Amy Fetzer - The Re-Enlisted Groom

Maxie hastened down the hall, ignoring the heat jumping through her body, ignoring the fact that he could still just look at her and make her crave his arms around her, long for the throb of his kiss again...and force her to relive when she was young and innocent and Kyle was the dangerous man her father didn’t want near. And she ignored the fact that he was in the room directly across from hers.

She paused in the hallway, grabbing the edge of the secretary and closing her eyes against her image in the glass. She was a fool to believe she could handle being this close to him. Not when he could peel away her secrets with a look. Memories pelted her like an acid rain without relief, and she longed for Mimi’s little arms around her neck, the warmth of her little body snuggled close where she could protect her daughter from the world. From this kind of heartache.

Pushing away from the secretary, she walked to the living room and built a fire in the hearth, staring as the blaze roared to life. For a brief moment, her mind wandered, selecting a scene out of their past when they’d gone to Mexico and woken with one hell of a hangover in the back of a vegetable truck in Encinada. With no idea of how they’d got there. At the time, it was fun and funny, but on her wedding day, it had just sounded stupid. The ache of memory caught in her chest. She’d cried for weeks back then. For the decent, trusting man she’d hurt, for leading him to believe she would be there for him when she couldn’t and for the innocence she’d left behind.

The pop of burning wood startled her, and she blinked, expecting her eyes to be wet with tears. They weren’t, yet her heart felt sore. She stared at the ember just on the edge of the hearth, then quickly kicked it back and replaced the fireplace screen. It reminded her that memories were threatening and she couldn’t afford to be this melancholy. Not with her daughter’s contentment at stake. Moments later, she donned her jacket and hat, then left the house, slamming the door closed and wishing she could shut Kyle out of her life as easily.

Kyle flinched when he heard the door shut, the vibration rattling the walls. Closing the dresser drawer, he stared out the window, his gaze following her as she crossed the yard to the huge barn. Her steps were angry and quick. He could see her inside the barn, bundled up against the cold, her beige cowboy hat tipped low as she walked down the center aisle, lugging a bucket of feed, he assumed. Did she do everything around here alone? He watched her for a moment until she vanished into a stall, then turned away from the window.

Kyle looked around the room, the soft Southwestern decor carried over in here, too. It didn’t soothe him this time, and he shoved his fingers into his hair. A tension he hadn’t felt since Saudi radiated through him, and he tried to shake it. He couldn’t and sat down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He had to get a handle on his emotions. But part of him said to exercise it, get it out, just keep his hands off her and his desire locked away. But he kept remembering the moments in the barn, the hot feel of her skin in the cold air, her ferocious passion unleashing on him and his desperate need to absorb it. It was as if he’d come alive for the first time in seven years and every cell in his body wanted him to know it

But he made himself recall their past, and he was tucked deep inside it when he heard his name and looked up. His heart slammed against the wall of his chest

Maxie.

“You okay?” she said, frowning. “Dinner is almost ready, if you’re hungry.”

He looked away, nodding, anger simmering, the pain of his memories stronger and harder than he thought possible. She was a coward, damn her. She’d made the decision to walk away, alone, never giving him the courtesy of talking with him about what she was feeling. She’d stolen their prospect at happiness, his one chance. And as he turned his head to see her disappear from the doorway, he told himself he wasn’t falling for her charm again. He was not here to see if her cowardice was a mistake or a godsend.

Three

Kyle held on to his resentment, his only comfort right now, and snapped, “I’m not eating a damn thing you cook. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Fine, don’t. Starve. See if I care.” Pigheaded man, Maxie thought, and didn’t spare him a backward glance as she walked briskly down the carpeted hall. Her boot heels clicked on the wood foyer as she crossed it into her tiled kitchen.

Kyle followed, his gaze unwillingly dropping to her behind shifting inside tight jeans. He immediately cursed his preoccupation, even as he noticed that she’d changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Your compassion astounds me, Max.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.” She moved to the stove, grabbing a mitt to open the oven. Bending to remove a baking tray, she set it on the cutting board, the scent of broiled salmon and Dauphine potatoes making her mouth water. With quick efficiency, she pulled two small salads from the refrigerator, positioning them by the service already set She served the food onto plates, aware of his gaze following her moves. She didn’t have to look to know he was standing near the arched entrance. His eyes had the power of touch, always had, and her frustration mounted as she struggled with opening the soda bottles.

It was only five-thirty, and she wished the day were over. Not that she’d allow his presence in her house to keep her from her routine. She had a living to make. Kyle or no Kyle.

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