about the house was nice and neat. That didn’t surprise her. The Jubal she’d known had been a fairly tidy person. What did pique her curiosity was the absence of family photos. The only sign he even had a family at all was a small photo of his sister sitting on a nearby end table.
As she recalled, he’d been close to his family. Maybe he hadn’t always agreed with them, but he’d loved them. As for Angela, the time she’d spent with the Jamisons had been brief and strained. They’d not exactly approved of their son’s relationship with a much younger woman. Especially one from a poor background. But Angela had never blamed the Jamisons. She’d realized they were only looking out for their son’s interests. Now she could only wonder if there had been a rift in the family.
“Well, I should be getting back to the ranch house, Jubal. Cook is waiting on me.”
He cast her a pointed look. “You’re in a big hurry to get away from me. I wonder what that means? That I’m getting under your skin, or that you hate the very sight of me?”
Stepping away from the warm hearth, she walked over to him. Her expression was as cool and distant as the high winter clouds and it chilled Jubal even more than the cold wind blowing across the Sandbur.
“Look, Jubal, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have no interest in starting things up—” her lips pressed together in a grim line “—where we left off.”
Did he want to start things up with Angie? Jubal asked himself. A few days ago, he might have convinced himself that she was in the past and out of his life. But looking at her now, he was staggered by how much he wanted to start everything over with her.
“What would you say if I told you that I had an interest?”
For one brief second he saw her bottom lip quiver, but then a frown took the flash of vulnerable emotion away.
“That you’re wasting your time,” she said flatly.
For nearly five years he’d told himself to forget this woman, Jubal reminded himself, as his gaze wandered over her silky, brown hair, the rosy color staining her cheeks. He’d not searched for her because he’d figured she’d moved on and married someone else. He knew now that he’d made the wrong choice. He should have searched to the ends of the earth.
His throat thick, he said, “I don’t blame you for hating me.”
Her nostrils flared. “Hate is a mighty strong word, Jubal. And I like to think I’m not capable of hating anyone. But you—well, I just regret that I ever trusted you.”
The groan inside him was so great Jubal couldn’t stifle it. What could he possibly do or say to make up for the ugly mess he’d dragged her through?
Angela needs years of love and devotion, Jubal. Not just sweet words or kind acts.
Jubal realized the little voice in his head was right, but he also knew he had to try to fix things at the moment, otherwise, he’d never have a chance at anything long-term with this woman.
“Angie, God knows I didn’t want to marry Evette. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
She stared at him so coldly that he glanced over his shoulder to see if the front door had jarred open and the chill racing down his spine was actually from the north wind.
“Jubal, I’m not nineteen anymore. I don’t believe everything that spouts from a man’s mouth. Especially yours. So don’t insult my intelligence by trying to feed me a bunch of manure.”
She didn’t have to point out that she’d grown from the nineteen-year-old that had knocked him off his feet the first time he’d met her. She no longer looked at him with love and admiration. Now her eyes were full of mistrust and forced independence.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Angie, it ripped me apart to turn away from you and go to Evette.”
She looked away from him. “Maybe it did. But you obviously managed to glue yourself together enough to marry her. And I—”
“I didn’t have a choice!” he interrupted.
Her eyes bore down on his and he wondered how something as soft as sweet chocolate could look as hard as steel.
“The way I see it, you could have dealt with things differently. You could have offered her child support and help with raising the child,” she said accusingly. “You didn’t have to go so far as to marry her!”
Frustration clenched his jaw. “Everything in life isn’t just right or wrong, black or white. And for your information, I tried giving Evette those options. She wouldn’t hear of it. She kept insisting that she’d swallow a bottle of pills and end her life and the baby’s.”
Angela shook her head. “Evette was too in love with herself to do such a thing and you know it. She was the town princess. She refused to accept that there was anything she wanted that she couldn’t have. And the baby was a convenient way of snaring you.” She turned away from him and walked back to the fireplace. As she stared into the flames, she spoke in a raw, accusing voice, “When you and I first met, Jubal, I admired you for being honest with me about dating Evette. But you also assured me that your relationship with her had never been serious—and that it was over. Then I find out—”
“It wasn’t serious! And as far as I was concerned, it was over.”
Clearly aghast, she stared over her shoulder at him. “Not serious! You were making love to the woman!”
“That was before I met you. Not after. And having sex and making love is hardly the same thing,” he countered defensively.
Sarcasm twisted her lips. “So that makes it okay.”
“Nothing that happened to us was okay. But it would be better—for both of us, I think—if you could understand—”
“Well, I don’t and I never will.” She pulled her gloves from her pockets and began to jerk them on. “I’ve heard enough, Jubal. This is pointless. We were over long ago and rehashing everything is—”
Pushed by need, he walked over and curved his hands over the top of her shoulders. Instantly, her eyes closed and he watched her soft pink lips began to tremble once again. Everything in him longed to bend his head, to kiss away her pain. But he didn’t want her to get the idea that the only thing he wanted from her was physical gratification.
Like heavy stones, regret lay in the pit of his stomach. “Angie—I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
She sounded shaken, accusing, bitter and Jubal was reminded all over again that the choices he’d made five years ago hadn’t just affected his life. They had clearly impacted Angie in all the wrong ways and he couldn’t feel any guiltier about that.
“I’m asking you to forgive me,” he said lowly.
Angela’s heart was racing out of control, urging her to run out the door as fast as she could, but her knees were too weak to move. And when he tugged her toward him, she fell awkwardly against his chest.
Planting her hands against his hard muscles, she pried enough space between them to allow her to look
