Christine

A TV news truck out of Jackson awaited them at the sheriff’s office.

“So not ready for any of this,” I muttered.

Cameras flashed and questions were shouted. I hid my face against Travis’s chest, grateful for the protective arm he threw around my shoulders. Together we pushed through the crowd of reporters and search volunteers, into the sheriff’s office.

As Travis helped me to a metal folding chair, I caught the aroma of coffee. Toes curling in delight, I pointed at the pot. “I need some of that. Black and extra sweet.”

Sissy pushed a cup into my hand and I gratefully chugged it down. Its heat coursed through me along with a good caffeine kick.

On the far side of the room stood Wanda, an apparition in a light pink dress that hung loosely, nearly to her ankles. Her ashy hair looked like wild animals had been nesting in it. Her face was bruised and coated in a layer of dirt, streaked with tears. She was huddled with her son, who also looked like he’d just been in a battle with a grizzly.

Doc Trent ambled in my direction. He was the cliché of the town doc, had probably delivered many of the residents, and still carried a leather bag filled with medical mystery cures everywhere he went. His steel-gray paintbrush mustache and wide wrinkled face never failed to make me think of a walrus. But his gruff mannerisms hid a heart as big as a continent.

“Let’s see what you’ve got here.” Gently, he pulled my hair away from the back of my neck. He grunted, poked at it.

“Ow!” I ducked away from the probing fingers.

Doc grunted again then went digging in his bag.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I eyed the old man suspiciously as he rummaged. “I’m fine. I can clean it up when I get home.”

A movement caught my eye. Travis, finally looking less shocked and more like himself, was trying hard not to laugh. I glared at him through narrowed eyes.

He ignored my silent warning. “EMT Willow’s not such a good patient. I doubt DC has any Jack Daniels tucked away here. Got a lollipop in that bag, Doc?”

Smiling, the doctor pulled out an assortment of suckers and handed me an orange one. I looked from the sucker to Travis, then back to the sucker. Sugar won. I unwrapped the candy and popped it into my mouth, moaning as the sweetness washed over my tongue.

“I’m just going to clean this up a bit. It’s been bleeding, but head wounds tend to do that.”

“Doc,” I said quietly, focusing on the battered pair across the room,

“Wanda and Wyatt need you a lot more.”

“They’ll be going to the hospital as soon as DC’s finished talking to them.” He pulled my hair aside.

“Someone told me you’re refusing to go anywhere but home. Now lean forward just a bit.” I caught the glint of his scissors and winced, but did as he asked. In the tiny room, it was impossible not to hear what Wanda was saying. I let Doc Trent cut a bit of hair away and clean my wound, distracting myself with unashamed eavesdropping on Wanda’s story.

“He raped me. Robert.” Wanda’s eyes were dry, but it was obvious she’d been crying. “The night Mac ran off. I was fifteen. I’d never been with anyone before. He told me if I said anything, he would find Mac and kill him. I believed him, so I pretended like nothing happened. And then I found out I was pregnant. By… that. Everyone thought it was Mac’s baby. I wanted an abortion. I didn’t want the baby. Didn’t want any reminder of—” Her chest heaved as she visibly struggled. With a shudder, she continued. “Phyllis went to my mom, begged her to make me have the baby. She said it was a piece of her son. My mother believed it was Mac’s baby. And I couldn’t tell anyone the truth because I was afraid for Mac. I didn’t know where he was, but Phyllis said they did.”

Stella made a tiny sound of distress, but her husband squeezed her shoulder and she clamped her mouth into a thin line.

“All finished.” He directed a pointed look at Travis that had me rolling my eyes. “Swing by my office on the way out and have Amanda do a skull series. We’ll go from there.” Then Doc patted me on the hand. “Do you want something for the pain?”

“No, thanks.” What I wanted was to hear Wanda. I shook my head then wished I hadn’t. But I stood, reaching for Travis’s hand. Together we walked across the room and joined the little group around DC’s desk.

“I didn’t know what to do,” said Wanda, picking at the fabric of her dress. “They all forced me to marry Bull, to pretend it was Bull’s baby. Even when the town talked, everyone always thought Bull was just doing right by me for his brother. That Mac had abandoned me and his baby.”

Travis jerked upright.

“None of this was your fault,” I murmured, threading my arm through the crook of his elbow and drawing him close.

He nodded, but said nothing. He probably couldn’t, considering the way his jaw was locked, as he breathed rapidly thorough his teeth.

