’d deal.
Determined, she stood up and unzipped the nearest bag. She wasn’t that naive young woman anymore. She’d been to hell and back. She’d lost her baby and her marriage. There was nothing the Lawless family could dish out she couldn’t take.
But she did need to make things right. So she’d apologize to Mack, make him see her intention had never been to cause him any more pain. Maybe then she could forgive herself.
Maybe.
* * *
Two hours later, at the kitchen table, her stomach full of Marla’s excellent roast, she smiled at her aunt and uncle. “Thank you. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” And tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Two excellent home-cooked meals in a row. Amazing.
They exchanged glances, and then her uncle spoke, his face serious. “Darcy, there’s something we need to tell you.”
Worry rose so fast she thought she’d choke. “Are you okay, Uncle Joe?”
He patted her arm. “Yes. Oh, yes, Darce, it’s not me. It’s—well, it’s just that Mack has been working here.”
That couldn’t be right. She clearly had her ex on the brain, because she thought she’d heard her uncle say he was working here. At the farm. Which wasn’t possible. Why would Mack be out here? He was a vet. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
He met her gaze. “Mack’s been helping me.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs. She hadn’t misheard. No. Way. “My Mack?” She winced at her mistake. He hadn’t been hers for seven years. “Why?”
Marla laid her hand on Darcy’s arm. “He’s young and strong. He’s been out here for years helping. I know this must be upsetting for you.”
She looked away, betrayal humming in her veins. Upsetting put it mildly. But they were all adults. What right did she have to expect her family, who lived in this community, to not interact with the Lawless family? “Ah. Well, that’s nice of him. I know his vet practice must keep him very busy.” She gave a little shrug, trying for casual and fairly sure she’d failed. “Why would it be upsetting? It’s been a long time.”
Her aunt made a distressed little noise. “Oh, Darcy.”
Joe cleared his throat. “One more thing. He’s on his way here.”
Her gaze snapped to his, panic coiling in her belly. “What?”
Marla looked at her with concern. “He’s been out here every night for the past couple of weeks. I know this is a shock—”
“You couldn’t have given me a little more warning?” Oh dear, was that a squeak of hysteria in her voice?
“We didn’t want to upset you,” Marla said simply. “We thought it would be best not to tell you. We talked about it at length, trying to decide how to handle it. Things were so hard for you after the divorce.”
She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm her quickly frazzling nerves. Or course they meant well; she didn’t doubt that. They were only trying to protect her. Mack, at least, wouldn’t be blindsided. Chase would have taken care of that before Darcy got back in her car at the gas station.
“When will he be here?” Amazing, her voice sounded almost calm. Thank God.
Joe glanced at the wall clock. “He’s usually here by six thirty. Please understand, Darcy. I know we should have said something before now, but...” He trailed off and looked helplessly at his wife.
She jumped in seamlessly. “But we weren’t sure how you’d react. It was hard enough for you to come back as it is. I’m sorry.”
Darcy managed a laugh. “I’ve been over Mack Lawless for years now. If he helps you out, that’s great. I’ve got no problem with it at all.”
That wasn’t entirely true. But she chose to believe it was because they hadn’t told her.
It had nothing to do with maybe not being over him.
Chapter Two (#ulink_638f2c6c-c267-59c0-8069-c50d3e3e624c)
“Well,” Marla said as she stood up and began to stack dishes. “I’m going to take care of these and then I’ll join you in the barn. Darcy, if you’d rather not go out there tonight, we’d understand.”
“No. I’ll be fine.” She hoped like crazy it was true. She couldn’t let her aunt and uncle know how rattled she was.
Marla wouldn’t hear of Darcy helping her clean up, which was probably a good thing, as her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since they’d told her about Mack, so she got into her down jacket and boots and followed her uncle down the snowy path to the barn. Any other time, she would have found the quiet and the falling snow peaceful. Right now, she found herself too keyed up to enjoy it.
“Finances are a little tight around here, as I’m sure you noticed when you drove up,” her uncle said finally. “Mack offered to help out. He won’t accept any pay. Likes the work, he says.”
Her heart tugged. That sounded like the Mack she’d known and loved.
“It’s okay, Uncle Joe.”
He took her hand for the rest of the brief walk and she was grateful for the simple touch. In the workshop, he introduced her to his employees, then said, “We’ll be in and out. You remember how to make a wreath?”
