Chapter 15

Melanie groaned as she eased her aching body into the slipper tub. Every scuff and scrape on her body sang out in angry protest at the sting of the hot water.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Violet said, via the speaker on the phone Melanie had brought in with her to listen to music while she soaked away the pain.

“I don’t recall asking for sympathy.” She lifted one foot and examined the purpling bruise on the side of her calf. Yep. That was gonna be pretty. “I can’t believe Wyatt called Joe and tattled on me.”

“He wasn’t tattling. He was in shock. The man is used to pulling all the strings, and you ripped ’em right out of his hands.”

Melanie slid a little lower in the water. Wyatt had a legitimate beef. Not only had she opened her big mouth when she’d intended to be seen and not heard, but by the time she was done screwing around, whatever plan he’d had for the morning had been totally shot. “I couldn’t resist.”

“And? How was it?”

Melanie grinned, admiring another well-earned bruise. “Awesome, even though I probably won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning. Those are some muscles you do not use in the gym. But it felt good to go into battle mode and take it to ’em.”

“Because you haven’t been doing enough of that lately,” Violet said dryly.

“It’s not the same when you can’t look the enemy in the eye. I prefer hand-to-hand combat.”

“Says anyone who’s ever played basketball against you.”

Melanie laughed. “At least Wyatt can use me as a bad example.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“Really?” She paused in the act of tucking a strand of hair back into the pile on top of her head, then cringed at how eager she sounded.

“I didn’t get details.” Violet made an irritated noise. “It was one of those Don’t tell her I said this conversations, and I married a man who’s big on keeping his word.”

“Well, that’s annoying.”

“Only when I’m the one trying to compromise him. All Joe would say is that Wyatt was impressed at how well you handle cattle.”

O-kay. That was…vaguely satisfying. Not that she’d set out to impress Wyatt. Had she?

No. It had been pure impulse. A challenge, and a physical outlet for the constant simmer of resentment in her gut. She wanted to attack. And—she cringed again when the thought struck—to be attacked, which gave her a chance to fight back.

An opportunity she didn’t have at Westwind.

Damn. She was glad she didn’t have to share that little gem with a shrink. Or Wyatt—although he’d probably already guessed. She scowled at the pressed-tin ceiling. He was probably kicked back in his condo on the hill, sipping a bottle of rarified water, analyzing her behavior, and reaching the same embarrassing conclusions.

While wearing one of those insanely sexy shirts.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t help. She could still see every detail of the extremely well-developed muscles in his chest and shoulders. Holy Toledo, he had an amazing set of shoulders. His prissy button-downs and polo shirts did not do them justice, unlike the sweaty second skin he’d been wearing this morning. Now she had a permanent impression of Wyatt’s nipples on her gray matter and a whole new appreciation for wet T-shirt contests.

She growled in frustration and tried to reroute her thoughts. “Does Wyatt have any other friends or family out here?”

“Well…I assume you’ve seen Grace?”

“Yes. It’s awkward, but we’re managing.” She lifted her foot to scrub dirt from under her toenails—her running shoes were full of the stuff—and once again wondered about Grace. She’d smiled when she offered Melanie an ice pack for the bruise on her shoulder. Then, almost as if she’d caught herself, she’d abruptly turned away. Her initial hostility was to be expected, but why would she consciously resist being too friendly?

“Did Joe ever meet anyone from the dark and mysterious days of Wyatt’s past?” Melanie asked.

Violet paused, thinking. “Once. They were working…hmm. Molalla? St. Paul? One of those rodeos in that part of Oregon. A woman came to watch him. She stuck in Joe’s mind because she was—his words—so gorgeous he couldn’t even speak in whole sentences when Wyatt introduced them. He told Joe she was just an old friend who lived in Portland, and Joe got the distinct impression there were no benefits.”

“Did Joe ever see her again?”

“Not after Wyatt married the stripper.”

“What?” Melanie sat up so abruptly that water sloshed onto the floor.

“I told you about her,” Violet said.

“You’ve mentioned his ex-wife.” And that the union had been short and not very sweet. “You did not tell me she was a stripper.”

