A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe (21 page)

“Then here we go.” With a low groan he drove home one last time.

She surrendered to the power of that final thrust. As her body responded with an explosion of pure pleasure, he let out a hoarse cry and shuddered against her. The undulating waves of her climax, blending with the steady pulsing of his, filled her with such joy that tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

His fingers trembled as he wiped them away. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Those are...” She paused to clear her throat. “Those are happy tears.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“They are.” She rubbed his back, sweaty despite the coolness of the room. “Making love with you is so wonderful that I get a little choked up.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Well, now you’ve told me about your sister, so we don’t have to talk about that anymore today.”

“I don’t mind if we talk about her.” She could tell from his doubtful expression that he thought she was putting on a brave front for his sake. “Honestly, I don’t. I wasn’t crying over her. I was crying because I—” She almost said
because I love you
but quickly thought better of it. She didn’t want that declaration to be mixed up with talk about Selena. Then he wouldn’t believe her about that, either. “I really was happy, not sad.”

“Okay.” He didn’t add
if you say so
but he might as well have. He was definitely humoring her. “Is that shared shower offer still open?”

“Sure is.”

He leaned down and kissed her again. “Then I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

* * *

A
T
FIRST
THEY
played like kids in the shower, throwing wet washcloths and generally making a mess. Then they played like adults, using their mouths and tongues and the spray of water. They were both clean and satisfied by the time they dried off and mopped up the floor.

Whitney had had a blast, but she also couldn’t help wondering if Ty was still trying to cheer her up. He seemed to be in caretaking mode and insisted on drying her hair. So after they were both dressed, she handed him the brush and the hairdryer and he sat on the futon while she sat on the floor between his knees.

She enjoyed the pampering even though he could use some practice at blow-drying a woman’s hair. But she couldn’t help thinking that he was treating her like someone who’d suffered a horrible shock. She had, but she’d worked through the bad times and every year was a little easier. She’d like to talk with him about that, in fact. It could be very important if they were planning to keep seeing each other.

After he finished with her hair, they ate peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and drank more coffee while they checked the road conditions. Nothing was moving except the snowplows, so they went through her stash of board games and ended up playing Sorry! on her living room rug.

The game was simple enough that it was only fun if the participants were ruthless. Ty wasn’t ruthless. He pretended that he hadn’t seen the moves that would have allowed him to beat her.

She wasn’t buying it. At the end of the second game, she picked up the cards and held on to them instead of shuffling. “You’re the person with the photographic memory, so either your head’s not in the game or you’re letting me win on purpose.”

He smiled at her. “Maybe I’m just trying to butter you up so you’ll have sex with me once more before I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to let me win a board game to get me naked, Ty.” She put down the deck.

“Really? Excellent.” He started gathering up the pieces. “Let’s bag this program and—”

“Hang on, there, cowboy.”

“What?” He glanced up.

“I need to ask you something.” She knew this next move was risky, but in another hour or so he’d be gone. She’d never have a better opportunity to broach the subject, now that he knew about Selena and they wouldn’t be interrupted. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about how losing my twin sister affected my life?”

Panic flashed briefly in his eyes, the only emotion that he showed before he closed down and looked away. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Do you?”

He continued to gather pieces and tuck them in the box. “At first there’s the kind of pain you think you can’t stand, but somehow you do, and if you’re lucky, you find the strength to deal with it. It might have been a little easier having your family around, but I wouldn’t want to make that assumption. I had Rosie and Herb and it still sucked.” He closed up the box and looked at her. “Does that about sum it up?”

She pushed the box away and inched closer so their knees touched. Then she took one of his big hands in both of hers. “For you, maybe.” She looked into his eyes. “Not for me.”

He sucked in a breath. “It was worse?”

“No, it was better.”

“Then I’m glad for you, Whitney, really glad. The thought of you suffering...” He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “Until you told me about Selena, I pictured you as a golden girl living a golden life, and I was happy about that.” He sighed. “Mostly. I had a moment of jealousy when I saw all those presents under your tree, but I got over it.”

She gave silent thanks for his honesty on that point. It was something to hang on to. “And how do you think of me now?”

“As a fellow survivor, I guess.”

“Okay.” She started to say more.

“But I don’t see the need to talk about it,” he added quickly, as if to cut off further discussion. “Just like soldiers don’t talk about the battles they’ve fought in. Better to just forget about it and go on. That’s my motto.”

This might be tougher than she’d thought. “I respect that position and maybe sometimes it’s the only answer. But in my case—and yours—I don’t happen to agree with it.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

She chose her words carefully. “I don’t believe that we can just bury our memories. In my opinion, they’re still there, and if we don’t get them out and dust them off, they can calcify and block off the good stuff.”

“You sound like Rosie.”

“That can’t be a bad thing.”

“It isn’t.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I know you’re trying to help just like she did, and I appreciate that. But what good would it do to talk about my dead parents? Talking doesn’t bring them back.”

