The Return Of David Mckay. Ann Evans
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While it was nice not to have to field questions about her future baby plans, Addy didn’t want to hear about how successful David had become. How he owned a condo in New York and a flat in London and a beach house in Malibu. She didn’t need to know whom he’d escorted to the Oscars last year and how he’d met the Queen when his last big blockbuster had premiered in England.
Besides, Addy already knew most of it anyway. Over the years she couldn’t help following his career with some interest. A handsome, rich, powerful man like David McKay—the boy wonder of Hollywood—made the news often.
Addy rubbed her temple to soothe away the headache she felt behind her eyes. At her father’s urging, Geneva was telling how David had recently taken up hang gliding. How his instructor said he was a natural at it.
“There’s almost nothing that boy can’t do,” Geneva said, a proud note in her voice.
“Really?” Addy asked suddenly, feeling perverse. “Can he walk on water yet?”
Amazing how quiet a room could get. It seemed as though everyone turned to look at her. Even Rafe, who’d been stealing kisses from his wife on the couch.
Geneva seemed puzzled, but it was her father who spoke. “Adriana,” Sam said, “is something bothering you?”
Addy felt immediately contrite, the coffee turning to acid in her throat. This definitely wasn’t like her. “I’m sorry, Geneva,” she said quickly. “That was uncalled-for.”
“It’s all right, dear. I do tend to go on a bit about David when I have a captive audience.”
Addy stood. “I have a headache, and it makes me poor company, I’m afraid. Will you excuse me? I need to check on a few things for our trip. Good night, everyone.”
She sailed out of the room before anything more could be said. With self-conscious haste, she went through the lodge and out the front door into the night air, heading for the barn.
The moon made pearly ripples on Lightning Lake as a breeze sifted through the trees. Although quite beautiful, tonight she had no interest in it. Not there, she thought. Definitely not there. The lake held too many memories of her time with David. Those last bitter words between them.
She just wanted to be away from people right now. Just find some way to…to shut down for a little while. To stop thinking.
The barn offered that kind of release. It sat in a clearing, surrounded by white-trunked aspens. It wasn’t huge, just eight stalls with a small corral attached, but as she slipped the latch and flipped on the light, her breathing calmed a little.
She loved the family business, but she felt especially passionate about the stables. Addy had finally convinced her father that they needed to reopen the old barn. Trail rides and overnight camping trips had been added to the list of amenities, and Addy enjoyed being responsible for this new enterprise. She loved the people she met, the animals she tended as though they were her own children.
Children. Could she manage this part of the business and take on the challenge of single motherhood? Of course she could. Women juggled a career and home all the time these days.
And there was always Plan B. If she needed help during or after her pregnancy, she could call on Brandon O’Dell, the lodge’s front desk manager. He’d been a friend of Nick’s for years, and he and Addy had dated briefly. Last week he’d shocked her, asking flat out if she was interested in becoming a partner both professionally and personally.
Marriage to Brandon—whom she didn’t love but whom she might grow to—or raising a child alone. That decision hadn’t been made yet.
Either way, would it be enough to keep her from being envious of her brothers? Nick, Matt and Rafe had all built lives of their own. They had wives and children and homes where she felt certain they lived in a harmony and love that seemed to have bypassed her entirely.
What had she been doing wrong? Why hadn’t there been anyone special after she’d broken up with David McKay?
She frowned, realizing that it had been a long time since she’d lamented her single-girl status. It had to be because David was back in her life, however temporary that might be. She’d have to be careful. Make sure he didn’t think she’d been moping around all these years, waiting for him to come back.
Maybe while she was out on the trail this week she’d figure it all out. In the meantime, she had work to do.
In the stall nearest her, Sheba, her best sorrel mare, nickered a welcome. And farther along, Joe swung his head over the stall door, eager to see if she’d brought treats.
The smell of leather and hay brought back so many happy memories. Sunday afternoons when the four D’Angelo kids had pretended to be Pony Express riders. A rainy Saturday when Rafe had tried to convince her that one of the ponies could read her mind. And later, once David had come into her life, the two of them riding the trails around the lake. Kissing on top of Wildcat Ridge while their horses sidled restlessly beneath them.
No. She really mustn’t think of those times right now.
At one end of the barn sat the tack room and feed bins. Brandon, eager to learn more about this part of the business, had already helped her pack the supplies she and Geneva would need, but with David tagging along, she’d better make sure she had extra.
She laid everything out once again, making notes with a pad and pencil she kept in the tack room. She’d have to bring another blanket down from the lodge, even though it was summer. More water. Another set of utensils and dishes. Rations for one more horse and mule.
Would His Royal Hollywood Highness settle for plain old American coffee? He was probably used to some fancy blend. Well, tough. If he didn’t like the meals she had planned, he could turn around and go home.
She made a notation on her list, wondering if she could get away with feeding him basic camp food for two weeks. “How do you feel about pork and beans, Mr. Ritz-Carlton?” she said aloud.
To punctuate her displeasure, she drew a hard line under one of the words she’d written. The point of her pencil broke off with a small snap.
She stared at it, then swore so loudly that Sheba pricked up her ears. Stalking into the tack room, Addy searched in vain for another pencil, a pen, anything, but found nothing. More swearing. Why hadn’t she cleaned out the drawers so she could find things? Why didn’t she plan better?
Disgusted and breathing hard, she sat down on a bale of hay and lowered her head into her hands. She had been afraid of letting go, but now all the unshed tears waiting for a break in her control found their release.
It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t seem to stop crying. Ever since she’d walked into Geneva McKay’s house and seen David standing there, her emotions had been teetering on the edge of something too heart-wrenching to be ignored.
She felt threatened, endangered, and only pride and her own mulish nature kept her from calling off this whole trip. Maybe she’d do it, and to hell with what he thought.
“Addy?”