Every muscle stiffened as he debated whether to run or turn and face the woman who’d broken his heart. Maybe if he stayed absolutely still, she wouldn’t see him.
“Who invited the bull rider to dinner?”
He turned slowly, letting his eyes take in the woman he’d always known he was meant to marry. Except right now her scowl and narrowed eyes didn’t promise much. Her hair was longer, a few inches below her shoulders, but everything else about her was the same. He faced the woman he’d loved with his whole heart. Those deep brown eyes, the way she pinned back that strawberry blonde hair just on one side.
“I hope this won’t be a problem,” Cliff finally interjected. “Logan’s gonna stay with us this week to help keep him out of the limelight.”
The tension in the kitchen practically crackled. He half expected a bolt of lightning to zap the center of the room. He tried to get words out, the same ones he said to Erin earlier about his willingness to stay at the hotel. But his tongue was tied, and his heart felt twisted in knots.
“He’s a bull rider!” Izzy announced, her horse bouncing with her. “Isn’t that cool?” She flashed a wide grin to Abbie, and for that, he could have hugged her. He made a mental note to spoil Izzy rotten. Whatever she wanted, it was hers.
Abbie folded her arms across her chest. “A whole week, huh?”
“Just need to take care of a few things before the rodeo this weekend.”
Finally, Abbie nodded.
“Why don’t we all sit down,” Erin suggested. “Isabella, did you wash your hands?”
The girl bowed her head, avoiding eye contact.
“C’mon Peanut. I’ll help you.” Abbie took the girl’s hand and led her away, most likely to a bathroom on the other side of the house from the sound of the echoing footsteps on the hardwood floors.
He looked at Erin. “She didn’t know?”
Erin busied herself wiping her dry hands on a towel. “It was better this way.”
Better than giving her warning? He wasn’t sure he agreed. But he was relieved Abbie hadn’t been given an opportunity to leave town before he could talk to her. And now that he knew she was staying this close . . .
He slipped into a chair with a view of the cottage, carefully tucking himself in the corner so Abbie wouldn’t be forced to sit too close to him. He couldn’t expect her to easily welcome his unannounced presence. Nothing ever came easily when it involved Abbie Bennington.
“My hands are clean!” Izzy announced as she paraded back into the kitchen and skipped to her chair.
“Do you mind if I take mine to go?” Abbie asked Erin. “Vince wants that article finished up first thing tomorrow morning.” Her voice was calm now, as though that short break gave her a moment to compose herself. She didn’t so much as glance his way, but his eyes never left her.
“Sure, sweetie. Let me fix you a plate.”
To-go container in hand, Abbie slipped out without fanfare. His eyes stared at the door for several seconds after it closed, yearning for her to turn around and join them for dinner.
Erin carried the platter with pot roast to the table. His grumbling stomach nearly made him forget about Abbie, until he caught her speed-walking toward the cottage. The door slammed behind her, not surprising to him. She’d always had a bit of a temper, but she was good at concealing it from most people.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Cliff said, snapping his attention back to the table.
His eyes caught Izzy from across the table. “Starving.” Abbie’d been so good with her niece. As much as he tried to concentrate on his delectable plate of food, he couldn’t stop picturing her, arms crossed, brown eyes narrowed, hair longer and covering bare shoulders in the sleeveless white blouse.
They’d broken each other’s hearts, and he’d hoped to find closure for them both while in town. But being with her in the same room after so much time apart, he was no longer sure closure would be enough.
Chapter 3
Abbie
“Ugh!” Abbie stomped into her tiny kitchen and tossed the Tupperware onto the counter.
There was nothing she hated more than the rodeo. Except for a certain bull rider staying with her family.
“This isn’t happening. Thissoisn’t happening.” She paced from the open kitchen to the living room and back like a caged lion, fighting the urge to grab her dog and run. Maybe to California or Alaska. She’d be willing to bet they didn’t host any rodeos in Alaska.
Gibbs looked back and forth between her erratic pacing and the meal she left on the counter without any hint of when they might eat it.
