Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) (26 page)

“Thanks.” Without thinking, he reached up and yanked affectionately on her ponytail.

Suddenly, his hand went still. How often had he done this exact thing in the years they were growing up? Too many times to count.

His resentment for his younger sister instantly faded.

“The monthly grazing reports are late. Think you can fax them out this afternoon, Hannah?”

“No problem.”

“Call me on my cell phone if you have any trouble with them.” He replaced the letter in the envelope and stuffed it in the front pocket of his T-shirt.

“I can handle the reports.”

Gage nodded. “You’ve got what it takes to run this place, you know.” And she did, if she ever quit fooling around and really applied herself.

His compliment brought a smile to her face. Gage was again struck by her prettiness.

“You sure you won’t stay?” she asked. “Dad’ll cool off in a couple of hours. He just likes to, you know, parade his authority.”

“Parade his authority? That’s a pretty big mouthful for an agricultural major.”

“You’d be surprised at all the stuff I’ve learned in animal psych class that applies to people.”

Gage chuckled. “See ya later, squirt. Tell Mom I’m sorry I missed her.”

Ten minutes later he reached the end of the dirt road leading from the Raintree ranch to town. The pickup truck bumped as the tires hit pavement, tossing the various loose items that littered the front seat into the air. Gage headed east. He’d known his destination all along. It was the same place he always went to whenever he craved solitude.

Next to the community center sat a small block building that housed the volunteer fire department’s sole engine. It wasn’t the ragtag couch in the back room that drew Gage, but rather the small, run-down motor home parked behind the station.

The same motor home he and Aubrey had occupied during their brief marriage—only then it had been parked on the Raintree ranch.

Gage had continued to live in the motor home for several months after she left, foolishly hoping she might one day return. Even after he moved back into the ranch house and his old bedroom, he occasionally escaped to the motor home for some peace and quiet. A couple years ago, Joseph Raintree decided to dispose of the eyesore. Gage hooked the motor home to his pickup truck and hauled it to the fire station rather than the landfill, claiming it was for the guys to use.

So far, he was the only guy to use it.

The mattress in the motor home’s sole bunk was lumpy and sagging, a condition fresh sheets and new pillows didn’t improve. At the moment, however, it appealed to Gage more than the finest quality feather bed. And yet, when the driveway leading to the fire station appeared, he drove right past it and instead took the turnoff farther up the road, the one leading to Aubrey’s grandmother’s house.

He told himself he was just checking on the handicap renovations—to see what progress the others had made, if any, during his three-day absence.

It was a bald-faced lie, of course, and he darn well knew it.

* * *

At the sound of a vehicle door slamming, Aubrey placed the can of tuna fish she’d just opened on the kitchen counter and went into the living room. One of the volunteer firefighters must have stopped by to make another repair. Probably Kenny Junior. When he left the previous day, he promised to return and replace the front door threshold with a lower one.

His timing was actually good. Aubrey and her grandmother had recently finished a strenuous, yet productive, round of physical therapy. Bound and determined to walk on her own again, Grandma Rose had pushed herself hard. But rather than take a quick nap before lunch, as was her habit, she’d asked Aubrey to wheel her next door to Mrs. Payne’s. The two friends were engaged in a heated race to finish the baby quilt before Mrs. Payne’s grandchild made his grand entrance into the world.

Aubrey flung open the front door, ready to greet Kenny Junior, only it wasn’t him. A different volunteer firefighter climbed the porch steps. This one younger, taller and...filthy from head to toe.

“Gage! What are you do—” She pushed open the screen door and stepped out. Her hand stopped just short of taking his arm. “Jeez, are you all right? You look awful.”

“Thanks.” He moved as if each step resulted in excruciating pain.

“What happened? Were you injured?”

“Only a little.” The crooked smile he aimed her way lacked its usual luster. “And not in the line of duty.”

“Is that a joke?” By way of invitation, she opened the screen door and he followed her inside.

“Yes, it is. And evidently a bad one. You can blame my warped sense of humor on my dad. He didn’t exactly give me a hero’s welcome when I got home this morning.”