In spite of her nerves, she smiled. “I can do it in my sleep, Uncle Joe.”
He gave her a quick hug. “Stay strong, honey.” He headed outside with his crew and left her alone.
She took a moment to inhale the sharp scent of pine. Some things never changed, and this room was one of them, thankfully. Long scarred tables, open shelves with wire, twine, cutters, pinecones and different colors and styles of ribbon along with boxes of assorted decorations. She admired a finished wreath. It was beautiful—spruce and juniper, with berries, pinecones and a big gold ribbon.
Forcing herself not to watch the clock and failing—just how much longer till six thirty anyway?—she kept busy by gathering supplies for and starting a wreath. Her aunt walked in five minutes before Mack was due to arrive.
“I thought maybe it’d be best if I were here,” she said, and Darcy gave her a tremulous smile. “I see you haven’t lost your bow-tying skills.”
Her aunt kept up a steady chatter, not seeming to expect Darcy to reply, which was good because she had one ear tuned for an approaching engine. When she finally heard it, she took a deep breath.
Marla gave her a sympathetic look. “Relax, honey. It’ll be okay.”
But Darcy barely heard her as the barn door rolled open and Mack’s familiar, long-legged form stepped through. Her breath caught.
He hadn’t changed. If anything, he’d gotten even better looking, even in old jeans, boots and a down vest, with a Michigan State ball cap. His brown hair was a little longer, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He’d always hated the curl, worn it short. Somehow the new style was a sign of how much she’d missed.
His gaze landed on her and he gave her a cool nod. “Darcy. Nice to see you.”
It’d been seven years since she heard her name on his lips in that delicious deep voice of his. Longer still since he’d said it with affection, love or passion. Pain and regret hit her like a tidal wave. She’d botched things so badly. She swallowed hard. “Mack.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
Before she could say more he shifted his attention to her aunt. What they talked about, Darcy couldn’t say. She turned back to the table to busy herself by tying bows. Her hands shook so hard she kept fumbling the ribbon.
Watching Mack now—because her gaze kept pinging over there on its own—it was clear to her that he wasn’t having the same issues she was. He’d gotten over her.
That was good, right? That was why she’d left. Mission accomplished.
Too bad she didn’t feel accomplished. She felt torn up inside. Raw.
She started to reach for the scissors when her neck tingled. When she looked up, her gaze locked on Mack’s. Even across the barn and over her aunt’s head, she felt the heat of it to her toes.
Oh, no.
She looked down at the bow she’d botched and untied it with trembling fingers. Oh, this was bad.
True, in the years since the divorce she’d barely dated. The few times she’d gone out? Her friends had talked her into it and there’d never been a second date.
She’d never reacted to anyone the way she did to Mack.
“We need to talk.”
Darcy jumped at the sound of his voice right behind her. She turned and looked up at him, at the hard set of his jaw, the iciness of his blue eyes. Oh, how she’d hurt this man she’d loved with all her heart. If only she could go back and undo the past.
But she couldn’t.
“About what?” Panic fluttered in her throat. He couldn’t want to get into their failed marriage already, could he?
“Why we’re here.”
Darcy put down the scissors she could barely hold anyway and crossed her arms over her chest, needing the barrier it signaled to both of them. “I know why I’m here. My aunt and uncle asked me to be.”
His eyes flashed. “You could have come home at any time.”
She inhaled sharply. “No. I couldn’t. You of all people know why.”
“I don’t even know why you left in the first place.” The words were simple but stark and sliced through her as cleanly as a sharp blade.
She lifted her chin, fought the threat of tears back. “Of course you do. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to help my aunt and uncle out, then I’ll be out of your life.”
He looked at her, his intense blue gaze unreadable. “You’ll never be out of my life,” he said, his voice low.
Darcy stared after him as he strode out of the barn, his words vibrating in her soul.
Marla hurried over to her. “You okay, dear?”
Darcy forced her lips into what she hoped passed for a smile. “Of course.” At her aunt’s skeptical look she added, “A little shaken, but I’ll be fine, Aunt Marla. It’s been a while.”
The phone rang and her aunt glared at it, then went to answer, clearly reluctant to leave Darcy alone.
She picked her scissors back up and decided right then not to show how much the encounter had affected her. As she started a new bow, determination set in. It might be too much to hope she could get Mack to understand now what he’d been unable to back then. But she absolutely had to try so she could finally move on.
