Diana Palmer - Wyoming Rugged

“If I’m hiding at home, from men, aren’t you hiding in your business from life?” she wondered aloud, then ground her teeth together at having made such a personal remark. “I’m sorry, Blair. I shouldn’t have said that.”

His hand had contracted on the steering wheel until the knuckles were white. But it slowly relaxed. “The one time I didn’t hide, I had my heart torn out of me,” he said coldly. “Never again.”

She winced at the raw anguish in his tone. He’d loved his wife. It must have been pure hell to end up like this, to lose her. But it hurt to hear him say that, about Elise. Niki loved him, and he was never going to love her back.

She swallowed. She hated his wife for the way she’d treated him, but there was no accounting for human emotions. People couldn’t help who they loved. She glanced at him. “Isn’t there a chance that she might come back?” she asked quietly. She wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with her.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” The way he said it went through her like an arrow. He’d never used that tone with her in all the time they’d known each other.

She started to apologize again and thought better of it. She turned her attention out the window and watched the landscape passing by until darkness fell over it.

* * *

IT WAS A long, silent ride home after that. He pulled up in the driveway of the Ashton ranch. She didn’t wait for him to open her door. She climbed out and went ahead of him through the front door. The television was on in the living room. She had a glimpse of her father’s blond hair before Blair caught her arm and pulled her right back out the door.

He closed it again and looked down at her in the dim light from the windows. “It’s hard for me to talk about her,” he said after a minute. “I’m not used to sharing things, personal things, with anyone. But that’s no excuse for snapping at you the way I did. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she managed. “I won’t do it again.” She forced a smile, moved away from him and went inside. She called to her father before she made an excuse and went up to her room. She managed to hold the tears back until then.

* * *

WHEN SHE GOT up the next morning, after a sleepless night, her face showed the ravages she couldn’t camouflage even with makeup.

She went downstairs and hesitated at the dining room door. Nobody was up except Blair. He was sitting at the table, dressed in gray slacks and a yellow knit designer shirt, sipping black coffee.

He looked up when he heard her. His own face looked worn, as well.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied. “Is Edna up?”

He shook his head. “I made coffee.”

“Thanks.” She went into the kitchen and fetched a cup from the cupboard. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee when she felt the warmth of his big body behind her. His hands went to her waist and tightened. She felt his breath at the back of her head.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked deeply.

She swallowed. “I said stupid things...”

He turned her around to face him. He didn’t let go of her waist. “So did I,” he said curtly. “Stupid, hurtful things. I can’t leave like this. Not with you hating me.”

“I don’t...hate you,” she managed.

He smoothed back her long blond hair, his black eyes intent on hers. “It’s hard for me to share things,” he began. “I keep it all inside. I hate my marriage. I hate remembering it.”

“I know. It was my fault. I should never have brought it up.”

He drew in a long breath. His eyes had dark circles beneath them. He looked so tired. She reached up impulsively and smoothed the frown between his eyes. “Don’t brood so much,” she said softly, her eyes adoring him. “Life is sweet. Every day is a miracle. You have to look ahead, not back, Blair.”

One big thumb smoothed over her soft mouth. His eyes were oddly intent on it. “So they say,” he replied quietly.

“I’m going to apply for that job at your mining company,” she said with a pert grin. “There. How’s that for getting out of the house?”

The frown came back. “Niki, that’s a field geology position. The pollen...”

“No, not that one,” she corrected. “The clerk’s position. You know, filing and stuff in an office.”

“You’re overqualified for it.”

She shrugged. “Hey, it’s a job, right?” she teased.

He drew in a breath. “It isn’t a clerk’s position. It’s a personal assistant position, in the vice president’s office. He hasn’t started interviewing for it. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“That wouldn’t be fair...”

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