“Oh, Gage.” Because he obviously wanted to make light of an upsetting situation, Aubrey changed the subject. “I heard on the news this morning the fire is nearly contained.”

“Pretty much done, except for the cleanup.”

Once they were in the kitchen, Gage half sat, half tumbled into the nearest chair. He did look awful. She started to tell him he should be home in bed, then caught herself. Home, apparently, wasn’t an option.

But that didn’t explain why he was here, in her grandmother’s kitchen.

“You hungry?” she asked instead of one of the dozen questions running through her head.

“I’d eat if you’re offering.”

“I am. And how about a shower?”

In response, a spark flickered in his tired eyes.

Her comment hadn’t been the least suggestive, yet he’d taken it that way. Or was it she who’d subconsciously implied something suggestive?

“You can shower in the hall bathroom while I fix lunch,” she added, just in case he’d misunderstood her. “I think there’s still some of Grandpa’s old clothes around here. They won’t fit well, but they’re clean.”

He nodded, his smile tired, but grateful.

Some minutes later, she returned from rummaging through an assortment of cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of the basement. The faded T-shirt would be too big around the waist and the men’s cotton pajama bottoms too short in the leg for Gage, but it couldn’t be helped.

She set the folded clothes on the floor outside the bathroom door. Her hand poised to knock, she instead waited, breathing slowly and listening to the sound of the running shower. Her heart beat a fraction faster. Gage stood on the other side of the door—stark naked and with hot water streaming down every inch of his body.

They’d showered together frequently during their marriage, the two of them squeezing into the motor home’s tiny bathroom. She didn’t recall lack of elbow room as being a problem. In fact, finding creative ways to utilize the cramped space had proven a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

Aubrey’s vivid imagination went far afield before she roused herself and stifled it. Gage naked and showering wasn’t something she needed to be thinking of, particularly after her little speech the other day about not being ready to date him again.

Besides, she doubted they could still fit in that tiny shower. She’d been skinnier then and so had Gage.

It might be interesting to try,
the pesky voice inside her teased.

Yeah, interesting. And stupid.

Her leave of absence was up in five weeks, and she’d be returning to her job in Tucson, free, God willing, of whatever unreasonable fear had gotten a hold on her since Jesse and Maureen’s deaths.

You hear me?
she told the voice.
Stupid.

The voice didn’t answer.

Firming her resolve, Aubrey knocked briskly on the bathroom door and hollered, “The clothes are on the floor outside the door.”

“Thanks,” came a muffled reply, and then the water shut off.

Oh...my.

Since continuing to stand there would only invite images of Gage drying himself, or drying her, Aubrey retreated to the kitchen, stopping first at the pantry for another can of tuna fish.

She made two sandwiches, slicing them diagonally before arranging them on a plate. Guessing Gage’s appetite hadn’t decreased in the intervening years since they’d dined together, she spooned out a bowl of cottage cheese and topped it with some of Mrs. Payne’s home-canned peaches. Aubrey was just pouring a glass of milk when Gage came into the kitchen and promptly fell on the meal.

Conversation came to a complete standstill as he consumed the food with the speed and voracity of a grizzly bear newly awakened from a winter-long hibernation.

“Slow down,” she warned, sitting in the chair beside him. “You’ll choke if you’re not careful.”

He mumbled something that might have been, “Good,” or “More.” She wasn’t sure which.

“Would you like another sandwich?”

Mouth crammed with peaches, Gage tilted his head from side to side.

“A half a sandwich?”

He nodded vigorously.

She took the liberty of pouring him a second glass of milk before rising and then took her sweet time fixing the half sandwich, all the while studying him discreetly from the corner of her eye.

Her late grandfather’s clothes were indeed a poor fit, yet Gage managed to look sexy as hell in them. It might have been his still-damp, uncombed hair falling forward over his brow, or the bare feet and impressively muscular length of calf extending out from beneath the hems of the too-short pajama legs.

