The Rancher's Wife. April Arrington

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The Rancher's Wife - April  Arrington

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it’ll be a good experience for me. I need to get used to driving in extreme winter conditions.”

      Logan frowned. “Why?”

      She smiled. A real one that untied the knot in her chest.

      “I’ve accepted a job in Michigan. There’s a new insurance branch opening in Detroit and I’ll have a management position. That means higher pay and more opportunities for advancement.” She shrugged. “The winters are a lot harsher up there. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little taste of it now before I move in January.”

      “Michigan?” Logan’s frown deepened, his voice strained. “That’s damned far, Amy.”

      He cut his eyes to the window, remaining silent for a moment. The wind outside strengthened and tumbled bits of trash across the parking lot. A tree branch scraped across the glass pane, its shrill squeak breaking the silence.

      “You’ve stayed here longer than I thought you would.” Logan faced her again. “You used to say you loved Raintree. That you never wanted to live anywhere else.”

      Amy forced her features to remain blank. The only thing she’d missed as much as Logan and her family over the past four years was Raintree Ranch. Her mother and her younger sister, Traci, came to Augusta to visit every summer, but it wasn’t the same as being together at Raintree. Their childhood home had always been her safe haven.

      Even now, Amy could feel the warmth of Raintree’s spacious kitchen. See her mother flipping pancakes on a wide griddle and humming happy hymns over the stainless steel stove.

      Having secured a position at Raintree as head chef, the widowed Betty had brought her two young daughters with her to the beautiful guest ranch. And Logan’s family had welcomed them all from the moment their feet touched the dirt drive.

      As a girl, Amy had spent thousands of hours racing across Raintree’s green fields on her favorite stallions, Thunder and Lightning. She’d helped Logan deliver both foals on the same stormy day. Logan had laughed at her choice of names, but at the time it had seemed like fate to her tender heart.

      It had always surprised her how far and fast she could ride across Raintree’s acres and still have ground to cover. And the gallop back had always been just as exciting knowing Logan would be watching and waiting for her safe return. The endless acres, beautiful horses and interesting visitors had made Raintree Ranch her favorite place in the world.

      Amy had never known a more peaceful place. Until her selfish actions changed everything.

      “I said a lot of things back then,” she stated. “When I wanted something.”

      She’d wanted Logan. Marriage. A family.

      Amy swallowed hard. That dream was gone. Logan had never loved her the way she’d loved him. Pushing him into marriage had destroyed their friendship and complications from pregnancy had almost taken her life. They’d been told she’d probably never be able to get pregnant again. That had been proven in the barren months that followed.

      Amy shook her head. “All of that was a long time ago.”

      “Four years,” he said.

      “Yes.”

      Logan spun and crossed the room. The planks of the hardwood floor vibrated beneath her feet as his heavy steps carried him to the window. His spine grew rigid and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

      She’d never met a stronger, more dependable man. But her deceit and their broken marriage seemed to have dented his armor. Cracked his bravado. And their stillborn baby girl—

      Amy’s lungs burned, sharp pain searing in all directions. That dark day had seemed like retribution. A justifiable punishment for her grievous sin.

      Amy curled her toes and looked down at her shoes. She’d refused to give up on her dream of being a mother, though. But several failed attempts had forced her to finally accept that it was never meant to be.

      She raised her head and straightened. That was all in the past. She’d moved on since then. She no longer mistook her admiration for Logan as love and she had let go of her dream of becoming a mother. All she wanted was to proceed with her respectable new life and continue giving Logan back his.

      “The move to Michigan is why I decided to come home for the holidays this year,” she said, working the words through her constricted throat. “I’m using some vacation time I have saved up to visit the ranch for a few weeks, see everyone and—”

      “Say goodbye?”

      Logan’s accusing rasp shot across the room. He turned, yanked his hands from his pockets and rubbed them over his denim-clad thighs. The action seemed nervous and hesitant. Both emotions uncharacteristic of him.

      “You sure are making a lot of decisions for everyone else,” he said. “Doing a lot of assuming. As usual.”

      Amy rolled her lips and bit hard, a spark of anger lighting in her chest. One she hadn’t felt in years. A product of the impulsive nature she’d worked so hard to shed.

      Logan’s dark eyes roved over her face, peering deep. He nodded toward the papers on the desk. “You gonna look at those?”

      She held his sharp gaze, tensing and tempering her tone. “Later.”

      “Now’s as good a time as any.”

      “I know what they are,” she forced out.

      The corner of Logan’s mouth lifted. “I don’t think you do. Take a look.”

      “You came all this way to boss me around?” Amy wrapped her fingers tighter around the chair. She tried to stop. She really did. But the words kept spewing. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Logan. You can’t stroll into my life, toss orders about and demand I do things your way. Matter of fact, that never worked out for you back then, either, did it?”

      “No, it didn’t.” Logan crossed the room, leaning into his palms on the desk and drawing close. “But it can work this time with the right persuasion.”

      Amy hissed and lifted her chin. “You think so?”

      “I know so.” A broad smile broke out across his lean cheeks, warming his expression. Logan lifted his hand, the blunt end of his finger smoothing over the tight line of her mouth. “There’s my girl,” he whispered. “I miss you, Amy. I miss us.”

      Amy sagged against the chair, shoulders dropping. “Us fighting?” She shook her head. “Because that’s all we’re good at anymore.”

      His big palm cradled her jaw, calloused thumb sweeping gently over her cheek. “We’re good at a lot more than that. We just need to work at it. Do things right this time.”

      Amy drew back, slipping away from his touch. “No. That’s not why I’m coming home. And I don’t plan on staying permanently. You already knew that.” She nudged the papers with her fingertip. “That’s why you signed these.”

      His eyebrows rose. “Did I?”

      “Good Lord, I’m glad you’re here.”

      Traci

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