her head in her hands. This wasn’t like the other times she’d fallen. She yearned for the solace of Drew’s embrace.
Hurry home, honey, she thought, biting her lower lip as the tears welled in her eyes, because I need you.
Chapter Two
The moment he reached the end of the winding drive, he noticed Triumph, still saddled and grazing beside the barn. The beast seemed content enough, as though the dirt on his forelegs and withers didn’t bother him at all. But Drew knew better. This was a persnickety horse that appreciated a thorough grooming after a hard ride.
What was Gabrielle thinking? he demanded silently. Frowning, he followed up with an equally regretful thought: she hadn’t been thinking of anything or anyone but herself lately.
Dismounting, Drew strode over to where Triumph stood, ran an ungloved hand over the horse’s behind. The horse had been sweating hard—that much was evident by the thin crust of grit stuck to his coat—but he’d been home long enough to cool down.
Doesn’t make a lick of sense, Drew thought, shaking his head. Gabrielle did have a tendency to get sidetracked, especially in conversations and menial tasks, but he knew better than most how she felt about animals. For her to have left Triumph in this condition could only mean one thing.
Something had happened to her.
The image of her, unconscious, cold and alone, unprotected in the wilderness, flashed through his mind. It was autumn, a dangerous time of year. Cougars were on the prowl, as were grizzlies and black bears looking to fatten themselves up for winter’s long hibernation. And contrary to city-folk myth, the hairy beasts much preferred fresh meat to wild berries and tree roots.
Heart pounding, he raced toward the house, making plans as he went: call the sheriff, and while the man rounded up a search party, Drew would get down on his knees and pray like he’d never prayed before. Because he loved her. Loved her like crazy. Had from the moment he first set eyes on her, would ’til he drew his last breath. Legal separation papers couldn’t change that fact.
He exploded into the kitchen, not noticing or caring that he’d slammed the door against the wall.
“Drew Cunningham,” she said in a loving, wifely voice, “how many times have I told you that isn’t the way a gentleman enters a room?”
His relief was so great, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He wanted to throw his arms around her. But they were legally separated, and she might resent an action like that.
He stood there for what seemed like a full minute, one hand on the brass knob, blinking, swallowing, thanking God.
And then he started noticing little things.
Things like the fact that her hair was still damp from a recent shower, and Gabrielle hated wet hair, especially when it was cool outside—and the temperature hadn’t gotten above forty so far today.
And she was wearing the outfit he liked so well, the one he’d bought her in Bozeman last July, when they’d gone into town for dinner. She hadn’t taken it with her when she left. Hadn’t taken anything he’d given her when she left. Tiny as she was, Gabrielle caught a chill quicker than anyone he could name. So why would she be wearing a sleeveless summer dress and strappy little sandals on a day like this?
She turned back to the stove, lifted the lid of the saucepan in one hand, picked up a giant stirring spoon with the other. She looked so good, so right standing there, as if she’d never left. A sob ached in his throat.
Drew bit his lower lip to still its trembling, took off his hat and scrubbed a leather-gloved hand over his face. “Thank You, Jesus,” he whispered. “Praise God.”
“What’s that, honey?” she asked distractedly.
His head snapped up in response to the endearment. Honey? She hadn’t called him that in…
In more than nine months.
Was this some sort of trick? Some stunt her big-city lawyer had dreamed up to get her a bigger piece of Walking C pie? He felt the heat rising in him, and clamped his teeth together. His own attorney had advised him not to say anything he might be sorry for later. It should have enraged him, that she’d waltzed in here as though nothing had happened, expecting him to like it. But all he could feel was gratitude. If she was toying with him, he didn’t care.
She’d almost gotten the better of him.
Almost, he thought, but not quite.
“What’re you doing here?”
She shot him an Are you kidding? grin. “I’m polishing my toenails,” she teased. After enjoying a girlish giggle at her own joke, Gabrielle added, “So, did you get the back fences repaired?”
The back fences? He tucked in his chin. He’d fixed those last fall.
She faced him then, and when she did, her long, luxurious auburn hair swung around her shoulders, wide gray eyes sparkling with…with love, just the way they had before she’d called it quits.
But wait just a minute here…what’s she up to, anyway? “Triumph is out behind the barn,” he began, taking care to keep a civil tone in his voice, “still saddled. Looks like he had himself one wild ride this morning.”
Her pale eyes darkened, reminding him of the storm clouds he’d seen over Beartooth earlier that morning.
“What! Someone rode him, then just left him standing there, saddle and all?” Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. “What kind of cretin would mistreat an animal that way?”
She rested both fists on her hips—on her shapely, womanly hips. Get hold of yourself, Cunningham, Drew warned himself.
Gabrielle was still frowning when she said, “If I get hold of the guy who—”
She seemed genuinely angry, which made no sense. No sense at all. “Gabby,” he interrupted, frowning, “you’re the guy, er, gal who had Triumph out this morning.”
She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Oh, Drew,” she said lightly, “you’re such a big tease! You know I’d never leave him saddled and ungroomed. I love that big bully!”
Tilting her head, she blinked flirtatiously. “Do you know what day this is?” she asked on a soft sigh.
“’Course I do.” He switched the hat from his left hand to his right. “It’s Saturday.”
“No, silly,” she said, sauntering nearer. “The date.”
Something warned him to take a step back, to keep his distance from this beautiful, sexy woman who, until nine months ago, had been his lawfully wedded wife. Instead, Drew planted his boots on the wide-planked kitchen floor, determined to stand his ground. This was his house, after all.
Until she left him, he’d considered everything that had been his just as much hers. But all that changed the morning she had the sheriff deliver the documents that said otherwise. This whole divorce thing was as ridiculous as it was unnecessary, because if she’d listened to his explanation about that night—
Smiling happily, she gave him a playful shove.
