Our Now and Forever (Ardent Springs #2) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Snow had never wanted to lock a door as much as she did at 6:44 that Halloween night. The only thing that prevented it, other than the fact the store was technically still open, was the knowledge that Caleb would not give up so easily. She had no illusions that he loved her or had come to take her home, but he wanted answers.

And Caleb was used to getting what he wanted. In fact, there was a good chance that Snow’s removing herself from his life had been the first time anyone had dared take away something that, in his mind, belonged to him. Unfortunately, this was an aspect of her husband’s personality Snow hadn’t uncovered until
after
they were married.

By the time she’d met Caleb that fateful New Year’s Eve nearly two years ago, Snow had eaten enough cup-of-soup dinners to send her sodium levels soaring, and she hadn’t been anywhere beyond Alabama and Tennessee in her whole life. So when her doting boyfriend of two months offered an all-expenses-paid weekend at the Bellagio, she’d jumped at the chance to have a true adventure.

Snow knew the nuptials had not been premeditated, as no one could fake that kind of shock when they’d both opened their eyes that bright January morning sprawled naked across a heart-shaped bed, sporting matching ten-dollar wedding bands. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t blame him for fogging her brain with incredible sex and an endless supply of smooth Southern charm.

The tinkle of bells over the front door brought Snow back to the present. She stepped away from the counter, pressing her body against the craggy brick wall behind her. The only other person in the store was Lorelei, who was taking longer than usual to sweep up, something she’d never bothered to do before. Snow was grateful for her friend’s delay tactics. If she’d had to wait for Caleb by herself, she might have snuck out the back door and made a run for it.

Except she would never abandon the business she’d built from noth
ing. Not after working so hard to make something for herself. Growing
up in a family in which money was tight and ambition nearly nonexistent, owning her own business had never entered Snow’s mind as a real possibility. If she hadn’t been mostly cut off from her naysaying parents for
the
last year and a half, she’d likely never even have given the store a shot.

Though she missed her family desperately, and made occasional trips to Nashville to ship birthday and holiday presents from a random post office, Snow didn’t miss their negativity. She’d found the freedom to become her own person a heady experience. In truth, her defiant move to Nashville to chase the dream of becoming a singing sensation had been little more than a ruse to avoid being stuck in a meaningless life.

Snow had grown up singing in church, and loved performing, but she didn’t crave the spotlight or carry any deep desire to be a star. She’d simply used her gift to keep from telling her parents that she didn’t want a life like theirs, working her knuckles to the bone for little money and even less respect. When she met Caleb, she’d been earning a few dollars here and there with her voice, but she preferred her day job of working in a Western-wear store engaging with everyday people. To now be selling pieces with history and meaning, and doing it on her own terms, suited Snow perfectly.

As for her pretentious in-laws, who’d made it clear that she would never be good enough for their boy, Snow’s little shop may not be on par with the McGraw Media empire, but she was her own boss, successful and happy without their stinking money.

Before her husband reached the middle of the store, Lorelei breezed by the counter saying, “All done. Time to go.” Doing a quick spin, she mouthed the words
full report tomorrow
, then proceeded toward the exit as if it wasn’t completely obvious why she was leaving in such a hurry.

Panic sent Snow hopping around the counter to beg her friend to stay, but Lorelei was already waving from the other side of the glass. Around Caleb’s fast-approaching form, Snow saw the open sign swinging back and forth in the door’s window, revealing that Lorelei had essentially closed the store on her way out.

Snow made a mental note to thank her resident baker the next day.

Once Caleb reached her, she expected an immediate flurry of unanswerable questions. Instead he said, “Do you need me to wait somewhere while you close up?”

Patience. Huh.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like,” she said, thankful for the reprieve, however short it might be. “I need to count the drawer.”

Caleb nodded, looked around, and dropped his solid frame into a periwinkle-blue chair. The feminine curves of the piece threw his own more masculine form into sharp relief. Yet the white polka-dots propelled the image into comical territory. To her surprise, Snow had to cough to hide the giggle.

How could she be giggling at a time like this? Her estranged husband—could she call him estranged when he’d had no say in their separation?—sat in her store as if waiting for her to serve tea and crumpets. This was no laughing matter. And yet, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“I didn’t expect you to be so happy to see me,” Caleb said, resting an ankle on the opposing knee.

Snow stuttered as she answered. “I . . . I’m not. I mean . . . You . . . In that chair . . .” Abandoning the effort to explain, she resorted to waving a hand in his general direction.

Caleb examined the chair beneath him. Looking her way with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I don’t see any comfortable brown leather, so blue with polka-dots will have to do.”

His words conjured memories of the first night they’d spent together, when they’d made love in a worn leather chair at his apartment. Heat pooled in Snow’s belly and slowly spread to her extremities. She didn’t need a mirror to know her thoughts were revealed in the redness of her skin. All the moisture seemed to leave her mouth and relocate to her palms.

Opening the cash drawer with a loud ding, Snow said, “You’ll need to be quiet while I count.” As if she could possibly count money now that her libido was fully awake for the first time in more than a year. She had to fight not to cross the short distance between them.

Memories of flexing muscles, talented hands, and sapphire eyes assaulted her.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty . . .
Had Lorelei turned up the heat before she left?

Snow shook her head, pulled a number out of thin air, and wrote it on her cash sheet.

Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty . . .
Why did he have to wear that same cologne? The scent of pine and man and sex danced in the air, which made no sense at all. No one here was having sex. Nor would they be.

