to the child. Footprints and tire marks had indicated someone had taken three-year-old Tink from the scene of the wreck and left with her, but no one was really sure what had happened.
God, how had the kind, loving uncle stood the pain?
By holding on and meeting each new sunrise one day at a time, Trevor knew. Just as he’d done last fall and winter until he’d finally confined all the pain, anger and sense of betrayal to the little black box that was his soul. He’d locked it away and learned to live with it. He would keep on doing that.
Finally the group was ready for bed. He brought in luggage for the aunt and though Lyric insisted on getting her own, he determinedly took her larger suitcase and marched into the house. She trailed behind.
Uncle Nick assigned the older guest to the suite at the end of the west wing. The rose-colored room had its own bathroom and sitting area. Lyric was put in the spare room next to it.
Unfortunately his room was next door to hers, and they would have to share the bath across the hall.
Not at the same time, he hastened to add as his libido picked up on this idea. Okay, so there was still a physical attraction. So what? For a brief moment Trevor considered moving to his cousin’s old room in the other wing of the house, but knew that was stupid. He wasn’t going to let a woman make him run like a startled deer.
After he saw to the aunt’s luggage, he carried Lyric’s large case next door. She stood by the bed, her eyes taking in the furnishings.
He set the case on the cedar chest at the end of the bed. The words escaped before he fully realized he was going to say them. “So how’s your fiancé?” he asked.
She gazed at him with her soft, doe-like eyes. He saw her throat move as she swallowed, then her breasts—those gorgeous full breasts—lifted as she took a deep breath and slowly released it.
“Lyle—” she began, then stopped as unreadable emotions flickered across her face.
The name was a stab in the gut. Lyle and Lyric, as if they were a matched pair, meant for each other.
“Does it matter?” she finally asked in a strained voice.
He shrugged and left the tempting bedroom before he did something he’d regret—like grab her and crush her to him, like make good use of the bed behind them, like beg her to say she was sorry she’d chosen another over him.
And why the hell didn’t she wear an engagement ring like other women?
Chapter Two
On shaky legs, Lyric closed the door, then unzipped the smaller of her two cases. She pulled out the red ankle-length nightshirt made like a football jersey with the numeral one printed on it, a gift from her two brothers last Christmas, then sat on the cedar chest, the jersey clutched to her breasts.
Had Aunt Fay lied about her being included in the invitation to the ranch? If not, then it certainly wasn’t Trevor who’d asked for her presence. His uncle? The silver-haired rancher had never met her, so why should he?
With lethal humor, she wished she were still lost on the country roads, driving around and around in endless circles going nowhere. Because at the present moment she felt she’d crossed over into the Twilight Zone.
Lifting her chin, she decided she and Trevor would have to make the best of things. Her aunt planned on staying for the rest of the month.
Of course, she could leave Aunt Fay at the Daltons and go back home. But the hill country of Texas was a long way from Idaho. Since her beloved relative refused to fly, Lyric would have to return for her at the end of the month.
Her shoulders slumped. It was Trevor’s duty visit to her aunt—at his uncle’s insistence—that had started this whole farce. Closing her eyes, she wondered why life had to be so hard. Tears crowded against her eyes. She held on until they eased and she could think again.
She’d foolishly believed that Trevor had been instrumental in inviting her to the Dalton ranch. She’d thought this meant another chance for them and that he wanted it, too. She’d been wrong, terribly wrong.
There were two choices, she decided. She could crawl into a hole inside herself and wallow in self-pity, or she could refuse to be put off by Trevor’s lack of welcome and endure. She was good at enduring.
With a sigh she changed to the nightshirt, unpacked her clothes and put them in the maple dresser. Its beveled, triple mirrors reflected her unhappy countenance back at her from several angles. Red streaks on either side of her nose indicated the bruises that would be visible by morning.
They were nothing compared to the bruises on her heart. She recounted the tragedies life had thrown her way the past eighteen months: the putting to sleep of Scruffs, a lovable and loving stray cat she’d taken in fifteen years ago, due to kidney disease; the divorce of her parents after thirty years of marriage; and then the accident in which Lyle, who lived on the next ranch and had been a friend from birth, had been injured.
The tears pressed close again. She’d cried enough this past year and a half to flood the Rio Grande. Her aunt had told her it was time she put the past behind and started over, that she was young and had all the future before her.
Lyric gave a soft laugh, but it wasn’t a happy sound. She hadn’t felt young in ages.
Except for one delirious three-week period when a rangy, blue-eyed cowboy had visited Austin for the stock sale. Trevor was twenty-eight to her twenty-four. He’d made her laugh with his jokes and teasing. He’d thrilled her with the way he’d stared at her. She’d done the same, both unable to take their eyes off the other. And his kisses…
A shiver ran over her as she remembered their kisses. Even though they’d had to be careful because of his broken ribs, she’d never been kissed like that, had never responded the way she had to him. It had been wonderful…exciting…and terribly confusing.
She’d never felt that way about Lyle. That fact had added to the uncertainty in her, that plus the quarrel she and Lyle had had the previous month.
She’d refused to set a date for the wedding or to wear his ring. Lyle had been angry. Before he’d gone out of town on business, he’d told her to make up her mind about them before he returned. Or else.
She’d told him then that she wasn’t sure she could go through with the marriage. She wasn’t ready to be tied down.
Tied down. That seemed an odd way to describe what should have been one of the most exciting times in a woman’s life. It wasn’t until she met Trevor that the doubts became focused and clear as to why she couldn’t marry her old friend. She didn’t love him that way.
But then there had been the accident. Trevor had been at her house, having dinner with her, her mom and Aunt Fay when the call came.
“That was Lyle’s mother,” she’d said to the other three when she’d hung up the phone. “He’s been in an accident near San Antonio and is in intensive care. She said I should come to the hospital at once. He’s asking for me.”
“Who’s Lyle?” Trevor had asked.
“Her fiancé,” her mom had answered.
Lyric