“But Bull —he …” Wanda’s voice softened. “Bull was nice. When he could be, anyway. When he wasn’t drunk, when his mother wasn’t making him—” She took a deep breath. “And then I had Wyatt and it didn’t matter where he came from. I loved him.”

Stella was crying openly. Reece looked like he would commit murder, if the MacKays were in the room.

“Phyllis made me do things by threatening to hurt Wyatt,” said Wanda. “She said she would hurt him and then prove it was me, that I was on drugs. People would think I was an unfit m-mother. She said they’d put me away and she would have my Wyatt. She told people I was crazy. And everyone believed her. Everyone.” She cast an intense stare at her mother. “I was alone. I was afraid if I left she would find me and take Wyatt away and hurt him. And when he got older, she made him do whatever she wanted by hurting me. He’d do anything to get her to stop.”

“Oh, my God,” I whispered, sickened.

Wanda turned toward Grant. “She made my boy do things, bad things, at your ranch. He started the fire because she forced him. I’m so sorry. Please, Grant, please look out for my son. He’s a good boy, and he really likes you.”

From the door, Cammy caught DC’s attention. “The ambulance is here.”

As Wyatt was loaded —amid many protests —onto a gurney, Phyllis MacKay’s ramblings began to filter back into my memory. Many of them started to make sense after I heard Wanda’s story. Closing my eyes, I struggled to recall exactly what Phyllis had said.

A touch on my arm startled me and I blinked to find DC in front of me.

“Do you think you can give a statement?”

Wanda and Wyatt were gone, and so were Wanda’s parents. Good. Neither needed to hear what I had to say.

My voice warbled as I talked. I told them about meeting Phyllis on the road, of being assaulted. “She planned to kill me.”

Keeping behind me, Travis tightened his arms around my waist, and I covered his hands with my own.

“She started bragging about all the problems she and Robert had caused the McGees. Phyllis told me they wanted to make a deal with a coal mining company, to sell their open rangeland up in the mountains.”

As my memory cleared, I added details. DC wrote on his clipboard, his face becoming grimmer with each new revelation. I stopped talking, not sure how to finish. I knew I was about to open wounds that were decades old.

“What is it, Angel?” asked Travis.

I twisted to look up at him, clasping his hands in mine and squeezing. I spoke haltingly, with tears streaming, but kept my gaze locked onto his. “It’s about your mom.”

As I told that part of the story, his face went pale, emphasizing his multicolored bruises. I held onto him, letting him absorb what I’d said. Tremors rolled through him, and he kept shaking his head, as though in denial.

“I’m so sorry, Travis,” I whispered.

The muscles of his jaw twitched as he pulled me tightly against him and buried his face in my hair. He was shaking like he’d never be able to stop.

“Phyllis?” Grant appeared too stunned to be angry. He looked like he was leaning on his father for support, but my sharp eyes could see it was mutual.

Justin’s face was unreadable, but through the sadness in his eyes, I saw strength. He was going to be there for his sons the way he always had been. “What’s going to happen to Wanda?” I asked. “And to Wyatt?”

“God only knows,” Grant answered, sadness tingeing his words.

“Mac will take care of them.” Travis finally broke his silence. “If he’d known this was happening, he’d have come back for her. For them. He sent letters to her parents’ address, and they were returned. When he found out she married Bull, he thought—” He shook his head. “Mac will take care of them now. I’ll set up a trust fund for the boy. Make sure they have a good lawyer, and they’ll both get the help they need to get through.”

“Mac’s insurance payout.” Grant nodded in approval. “Good call, Trav.”

The world began to spin, blur together in a whirl of color. I leaned into Travis’s arms. “I think I need to lie down. Please take me home.”

* * *

Dark wood wainscoting and walls the color of a clear Wyoming sky faded into focus. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through cream-colored curtains, illuminating the room in a golden glow. Travis’s bedroom.

I stretched, inhaling deeply. The soft sheet gliding over my bare arms and legs was like a lover’s kiss. The scent of him lingered enticingly in my nostrils. Travis’s bed.

Warmth flowed over me with the memories of his loving touches the night before, when he’d patiently taken care of me, wiping my tears and drawing my bath, and then giving me privacy. He’d left a pair of sweatpants and a soft white undershirt in the bathroom, and when I rejoined him in his bedroom, he’d brushed out my hair. I’d never felt so pampered in my life.

All night long, he’d held me lightly against his chest. He had shushed me with soft whispers, and every time I’d startled myself into wakefulness, he’d soothed me back to sleep with long delicate strokes along my arms. We hadn’t had sex, but he’d made love to me just the same, through his gentle caring.