Wasn’t Christmas a season for miracles?
She’d need one.
* * *
Mack strode out into the cold, thoughts whirling. He thought he’d been prepared for the shock, but he’d been wrong. Way wrong. Seeing her wasn’t easier after all these years.
Especially when she looked so damn appealing.
But it’d been the look in her big brown eyes that killed him—wary, hopeful, sad all mixed together. Regretful.
Regrets. He had a few of those himself.
The still falling snow swirled around him as he approached Joe, who was readying to bale and load cut trees into a truck for delivery at a local store. Joe looked distinctly guilty as he approached.
“You saw Darcy?”
Mack gave a curt nod. “Yeah.”
Joe’s look was assessing and it made Mack uncomfortable. He didn’t want the older man to see how rattled he was. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about Darcy. We were afraid you’d quit or that she wouldn’t come. We didn’t want either to happen.”
Mack shook his head. He wouldn’t have quit. And he wouldn’t have discussed Darcy with her uncle anyway—it would be disloyal and he’d never ask Joe to do that. “It’s all right. So where are these going?” He pulled a fresh-cut spruce off the trailer.
“Tom’s. Said delivery would be first thing tomorrow.” With that, Joe turned the equipment on.
It suited him.
It didn’t take nearly long enough to load the truck with the trees and wreaths the grocery store owner had ordered. By the time he’d completed several other tasks and he ducked back into the barn, he didn’t see Darcy.
The stab he felt wasn’t disappointment. It couldn’t be. He’d been there, done that.
He wasn’t able to fool himself.
With a sigh, he trudged toward his truck through a good four inches of snow. Joe’s voice stopped him.
“Are you going to talk to Darcy?”
Mack turned around. “About what?”
“About what happened.”
Anger surged through him, but he forced it down. “There’s nothing left to say. It’s been a long time, Joe. A long time,” he repeated, even though seeing her made it all feel like yesterday. He wanted to forget, to keep it buried. She hadn’t wanted them, their family. What good was it to rehash the whole thing now?
“Maybe so. But you two have unfinished business. Talk to her.” When Mack opened his mouth, Joe held up a hand. “I’m not going to say any more on this. You’re adults. Thanks for the help tonight. We’ll be back at it after dinner tomorrow.”
Mack said good-night and swiped the fluffy snow off his windshield. He stood there for a second and watched Joe walk up the lane that led to the house. With a sigh he climbed in and started the engine. As he drove back out to the road, exhaustion washed over him. No doubt there’d be no sleep for him tonight. Or he’d dream of Darcy all night. Frankly, he’d prefer no sleep.
He turned in the driveway of his little house, the one he’d bought and restored after Darcy left. He’d needed an outlet for his grief, and this house had provided it. He came in through the front door, and was greeted by enthusiastic barking. Sadie and Lilly came barreling out of the living room and threw themselves at him, barking as if they’d thought he wouldn’t be back. He rubbed ears as he waded through them and headed for the kitchen.
“You guys want out?” They zipped to the door and he let them out in the snow in the fenced-in backyard. His phone rang before he even got his coat off. A glance at the caller ID had him bracing himself.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Mack. How are you?” There was concern in his mother’s voice.
“Fine.” And because he was feeling a little contrary with how his family assumed he wasn’t, he added, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His mother sighed. “I don’t know. Because Darcy is home. And you help out at the tree farm. Did you see her?”
Mack shrugged out of his jacket. “I did.” There wasn’t anything else to say—at least not to his mom.
“How did it go?” Her voice was gentle.
“I don’t know. Fine.” He raked a hand though his hair, remembering Darcy’s huge, stricken eyes. “Mom. What do you think I’m going to do?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I know how torn up you were when she left. How we thought we’d lose you, too. I know you’re an adult, but you’re still my boy. And I don’t want to see you go through that again.”
Mack turned as he heard a noise at the back door. The dogs were ready to come in. He opened it and they tumbled through in a flurry of wet paws and snow and cold air. “It’s all in the past, Mom.”
She made a little noise that could have been disbelief. “Okay, then. I won’t keep you. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Thanksgiving. He’d spent one of those with a pregnant Darcy as his wife. Just before—well, before. It was how he divided everything. Before. And After. He shut the images down. “Sounds good.”
