TWENTY-THREE
Libby was all smiles when she and Madeline arrived back at the ranch. She pointed to the tent pads as they drove up to the house, the bulletin board on the fence. “It’s all coming together!”
“It is,” Madeline agreed. She would not have thought it possible, but here they were, actually putting the reunion together.
“How was Denver, anyway?” Libby asked.
The question startled Madeline at first, as if she were giving off a vibe of having slept with Luke. But Libby was looking at her without judgment. “It was good,” she said. “Productive.” It was amazing, confusing, and so many things were on her mind that Madeline hadn’t heard half of what Libby had said on the way up to the ranch. She wanted to tell Libby about the valuation, about the realtor. But she knew from experience that it was better to come to the table with a fully prepared offer. That seemed especially important with Libby, and Madeline thought it might be the only way to dissuade her from the idea that they all band together and do the reunion business.
“Great!” Libby said. “Oh, by the way,” she added as she grabbed a bag from the backseat, “I spoke to Tyrone Johnson. He and his wife Linda are the two in charge of the family reunion. He said the Johnsons will begin arriving next Thursday.”
“Oh wow,” Madeline said. “I still need to negotiate a group rate for the rafting and horseback riding.”
“Already done,” Libby said proudly.
But that was Madeline’s task. Negotiation was kind of her thing.
“You weren’t here,” Libby said, as if she had guessed what Madeline was thinking. “The phone service was restored and I had time.” She laughed. “Our first phone call was from Jackson of course,” she said, shifting the bag to her hip as she began to walk toward the house. “But he had some amazing news. Apparently, he’s been contacted about using the ranch as a destination wedding venue later in the summer.”
“Oh wow, he really needs to take the website down,” Madeline said.
“Really?” Libby asked, pausing. “I thought it was a good sign. This place has great potential.”
Madeline felt a squeeze of irritation and disappointment. Maybe it was great for Libby, but it sure wasn’t great for her. “I just don’t see how this destination thing is going to happen. I mean Emma has already checked out—”
“Not entirely. I talked to her yesterday.”
“You did?” Madeline asked, surprised. “What did she say?”
Libby shrugged and walked into the kitchen, putting her bags down onto the little kitchen table.
“Libby?” Madeline prodded her.
Libby picked up a towel and began to wipe down the counter, making huge circles with her cloth, as if there was some horrible spill there. “She wanted to know what was going on, what we are doing with the reunion.”
“So is she coming to help?” Madeline asked.
“No,” Libby said. “We just talked.”
“That was nice of her to call,” Madeline said with not a little bit of sarcasm. “She’s obviously not interested in keeping this place. And I’m going back to Orlando. I just sold this really big house that opens up a lot of doors for me. So how exactly are we going to pull this off?”
“I’ll do it,” Libby said, looking slightly offended.
Madeline sighed. “Come on, Libby. This is not a one-person job.”
Libby didn’t say anything to that. Madeline sensed Libby knew she was right and didn’t want to admit it. But Madeline wanted away from this ranch, especially after last night’s brush with true, deep emotion. Emotion that, if left unchecked, if left to grow, could mortally wound her. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to finish off her list and get out of town, as far from Luke Kendrick as she could get. She wanted to go back to Orlando and finalize the DiNapoli deal. She wanted to get her movie guide from Stephen and make popcorn and stay socked away in her condo, and venture out only to the soccer field. Just… away from things that would hurt her.
“I know it won’t be easy, Madeline,” Libby said. “But I want to try and make it work. If nothing else, for Dad’s sake.”
Something about those words detonated inside of Madeline. Maybe it was the stress of having felt something so profound with Luke, or maybe just the notion that here she and Libby were, taking days and weeks from their lives to fix some colossal mess their father had made before he’d died, but Madeline exploded. “For Dad’s sake?” she loudly exclaimed. “We don’t owe him anything, Libby! He was a horrible father. He was absent, he was cheap, and he was self-centered. This isn’t a gift, it’s a burden, it’s another damn burden he’s heaped on me. He left me with nothing but the burden of my mother, who was no mother at all, and now this? This stupid ranch with this stupid reunion has taken us away from everyone we love just so we can fix it for him. What do you think will come from this, huh? I’ll tell you what—a lot of aggravation and hurt feelings and more misery, that’s what.”
Her chest was heaving, Madeline realized. She’d been shouting, too, and she suddenly realized what she’d just said.
All the blood had drained from Libby’s face. She was gaping at Madeline. “Wow,” she said. “Just go then, Madeline. No one is asking you to stay, least of all me.”
“Libby, I am sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t,” Libby said curtly. “Don’t apologize again. Please.” She whirled around and strode from the kitchen.
