stared at her. “The ranch?” she asked incredulously.
“The ranch,” Savannah confirmed. “Cruz refers to our ranch as ‘she.’” The more she thought about it, the more fitting it seemed. “And La Esperanza is a hell of a lot more competition than any flesh-and-blood woman I ever knew.”
At least, if it had been another woman, she’d like to think she’d know how to compete. But the ranch had been her husband’s dream ever since she could remember. How could she possibly compete against a dream?
“But he’s just doing that for his family. For you,” Vanessa argued.
No, not for her, Savannah thought. Because if it was for her, he would have stopped knocking himself out a long time ago. He would have tried to fit her into his day, into his night, instead of living and breathing work on the ranch.
“He’s doing that for himself,” Savannah said firmly. Ever loyal to the man she loved with all her heart, she softened slightly, as if she couldn’t help but take his side, at least to a minor degree. “Oh, he wants to be a good provider and all, but part of being a good provider is being there in more than just body. And he’s not.” She sighed, looking past her friend, focusing instead on the last few months. Maybe even years, she amended. This had been going on and steadily getting worse for a long, long time. “He hasn’t been for a long while now.”
Trying to lighten the moment and do away with the dark look in her friend’s eyes, Vanessa patted Savannah’s stomach. “Well, he must have been there in body and spirit at least once.”
Savannah shook her head. “I need more than just once. I need more than just a part-time husband, although at this point I’d settle for that. What I have is a husband who’s there ten percent of the time. And usually that ten percent is spent in bed.”
“Quality, not quantity, has always been my motto.”
“Sleeping,” Savannah emphasized. “And although he looks really cute that way…” She looked toward her son, who had once more dropped down onto the rug. Jake was smashing in the monster’s face. “A little like Luke, really. But it’s hard to maintain a two-way conversation with a man who’s doing a fairly good imitation of a corpse.”
Savannah took in a deep breath, knowing that she was coming very close to crying again. That wasn’t why she’d come here. She didn’t want to cry; she wanted to forget about everything for a little while.
“Cruz is up and out of the house before sunrise, back after sunset—sometimes long after sunset.” Sadness twisted her soul. “I have to show Luke pictures of the man just to remind him what his father looks like.”
Vanessa shook her head as she laughed. “C’mon now, you’re exaggerating.”
Savannah sighed. There was sadness in her eyes as she looked up at her best friend. “Not as much as I wish I was.”
Communication was the only way, Vanessa thought. It certainly worked for her and Devin. “Have you told him how you feel?”
Savannah looked at her. Hadn’t she been listening? “I just said—”
“I know what you just said,” Vanessa interrupted, squelching a minor bout of impatience. The solution, or at least a start, seemed pretty clear to her. “That you’d have to make an appointment to see him. Well, make one. Do whatever it takes. Grab him by the arm when he walks in tonight and say, ‘Cruz, we have to talk.’” She waved her hand, as if trying to bring about a magic spell. “And then talk.”
“He’ll probably fall asleep while I’m talking.”
Cruz had done that just the other night. Right after dinner. He hadn’t even got up from the table. He’d laid his head down for a second, just to “rest my eyes,” and boom, he was out like a light. It took everything she had not to put on the radio and blast him. But she hadn’t. She’d gently prodded him to his feet and then, with his arm slung across her shoulders, she’d somehow managed to get him up the stairs and into bed. During the one occasion when he’d been intoxicated and the same thing had happened, he’d pulled her down on top of him and they’d made love.
This time, though, he’d gone straight back to sleep.
Leaving her out in the cold.
“It won’t be the first time,” Savannah concluded, keeping her voice low for Luke’s sake. It throbbed with emotion.
Vanessa glanced at the iced tea container. “Then keep a pitcher of cold water handy and douse him if you have to.”
Despite the situation, Savannah heard herself laughing. “You’re a radical woman, Vanessa Kincaid, you know that?”
Vanessa winked in response. “Maybe, but I get results.”
He had begun to think that today was never going to be over. Since before sunup, the day had felt endless.
Which, he supposed, made it no different from all the others that had come before it in the last few months. His days were stretched to the maximum, filled from beginning to end with work. By the time he finally walked up to the house each evening, Cruz Perez felt as if he barely had enough energy to put one foot in front of the other.
Certainly not enough to sit and talk the way Savannah always wanted to do when he walked in through the front door.
He wished he had the energy she required of him.
He wished she could understand.
Getting the life he wanted for them required a great deal of sacrifice on his part. And part of that sacrifice meant not doing what he would rather be doing.
Which was being with Savannah.
He loved his wife. He really did, he thought as he drove up the winding lane to his house. Loved her with every fiber of his being.
But at the same time, the very sight of Savannah made him acutely aware of all his shortcomings. They came at him from all directions, illuminated with glaring headlights. They made him ashamed, because he couldn’t give her what he wanted to give her.
A woman like Savannah deserved to have things, things he couldn’t find a way to give her no matter how hard he tried. How hard he worked.
He always knew that running a ranch wouldn’t be easy, but he had lusted after it as far back as he could remember. Having a ranch made you your own man, gave you something to make you proud.
If it was successful.
Lately, though, there were more headaches, more bills than there was joy. A lot more.
And then there was the new baby coming—a baby that hadn’t been planned.
Lightning certainly did strike twice, he thought, driving his Jeep into the garage. Getting out, he began to walk toward the house. Luke had certainly not been planned. His firstborn had been the result of a night of passion, the kind that most men only dreamed about.
Cruz’s mouth curved as he remembered. He’d been working for the Fortunes then, with a chip on his shoulder and an army of women trailing after him. He’d had more than his share, but from the first moment he laid eyes on her, he’d seen something special