“Oh. Well, we’ve never talked much about Wyatt. I thought you preferred it that way.” When Melanie didn’t jump to fill the pause, Violet made an exasperated noise. “We’re not blind, Mel. It was obvious from day one that there were serious sparks between the two of you.”

“And you never said anything?”

“It was just as obvious that both of you wanted to ignore it. And to be honest…we were sort of relieved.”

Relieved? Ouch. Joe didn’t want her dating his best friend? As usual, she reached for sarcasm to cover the sting. “What, you didn’t want to be the BFFs who married BFFs and fantasized about how our kids could marry each other when they grow up?”

“Thank you for making my point. You can’t even talk about him without turning into the Queen of Snark, let alone to him. And the minute you walk into the room, he goes all smug and arrogant and…gah!” Violet spit it out like a piece of black licorice. “I hate when he gets like that, and the way you’ve been…”

“I’ve been what?” Melanie demanded.

Violet was silent for a few beats, then heaved a reluctant sigh. “Remember that day Joe’s flight from Denver was delayed, and I borrowed a corner of your office to catch up on my emails while I waited? It was…wow. The last time I saw that much passive aggression in one place was your parent’s twentieth wedding anniversary party.”

“Yeah. The Leech brings it to a whole new level.”

There was another long, weighty pause. Finally, quietly, Violet said, “I wasn’t talking about him.”

Melanie’s chin nearly bounced off her chest. “Are you accusing me of turning into my mother?”

Whoever said a picture was worth a thousand words had never encountered one of Violet’s strategic silences.

“I am not that bad.” Melanie had to muster every ounce of control to keep from shrieking, You take that back, my so-called friend.

“Yet…but do you really want to risk it?” Violet persisted. “Is your career worth giving up everything, Mel? Your roping, your family, time at the ranch…your friends?”

There was hurt beneath Violet’s words. An echo of dinners canceled, lunch dates broken, all the birthday parties, science fairs, and school plays Melanie had missed.

For what?

Violet’s tone softened. “I realize that’s the price you pay for success, especially as a woman, but I can’t imagine that being enough of a life for you. Deep down, I think you know it, or you wouldn’t have blown up every bridge in sight on your way out.”

Melanie settled back into the water and gave a bitter laugh. “Joe’s not the only one who’s been talking to Wyatt.”

“Why? Is that what he told you, too?”

Melanie glared at the phone. “Just because you agree doesn’t make you right.”

“It also doesn’t make us wrong. At least take it into consideration while you’re figuring out what to do next. And don’t take it out on Wyatt. In fact, while you’re out there, maybe the two of you could learn how to have a conversation without sniping at each other. It used to be entertaining. Now it’s mostly just mean.”

Melanie dipped her chin into the water and stared at her toes, trying to imagine having a normal, noncombative conversation with Wyatt. Just two people not attempting to draw blood. Though if she was honest, it was usually her taking the shots and Wyatt deflecting them—but he did have a killer backhand return.

“Tell me about the stripper,” she blurted out.

“Gabrielle.” The tension drained out of Violet’s voice as she dived for the conversational escape hatch. “That was her real name. She went by Desiree onstage. One of the sponsors at Reno took Wyatt and Joe to the place she worked and paid for girls to hang with them. Turned out she was dancing her way to a master’s degree in psychology. She and Wyatt ended up arguing nature versus nurture for two hours, and she went home with him that night.”

Something disturbingly close to envy twinged in Melanie’s chest. “Not your average buckle bunny.”

“God, no. Joe said she was scary smart. And smoking hot, of course.”

Of course. Melanie’s gaze drifted downward, and she crossed her arms over her own not-so-spectacular chest. “So they hooked up during the Reno rodeo…”

“And stayed in touch afterward. It’s not that far from Pendleton to Reno, you know. You should take a road trip to Lake Tahoe while you’re out there.”

“Focus, Violet.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to having a conversation for more than three minutes without being interrupted.”

“Where are the critters?”

“Delon has Beni this week, and Rosie is down for the count. Cole came over and rolled around on the floor with her for an hour after dinner. She calls him her bubba bear.”