“Libby!” Madeline shouted after her, but it was no use. She sank down onto a barstool and buried her face in her hands. She hated herself in that moment. She hated that she could hurt Libby and hurt Luke. That was not what she wanted, and she hated that she couldn’t seem to stop herself, either. There was a vortex of resentment in her, swirling around, faster and faster, sucking her into it, colliding with the tsunami of fear that was always, always cresting through her.
Madeline heard the sound of a car and sat up. She rushed into the living room just in time to see Libby’s little car bouncing over the road, away from Homecoming Ranch.
Great.
Madeline returned to the kitchen. Her belly rumbled with hunger. She looked around for something to eat, but it was all food that Libby had brought to the house. But there, on top of the fridge, was what was left of the bag of chips from that first meeting with Jackson. She took the bag down and opened it, ate a couple of chips. With the bag in hand, she walked into the dining room.
Libby had left some papers and the reunion file next to the phone. There was a pad of paper onto which she had made some notes. Just below those notes was another one that said Emma, with a phone number following it. Madeline ate a few more chips, pondering that number and debating. She ate a few more, dusted off her hands, and dialed the number.
It rang several times.
Madeline was about to hang up when Emma answered. “Hello?”
The raspy, hoarse voice sounded just like Madeline’s mother—rough and hungover. “Emma?” Madeline said, just to be sure.
“Who’s this?”
“Madeline.”
“Who?” Emma demanded.
“Madeline Pruett. Your, ah…”
“God, what now?” Emma groaned.
“Thanks,” Madeline said pertly at that warm reception. “I called to speak to you about the ranch problem.”
“Shit, first Jackson, then Libby, now you—”
“We inherited it, Emma,” Madeline reminded her.
“Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?”
“So we have to do something with it. Are you coming back? Libby wants to make this some reunion Mecca, but I need to get back to Orlando.”
“So go. Why is that my problem?” Emma asked.
Madeline could hear things like plates and glasses banging around in the background of the call now. Her pulse began to ratchet up. “Listen, Emma, I didn’t ask for this any more than you did. We have to come to some conclusion. Libby thinks you might want to keep the ranch, too.”
“Sometimes Libby hears what she wants to hear,” Emma said through a yawn.
“But what about you? Do you want to keep the ranch?”
The banging suddenly stopped. Emma said nothing for so long that Madeline thought maybe she’d lost the connection. But then she heard Emma sniff.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here,” Emma said. “Okay, listen, Madeline Pruett. I don’t give a shit what happens with that ranch. Can I be any clearer than that? I told Libby the same thing. You guys decide—sell it, keep it, I don’t care. Just don’t bother me with it. Okay?”
“Wow,” Madeline said, truly taken aback.
“Hey, don’t you try and read me!” Emma snapped. “You don’t know me at all. You have no idea what my life or Libby’s life has been like, and I don’t owe you any explanation.”
“I’m not asking for one,” Madeline shot back. “And you don’t know my life, either, Emma. All I want is to have this thing resolved. And since it appears as if neither of us wants to be here, it seems to me we should try and work together to get rid of it.”
“Libby wants it. Why not let her have it? What difference does it make to you?”
It seemed so very obvious to her, and Emma… Emma was crazy, that’s all there was to it.
“If Libby can’t turn a profit, then we sell it. But if she can, don’t sweat it. Just calm down and let people do what they want.”
“Now who is trying to read who?” Madeline said angrily.
“It’s not hard,” Emma said. “You’re a one-way street. I just can’t figure out what you’re so afraid of.”
“I am not afraid—”
“Whatever,” Emma said, cutting her off. “I gotta go.” And she hung up. Just like that, the line went dead.
Madeline gasped with outrage. She glared at the receiver in her hand, then slammed it down. That was the last-ever consideration Madeline was going to give her. If this was what being sisters was all about, Madeline would take a pass, thank you.
She marched into the kitchen, looked wildly about. Okay. She was out here on her own. Out of her element. Drifting on a life raft. First Luke, then Julie, then Libby and Emma—What are you so afraid of? Emma’s words echoed in her brain.
“Forget that,” she muttered. Busy. Be busy, that’s what she had to do. There was still quite a lot of work to do, starting with the erection of the big party tent. First things first, she needed to know if the spot she had in mind was big enough. She needed a tape measure. She’d seen one in the garage a couple of days ago.
Madeline marched out to the garage, sidestepping the dogs, who rushed out from under the porch to greet her, her hands up. “Garage!” she snapped, and all four of the dogs obediently fell in line behind her, trotting along as she rounded the corner and stepped into the dusty garage, where they fanned out to sniff things as she surveyed the workbench. She found the tape measure and as she was turning away from the bench, she saw the keys hanging on a hook on the wall.
Madeline looked at the Pontiac, which was covered with grime and a few boxes on its hood. She looked back at the keys. She put the tape measure down and grabbed the keys.
