Mrs. Carmine after a few days. She would call someone to fetch him from the five hundred acres he could hide himself in, and he’d come home sheepishly, bottle empty but shotgun still loaded.
They got in Duke’s truck. He glanced over at her, and Liberty’s nerves tightened.
“So,” he said, “who’s the lucky guy?”
Chapter Two
“There is no lucky guy,” Liberty said. “You should know that better than anyone.”
He scowled. Why had he asked? No matter the answer, it was bound to hurt. But she wouldn’t have been wearing the wedding gown if she wasn’t intending to marry another man.
It was killing him.
“No second chances from me,” he said. “I’m not asking twice.”
He felt her astonishment. “I’m not asking you to ask me, if you’re referring to marriage.” Her posture stiffened. “Duke, my leaving had more to do with me than you. I got scared. I wasn’t ready. Even I didn’t know I was a predestined runaway bride. It just happened, silly as that seems.”
“If it was any woman other than you who’d done that, I’d think they were a little loose in the skull,” he said. “But being loosey-goosey is sort of your way. I think it’s what attracts me to you.”
Of course, there were a lot of other things that attracted him to her. Right now he could smell her perfume. It smelled wonderful, reminding him of the scent of her skin. The memory worked him over. “I think you weren’t convinced.”
“Of what?”
“You weren’t convinced that you couldn’t live without me. Since we never really dated but made love twice—in one afternoon—you probably were unconvinced that I was husband material.”
“I don’t think that was it. But let’s not examine it too much. If we try to overanalyze it, we might figure something out, and I don’t want to. It’s in the past.”
He didn’t like that. “Completely?”
“Not exactly,” she said.
“Aha! You did like sleeping with me!”
“I never said I didn’t,” she said tartly. “That was the one really good thing about you.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He couldn’t decide if he was gratified or insulted. “Liberty, when I asked you to marry me, you said yes. I assumed there was something about me you liked beyond the bedroom.”
“The field,” Liberty murmured, “and then a closet.”
“It was awesome. I never knew a woman could be so flexible.”
“Duke!” She sighed. “Good sex doesn’t a marriage make.”
“It makes something,” he said, “and in my book, it makes something good.”
“Yes, well—” Her voice drifted away. “I want something more solid than sexual desire. That fades away over time.”
He turned into the Carmines’ drive. “Like what? A written promise that I’ll always want you enough to make love to you in a closet?”
“Yes.” Liberty nodded. “And that you’ll never try to rule me, or boss me, or overwhelm me with your personality. You’re very chauvinistic in some ways, Duke.”
He laughed. “Not me. That would be my brother, Zach.”
She shook her head. “Zach was always the gentleman. The girls love him. You were always the autocratic one.”
“That’s why I’m sheriff,” he said happily. “It’s an autocracy.” He stopped the engine. “You’ve been hanging around those little blue-haired friends of yours too much. Any day now I expect them to bring out their suffragette banners.”
“That’s not very nice, Duke Forrester. Shame on you.”
He smiled, appreciating the sensation of being the bad boy with a bad girl. “I couldn’t boss you even if I wanted to, Liberty Wentworth. You’re far too unquantifiable for that.” Leaning over, he brushed her lips with his. “Of course, I’ll always be bullheaded enough to take what’s mine.”
“That’s it,” Liberty said, getting out of the truck, “you flunked the test.”
“Poor testing parameters, if you ask me.” He took her arm, helping her to the porch. “You and I were made for each other. We’re like an odd shape, not meant to fit another puzzle on the planet.”
“Sounds dreadful.” Liberty knocked on the door. “Mrs. Carmine! Are you home? It’s Liberty Wentworth!”
“I believe that’s my job,” Duke said to her. “And Sheriff Duke Forrester!”
“Sometimes it’s easier for women to talk to women. Especially about things like husbands that run off for days.”
He crooked an eyebrow at her. “One day, our last name is going to be the same, and then we can stand on Mrs. Carmine’s front porch and just holler ‘It’s the Forresters!’”
“Sounds like a movie title. Maybe it is. It was probably a bad one, too,” she said as Mrs. Carmine opened the door.
“No way. Everything about the two of us together is good,” Duke said as Liberty hugged Mrs. Carmine.
“How are you doing?” Liberty asked the elderly lady.
“I’m fine.” She smiled bravely. “I’m just lonely. Would you mind fetching my husband home?” she asked Duke.
It would be a chore searching all the acreage, but one he’d done many times. “A pleasure,” he said, interpreting Liberty’s glare to mean be gracious. “We’ll go right now. Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Carmine. We’ll tell Bug it’s time to get home.”
She nodded. “Thank you. It’s good to see you, Liberty,” she said, her voice quavering. “If I’d known how men like to disappear, I probably wouldn’t have married Bug, as much as I hate to say it.”
Great. That’s all I need—a little help from the “Wish I Hadn’t” club. “Now, Mrs. Carmine,” Duke said patiently, “you know you love Bug.”
“Bug is a pain in my ass,” she declared. “Like a child, always running off.” She looked at Liberty. “You’re lucky Duke is such a stalwart sort.”
Duke enjoyed the blush pinkening Liberty’s face. It was good for Liberty to know that other women considered him a catch!
“Of course, stalwart can be boring,” Mrs. Carmine said with a frown. “If I was your age again, I’d run off with an Italian lover or a Russian circus performer first. Then I might settle down. Might.”
Liberty blinked. “Let me fix you a cup of hot tea, Mrs. Carmine.”
“No.”
