She followed. “Don’t you ‘darlin” me, Mason. I’m not at all interested in your sex life.”
He stopped and pivoted, then pushed his hat back and arched his brows. “Oh, so now we’re talking about my sex life?”
Her entire body heated, from the tips of her painted toenails to the roots of her hair. “No. We are most definitely not talking about your sex life.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about yours, then. Gotten any lately?”
Her eyes widened. “Dear God. You haven’t changed a bit.” She spun on her heel and headed for the barn door.
“Val.”
“What?” She wasn’t about to stop.
“I’ll come by and pick up my jacket . . . later.”
“Asshole,” she muttered, shrugging out of his jacket and letting it drop to the barn floor. If the cosmos smiled on her, maybe it would fall into a pile of horse shit.
There was no refuge anywhere—at the house or in the barn. But at least the house only contained her sisters. She went through the front door and up the stairs directly to her room.
Unfortunately, Jolene was at the top of the stairs waiting for her.
“What?” Valerie asked.
“What are you running from?”
Valerie rolled her eyes. “Nothing.” She brushed past Jolene and went into her bedroom. Jolene caught the door before Valerie could shut it.
Her sister made herself comfortable on Valerie’s bed, flopping stomach-first onto it.
“Ran into Mason outside, didn’t you?”
Damn Jolene for being so perceptive. “Yes.”
“He still has the ability to make your heart hurt, doesn’t he?”
When had her sister grown up and become so wise? She started to deny it, but what was the use? “Yes.”
“That’s why you don’t come back here.”
Valerie sat on the edge of the bed and blew out a breath of defeat, feeling like she’d failed at running away from the one thing she didn’t want to talk about. “Not all of it, but that’s part of the reason.”
Jo rolled over onto her back and leaned against the pillows. “What’s the other?”
That she wouldn’t get into. Instead, she lifted her shoulders. “I just needed to move on, to find a life outside the Bar M. I wasn’t meant to be a rancher, Jo.”
Jo cocked her head to the side and studied Valerie. “I’m not sure I buy that. You were as good at ranching as I was.”
“I just didn’t love ranching like you do. I was good at it, yes, but you love it. I don’t.”
“Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to love it.”
She felt the squeeze in her heart. “Loving something doesn’t mean you won’t destroy it.”
“Ah,” Jolene said. “So we’re not really talking about the ranch now. You’re talking about your marriage to Mason.”
She lifted her gaze to her sister. “What?”
“Mason. You’re talking about loving Mason.”
“No. I’m not.”
“You’re talking about loving and destroying. That’s not the ranch you’re talking about, Valerie.”
Dammit. Why did everything get turned around to talk of Mason? “There’s a damn good reason we’re not married anymore. And I’d appreciate if you and Brea would keep your matchmaking fingers out of our relationship.”
Jo raised her hands. “Whoa. Okay. Hands off. I get it.”
“Good.”
Jolene swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the door. “But, Val?”
“Yes.”
“I think you still love him. And he’s not destroyed, so maybe there’s still hope.”
“Goddammit, Jo!”
But Jolene had already pulled the door shut and hadn’t heard Valerie scream at her.
Somehow Valerie didn’t think that topic was closed.
four
the funeral was surprisingly well attended considering how much everyone had hated their uncle Ronald. But Valerie supposed most people were better bred than she was and would willingly pay their respects to the mean son of a bitch even if he’d never had a kind word to say to a single soul.
Lila said people attended out of respect for the family. Maybe so. Valerie’s parents’ funeral had been standing room only. There’d been weeping. Then again, her parents had been kind people. Maybe someone had left Uncle Ronald in a basket on her grandparents’ doorstep, and they’d taken pity on him and raised him as their own. Because no way in hell would Valerie ever believe Uncle Ronald and her father were of the same blood. Ronald had been mean as a rattle-snake, always coiled and ready to strike out at whatever innocent victim was foolish enough to get close. And every eye at the church and cemetery that day was bone dry. No one cried over his death. What did that say about a man’s character?
They held a luncheon at the ranch after, and lots of folks attended, which gave Valerie a chance to catch up with people she hadn’t seen since she’d left town two years ago. That was both a good and a bad thing. She loved catching up, but hated fielding the same old questions about where she’d been, why she left the ranch, and what was going on with her and Mason.
In that her sisters were her lifesavers, especially Jolene, who steered people away with talk of cattle and horses and the exorbitant price of feed. And Lila, who stuffed everyone’s faces with enough food their mouths were too full to talk. Fortunately, Mason had begged off attending the luncheon, claiming he had ranch work to do, so she didn’t have to face him along with the questioning stares of everyone from town.
According to them, you didn’t leave ranch life. You were born and bred to it, you married into it and you died doing it.
Why in hell weren’t they badgering Brea with questions? Probably because she knew how to hang out in a corner and resemble a potted plant. No doubt not a single soul even recognized her behind her scraggly hair and boho outfit. If only Valerie could be obscure. As the oldest, she was the best known other than Jolene.
By the time the crowds had left, Valerie was exhausted. Tension had drilled her shoulders into hard knots. She was glad this day was over, and she wanted nothing more than to hide in her room. Brea and Jolene were in the kitchen with Lila. Valerie stayed in the great room, searching for leftover cups and spoons and the like.
“Rough day?”
Her shoulders tensed at Mason’s voice. She turned and managed a smile. “It wasn’t too bad.”
“Sorry I wasn’t here. Bet you had to field a lot of questions about us.”
“I managed.”
Dirt smudged his face and rained off his jeans as he moved into the room, his boots tapping on the wood floor. God he looked good enough to . . . eat.
It had been a long, long dry spell. The last man she’d been with had been . . . him.
“You look tense.”
She lifted her chin and dropped her shoulders. “I’m fine, really.”
“I used to know you better than you knew yourself. You’re not fine. There are dark circles under your eyes. When was the last time you slept?”
Years ago. “Don’t worry about me.”
His lips quirked. “Old habits die hard.”