The door to the car was not locked. She put herself into the driver seat and looked around. The seat was pushed so far back that she could barely reach the pedals. The car was old; the console between the two front seats was enormous and the faux wood detailing was peeling around the radio dials. A dried-up Christmas tree air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror. Madeline fit the key into the ignition, scooted up in her seat, and tried to start it. The car wheezed and coughed; from the corner of her eye she saw the dogs flee from the garage.
One of her mother’s boyfriends had been a mechanic, and he’d once told Madeline to prime her mother’s old car by pumping the accelerator a few times. Madeline tried that, then turned the ignition. The car started and began to shake, vibrating so badly that one of the boxes slid right off the hood. Madeline cried out with alarm and turned off the car and got out to pick up the box.
“Madeline!”
She cried out and whirled around, the box in her arms.
Luke was standing at the door of the garage, his legs braced apart, his hands on his hips. He looked so virile, so sexy… and so angry. Madeline instinctively backed up, knocking into the car.
“What the hell?” he snapped, and suddenly dropped his arms and came striding forward.
“You said I could use it!” she cried. “I wasn’t going anywhere, I swear it. I just wanted to see if it would start—”
He came to a halt before her, standing between her and the only exit out of this garage. “I don’t mean the goddamn car,” he said. He took the box from her hands and practically tossed it onto the bench.
“What’s wrong?” Madeline asked breathlessly.
“What’s wrong?” he echoed incredulously. “What the hell was that in town?” he asked gruffly, gesturing behind him.
Madeline looked to where he pointed.
“Look at me, woman,” he commanded her. “Look right here, right in my eyes. Look at me. You haven’t looked at me all day. I don’t know what’s the matter with you!”
“I don’t know what you mean—”
“The hell you don’t. You couldn’t wait to push me off on Julie. You couldn’t wait to run off. I can’t figure out what the hell you want.”
She could feel herself tensing, a vise squeezing around her chest. I want you. You, you, you. “I thought… I thought—”
She couldn’t explain the depths of her anxiety.
“I know what you thought,” he said, not quite as loudly. “You thought you would push me off on Julie and then you wouldn’t have to deal with it. Thanks a lot, Madeline. I never felt so damn inconsequential in my life.”
He was standing so close, his gaze so intent. Madeline thought of those eyes last night, watching her, and felt a tremor deep inside. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel that way—”
He took her head in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “You know, I always thought I got women. I thought I understood what they needed, and I’ve always been there, good ol’ Luke, to pick up the pieces. That’s okay,” he said. “I have big shoulders. But I discovered this morning that I damn sure don’t like it when the pieces that need to be picked up are mine.”
“Oh Luke,” she said. “I never meant to leave you in pieces.”
“Then what did you mean?” he demanded softly.
She blinked. Luke suddenly pulled her away from the car, kissing her. It was a hard, determined kiss. His fingers splayed across her cheek and jaw, and he snaked an arm around behind her, pulling her into him, anchoring her there. He demanded entrance into her mouth with his tongue and kissed her until her knees began to give out on her, and Madeline melted right into him.
Only then did he lift his head, gazing down at her, caressing her cheek. Only then did Madeline realize she had caught hold of his wrist and was clinging to it.
“So I didn’t imagine that we made love last night,” he said roughly.
Her cheeks instantly bloomed. “No, of course not.”
“What’s the matter, Maddie? Why are you working so hard to pretend it didn’t happen? Why are you pushing me off on Julie?”
Madeline’s heart was beating so wildly she could hardly breathe. He pulled her closer, and Madeline’s pulse began to pound in her neck. She was panicking, wanting to disappear, but Luke held her so easily, there was no escape from him.
“Just talk to me,” he said. “That’s all you have to do.”
Her mind was whirling, her thoughts pressing painfully against her head. “Last night was…”
He surprised her by slipping two fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “It was what?” he demanded, and stroked her arm, his palm sliding slowly down, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, then sliding back up.
She closed her eyes. “Incredible,” she whispered, and slowly opened them as his hand moved around to her back. “But this morning, I think I had a panic attack. I know that sounds crazy, but I realized that I’m going back to Orlando, and I have baggage, and you have baggage, and probably—it can’t work, Luke. It’s not a good idea.” She winced, hoping that didn’t sound too harsh. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Do what, exactly?” he pressed, his hand caressing her hip, sliding up her ribs, the heel of his palm on her breast, igniting another fire in her, causing her to catch her breath.
Be left. “You know what,” she said, and drew an unsteady breath as he moved his hand across her breast, his fingers grazing the fabric covering her nipple.
“Well first of all,” he murmured, “no one said anything about this going any place. No one mentioned commitment or marriage or even being pen pals.”
“But…” But he was right.
“I’m not saying that it couldn’t ever be more. I wouldn’t mind it one bit if you decided to stick around Pine River. But I think maybe you jumped the gun a little.” He leaned down to kiss her neck.
