lived.
“Need I remind you to watch your manners?” Edda Mae asked as she melted back into the shadows. Edda Mae probably expected Jill to race down the road into Vince’s arms.
“I wouldn’t have had to mind my manners if the gate stayed locked,” Jill muttered.
Gravel crunched beneath tires on the driveway and headlights swung around onto them and then away as Vince parked out of sight in front of the garage. A smooth engine roared once before settling into silence.
He’d want a divorce. Jill spun her wedding ring with her left thumb. It wasn’t as if she was going to ask for alimony or child support from Vince. A divorce shouldn’t be a big deal, although odd as it seemed, being married to Vince was part of who she was. But if she had to choose, preserving the small-town integrity of Railroad Stop was more important than a ring on her finger.
“Jill?” Vince’s voice was deep and familiar when so much about her husband was a mystery.
A breath of cool mountain air made Jill shiver. “Over here.”
They’d gone to private school together since kindergarten. In high school, Vince was the class loner, a situation he and his perpetual scowl seemed comfortable with, especially when it didn’t seem to deter a certain type of willing girl. Jill was the brainy girl who didn’t quite fit in. Although they’d been friends of sorts since they were five, the older they got, the less frequently their paths crossed.
Then Vince had asked Jill to come watch the sunset on his boat on Senior Ditch Day. But Craig had been coming over to her house that evening and Craig was so perfect—captain of every sports team, class president—no girl would be stupid enough to turn him down. Whereas Vince…Vince was the kind of boy her parents warned her about.
Jill struggled to fill her lungs with air. Turned out Craig wasn’t so perfect, after all, and Vince…
Teddy balanced his paintbrush on the edge of the can and leaned against Jill, bringing her back to the present. “Is it Batman?” he whispered.
They both giggled. Jill draped an arm over Teddy’s shoulders as Vince came around the corner in his custom-made suit and tie, looking every inch the heir to a grand casino in Las Vegas and draining the laughter from her throat. The rebellious boy who wore a leather jacket and pierced his ear was nowhere to be seen in this man. Jill, on the other hand, had gone from put-together, studious debutante to harried, working single mom. Her stomach flip-flopped.
“It’s good to see you, Jill. You look great.” As Vince approached, his gaze drifted over her, no doubt registering the extra pounds she’d put on over the years.
“You, too.” She didn’t have to tell Vince he looked better than great. He probably knew it. Jill could imagine the plastic babes roaming Vegas falling regularly at his feet. If only she could easily picture Vince turning them down. He must think she was a pathetic pushover for hanging on to him for so long.
Vince held Jill immobile with his dark gaze as he continued to narrow the gap between them. Hugging had become de rigueur in the business world in the past ten years. Surely he didn’t…
Part of her rejoiced. That unexpected emotion was immediately quelled by a stronger, more predictable desire for self-preservation that usually gave Jill the strength to move away, raise a hand and smoothly utter an excuse for a man to keep his distance.
Only, this time she faltered. She could barely remember her own name, much less his. She wanted to put up her guard, but couldn’t lift a finger. And her feet…her feet weren’t moving, either.
He wasn’t stopping. Jill’s heart thudded against her chest.
By sheer force of will she managed to take a jerky step back. Surely he’d see her discomfort. He’d always been good at picking up on her body language, but it had been so long he probably didn’t realize. Long arms reached for her. Large hands settled on her shoulders and drew her to him.
Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t… “Don’t!” she cried, her feet suddenly obeying her mind. Her butt hit the remaining sawhorse and she would have flipped over it, but Vince held her tight.
“I’M NOT GOING to support your casino.” Wary-eyed, Jill wrenched herself free from his grip and edged around the sawhorse until it stood between them.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“I’m…fine.” She gave her son a weak smile.
“Jill?” That unwanted protective male instinct, the one only Jill aroused, had reawakened. Vince wiped his palms, still warm from touching her, against his trousers and stepped away.
“I’m fine,” Jill repeated, hefting one end of the sawhorse and dragging it toward the open shed behind the garage. “I’m not supporting your casino.”
“I haven’t asked you to,” Vince snapped, taking the other end of the sawhorse and examining her face, hoping to find a reason for his old obsession.
Jill stumbled under his scrutiny, but kept walking backward.
On the first day of kindergarten Jill had stuck up for Vince in front of a teacher, and he’d contracted a bad case of puppy love that continued through childhood only to fizzle out less than a year after their wedding day. She was pretty enough, but no longer his type. He liked his women pouty and aggressive in bed, women who didn’t mind that he wore a wedding ring and wasn’t interested in anything long-term. Vince took note of how high up Jill had buttoned her flannel shirt.
Nope. He was definitely over her.
“Just so you know,” Jill said woodenly, “people come here to get away from it all. Having a casino at the turnoff to Shady Oak doesn’t exactly reinforce that feeling of peaceful solitude.”
Vince didn’t want to talk about the casino. “The two can coexist.”
“Not on my mountain.” Taking baby steps, Jill led him into the gloomy, crowded shed. Once the sawhorse was on the floor and the only barrier between Jill and the door was Vince, she froze, watching her husband from the shadows as if scared of him.
Of him. As if he’d been the one who attacked her. Could the day get any worse? Vince stubbornly refused to move, waiting for Jill to show some backbone. “I don’t think you own the entire mountain.”
“No.” She still didn’t move.
They stared at each other in silence for several seconds more.
With a sigh, Vince backed out of the shed and into the boy.
Craig’s son.
The vivid blue eyes and reddish-brown hair were Jill’s. Try as he might, Vince couldn’t see anything in this kid of the solidly built, blond mama’s boy who’d date-raped Jill.
“Who are you?” the kid asked.
“Vince Patrizio.” Vince offered his hand and took the opportunity to lead the boy back to the garage.
The smell of new wood permeated the crisp mountain air. From what he could see, Shady Oak was a replica of an old Western town. There were small bungalows with covered plank porches and wooden rocking chairs. The garage
