Shit.
“Come on, darlin’, let’s get you under the covers.” He scooped her up long enough to jerk the covers down. She moaned, softly, while he repositioned her, pulled the covers over her. Then she rolled to her side and shoved her nose in the pillow.
He turned off the light and pulled the door handle.
“Thank you, Mason,” she mumbled from under the covers.
He closed the door and tiptoed downstairs and out the front door, slamming into his truck and peeling off down the road. He rolled the window down, hoping the cold breeze would chill the heat roaring through his body.
He still wanted her. Even worse, he was leveled by how much he still cared for her, still wanted to care for her. She was still as vulnerable now as she was when her life had been shattered all those years ago after the death of her parents. He’d always thought she’d leaned on him then because of that. Maybe she had. And maybe it had been something more than that. Something that couldn’t separate them no matter what.
She’d walked out on him, had made it clear she wanted no part of his way of life. And yet he knew that they were still bonded. He felt it. So did she, even if she tried to deny it.
Maybe they always would be.
And maybe he was just a damn fool.
six
there wasn’t enough coffee and acetaminophen on earth to obliterate the hangover Valerie had woken up with. But after a shower, nearly half a pot of coffee and some of Lila’s heavy-on-the-carbs breakfast, she decided she might live through the day.
What an epic idiot she was. Thinking she could down all those beers and shots of whiskey when she normally didn’t even drink was a lesson in stupidity. Even worse, she hadn’t been nearly drunk enough to forget Mason driving her home, or her throwing up on the side of the road, or Mason putting her to bed.
He’d taken care of her when she’d gotten sick. He’d held her hair and kept her from falling on her face in a sick, drunken stupor. Then he’d tenderly washed her face, driven her home and carried her up to her room. He’d undressed her and pulled the covers over her. She didn’t deserve such treatment after the way she’d unceremoniously dumped him, divorced him and left him. Why couldn’t he be an asshole like so many guys she knew? Most men would have left her in the parking lot of the bar and told her she was on her own.
Then again, Mason wasn’t most men and never had been. That was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him in the first place.
Jolene and Brea had gone to Tulsa for the morning, which meant she couldn’t avoid her ex-husband, unless she wanted to spend the day hiding in the house. And it was a warm spring day, and she was no coward.
She slid on a pair of the darkest sunglasses she had, put on her cowboy hat to shield her devastated head from the sun and found Mason out at the cattle pens, roping the calves for branding. She swung over the fence and walked toward him.
“Hey,” she said, squatting down and ignoring the smell of burning calf flesh as one was branded with the Bar M mark. Branding calves was as much a part of her life as breakfast.
“Kind of busy here, Val,” he said, holding a branding iron to a squalling calf.
“I need to talk to you.”
He let the iron up, and the two hands holding the calf’s legs let go. The calf sprung up and sauntered off, and was let out of the pen and into the pasture, while the next calf was brought in, roped—or wrestled—into lying down.
“If you’re going to insist on being in my way, put on some gloves and get to work.”
She sighed, looked around and found a pair of work gloves, then took her place at the front end of a calf, replacing one of the cowboys, who went off to perform another task. She held tight to the calf’s forelegs while Mason applied the brand.
They worked silently for a while, her, Mason and Bobby, one of the hands. Valerie found the rhythm relaxing. It had been a long time since she’d done any ranch work. She’d always found it enjoyable, a distraction that required a lot of physical effort, but didn’t overtax her mind. And after eight years of having her brain cells filled to bursting with medical school, this was a slice of heaven.
“Thank you for last night,” she finally slipped in between brandings.
“Don’t worry about it.”
His tone was gruff. Probably because he was busy, concentrating on what he was doing.
“Well I do worry about it. I didn’t set out to get stinking drunk. Or to have you take care of me.”
His gaze lifted to hers while they waited for Bobby to bring the next calf over. “Someone had to, since you were in no shape to take care of yourself.”
She leaned back on her heels. “You’re not responsible for me.”
His gaze was direct. Unnerving. “I’ll always be responsible for you, darlin’. You may have walked out on our marriage, but I never walked out on you.”
And just like that, the floodgates opened. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over. She pushed off her feet and stood, jerking the gloves off as she walked away in such a hurry she had no idea where she was going, only that she knew she had to get away from him. Away from here.
She climbed over the fence and kept walking, no destination in mind. She could walk for hours, days, and not reach the end of the Bar M’s land. It didn’t matter. She only needed space and distance, away from the knot of emotion Mason’s words had caused.
But no matter how far she walked, she couldn’t escape what he’d said.
She hadn’t wanted to come home, hadn’t wanted to see Mason. Coward that she was, she’d known what would be waiting for her here. The old feelings, the emotions she’d tried to tell herself were long gone, but weren’t. They hadn’t died, even if she’d tried her best to kill them.
She still loved him. She’d never stopped. She’d just run away from what she felt, too afraid to stick it out, to see if she could handle loving someone so intensely it made her heart hurt.
She’d loved her parents like that, and had lost them. It had left a hole in her heart so deep she’d never recovered from it. And when she’d fallen in love with Mason, the depth of her feelings for him had scared her to death. Because if she ever lost him, she wasn’t sure she’d survive it. So instead, she’d walked away.
Better to have lost than ever to have loved. It hurt a hell of a lot less in the long run. And you win your sanity that way.
Two years later, she didn’t feel like she had won a damn thing. Her victory was hollow.
valerie avoided mason and the family the rest of the day. Fortunately Jolene and Brea stayed busy and didn’t bother her except when Brea showed off her new look, which was spectacular, as Valerie had known it would be.
Valerie stayed in her room, didn’t come down to supper; instead she ate alone upstairs.
Yeah, she was brooding and avoiding, but it worked for her. Better to avoid than to face the truth. She was really good at avoiding truths, had been doing it for years now.
But by night she was bored and restless. She tried a bubble bath and a book, but that didn’t help at all. She was tired of staring at the four walls. Some air might help.
Wearing only the clingy short nightgown she’d tossed on after her bath, she figured she was safe since it was late enough that everyone would be in bed. She snuck downstairs and brewed a pot of steaming-hot coffee, knowing the caffeine wouldn’t keep her awake. Years of medical school had taught her to sleep when it was time to sleep, no matter what was buzzing around in her system.