Lip Service. Сьюзен Мэллери

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were young,” Lexi said. “It was a long time ago. Give yourself a break.”

      “Because you think I made the wrong choice?” Skye asked. “I don’t. I did what I had to. What was right.”

      “I know.”

      Lexi said the words, but Skye wasn’t sure she believed them. Skye had given up love to play it safe. Who did that? Didn’t she deserve the consequences of her actions?

      “To give up Ray would have meant giving up Erin. She’s my daughter. I can’t imagine life without her.”

      “I know,” Lexi said. “She’s amazing. You’re lucky to have her. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

      “Yes,” Skye murmured. A few months ago her life had been boring and familiar. Now there was very little she could count on.

      “As for Mitch,” Lexi continued. “Why worry about him? It’s not as if you’re going to be seeing that much of him.”

      “You’re right. I know he’s back, we spoke, end of story. It’s not as if we’re going to be running into each other very often.”

      IT WAS a little after four when Skye heard yelling just outside her office. She stood to investigate, but before she could cross the room, the door burst open and Mitch stalked inside. Elsa ran alongside him, trying to get in front.

      “I’m sorry,” she said. “I explained you were busy, but he insisted.”

      From the angry look on Mitch’s face, he’d done more than insist.

      “Don’t worry about it,” Skye told her assistant. “Mitch and I are old friends. I’m happy to see him.”

      Elsa didn’t seem convinced, but nodded and backed out of the room.

      “Have a seat,” Skye said, pointing to the chair by her desk.

      “No, thanks. This won’t take long.”

      He looked good, she thought, taking in the jeans and white shirt. Furious but good. His color was better than the last time she’d seen him and the lines of pain around his eyes had eased.

      Despite everything that had happened, despite what he’d said, she was happy to see him. She wanted to go to him and hold him. She wanted to do a whole lot more than that, which probably meant she needed some intensive therapy or at the very least a self-help book with a snappy title.

      “You’re obviously pissed off,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Which I find interesting. If anyone has the right to be mad, it’s me.”

      “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked.

      “Is that a trick question?”

      He ignored her. “I had an interesting visitor at breakfast Saturday morning. Erin.”

      Skye opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t sure what to say. Erin had breakfast with Fidela most weekends. If Skye was up, they would ride over together. If not, Arturo came and got the little girl. It was a tradition, one that Erin treasured.

      “Let me guess,” Skye said bitterly. “You object to my daughter being on the ranch. Give it a rest, Mitch. I know you’re adjusting and that you’re dealing with an incredibly unfair situation, but Erin has nothing to do with that. She and Fidela adore each other. She’s like their granddaughter. They don’t have kids of their own. You were like their son, so even you should understand. Don’t tell me that Erin can’t go over there anymore.”

      “Is that what you think this is about?” he asked. “Your kid eating pancakes with Fidela?”

      “Yes,” she said cautiously. “What else is there?”

      “Interesting question. Erin invited me to her birthday party. She’s turning eight.”

      “Okay.”

      He took a step toward her. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t get it?”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked like he wanted to rip her into tiny pieces. But for what? Her daughter turning eight?

      “She told me when her birthday is,” he said, his voice filled with rage. “I did the math. When the hell were you going to tell me that Erin is my daughter?”

      The room shifted. Had they been in California, Skye would have assumed this was the big one. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think and, even through the wild disbelief, she ached for him. For the pain she was about to cause.

      “Don’t pretend you’re surprised,” he told her. “I know the last time we had sex, kid. It was right after I proposed.”

      “I remember,” she said. She remembered everything about that night and the day that followed. “Oh, Mitch. No.”

      He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t bother pretending she’s not mine.”

      “She’s not,” she whispered.

      His expression tightened. “Bullshit. Either she’s mine or you’re a whore.”

      She felt as if he’d hit her. “Those are not my only two choices.”

      “What else is there? If Erin is Ray’s kid, then you jumped into bed with that old man, what? Two days later? You putting out on the first date now, Skye?” His mouth twisted. “Maybe you are. These days you don’t even require a date. Just a private spot in the sun and a willing guy.”

      She raised her hand to slap him. He grabbed her by the wrist and held on hard enough to bruise.

      “Tell me,” he whispered, his eyes blazing. “Did you like fucking the old man?”

      Tears burned in her eyes. She pulled free of him and stepped back. Her throat felt tight, as if she would never be able to swallow again.

      It hadn’t been the first date, but the third and she’d cried the whole time. She’d slept with Ray to find out if she could. He’d held her and told her he’d never meant to hurt her. That he always thought she was special but if the idea of being with him was so disgusting, he would walk away.

      He’d been kind and understanding. Sure, he’d wanted an eighteen-year-old bride, but he hadn’t been a jerk about it. She’d been tempted to tell Ray that she would never love anyone but Mitch. But Jed had taken her aside and warned her that if she refused Ray, not only would she be dead to him, but that he would destroy the Cassidy Ranch. He would take Mitch’s inheritance and erase it from the face of the earth.

      She’d believed him but she’d still longed for Mitch. In the end circumstances had made the decision for her. She’d been pregnant with Ray’s baby. Just over seven months later, Erin had been born—five weeks premature.

      Now she sucked in a breath, wiped away her tears and faced Mitch.

      “Erin isn’t yours,” she said clearly.

      “I don’t believe you and I’ll

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