She talked a few more minutes and Mack made all the appropriate noises before hanging up with a promise to be on time.
He tossed the phone on the counter and sank down at one of the bar stools lining it. He covered his face with his hands and braced his elbows on the counter. Darcy. All those things he’d worked so hard to avoid were staring him in the face.
He slammed his palms on the surface, and both dogs looked up from their bowls.
“Sorry, guys,” he said, and they looked at him as if they saw more than he wanted them to. Wanted anyone to, for that matter.
After a shower, he lay on his bed and turned the TV on, more for distraction than anything else. He flipped through the channels until he found a hockey game he wasn’t going to watch anyway.
She’d looked shocked when he said he didn’t know why she’d left. How could that be? She’d never told him, she’d just said she wanted a divorce. She’d left in a hurry after that, without so much as a glance back.
He’d been looking for her ever since.
* * *
Thanksgiving passed in a blur of fantastic food and frantic preparations for the season opening of Kramer Tree Farm the next morning. Darcy knew Mack was around, but there were so many other people and so much to be done she had no time to dwell on it.
But she was always aware he was in the vicinity. Somehow she was very tuned in to him. That wasn’t a good thing.
She hadn’t slept so well the previous night, dreaming of Mack. Now, fired up on caffeine and nerves, she figured tonight would be a repeat of the last.
She thought of her quiet condo in Chicago, her refuge from all this emotion and pain. She missed it and the safety it offered—even if it was apparently safety from herself and her memories.
The chatter of the employees, the Christmas music, all combined to make a festive atmosphere. The fresh six inches of snow added to it. Her aunt and uncle were thrilled. She tied the last sprig of bittersweet to the wreath she’d made as Marla came over.
“Looks lovely,” she said with a smile. “You haven’t lost your touch.”
Darcy laughed. “I think I can make these in my sleep. Everything going okay?”
“Yes, thankfully. We’re pretty much set. Can I get you to take the ATV out to the warming stations and make sure they are ready to go in the morning? Hot chocolate and coffee out there, and both that and mulled cider up here.”
“Sure.” Darcy left the completed wreath where it was and stripped off her pitch-sticky work gloves. It only took a couple minutes to gather the supplies she needed and put them in a bag. Outside, she fired up the ATV and drove down the plowed paths to the first—and largest—warming shed. Someone had left the lights on. She parked outside and went in.
Mack turned around, surprise on his face. Darcy squeaked.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted, and realized as his expression closed up how rude she sounded. “I mean—I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” He nodded toward the heating unit. “Wasn’t running right, so I told your uncle I’d take a look at it.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll be just a minute.” She held up the bag as she edged inside. “I’ve got cocoa mix for tomorrow. Got to stock up.”
She had every right to be here. She couldn’t let him intimidate her, not that he was trying. She had nothing to hide or defend to this man. Their marriage was over.
So why were her hands shaking?
When she stood back up, she bumped a can of coffee, which fell off the table and crashed on the floor, leaving a fragrant trail of grounds as it rolled around. Her face burning, she practically dived for it the same moment Mack reached for it.
“I got it,” she muttered, then inhaled sharply as Mack’s hand closed over hers. His palm was warm, and while she knew she should yank hers back, her gaze flew to his and locked on.
He was only inches from her. His blue eyes were serious and heat sparked in them—and an answering heat spread through her. She wanted to lean forward, just a little and close the gap, see if he tasted like she remembered—
She couldn’t afford to remember. She’d spent far too long trying to forget.
“Darcy.” His voice was low, a little rough. She swallowed hard and pulled away, gathering the errant coffee can in her arms like a shield. His gaze was shuttered as he sat back on his heels. “Need a broom?”
She blinked at the coffee mess on the floor. “Looks like it.” Hopefully, there was a backup coffee can somewhere, or else everyone would have to make do with cocoa. “There’s one in the closet. I’ll just clean this up and get out of your hair.”
She couldn’t even tell the heater wasn’t working. It was awfully hot in here right now.
She suspected it had everything to do with how Mack managed to kick up her internal temperature.
“You’re not in my way,” he murmured and retreated to the heater when she came back with the broom. It was as if they were performing some kind of awkward dance. She managed to clean up her mess and stock up the packets with no further incidents, even though she kept sneaking looks at his broad back as he worked on the heater. She put the broom away and turned toward the door, wanting only to escape the oppressiveness of the room.