But now I was awake and he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? My Travis, who was also my Mick? How had I not recognized his voice? How had I not known him? I sighed, thinking about my body’s instant reaction to his. Perhaps some part of me had always known.

I ached for him, desperately needed to see him, touch him. To make sure I hadn’t been the victim of a cruel dream.

Putting a hand on the base of my skull, I felt the lump and winced. Okay, that part at least hadn’t been a dream. Gingerly I shook my head, pleased when the movement brought on no pain. I closed my eyes and lay back against the pillow, wishing I had my makeup and some fresh clothing.

“You’ve been one hard lady to find, Angel.”

My heart pounded madly. My body began a slow all-over tingle. I kept my eyes closed, delighting in the sound of his voice.

A slow smile pulled at my lips. “Do I hear a sexy cowboy lurking nearby?”

Sweeping my eyes open, I rolled over to find Travis McGee lounging casually against the doorframe. He was all masculine cowboy, in his faded blue jeans and pale blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled over muscular biceps. Not even the white bandage on his left arm or the bruises on his face could ruin the effect. My eyes drifted downward, sliding over his waist to his lean hips. I licked my lips and wiggled my eyebrows, eliciting a husky chuckle from him. Warmth burst through me in little explosions. “Angel…” The voice of one man collided with the face of another, merging into one reality.

It hadn’t been a dream.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

That earned her another chuckle. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying things like that to you.”

A giggle slipped out. “Then you’d better get to it, don’t you think?”

“You’re beautiful.” He stepped across the threshold and set an overnight bag on the floor. “Sissy sent over a few things from your place. She said I’m to reassure you she put your best makeup in here.”

I didn’t take my eyes off him. “Go, Sissy.”

He hovered just at the door, emotions playing across his face. Incredulity. Uncertainty. And love. So much love, I almost forgot to breathe.

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” he whispered.

“I didn’t recognize you, either.” I frowned as another question nudged. “But you said your name was Mickey. I was calling you Mick. Is that—were you using an alias because of… Mac?”

Travis’s wince became a sheepish smile that tugged at my heart. “Naw… nothing like that. I said I was McGee. I don’t think I ever gave you my first name.” Staring at the hardwood floor, he scuffed the toe of his boot along an old crack. Then he looked up and met my gaze. “And I… kind of liked when you started calling me Mick —felt like your own personal name for me.”

Tears welled. Seven years of pain washed over my cheeks. “Trav, back in L.A., I would have been there. I would have come to you and stayed until you told me to leave… They told me no one made it out. They said they got through and found everyone dead.

* * *

Travis

I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, my heart crowding my chest at the sadness in Christine’s voice. I surveyed the bruise on her temple. She’d almost been killed because of me, not once but twice. And still she was with me because she wanted to be.

I traced a finger along her forearm. “That last shock, when the building fell, I slipped a little farther down —a lot farther down, actually, into the next lower level. But falling probably saved my life. When I woke up, I could breathe easier and I wasn’t pinned. I’d lost the radio so I couldn’t call for help. But I survived, Angel. Because of you.” My throat tightened, choking on every emotion I’d held inside for the past seven years. “They found me almost a day later. I held on for you.”

“But I wasn’t there,” she whispered, her eyes mirroring distress. I brushed my fingertips against her lips.

“You’re here now. We’re here now. We’ve come in a circle, back to each other. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

With a shudder, Christine pulled one of my fingers into her mouth and sucked, teasing with her tongue. It was such a sensual move, my body went into instant horndog mode.

I needed to touch her. Cupping her shoulder with one hand, I rubbed my thumb in a gentle back and forth rhythm. I couldn’t resist her. Leaning close, I replaced my fingers with my lips, pushing her backward and following her down until I rested on my elbows, cradling her beneath me. I sought her lips and prolonged the kiss, freeing all the love and longing I’d held onto for seven years, blending it with the fire that had been lit since my first sight of her on the mountain road.

When Christine would have deepened our connection, I pulled back, smiling at the confusion in her eyes. I sat up, pulling her with me. “Much as I’d like to continue this, we have someplace we need to be and you’re gonna want to get dressed for the occasion.”

“What occasion?”

“Our dinner reservation. You wanted Italian.”

I pushed her toward the bathroom, trying not to enjoy too much the thought of having her off balance. Though if I had my way, I’d keep her just a bit off balance for the rest of our lives.

* * *

Christine

I stared at the blue dress Sissy had packed for me. Simply cut, with a rounded neckline and long flaring sleeves, it lovingly embraced my upper chest, lifting my breasts and thrusting them front and center, and then flowed in a swirl of diaphanous fabric to mid-thigh. How had my best friend known? How had she chosen to send the perfect dress?