Yes, maturity definitely agreed with Gage Raintree. As did firefighting. No small miracle some woman hadn’t snapped him up. In a town the size of Blue Ridge, he was surely one of the most eligible bachelors, if not
the
most eligible.

Having at last satisfied the need to gorge himself, he slowed his rate of eating to something resembling that of a human being.

“Thanks. That hit the spot.” He used the napkin she’d set out to wipe his mouth.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday. Breakfast. Not counting the PowerBar I had for dinner last night.”

“And before that?”

He arched one eyebrow. “Lunch the previous day. At the community center.”

Ah. Where they’d kissed. Like Aubrey needed reminding.

Gage pushed his plate away, and she reached for his dirty dishes, thankful for the distraction.

“Leave them,” he ordered in a low voice and placed his hand over hers.

“But—”

“The dishes can wait. Talk to me for a few minutes.”

Aubrey watched, spellbound, as he folded her smaller hand into his larger one. “A-a-about what?”

His thumb traced small circles on the sensitive skin behind her knuckles and though she knew it was wrong as wrong could be, she let him continue.

“Why did you leave me?”

She tried to jerk her hand away, but he refused to relinquish it.

“Tell me,” he said, holding her gaze as firmly as he held her hand.

Aubrey went still. “You know why. To return to school.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“We were just kids, not ready for marriage. We couldn’t even support ourselves without your parents’ help.”

“A lot of couples start out on a shoestring. They manage.”

“Yes, if they’re committed to each other they do.”

“And you weren’t committed to me?”

She chewed her bottom lip, debating on how to simplify a complicated answer. “High school was always easy for me. I aced every class, sometimes without cracking a book. But college was a whole different story. You know that. I finished the second semester of my freshman year two-tenths of a grade point away from being expelled. My father didn’t understand and came uncorked. I headed to Blue Ridge the day after school let out. To escape, though I told myself I was just taking a break. And then, there was you.”

“Just like every summer,” Gage said, his expression hard to read.

“No, you’re wrong.” She swallowed before continuing. Twice. “That summer we made love for the first time, and you proposed.”

“You didn’t have to accept my proposal if you really wanted to go back to school.”

Aubrey stared out the kitchen window, seeing not her grandmother’s yard but a view of the Raintree ranch from the motor home’s back door.

“I didn’t think I wanted to go back. I was in love in you.” And she had been, body and soul. Probably from the first day they’d met in Sunday school.

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

She turned to look at him. “Tell me your proposal wasn’t spontaneous and that you thought everything through before making it.”

“It was spontaneous,” he admitted. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I.”

“We had six great weeks of marriage.”

“One great week of marriage and five weeks of fighting,” she corrected him.

He grinned. “That’s not they way I remember it.”

“Are you kidding?” She shot him a disbelieving look. “We fought more in those five weeks than most couples do in five years.”

“We also made love more than most couples.”

Yeah. At least ten of those times in a shower the size of coat closet.

“A great sex life isn’t enough to base a marriage on.”

He chuckled. “At least you admit the sex was great.”

She smiled along with him as resisting was an exercise in futility. “That wasn’t all we did right. We had a lot of fun, too, when we weren’t at each other’s throats.”

“Not enough for you to stay married to me.” His remark sobered them both. “Did you call your father and tell him to come get you?” His fingers tightened on hers.

“God, no! Is that what you thought?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“I swear, Gage. His visit was entirely unexpected.”

“So you hadn’t planned on switching your major to nursing and not tell me?”

“That was strictly my father’s idea.” She sat up straight and squared her shoulders, steeling herself for the hard part. “But it was good one, and I’m grateful to him for having it. If I hadn’t returned to Tucson and college, I might never have become a nurse.”

Aubrey’s father had appeared one night out of the blue, midway through the summer. He’d banged on their motor home door, insisting he speak with her. Once inside, he’d presented her with a proposition that included her changing her major from premed to nursing—a still difficult study course but with less pressure and less competition. He’d pulled some strings at the university and gotten her admitted into the nursing program. The catch was she had to return the third week of August in time for the fall semester.