“Okay, well, bye,” she said in an overly bright tone. “Sorry for the interruption.” She made a beeline for the door, unable to resist a last look at him.
He looked up and caught her. “No apologies necessary,” he replied quietly.
Darcy escaped outside and took a deep lungful of the cold, crisp air in hope it’d settle the crazy butterflies in her belly.
She didn’t care so much about making a mess in front of Mack—though she really hoped Aunt Marla had an extra can of coffee on hand—but her response to him scared her. She’d worked long and hard to move on past the guilt and grief, to build a new and successful life in Chicago. It’d been a long road, and hard won. But seeing Mack threatened all those carefully constructed walls. She couldn’t afford that. If she hadn’t promised her dad all those years ago she’d be here for this, she’d pack up and leave on Monday.
It wasn’t running away when your sanity was on the line. Right?
Chapter Three (#ulink_cd1ce7b5-2d71-53f5-ab99-328862a93f5e)
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.
Chapter Four (#ulink_1eee43c9-73dc-52c2-9027-bac792bff10c)
Darcy walked into Java, the local coffee shop, with her laptop bag on her shoulder. Internet at the farm was slow and spotty at best. She needed to check in at work, and this was the best way to do it. She stepped up to the counter, smiled at the barista she didn’t recognize and ordered a latte. Then she settled in at a table by the window and booted up her computer.
She frowned at the sheer number of emails. It’d been only a few days since she left, and there were nearly a hundred of them. Many of them from her team on the Grant project. Her phone didn’t work reliably up here, either. Apparently the farm was in a technological dead zone. With a sigh, she opened the first one, called her assistant and expected to be putting out fires.
So she didn’t see Mack until he was right across from her. She looked up and her heart caught. She didn’t hear what her assistant said and had to ask her to repeat. She pulled her computer closer, opening a space on the other side of the table, and gave him a nod. God only knew what this would do to gossip.
When she managed to hang up, he arched an eyebrow. “Problems?”
“I’ve got it under control,” she said, and gave a sharp little laugh. “They take credit for the good stuff, but as soon as things turn into a flaming pile of poo they bail and blame me.”
“Why do you put up with it?”
The question stopped her hand in midlift of her now cool latte. Why did she? “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”
Mack shook his head. “Sounds as if you need a new team.”
She set her cup down. “I’ve got it under control,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure why her temper was sparking. Why he’d touched a nerve with a simple observation. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. I’m not going to quit.”
“No?” His voice was deadly soft. “Isn’t that what you do?”
Her gaze snapped to his, but his was carefully blank. Temper surged, and she welcomed its heat because his words left her cold. “No. I don’t. I didn’t.”
“Sure you did. You never gave us a chance, Darcy.”
Darcy’s jaw nearly hit the table. “This is not the place for this conversation.” She snapped the laptop closed, hands shaking with fury. “In fact, there’s no place for this conversation because that would imply we had something to talk about.”
“Easy,” he said softly. “We’re being watched.”
Of course they were. She bit back a sharp retort and slid the laptop into her bag. She offered him a stiff smile. “Enjoy your coffee.”
She stood and spun around. Her bag caught on the chair and sent it toppling to the floor. Every head turned, but Mack was off his chair before she could move. He picked up the chair and slid a hand under her elbow. “I’m sorry,” he said in her ear as he guided her to the door. She just shook her head, because any words she had for him weren’t fit for anyone to overhear. Outside she yanked her arm away and walked as fast as she could in the opposite direction of where he was. Which, she realized after about twenty steam-fueled steps, was away from her car. Which sat in front of the coffee shop. Where Mack stood.
She stopped, shut her eyes, then pivoted. He had his hands in his pockets. He tipped his head toward her car.
She lifted her chin and walked back. When she got close enough to kick him—which was awfully tempting—he caught her arm. “Darcy. I’m sorry.”
She looked him in the eye and saw the remorse there. “It’s too late, Mack. Sorry isn’t enough.”
She got in her car and managed to get onto the street with tears burning in her eyes. Oh, no, sorry wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. And she knew that from years of being sorry for how things ended with their marriage. From knowing she could never go back and fix it. Go back and handle it differently, right down to deciding to turn left instead of right.
To save the baby he’d wanted so desperately. When she hadn’t been ready to be a mother. She’d barely been ready to be a wife. But she’d gotten pregnant and he’d insisted they marry.