As I shook the dress out, a slip of paper fell to the floor.

This was in the back of your closet. The only time I ever saw you wear it was also the only time I ever saw you drunk and crying, just about six years ago. Now I know your story, I understand. I hope this dress works for your first date with your fireman. Love, M.

“Oh, Sissy, you did good,” I whispered.

I held the dress in front of me and looked in the mirror. I’d seen it in a store in Jackson, its intense blue reminding me of Mick’s love for the mountain sky. I’d bought it —knowing he would never see me in it —for the same reason I’d come to Wyoming, to feel close to him.

I was halfway down the stairs when he entered the foyer from his father’s study. My mouth went dry, then watered at the sight of him. Dressed in a dark Western-cut suit, with a white shirt and string tie, he wasn’t an L.A. firefighter. But he wasn’t my cowboy straight from the range, either.

He devastated me. His gaze was like a physical sensation, a whispery soft caress on my skin. And even better, his long indrawn breath and the gleam in his eyes, told me he liked what he saw.

He held out a hand. Feeling like royalty, I finished descending the elegant old staircase and slipped my hand into his. Pulling me close, he bent and took my lips in a gentle toe-curling kiss, lingering just long enough for me to want more.

* * *

Travis

I loved the soft look of her, the gentle curve of her lips when she smiled for me alone. The blue of her dress intensified the blue of the incredible eyes fixed on me as she walked into my arms. And I loved the way the filmy material of her dress swished around her legs, stroking her hips with each step.

I swallowed hard. I’d thought about doing this for seven years. Her voice, her spirit, had kept me hanging on, clinging to life when the hope of life was gone. It was some kind of fairy tale ending to a seven-year search for the voice of an angel. At least, I hoped my plans for the night would give me that fairy tale ending.

“Time to go,” I murmured, almost, but not quite, wishing we could stay in after all. “We’re running late.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to hurry.”

My eyes twinkled. “Angel, we’re about seven years late for our first date. Catch up, will ya?”

Her jaw went slack for a moment.

I tilted my head to look in her eyes. Good, still just a little off balance. Then that slow predatory smile crept over her features. Apparently I’d awakened the sleeping cat.

She rubbed against me and lifted her face, finding my lips and tracing them with her tongue before pressing a heated kiss there.

We almost didn’t leave the house.

* * *

Christine

“Where are we going?” I looked out at the miles the little sports car was eating up.

“You said you wanted Italian on our first date. Again, catch up.”

“But we’re going away from Jackson.” In the dim lights from the dash, I caught the curve of his lips in a secret smile.

“We’re not going to Jackson. Just taking a short ride into Pine Haven.”

“But there aren’t any Italian restaurants in—”

“Bluebell, if you don’t stop fretting, I’m going to have to stop the car and kiss you quiet.” He glanced my way before returning his attention to the road. “And you already know what DC thinks about making out in public. Besides, we’re here.”

I looked out at the over-crowded parking lot of her own bar. “Oh, you’re really funny, ace. Reservations? Italian? Valentine’s has neither.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? I know the boss. All I had to do was drop her name and the staff was quite accommodating.” Travis winked as he held the car door open for me. “Even if she does have a reputation as a ball-buster.”

I swung my legs out but just sat there, staring at him in disbelief.

He quirked an eyebrow, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Still catching up?” But he smiled when I accepted his hand. Tucking it into the crook of his elbow, he gave it a pat, and with our steps in perfect sync, we walked to the door.

I didn’t know what I’d expected. But it wasn’t for my normal weekend crowd to fall into a hushed silence at my entrance on Travis’s arm. The band on stage abruptly stopped playing.

From somewhere in the center of the crowd, one person began clapping. Slowly, others joined in. Then people stood, and the applause rose to deafening levels, as I found myself in the center of a standing ovation.

Out of nowhere, Sissy was at my side, a wide smile lighting her face. “Welcome to Valentino’s. I have your usual table ready.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Valentino’s?”

Sissy giggled. “Just for tonight.” She led us to the secluded table in the corner, where we had shared dinner not so long ago.

Around us, the band went back to playing, the crowd went back to drinking and conversing. But I was acutely aware we were the center attraction.

Sissy had outdone herself with the table. A white linen tablecloth lay beneath white tapered candles set in crystal holders. I raised my eyebrows at the cloth napkins and fine silverware, set for two. A bottle of blush white zinfandel waited on the table, next to a gold florist’s box tied with a dark blue ribbon.

“Your meal will be here shortly,” Sissy said as Travis held my chair. Then she was off.

