either side.
“I’m so sorry, Corrine. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Chapter Three
Corrine offered tea and cookies. They sat by the fire sipping tea and munching on Oreos.
Aleta spotted her ring finger. “Where’s your engagement ring?”
Corrine shook her head and grabbed a second Oreo. “It wasn’t working out.” She opened the cookie, licked the white filling. “I had to, um, return it.”
“Oh, Corrine…”
“It’s…for the best. I mean that. Sometimes, well, it’s just better that you figure out before the wedding that it’s not a match made in heaven, after all.”
“You’re all right, then?”
“I’m doing fine. Honestly.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. How do you kids say it? ‘It’s all good?’”
“That’s it. Now, tell me what’s happening with you.”
Aleta’s shoulders drooped. “With me, it’s not all good.”
“What can I do? Anything, seriously.”
“If I could stay here with you just for a week or two…” Matt’s mom stirred sugar into her tea. “I can’t take it at the ranch anymore.”
“Why not? What’s happened?”
Aleta’s gaze slid away. She stared into the fire. “Well, you know Davis…”
Corrine did know. “He wants you to come back to him.”
“Worse. He demands it. You know how he is. He thinks it’s perfectly all right to burst in on me at any time of the day or night and insist that I see reason—meaning that I do things his way. When I refuse, he gets mad. When that doesn’t work, he pleads with me to give him another chance. Somehow, that’s the hardest. Seeing a proud man beg…” Her mouth quivered and her eyes spoke of heartbreak.
Corrine said softly, “I’m so sorry, Aleta.”
Matt’s mom smiled, a smile without joy. Or humor. “Tonight, I was just getting ready for bed when he barged into the suite without even bothering to knock and started in on me about how ridiculous I was being, how I was coming home with him, right then, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.” She looked down at her hand and realized she was still holding the spoon she’d used to stir her tea. Setting it carefully in the saucer, she picked up the cup and took a sip. “He’s been doing that at least twice a week since I left him.” The cup rattled against the saucer as she set it back down. “It’s very upsetting.”
“I can imagine.”
“And not only to me. Did you know that Mercy is expecting?”
“Yes. Matt told me.” When Mercy married Luke, the third-born son in the Bravo family, she’d moved in with him at Bravo Ridge. Luke was the family rancher. He ran Bravo Ridge.
“Mercy’s just entering her second trimester. I’m very fond of her, you know?” At Corrine’s nod, Aleta continued, “It’s not good, though, all that yelling and arguing and disruption. Not for any of us—and especially not for a mother-to-be. So that’s another reason I couldn’t stay at the ranch. Poor Mercy deserves a little peace and quiet.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“I’m just…” Aleta picked up her cup again. She took another sip. “Oh, Corrine, I’m at the end of my rope with that man.”
Corrine sympathized. Totally. Davis Bravo was a rich, overbearing, fat-headed snob. Corrine had never liked him. And he didn’t care much for her, either. He’d always thought his son was too good for her and he resented that she’d gotten pregnant with Matt’s child. Over the years, Davis had developed something of a soft spot for Kira, at least. But he always seemed to look down on Corrine for owning a bar, for having a baby without getting married first—not that he wanted her and Matt to get married. No way. He had bigger plans for his fourth son than to marry “some damn slutty barmaid,” as he’d called her to her face once way back when. He wanted Matt to settle down with Tabby Ellison, who wasn’t the least slutty and whose dad was almost as rich as Davis.
Aleta brushed a tear from her cheek and smoothed her negligee over her knees. “It’s just so stressful.”
“It’s okay, truly. I understand.”
“I’ve told him I need time. He won’t listen. I considered a hotel, but he’s shameless. He would have no compunction about bribing the staff so they would let him into my rooms. Here at your house, well, he doesn’t have a key. And I know how you are.” She smiled tenderly through her tears. “Tough and strong and self-reliant. He’ll never get through you.”
Tough and strong and self-reliant. It felt good, to know that Matt’s mom thought so highly of her, especially after last night, when she’d behaved exactly like the slut Davis had once accused her of being. She smiled. “Well, your husband’s a pretty tough guy. If he shows up here, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to take him down.”
For the first time that night, Aleta actually chuckled. But the laugh quickly faded. “If he shows up here, I promise to deal with him. I do fight my own battles.”
“Whew. Good to know.”
“I confess, there are several reasons I would like to stay here. It’s so homey here. Much better than a hotel.” Aleta glanced longingly around the fire-lit room. “I could be with you and my granddaughter. I could…help out. Watch Kira in the evenings, while you’re working…”
Corinne didn’t need to ask why Aleta couldn’t stay with one of her daughters. Abilene and Zoe were in their early twenties and just getting started in life, living in small apartments not suited to an open-ended visit from their mom. And those high-class girlfriends Aleta had known all her life? Staying with one of them would be awkward, to say the least. They probably didn’t even know that Aleta and Davis were living apart.
But Aleta trusted Corrine, felt comfortable with her. Plus, there was Kira. Aleta loved her granddaughter and jumped at any chance to spend time with her.
“Finish your tea,” Corrine said, rising. “And have an Oreo or two. I’ll go make up the bed in the spare room.” She blinked away a sudden, vivid image of her and Matt rolling naked on that very bed the night before. “You’re always welcome here, Aleta. Anytime. For as long as you want to stay.”
Matt called again about an hour later after Corinne and Aleta were in bed. Corrine let the machine downstairs take it. She deleted it in the morning, unheard.
Tuesday afternoon, while Aleta was out at the ranch picking up a few other things she needed, he called for the third time. Corrine refused to answer. What more was there to say? They’d blown it royally. And they wouldn’t be blowing it again. End of story.
Matt had barely finished leaving his message demanding that she call him when the phone started ringing again.