As always, when it came to Mack, she’d been unable to say no.
A sob escaped her and she swiped at her eyes. He had every right to be angry—but she wasn’t that young woman anymore. She hadn’t been since she lost their baby. She’d grown up in those awful hours after the accident that had fractured their marriage. She hadn’t needed him to take care of her. She’d just needed him to be there for her. And he hadn’t been able to understand the difference.
He hadn’t been wrong. She had quit. She’d run away because it was easier than facing everyone else’s pain when she could barely tolerate her own.
So no, he hadn’t been wrong.
But to hear it from him tore her up inside.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Darcy had managed to put the whole thing behind her. Mostly. Now she stood behind the cash register—an old one, nothing electric about it—and smiled at the young couple paying for the tree. They were probably a little older than she and Mack had been, but her heart tugged all the same. Had she ever been that young and in love?
She watched as the husband dropped a kiss on the woman’s temple. Oh, yes. She had been. But she’d been uneasy in her marriage and Mack had been so confident. This couple didn’t look unbalanced like that.
“This is our first tree together,” the woman said, beaming at her husband, who gave her an indulgent smile, then left to talk to Mack, who had the tree. Darcy forced her gaze to stick to the woman in front of her.
“Congratulations,” she said a little too cheerfully. “How long have you been married?”
“Eight months.” The woman pulled out a check and when she stooped to write it Darcy saw the rounding of her stomach. She saw herself at the same time, the same place and the world tilted. In spite of her best efforts, her gaze shot to Mack, who had his back to her. This is how we could have been, should have been.
“Are you all right?” The woman frowned, tore off the check and held it out. “You look awfully pale.”
Darcy forced a smile back on her face as she took the piece of paper. “Headaches. They come on fast.”
The other woman’s face cleared. “I’m sorry. Hope you feel better. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Darcy echoed and watched as she walked to her husband, who slipped a protective arm around her and dropped another kiss on her head. She tilted her chin up to him, love shining on her face.
Longing and sorrow swamped her, hard and fast, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, willing it all away. She’d been so good at not feeling anything for these past few years, and now one happy couple had undone all that hard work.
“Darce.” Mack’s voice, laced with concern. How had he seen? Where had he come from? She looked up at him, but his face was suspiciously blurry. She blinked.
“I need some air,” she said. “Can you watch the register for me?”
Then she bolted.
* * *
Mack stood there, stunned as Darcy darted across the barn and into the back. Then he went after her, calling out to another employee to take the register. To hell with this not being his place. Something in her eyes tugged at him and he knew he was helpless to resist. Plus, he owed her after earlier, in the coffee shop.
When he came in the back room, Marla looked at him, then pointed at the door. “I’ll get the front.”
“Thanks,” he said, and went outside.
The cold air hit him with a blast, after the warmth of the back room. She stood by the tree line, her back to him. He saw the defensiveness of her posture, her arms wrapped around herself, her head down.
The fierce need to draw her in, rest his chin on her head, to just hold her, nearly overwhelmed him. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead as he came up beside her. “What’s going on? Did that woman upset you?”
Had she been thinking what he had? Seeing them as a young married couple? Wondering how their marriage had disintegrated so fast?
She went even stiffer than before, if that was possible. “Mack, why are you out here?”
“I don’t know.” It was God’s honest truth. He came around to the front of her, but she wouldn’t look up. “Darcy. Did she?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. She was very nice. Excited for their first Christmas together.” Her voice cracked slightly. She cleared her throat. “I’ve just got a headache.”
A headache. Right. And he’d just grown a third arm. “Okay. Can I get you anything?” Why had he thought she’d maybe confide? That maybe they’d seen the same thing and had the same regrets? Why would she tell him?
She lifted her gaze then, and the pain in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. “There’s nothing you can do.”
If that was the truth, then what the hell? He cupped her chin in his hand, saw her eyes widen. “I saw it, too. I felt it, too. Lie to me, but not yourself.” His voice was rough in his throat. “Don’t think this is easy on me, Darce. It’s not.” Then because he couldn’t not, he bent forward and planted a soft kiss on her cold lips, lingering for a heartbeat, before he pulled away. Now there was surprise in her eyes, and that was better than pain. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, then turned to go back inside.
Because if he didn’t, he’d kiss her again. For real. And once they started down that path, there’d be no going back.
