older woman hesitated. “I only want to be a better mother. I swear I do, but...she confuses him.” With this pronouncement, she pinned Andrea with an accusatory gaze. “He thinks she’s still his fiancée.”
This time, however, Andrea heard the fear behind the woman’s words, the terror of losing her son all over again. “He knows the truth now, and if he forgets it, I’ll remind him...gently, carefully. I promise you that. Believe me, I don’t want to hurt him any more than you do. But I also don’t want to leave him in pain the way he is.”
She knew the grim statistics too well, had seen up close in her work how many returning soldiers suffering untreated PTSD chose to end their lives. Or to obliterate their pain with drugs and alcohol, which often amounted to a slower form of suicide.
Ian’s mother hesitated, but for Jessie, this was apparently good enough.
“Let me show you to your room,” she said. “Then, if you want, you can ride along with me to pick up Eden from her playdate, and I’ll fill you in on everything you’ll need to know about this family.”
Andrea didn’t miss the panic that flashed through Nancy Rayford’s blue eyes. But for the moment, Andrea pretended not to see it as she took up Jessie on her offer and followed her to the wing that housed the mansion’s guest quarters.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder, What is it Ian’s mother is so afraid I’ll find out about the Rayfords? And how can I enlist this frightened woman’s help to save her son?
* * *
When he couldn’t convince his brother, Jessie or even his pushover of a mother to send the shrink packing, Ian decided instead to ignore Andrea’s presence. It was a hell of a lot easier said than done, though, since his mind kept replaying the warmth of her curves when he had pulled her into his arms and the strength of the connection he’d felt coursing through him that moment their lips met. The only way he could manage, could keep his eyes from locking on to every move she made, was by avoiding her as much as possible.
Over the past two days she hadn’t made it any easier, “happening” upon him whenever he came inside and pretending to be no more than a concerned friend. But he’d brushed her off in a hurry and retreated to his room each time, not giving a damn about the look of disappointment on her gorgeous face.
What difference did it make anyway? Whether or not he ever spoke to her, she was sure to get paid for her efforts. He was a job to her, or at best some pet project, a screwed-up loser she’d dumped so she could ride off into the sunset with a guy whose brains weren’t scrambled eggs.
This morning, it was the sunrise that he planned to ride off into after leaving a note in the ranch office, a space more like a studio apartment, with its own seating area, kitchenette and a small bath where Zach could wash up after getting dirty with the livestock. His brother had taken the opportunity to expand the office, which had been built into a corner of the barn after an arsonist had burned down the entire structure last year. Ian knew his family had gone through a rough stretch, a time of grief compounded by intense fear and worry, but at least some good had come of it, if his brother’s relationship with Jessie was anywhere near as solid as it looked to Ian. Though yesterday he’d overheard them squabbling over Jessie’s “scaring the liver out of him,” as Zach had put it, with her refusal to share details of the new exposé she was working on, it was clear they loved each other deeply, and they had fun together, too.
Seeing how they worked as a team with Eden and how much joy the little girl, who’d started school just last week, brought them struck Ian with a sense of loss—and anger, sometimes, creeping up on him when he didn’t expect it—for the life he’d been missing out on, a life centered on a family he’d never even known he wanted. Or maybe that wasn’t true. He couldn’t say for certain these days. Along with his memory, he’d lost so much more, including a true sense of who he was.
He left a brief note on his brother’s desk, grateful that Zach would be running later than usual this morning since it was his turn to drive Eden into town for school. If he were here, Ian knew, there’d be another lecture and maybe an argument like yesterday’s, when Ian had told his brother what he could do with his advice to quit acting like a stubborn jerk and give Andrea a chance.
He did miss his brother’s coffee though, he thought as he eyed the fancy espresso machine longingly. But no way was he taking a chance on messing with Zach’s prize possession, which had enough buttons and levers to rival the fighter jets he’d once piloted.
Ian thought of heading back inside to cadge a quick mug of Althea’s simpler brew—and maybe a couple of his favorite raspberry thumbprint cookies—before he rode out, but that would bring the risk of running into Andrea since she’d been getting up earlier each day in an attempt to catch him alone. He felt idiotic sneaking around his own home—and more aggravated than ever with her for forcing him into it.
Which is why he swore under his breath when he saw her standing by the hitching post, next to his saddled palomino. She held two insulated travel mugs, one of which she offered with that gorgeous smile of hers, so white it competed with the glorious September dawn. Sleek and straight, her dark brown hair had been brushed back, with a clip keeping the front sections out of those long-lashed hazel eyes he’d always loved.
“Peace offering,” she said, looking more casual today in a pair of jeans that drew his eye to other favorite parts of her anatomy. Places he’d awakened hot and hard from dreams of touching, tasting and claiming as his own again.
When he reached for the mug, she didn’t let go, locking in on him with a take-no-prisoners gaze instead.
“Didn’t realize there’d be strings attached,” he said, looking at her almost straight on, since she wore a pair of riding boots that brought her to within a couple of inches of his own six-four.
“Life is a series of negotiations, Ian. The question is, what will you bring to the table?”
He lowered his hand and shook his head. “Thanks for bringing out the coffee, but I prefer mine black, not tarted up with a bunch of shrink talk. Or any talk at all, as far as that goes.”
“Then how ’bout if we ride instead? Just ride and see how that goes?”
He chuckled to himself, getting the point now of the boots and jeans. “You really think you’re up to riding fences with me all day?”
“I want to try.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to play nursemaid to some greenhorn. Or ride back for a ladies’ room when we’re a couple hours out.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he felt a stab of regret. He was being a jerk, he realized, punishing her for... Had she broken up with him, or was he the one who’d left her? When he reached back for the memory, he found only a black fog of loss and pain—that, and the nameless anxiety that stalked him day and night.
There’s something important you’re forgetting. Something so big, the weight of it will crush you flat when it finally comes.
“You don’t know what you want, Ian. That’s the problem. But I might be able to help you with that.”
“I want to be left to my work, alone. And that’s not gonna change, not even if you start staying up all night to try to catch me before I ride out.”
“I’m coming with you,” she insisted.
“Do you even know how to saddle