Madeline’s eyes fluttered shut. She imagined this was what a thousand butterflies winging against her skin must feel like.
He dipped his head to the hollow of her throat. “At the moment, it was one night. We both enjoyed it and we don’t have to hide from it. Where we go from there, or don’t go, is okay. Just don’t do what you did today.”
“Right,” she said, closing her eyes once more as he kissed her temple.
“You don’t get to put your nose in my business.”
She sighed—he was right again.
“And you don’t have to be afraid of whatever it is that has you so locked up—rejection, love, I don’t know. I just know you don’t have to fear it with me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
“So we’re good?” he asked, pausing to lightly kiss her lips.
“Better than good.” She was already swimming in pleasure; it was pooling between her legs.
“That’s what I want to hear,” he murmured, moving his head down, to the patch of skin in the vee of her dress while his hand first slid down her leg, then between both of them.
“Just one question,” she asked as he caressed her. “When do we decide where we go from there?”
Luke paused in his attention to her, his mouth on her skin. He slowly lifted his head and looked at her, amusement in his eyes. “God you’re a mess,” he said. “A beautiful mess.” He pulled her into his arms, kissed her sweetly, languidly, until Madeline’s legs were melting beneath her. “You’re definitely an enigma,” he muttered against her skin.
“Enigma,” she said, enjoying his attention to her neck, “is kind of a strong word. It’s more like… like unpracticed.”
He smiled. “I think that makes me like you even more.” He opened the back door of the Pontiac. “You obviously need more practice,” he said, and gave her a playful shove.
She fell onto the backseat. Luke followed her in, coming over her, forcing her onto her back in that seat.
“What are you doing?” Madeline asked laughingly.
“I am going to kiss you,” he said, his eyes on her mouth. “We’re making up now.”
“Were we fighting?”
“Do I have to explain it all again?”
No, he didn’t. Her heart was racing again, but it was different this time. It wasn’t panic, or anxiety. It was hope. Madeline slowly lay back as he settled one knee between her legs. A million thoughts went through her mind as he unbuttoned her blouse, kissing her skin, his mouth on her breast, his hand caressing her leg and her hip and stoking her blood. Her mind said no, warned her, chastised her for allowing this to happen again…
But Madeline closed her eyes to her thoughts, and sank into the pleasurable onslaught of his body against hers, losing herself in the exquisite sensations, and allowing herself to let go, to let go of control, of organization, of being Madeline, and drift along with a gorgeous man in the backseat of an old Pontiac. A deep sigh of yearning escaped her; she dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched against him as he moved his attention to her breast. She could feel his erection and pressed against it, sliding her leg suggestively against it. Luke made a growling sound, and ran his hand down her body, over the flare of her hip, then slid in between her legs.
Madeline found his mouth as he moved his hand against her, stroking her, reminding her of the euphoria she’d experienced last night, of letting go completely. Her breath quickened and she squirmed against him, wanting more, wanting it all again. Luke obliged her, sliding his arm underneath her hips to lift her, then pressing his body into hers, burrowing deep.
Once again, Madeline was beyond rational thought. She caressed his body with her mouth and hands, wanting to taste and feel every conceivable inch of him. She could feel herself spiraling as he moved inside her, his hand still stroking her. She was coiling tighter and tighter, rising to meet every thrust, desperate for the release. It shuddered through her body, reverberating through every limb, every muscle. She caught her cry and her breath, arched her neck and pressed against him as she fell off the edge of desire into pleasure.
“Maddie,” Luke whispered in her ear. His strokes came quicker, harder. She could feel the tension of his body, in the tight curl of his hand around hers, in his breath, hot in her hair. She felt them together, their bodies breathing in unison. It ceased to be physical; it was purely emotion for her now, far bigger and stronger than a physical release. And when she felt him shudder into her, she felt tenderness, desire, and a release of the anxiety. She felt free.
He collapsed onto her, his heart beating wildly against her arm. She kissed his cheek. His eyes were closed, his breathing still ragged, but he gripped her hand like a dying man. And then he opened his eyes, kissed her softly for one long, insanely perfect moment. He lifted his head, lifted himself off of her, and pulled her up. As she adjusted her dress, he stroked her cheek and said, “Come to dinner.”
She giggled. “What? Right now?”
“No, in a few days. We’ll figure out when, but you and Libby. Hell, I’ll even let Jackson in.”
Madeline realized he was serious. “To your house? Oh, Luke, I don’t know—”
“Why? Are you afraid?” he asked, watching her as he fastened his jeans, and smiled.
She sighed. “No,” she said, acquiescing.
Luke grinned. “I didn’t think so,” he said, and kissed her again. “Trust me. It will be all right.”
Funny how, in that moment, with the glow of their lovemaking still warm on her skin, Madeline could almost believe it.