* * *
“You going to turn the water off, dear?” Amusement filled Marla’s voice as Darcy blinked, then yanked the handle down. Mack kissed me. That was a shock after the little scene in the coffee shop earlier. Marla hadn’t asked any questions, and that led Darcy to believe Marla thought something had happened with her and Mack.
She wouldn’t be wrong, exactly.
It had been a small kiss. A peck, really. But, oh, it—and the look in his eyes—had shot straight to her heart.
She managed a smile for her aunt’s sake. “Just tired.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Marla folded the towel precisely and put it on the counter. “Darcy. What happened today?”
Darcy shut her eyes. She didn’t want to relive it. If she’d been able to control the reaction, as she had the few times she was hit with it before, none of this would have happened. Of course, Mack hadn’t been within touching distance. “I had a weak moment.”
Marla sat down at the table, and the squeak of a second chair being nudged out was a clear hint that she wanted Darcy to have a seat, too. So she did, reluctantly. “Honey, this has been a shock for you. I’m not sure how much you’ve dealt with since you’ve been gone.” She held up a hand as Darcy opened her mouth to deny it. “Please. Listen. Okay?” Darcy clamped her mouth shut and nodded. “Okay. You left but you never dealt with the pain. You suffered two incredibly hard losses in a short time. You wouldn’t talk about it when we asked you. You kept insisting you were fine. And you were so very young to boot. You’ve thrown yourself into your new life, but reinventing yourself isn’t any good if the foundation you’ve based it on isn’t strong.”
Tears pricked Darcy’s eyes, but she folded her hands tightly in front of her on the table, not wanting to give in to the weakness. Again. Marla’s gnarled hand found hers, closing tight over her own. Darcy focused on her aunt’s neatly trimmed nails to try to keep the tears at bay.
“Honey. You are strong. You are one of the strongest people I know, and as stubborn as your uncle. You went through hell and back and it’s okay to grieve. It’s not weak. It’s necessary.”
Darcy shut her eyes. She appreciated this, she did, but Marla didn’t know the whole story. No one did.
“Talk to Mack,” Marla said gently. “You don’t have to reconcile, but you do have some stuff to put behind you.”
Darcy managed a smile. “I appreciate your concern. It has been a shock.” That was the absolute truth. Seeing Mack had sent her off-kilter in so many ways. Knowing he was buying the farm had been the least of it. “But there’s not much to say, Aunt Marla. It was a long time ago. I don’t see what it would change.”
Marla sat back and Darcy caught the look of disappointment that passed over her face. She swallowed hard. It was so important that she keep all this locked down. She’d worked so hard to get it to that point. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she let it all out now.
* * *
The next night, she went upstairs to her room, but she wasn’t sleepy, despite her restless nights and busy days. She looked out the window to see the snow had stopped. The moon was shining on the snow, gilding the trees with silver. It was still fairly early, only eight thirty.
She went back downstairs and outside. She needed more shampoo, so she’d run to Jim’s to grab some. It’d get her out of her head and off the farm for a little bit.
Win-win.
She drove into town and parked in the half-empty parking lot of the grocery store. Inside, she got her shampoo but stopped dead when she saw who was in line in front of her.
Mack.
Knowing she couldn’t turn and slip away once he spotted her, she lifted her chin and got in line.
“Evening,” he said, and offered her a smile.
Her breath caught. The laugh lines that fanned out from his eyes added character and were surprisingly sexy. “Hi,” she managed to return in a normal voice. Then, because she couldn’t stand there and look at him, she dropped her attention to the items he’d put on the belt, including a garish box with a toucan on it.
“Kids’ cereal?” A giggle escaped her. “Still?”
He looked sheepish. “Hey. I like them.”
“I know.” Now her gaze caught his and the weight of a shared past blanketed them for a heartbeat. For once, it wasn’t fringed with pain. She swallowed hard.
“How are you tonight?” The cashier’s chirpy voice cut through the moment and Darcy looked away, heart pounding, as Mack turned to address the young woman.
She kept her gaze fixed on the colorful box of cereal. Because then she wasn’t looking at how those jeans hugged his perfect rear. If she didn’t look, she didn’t have to acknowledge how badly she wanted to slide her hands over it.
If she didn’t acknowledge it, she could pretend everything was normal. That somehow she wasn’t losing her tenuous grip on normal.

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