Ami Weaver - A Husband For The Holidays

She jumped in seamlessly. “But we weren’t sure how you’d react. It was hard enough for you to come back as it is. I’m sorry.”

Darcy managed a laugh. “I’ve been over Mack Lawless for years now. If he helps you out, that’s great. I’ve got no problem with it at all.”

That wasn’t entirely true. But she chose to believe it was because they hadn’t told her.

It had nothing to do with maybe not being over him.

Chapter Two

“Well,” Marla said as she stood up and began to stack dishes. “I’m going to take care of these and then I’ll join you in the barn. Darcy, if you’d rather not go out there tonight, we’d understand.”

“No. I’ll be fine.” She hoped like crazy it was true. She couldn’t let her aunt and uncle know how rattled she was.

Marla wouldn’t hear of Darcy helping her clean up, which was probably a good thing, as her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since they’d told her about Mack, so she got into her down jacket and boots and followed her uncle down the snowy path to the barn. Any other time, she would have found the quiet and the falling snow peaceful. Right now, she found herself too keyed up to enjoy it.

“Finances are a little tight around here, as I’m sure you noticed when you drove up,” her uncle said finally. “Mack offered to help out. He won’t accept any pay. Likes the work, he says.”

Her heart tugged. That sounded like the Mack she’d known and loved.

“It’s okay, Uncle Joe.”

He took her hand for the rest of the brief walk and she was grateful for the simple touch. In the workshop, he introduced her to his employees, then said, “We’ll be in and out. You remember how to make a wreath?”

In spite of her nerves, she smiled. “I can do it in my sleep, Uncle Joe.”

He gave her a quick hug. “Stay strong, honey.” He headed outside with his crew and left her alone.

She took a moment to inhale the sharp scent of pine. Some things never changed, and this room was one of them, thankfully. Long scarred tables, open shelves with wire, twine, cutters, pinecones and different colors and styles of ribbon along with boxes of assorted decorations. She admired a finished wreath. It was beautiful—spruce and juniper, with berries, pinecones and a big gold ribbon.

Forcing herself not to watch the clock and failing—just how much longer till six thirty anyway?—she kept busy by gathering supplies for and starting a wreath. Her aunt walked in five minutes before Mack was due to arrive.

“I thought maybe it’d be best if I were here,” she said, and Darcy gave her a tremulous smile. “I see you haven’t lost your bow-tying skills.”

Her aunt kept up a steady chatter, not seeming to expect Darcy to reply, which was good because she had one ear tuned for an approaching engine. When she finally heard it, she took a deep breath.

Marla gave her a sympathetic look. “Relax, honey. It’ll be okay.”

But Darcy barely heard her as the barn door rolled open and Mack’s familiar, long-legged form stepped through. Her breath caught.

He hadn’t changed. If anything, he’d gotten even better looking, even in old jeans, boots and a down vest, with a Michigan State ball cap. His brown hair was a little longer, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He’d always hated the curl, worn it short. Somehow the new style was a sign of how much she’d missed.

His gaze landed on her and he gave her a cool nod. “Darcy. Nice to see you.”

It’d been seven years since she heard her name on his lips in that delicious deep voice of his. Longer still since he’d said it with affection, love or passion. Pain and regret hit her like a tidal wave. She’d botched things so badly. She swallowed hard. “Mack.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.

Before she could say more he shifted his attention to her aunt. What they talked about, Darcy couldn’t say. She turned back to the table to busy herself by tying bows. Her hands shook so hard she kept fumbling the ribbon.

Watching Mack now—because her gaze kept pinging over there on its own—it was clear to her that he wasn’t having the same issues she was. He’d gotten over her.

That was good, right? That was why she’d left. Mission accomplished.

Too bad she didn’t feel accomplished. She felt torn up inside. Raw.

She started to reach for the scissors when her neck tingled. When she looked up, her gaze locked on Mack’s. Even across the barn and over her aunt’s head, she felt the heat of it to her toes.

Oh, no.

She looked down at the bow she’d botched and untied it with trembling fingers. Oh, this was bad.

True, in the years since the divorce she’d barely dated. The few times she’d gone out? Her friends had talked her into it and there’d never been a second date.

She’d never reacted to anyone the way she did to Mack.

“We need to talk.”

Darcy jumped at the sound of his voice right behind her. She turned and looked up at him, at the hard set of his jaw, the iciness of his blue eyes. Oh, how she’d hurt this man she’d loved with all her heart. If only she could go back and undo the past.

But she couldn’t.

“About what?” Panic fluttered in her throat. He couldn’t want to get into their failed marriage already, could he?

“Why we’re here.”

Darcy put down the scissors she could barely hold anyway and crossed her arms over her chest, needing the barrier it signaled to both of them. “I know why I’m here. My aunt and uncle asked me to be.”

His eyes flashed. “You could have come home at any time.”

She inhaled sharply. “No. I couldn’t. You of all people know why.”

“I don’t even know why you left in the first place.” The words were simple but stark and sliced through her as cleanly as a sharp blade.

She lifted her chin, fought the threat of tears back. “Of course you do. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to help my aunt and uncle out, then I’ll be out of your life.”

He looked at her, his intense blue gaze unreadable. “You’ll never be out of my life,” he said, his voice low.

Darcy stared after him as he strode out of the barn, his words vibrating in her soul.

Marla hurried over to her. “You okay, dear?”

Darcy forced her lips into what she hoped passed for a smile. “Of course.” At her aunt’s skeptical look she added, “A little shaken, but I’ll be fine, Aunt Marla. It’s been a while.”

The phone rang and her aunt glared at it, then went to answer, clearly reluctant to leave Darcy alone.

She picked her scissors back up and decided right then not to show how much the encounter had affected her. As she started a new bow, determination set in. It might be too much to hope she could get Mack to understand now what he’d been unable to back then. But she absolutely had to try so she could finally move on.

Wasn’t Christmas a season for miracles?

She’d need one.

* * *

Mack strode out into the cold, thoughts whirling. He thought he’d been prepared for the shock, but he’d been wrong. Way wrong. Seeing her wasn’t easier after all these years.

Especially when she looked so damn appealing.

But it’d been the look in her big brown eyes that killed him—wary, hopeful, sad all mixed together. Regretful.

Regrets. He had a few of those himself.

The still falling snow swirled around him as he approached Joe, who was readying to bale and load cut trees into a truck for delivery at a local store. Joe looked distinctly guilty as he approached.

“You saw Darcy?”

Mack gave a curt nod. “Yeah.”

Joe’s look was assessing and it made Mack uncomfortable. He didn’t want the older man to see how rattled he was. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about Darcy. We were afraid you’d quit or that she wouldn’t come. We didn’t want either to happen.”