Aw. Now that was adorable, imagining big, stoic Cole Jacobs putting himself at the mercy of Violet’s rambunctious toddler. “That’s great. Now, about how Wyatt acquired an ex-wife?”

“Right. One morning she called, seriously freaked out. She’d picked up a stalker at the club, and she’d come home from work and found a bunch of roses on her doorstep with, um, photos. Of stuff no woman wants to see, no matter what men think. She grabbed a few things, went to a friend’s house, and called Wyatt.”

“And he swooped in and saved the day.”

“Literally. He jumped in his plane and flew down to get her. She’d finished school and was applying to doctoral programs, so she moved into his condo. About a month later, Wyatt informed Joe that they were married.”

“Wow. That was…fast.” And very uncalculated. Or so it appeared. Which made it very un-Wyatt-like. “Why the rush?”

“Believe me, after the divorce Wyatt spent a lot of time wondering the same thing. Out loud. Until Joe was ready to strangle him.”

“What was his excuse?”

“Which one? He’d just turned thirty. Had his first major injury earlier that year. He was feeling his mortality. It was an early mid-life crisis. Finally Joe told him, ‘Maybe you were just tired of being alone. And she was super hot.’” Violet giggled. “But at least Wyatt quit yammering on about it.”

Melanie picked up a bar of soap that smelled like fresh spring rain and rubbed it between her hands. “They should’ve been a good match.”

“You’d think.” Violet’s voice was muffled by what sounded suspiciously like cookie crumbs. “When they fought, Joe said it was like listening to Dr. Phil and Oprah throw down.”

Melanie scrubbed a lily-white washcloth across the back of her neck. It came away brown with grime from getting rolled around in the dirt by the bitch squad. There was so much grit in her hair that it would turn the water the same color when she washed it. “What did they fight about?”

“Everything.” Violet’s eye roll was audible. “Politics, religion, whether Freud was the worst thing that ever happened to mental health care, how many nuggets it takes to make a meal truly happy—you name it. Plus she was extremely independent…to the point that she refused to let him pay off her student loans. Not taking care of her drove him insane. He couldn’t resist trying to help, and she did not want to be accepted into the doctoral program at the University of Oregon because Wyatt had made a few calls.”

“He did that?” Melanie tossed aside the washcloth in disgust. “Geezus. He’s supposed to be a student of human nature, and he didn’t get that she would want to be admitted on her own merit?”

“Which is exactly what she said. And he said those things are always political, and she needed to learn to use whatever advantage she could get. She disagreed…loudly. It got so bad that she started packing. Wyatt talked her into giving it one last chance. He rented a cabin on Lake Pend Oreille—gorgeous scenery, secluded, romantic…” Violet gave an amused huff. “They didn’t even make it to the lake. They started bickering, he pulled over at a rest area, and when he got out, she drove off and left him there.”

Melanie sucked in a horrified breath. “In the Camaro?”

“I know. It’s amazing he didn’t have her arrested. Joe went and picked him up, and by the time they got back to Pendleton, the only thing she’d left at the condo was the car. She didn’t even try to fleece him in the divorce. She just wanted out as fast as possible.”

“Damn. That smarts.”

“Yeah.” They were both silent for a few moments. Then Violet said, “Joe said she could be a lot of fun when she wasn’t frothing at the mouth, but there was Wyatt and his pathological need to save the world, with a woman who was incapable of accepting help of any kind.” Violet hesitated, then added, “Actually, Joe says she was a lot like you.”

Ouch.

Been there, tried that, have the divorce papers to prove it. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was gonna give it another go—even if Melanie had been willing. So why did she have an insane urge to kick Gabrielle’s smokin’-hot ass?

“Hey, Mel? Did you drown in there?”

Melanie made a sour face. “Tempting…but no.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said…I’m not trying to be mean. I swear. I just don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.” Violet’s voice caught, and Melanie could picture the tears welling in her eyes. For a seriously tough woman, Violet always had been a crier. “I miss my best friend, Mel. While you’re doing all this soul-searching, could you try to track her down?”

Well, hell. Apparently Hank wasn’t the only missing person in the Brookman family.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But if you tell one person that I came to Oregon to find myself, you will pay.”