him. “Don’t,” she sobbed. “Don’t be nice to me, Conner. I can’t handle ‘nice’ right now.”
It was so Abby, that kind of comment, that he stopped dead in his tracks, not sure what in hell he should do. He had never felt so out of his depth in his whole life. She visibly pulled herself together and roughly dried her face on the baggy purple sweatshirt she was wearing. Then squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and marched over to the cupboard, yanked a mug off a shelf, slammed it on the counter and slopped coffee into it.
If she hadn’t looked so awful, and if she hadn’t damned near scared him half to death, he would have laughed. But this was no laughing matter. This woman was running on sheer grit and not a whole lot else, and he wasn’t going to stand around, waiting for her to unravel. He was going to start making some critical decisions here, whether she liked it or not.
Acid rolling around in his gut, he went over to the table, sat down and propped his feet up on another chair. Making sure his expression was a whole lot calmer than he felt, he slouched back and laced his hands across his chest. Giving himself a couple of seconds to get a grip, he squared his jaw and spoke. “Sit down, Abby.”
He had never used that abrupt tone on her—never—and her head came up and she looked at him as if he’d just said something foul and disgusting.
He fixed her with a steady stare. “You better sit down, Abby. This is going to take a while.”
She mustered some attitude and gave him a sour look, but she did sit down, plunking her mug on the table.
Not moving, Conner contemplated what to hit her with first. He figured he might as well start at the top. “I found the statements from the loan company in your desk—”
She started to get up, and he held up his hand, giving her a warning look. “You better get your butt in that chair, Abigail. Like I said, this is going to take a while.” She settled into her chair, a stunned look on her face, as if she didn’t know this person before her. Which was good. Conner wasn’t sure he knew this person either. He kept the same businesslike tone. “As I said, I found the statement from the loan company, and as of an hour and a half ago, the loan has been paid off. They are out of your hair, permanently.” He watched her too-thin face, and he caught a glimmer of acute relief in her eyes—as if a huge threat had been removed. He let his expression relax as he continued, his tone softer. “And I looked over your accounts, and the cold hard truth is that you need to unload this house. You can’t afford to keep it—it’s just going to drag you down deeper. So I have a plan.” Straightening, he dropped his feet to the floor, then leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. His expression determined, he fixed his gaze on hers. “I think we should call a real estate agent and list this place at a price that’s going to move it, but where you come out with no debt. Then I think we should get a moving company in here to pack everything up and haul it into storage.”
She tried to resurrect some indignation, her chin coming up. “You had no right to go through my finances, Conner. That was damned rude.”
Amused at her attempt to cut him down, he looked straight into her eyes. “No I didn’t, and yes I am.” He leaned back again, continuing with his plan. “After we get all that straightened away, I’m going to call the kids’ school, tell them there’s a family emergency, then I’m packing you all up and taking you back to Cripple Creek for the summer.”
That stark look was back in her eyes and her face was so pale it was scary. Obviously struggling, she clasped her hands between her legs and opened her mouth to speak. Conner knew she was going to set up a big argument. He never even gave her a chance to get started. “Don’t even think about arguing with me, Abby,” he said, his tone firm. “You’re coming home for the summer, and that’s that.”
She looked like a pathetic waif sitting there, the bones of her shoulders pronounced under the fleece fabric. Her hair was mostly out of the ponytail, and she just looked so damned forlorn. He would have given anything to have the right to go over there, pick her up and just hold her. But that was not his right—or his mission.
She never took her eyes off him, and his gut clenched when he realized she was trembling. He gave her a wry smile, his gaze fixed on her. “It’s a good plan, Abby,” he said softly. “You’ll have the whole summer to get it back together, and the kids will love it.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Then she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, two tears spilling out. “I would have made it through if you hadn’t showed up,” she whispered brokenly. “I would have.”
Conner laced his hands tighter together to keep from touching her. She was fighting her little fight, and he respected her for that. And he knew it just wasn’t in her to go down without a struggle. “I know you would have. But it’s going to make me feel a whole lot better if you let me help you over this hump.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him, a hollow look back in her eyes; then she took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. “This is only a loan,” she said, trying to call up some of her usual stubbornness. “I’ll pay you back the money.”
Knowing exactly where she was going, Conner decided it was time for him to draw his own line in the sand. His gaze fixed on her, he leaned back and folded his arms. “I don’t think so, darlin’. That money is a gift to your kids, so you don’t have a whole hell of a lot to say about it.”
His response caught her unawares. Abby gave a huff of uneven laughter, and clasped her head. “Ah, God, don’t start getting cute, Conner. I can’t dance that fast right now.”
A twitch of amusement surfacing, he watched her try to recover, not giving her an inch. “I don’t dance, Abigail. You should know that by now. And I don’t want a big argument. All I want from you right now is complete compliance.”
She wasn’t so down and out that she couldn’t even scrape up a decent dirty look. “And you know where you can stuff your compliance, Calhoun.”
He grinned and rocked back in his chair. “It’s a good plan, Abigail.” His expression turning serious, he spoke again, his tone soft and persuasive. “Like I said, I’d love to have you guys there for the summer, and you know the kids would love every minute of it. And it would give you a chance to regroup.”
Clearly struggling with a whole bunch of emotions, she tipped her head back, wrestling with her choices. Conner watched her, his gut in a knot, waiting for her answer. He could almost feel her internal battle—her pride and independence struggling to override her common sense.
Finally she dropped her head and looked at him, a tiny glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Okay. It is a good plan. But you might want to rethink that part about getting stuck with us for the summer.”
Liking her spunk, he rocked his chair farther back. “Hey. If I can ride herd on a bunch of range-ornery cows year after year, I can sure as hell manage one skinny woman and two kids for a couple of months.”
Clasping her arms around her, she tipped her head to one side, her expression changing as she considered him. Finally she spoke, her voice very soft and very husky. “Did anyone ever tell you that you make one hell of a white knight, Conner Calhoun?”
Discomfited by her comment, he got up and started folding the paper. He didn’t want her thinking that. He wasn’t a white knight by a long shot. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, part of him felt like a thief in the night.
The next week was absolute chaos, and Conner continued to have concerns