“I’m almost afraid to ask if we’re about to add Italian cuisine to our menu.” I looked up at Travis, knowing he’d orchestrated the evening and all the extras for me. Not for any reason other than seven years ago, I’d told him I wanted Italian on our first date.

“Thank you.”

Travis slid the slim gold box toward me. “I recall a promise of daisies.”

With hands that weren’t at all steady, I lifted the lid, my breath catching when I saw the bouquet of white daisies and blue Bluebells. Raising them to my nose, my eyes widened. In the center of the wildflowers, tied with a pale blue cord to a single dark red rose, was the crystal angel. My eyes flashed to his. “Oh, Travis…”

He touched the tips of my fingers and gently shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “She’s you. She’s always been you.”

* * *

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs, excellently prepared by Charlotte, who obviously deserved a raise.

As I sipped my wine, I watched Travis over the rim of the glass, enjoying the easy way he moved and smiled. We talked about little things. How I’d grown up in the Blue Ridge Mountains and lost my parents in a car accident. How I’d moved out west with friends and worked as a dispatcher for the L.A. Fire Department. We spoke of Travis finding himself in a world he hadn’t wanted, but had made the best of. He told me about his dream of returning home to the family ranch, and how beautiful Wyoming was in all seasons.

Before I knew it, the meal was finished and Sissy was clearing away our dinner dishes. Next, a waiter in dark pants and white shirt with a dark tie hesitantly delivered our dessert.

“Wyatt.” I smiled, happy to see him, relieved his injuries had apparently not been serious. “I hope this means you still want to work for me.” Wyatt nodded eagerly.

“Yes, ma’am.” The teen’s awkward hesitancy faded. “I brought your dessert.” He set a plate in the center of our table then disappeared.

“Cannoli!” I laughed. “I can’t believe how much you remembered.”

“I remember it all,” Travis said. “I’ve remembered it over and over for seven years. You’re everything to me, Christine. Just everything. Not only from back then but —from now, too.”

I smiled. Feeling suddenly shy, I concentrated on the cannoli.

“‘Such is my love, to thee I so belong…’”

“You do know that when you quote Shakespeare, I’ll do anything for you. Even share my cannoli.” I swept my gaze up to look at him.

In his hand, extended toward me, was an antique engagement ring, the rose-colored gold gleaming beneath the sharp sparkle of the modest diamond.

The room fell into absolute silence.

“Oh, my.” My hand hovered about my lips. I met his gaze and my heart fluttered as he bared his soul to me.

“This belonged to my mother. And before her, it was my great-grandmother’s.” Travis picked up my left hand and held it gently. “I sure would like it if you would wear this and be my wife… my Angel… my Bluebell.”

“Travis,” I whispered.

An unsteady grin flashed. “Still catching up, sweetheart?”

I shook her head. “No.”

Surprise etched his features. His face registered disappointment. “No?”

“Yes.”

Surprised morphed into confusion.

“Yes, you’re saying no?”

I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t making any sense. “No, I’m not still catching up. And yes, I want very much to marry you.”

The huge grin sliding across his face made me think of kids in candy stores. Travis slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

A cheer rose from the crowd. I looked around, seeing all the regulars and a few who rarely showed up. Seated at his normal spot at the bar where Sissy worked was Grant, and next to him Justin, who smiled and winked when he caught my eye.

I didn’t think I could be any happier.

Travis stood, tugging me to my feet. On stage, Ray Dan led Cowboy Blue into a slow number about finding perfect love. After a very sweet kiss, Travis led me to the dance floor. No one joined us.

Emotions wound through me, my love for Mick fusing with the passion I felt for Travis. Tilting my head up, I smiled into his eyes. “You’re my everything, too, Travis Mick. I love you.”

At the end of our dance, Ray Dan began talking to the crowd. “What do you say, folks? Don’t you think she owes us a song?”

I groaned and hid my face as shyness washed over me. I smiled and shook my head. But the crowd was roaring their agreement and a chant began. “Christine! Christine! Christine!”

Helplessly, I looked up at Travis and found him smiling broadly. He wasn’t going to be any help. He released me and gave me a little push toward the stage. And suddenly I knew exactly what I would sing and to whom I would sing it.

* * *

Travis

I watched my new fiancée speak to the bandleader, who nodded. Then she stepped up to the microphone. She smiled, her gaze settling on me, and I was the only person in the crowded room.

A single note began to play on the piano.

As her Bluebell eyes eased themselves into my soul, she sang the song she’d begun seven years earlier, “The Rose.”