Sandra Steffen - Burke's Christmas Surprise

Burke made a derisive sound. “You’re considering marrying a man who writes poetry like that?”

Louetta’s head came up, vexation flashing in her eyes. “Wes is a rodeo rider, not a writer.”

Shaking his head, Burke couldn’t help remembering the summer his stepbrother had spent reciting “There Once Was a Man from Oklahoma.” Glancing at the card, he said, “I suppose it contains a certain sincerity.”

“Wes Stryker is very sincere.”

Burke didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. He’d come here to try to explain. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Lily’s relationship with another man.

But Lily was pacing on the other side of the room, talking as she went. “Wes was one of the few people who didn’t tease the living daylights out of me when we were kids. He always had an easygoing smile and a kind disposition.”

“How long have you and Stryker been an item?”

“I’ve been seeing him for several weeks now.”

“Do you love him?” Burke caught a whiff of her perfume, and the question he wanted to ask—Do you love me?—went unsaid.

“That’s none of your business, Burke.”

He was across the room in a flash, the coffee table with its scraggly red plant and hand-written card the only thing separating them. “Maybe not,” he said, his voice deceptively low. “That doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Have you ever awakened him in the middle of the night with a whisper and a strategically placed kiss?”

Everything inside Louetta went perfectly still. Her cheeks were probably flaming. For once, she didn’t care. Darn him for reminding her of how wanton she’d been that night. Darn him for stretching her emotions tighter with every passing second. Darn him for making her aware of a warming sensation low in her belly. Darn him, darn him, dam him.

“This may come as a surprise to you,” she said, turning her back to Burke as she stared unseeing out the window. “But I don’t hop into bed with every man who leaves a five-dollar tip.”

“I never said you did, dammit.”

She turned slowly, her skirt swishing around her knees, a lock of hair falling onto her forehead. There was a quiver in her fingertips as she smoothed the tresses out of her eyes. She’s changed, Burke thought. Her voice was as soft as always, her eyes the same gray he remembered. The blame in them, however, was brand-new.

He’d hurt her. And she’d found him guilty without hearing his explanation, his reasons. He didn’t really blame her. Two and a half years was a long time. No one knew that better than he did.

There was no excuse for the need running through him, no excuse for the determination to change her mind. No excuse except he wanted her. No matter what she thought, what had happened between them hadn’t been all his doing. Two and a half years ago she’d changed his plans for the evening with one heart-stopping smile. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to see her smile at him like that again.

“Would you tell me something?” he asked.

It probably took a lot of courage to meet his gaze the way she did. It required a lot of strength on his part to keep his feet planted where they were. “Would you have said yes to Stryker’s proposal if I hadn’t shown up tonight?”

Her shoulders stiffened, her back straightened. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but I was thinking about telling Wes ‘maybe.’ He would have made a joke out of that in front of everyone. He’s very patient, and very funny.” She stopped, gazing into the distance. “And very honest. I don’t believe he’s ever told a real lie.”

Burke felt something he didn’t much like uncoil deep inside him. Jealousy, anger and finally, grim acceptance. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,” he declared. “Lily.”

Reaching for his coat, he turned on his heel.

The door closed just short of a slam, Burke’s footsteps on the stairs echoing through Louetta’s small apartment. Lowering her hands from her cheeks, she stared at the door, wondering how she could have failed to hear the thud of footsteps when Burke had arrived.

Up until the moment he’d uttered that last word, she’d thought the meeting was going quite well, all things considered. The conversation may have been a little stilted, but at least she’d kept from blurting out how she’d waited for him during those first months when she’d believed he would return, how she’d died a little more inside with every passing week. She’d kept her feelings inside, remaining strong throughout the entire conversation.

And then he’d gone and called her Lily.

Her feet carried her to the window as if they had a mind of their own. She didn’t want to watch Burke walk away, but she couldn’t help herself. She remembered how he’d looked up at her from the middle of the street that long-ago April night. Tonight he used the sidewalk, his strides long and powerful. He’d put on his coat, but he hadn’t bothered to button it, the wind billowing the dark fabric behind him. Tonight he didn’t look back.

“Lily, ”she’d whispered the night they’d met. “My name is Lily Graham.”

He’d shaken her hand, his smile one of wonder, his touch simple, natural, undemanding and just firm enough to let her know he was glad to be with her. Simple or not, it had started a fire in her, and had caused her to do and say things she’d never done and said before.

She would never forget how deep his voice had dipped when he’d told her the name suited her. She would never forget how it had sounded when he’d murmured it in the dark of night and in the wee hours of the morning.

Lily hadn’t been a painfully shy woman who’d been voted “the girl most likely not to” by the boys in her graduating class. They’d thought it was funny, but it had hurt, just as a thousand other small things had hurt. Her shyness had been a handicap most of her life, one that Louetta had learned to endure, just as she’d learned to hold her head high. Lily had been all woman, sure of herself and her rightful place in the universe.

Oh, Burke. Why did you have to come back and remind me of everything I’ve been missing all these years?

“Lily, ” Burke had said tonight.

She lowered her head in shame, and wished with all her heart that she was half the woman Lily had been.

One second the cup was in Louetta’s hand, the next second it shattered on the floor. She saw it happening, yet she still jumped a mile.

“Slippery little buggers, aren’t they?” red-haired Jason Tucker, a twenty-three-year-old ranch hand who could blush as darkly as Louetta, said with a boyish grin.

Nodding, she scooted down to her haunches to pick up the pieces of the second item she’d broken that morning. She was a wreck, that was all there was to it. At this rate, she was going to need another set of dishes by suppertime.

Jed Harley had been very understanding about the milk she’d spilled in his lap, and Boomer Brown hadn’t said anything when he’d gotten a saucer full of coffee along with his refill, although his wife, DoraLee, the owner of the Crazy Horse Saloon and Louetta’s least likely friend, studied Louetta’s face and cast her an understanding smile. Cletus McCully ate without complaining about the eggs she’d scorched, although he did mention that she was as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks.

He was right. She nearly sprang straight into the air every time the bell jangled over the door.

She had no doubt that every one of the usual breakfast crowd noticed her skittishness. They probably attributed it to nerves at the thought of shy little Louetta Graham having two suitors. They had no way of knowing about the guilt sitting like a rock in the middle of her swirling stomach.

Leaving the diners to sip their coffee and mull over their gossip, she used extra care busing the rest of the tables. She felt a headache coming on as she carried the tub of dishes into the kitchen and promptly turned on the tap.