Snatching the black hat from her head, Snow slammed it onto the counter and wiped her brow on her sleeve.

“You okay over there?” Caleb asked. His voice even. Unaffected.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Taking a deep breath, Snow rolled her shoulders and said, “It’s been a long day is all. I’m tired.”

“The sooner you get that money counted, the sooner we can get out of here.”

Right. Wait. Did he say
we
?

“I’m finished,” she said, closing the drawer and turning toward the back room.

Caleb lifted out of the chair. “Where are you going?”

“My purse is in the back,” Snow answered. He didn’t need to know there was also a back door.

Once inside the storeroom, Snow pulled the backpack she used as a purse from the bottom drawer of an ancient metal desk, then reached for a trench coat draped over the back of the chair. She was five feet from the rear exit when Caleb caught her.

“Going somewhere?”

Freezing in place, Snow managed not to curse aloud. She jammed an arm into the sleeve of her coat as she spun. “I told you. I had to get my purse.”

“And now you have it,” he said, nodding toward the bag in her hand. “Don’t you think you should lock the front door before you hightail it out the back? Or were you expecting me to lock up before chasing you down? Again.”

Dropping her bag back on the desk, Snow said, “Let’s get this over with, then.” She only hoped she sounded confident and annoyed rather than scared out of her mind. “Ask your questions.”

One perfect brow cocked up. “I want to know why you left,” he said as he crossed his arms. “And I want to know when you’re coming home.”

Caleb almost faltered as the color drained from Snow’s face. The need to pull her close and tell her everything would be okay warred with his determination that she answer for her actions. Vows meant something, even when they’d been spoken in front of a bad Elvis impersonator. At least they did to him. His wife didn’t seem to possess the same conviction.

With her trench coat hanging off one arm, Snow pulled a chair away from the small table to his right and sat down. “I couldn’t stay,” she said, dropping her head into her hands.

“Why?” he asked. “Why couldn’t you stay?”

Shaking her head, she lifted her face, revealing the moisture in her hazel eyes. “We made a mistake, Caleb. The marriage was a mistake.”

“I disagree.” Caleb leaned his hands on the table. “You never gave it a chance.”

“When something is that obvious, there’s no reason to drag it out.”

“So you left,” he said, anger intensified by the hurt that had been prickling his skin like a cactus for eighteen months. “Even if you were right, and we made a mistake, you don’t walk away without a word, Snow. Leaving didn’t solve anything.”

She threw her hands in the air. “You think I don’t know that? I panicked, okay? I got in the car and I drove and . . . I don’t know.” Snow sighed. “I couldn’t make myself turn around.”

The resignation and regret in her voice created the thread of hope he needed. Caleb dropped into the empty chair next to her. “This didn’t happen last week. You’ve had a year and a half to make it right. To call or at least tell me where you were.”

“How?” she asked, her brows drawn together. “How would that phone call have gone? ‘Hey, Caleb, it’s your wife. Remember me?
’
”

“That’s a start.” He tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. Caleb dug deep for patience. “Was there someone else?” he asked.

“What?” Snow jerked back. “You think I left you for another man?”

“I don’t know,” he said, irritated that she hadn’t given a clear answer. “Did you?”

Leaning forward, Snow held his gaze. “The last thing I wanted to deal with was another man. I’d made enough mistakes with the one I had. I certainly didn’t want to repeat them with another.”

There was that word again. Mistakes. “What are you talking about? What mistakes?”

“This,” Snow shouted, leaping from her seat fast enough to send the metal chair crashing to the floor. “We have nothing in common, Caleb. We’re from two different planets, and I don’t mean that Mars and Venus crap.” She waved a hand between them. “You come from money, I come from nothing. You’re college-educated, and I’m not. You think life is one playdate after another, when I know it’s hard work.”

Caleb had never seen Snow this passionate about anything. She’d never even raised her voice in all the time they’d been together. Which was one of the reasons he’d been so confused when she disappeared.
They hadn’t even had their first fight yet.

“I have nothing to do with the fact that my family is wealthy. You don’t
get to pick which family you’re born into, Snow. And don’t give me that
crap about a college education. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

The compliment took her by surprise. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Really. And so I haven’t pinned down a career. I work. I do things. I know life isn’t easy.”

Shaking her head as if to break a spell, Snow returned to looking agitated. “That doesn’t change the facts.”

“You mean the fact that we’re married?”

“That’s a technicality,” she said, dismissing his words.

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pretty big technicality, don’t you think?”

“One that can be easily fixed.”

He opened his eyes to see Snow standing before him, hugging herself as if she might break apart otherwise.

“Are you saying you want a divorce?”

Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, she said, “Don’t you?”

A divorce had never entered his mind. Okay, that was a lie. After six months with no word, he’d agreed to let his mother have the papers drawn up, mostly to stop the nagging. But he never really planned to use them. Not if he could help it.

“No,” he said. “I want my wife back. Why else would I be here?”

“But . . .” she started.

“There is no
but
, Snow. I made a vow,” he said, pointing to the ring on his finger. “For better or worse. And so did you.” Caleb’s parents may not have faith that he could make a commitment and stick with it, but in this he would prove them wrong. He and Snow would make their marriage work, but Caleb couldn’t do this alone. Marriage required two participants. “You got spooked. Fair enough. So we start over. Come home and we’ll work this out.”

Snow backed way. “This will never work. That’s proof of it.”