“But it does!” She gripped his hand tighter because she felt him mentally pulling away. “When I’m at home with my folks, we talk about Selena. Not constantly, but if one of us thinks of her or remembers something she used to do, we share those thoughts. It helps so much. You have no idea.”

“You’re right.” The warmth in his eyes disappeared and for the first time there was an edge to his voice. “I have no idea because I don’t have your situation.”

“I realize that, but—”

“Whitney, can we not do this?” He combed her hair back from her forehead. “Think about it. You have an entire group of people, family and friends, who remember your sister and are willing to share memories. That’s great, but I don’t. The only people who knew my parents really well have moved away and I don’t know how to find them. Besides, their memories and mine would be very different.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t share those memories with someone.”

“Like who? Some therapist? No, thank you.”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “Like me.”

“But you didn’t even know them.”

“Then tell me about them! Make them live for me!”

“I can’t.” Defeat laced his words. “I can’t even remember what they looked like.”

She gasped in disbelief. “But you have a photographic—”

“Yes, and when it comes to them, it’s totally disabled. I’ve never told anyone that, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t, either.”

“I won’t, but Ty, you must have actual pictures of them somewhere.” Unless he’d destroyed them. Her heart ached at the possibility that he might have in a moment of rage.

“I have the family albums in a sealed box.”

Thank God. “We could go over them together. I promise you it will help.”

He looked at her for several long seconds. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

“You don’t understand what you’re giving up.”

“Sadly, I think I do.” Sliding his hand free, he stood. “I should probably check the road conditions.”

She scrambled to her feet, her stomach churning. “Ty, it would be easier than you think.”

He turned to her, his expression resigned. “I’ve spent fourteen years getting to the point where I don’t want to hit something when I think of that plane crash. You’re proposing that I tear down all those defenses and take a chance I’ll be right back where I started. I’m not doing it.”

“But then it’s as if the first half of your life never happened! You can’t tell me that’s what you want.”

“Yes I can. That’s exactly what I want. It works for me.”

She had trouble breathing. “But not for us,” she murmured.

“No, not for us.” His glance was tender. “But that was always a long shot, considering the distance between us.”

She fought the urge to run into his arms and try to talk him out of his stubborn stance. But if she went to him and he rejected her, it would make the pain a hundred times worse. “Five hours isn’t that much.”

“I wasn’t talking about the miles.” He walked into the kitchen and picked up his phone from the counter where he’d left it earlier.

This couldn’t be happening. Surely they wouldn’t break up after some of the happiest hours of her life—and of his, too, she’d bet. But she’d known from the moment she’d begun to push him that he might push back.

She could try to backpedal, but damn it, this was important. She loved him, which meant she wanted to know whether he’d joined Cub Scouts or played baseball or built a tree house. She couldn’t imagine being with someone whose entire childhood was a blank slate. And that he’d choose to keep it that way.

He walked out of the kitchen with his phone still in his hand. “The roads are okay. I should be fine from here to Cheyenne.”

No, he wouldn’t be fine. He would be an emotional mess who shouldn’t be behind the wheel. “Stay here tonight,” she said. “Call your office and explain that you don’t want to risk driving back. You must have vacation days or sick days you haven’t used.”

“I do.” His smile was sad. “But that will only make things tougher on both of us. You want something from me that I can’t give. Let’s cut our losses before this becomes any more painful than it already is.”

“Ty, are you sure that I’m asking the impossible? Because from where I stand, it doesn’t seem that way. This is something we could work at a little bit at a time. I’m not suggesting that you pour out your life story in one fell swoop.”

“Like I said, easy for you to say, risky for me to do. I’ve plastered and spackled over the gaping holes in my story, and if I start scraping that patch job away, the whole structure might collapse.”

“No, it won’t.” She took a step closer. “I’d be there to keep that from happening.”

“You might want to be, but we live in different towns.”

He had a point. Electronic communication could only accomplish so much. If she encouraged him to embrace his memories and that created issues for him, a cyberhug wasn’t going to do him much good.

He sighed. “How about we skip the drama, wish each other well and go our separate ways?”

The idea made her feel like throwing up. “Is that what you want?”

“What I want isn’t possible, so let’s not go there.”

“At least tell me.”

His gray eyes gleamed in defiance. “All right, here goes the impossible wish list. I wish my parents were alive because you’d love them and they’d love you. I want us to miraculously live in the same town so that neither of us has to give up our job. And as long as we’re talking miracles, I want my parents to be alive but I also want to be a part of Thunder Mountain Ranch, because I’m crazy about my brothers and Rosie and Herb.”

She swallowed. “Not everything on that list is impossible.”

“All of it is impossible except the Thunder Mountain part. I don’t know what magical world you’re living in, but in my world my parents are still dead and you and I live in different cities and love our jobs. We need to give it up, Whitney. Some things are not meant to be.”

“You sound as if you really believe that.”

“It’s hard-won wisdom.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I’ll go pack up my stuff.” Turning, he walked down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Whitney stood in the middle of the living room and waited for him to come back out. Surely going back to the place where they’d shared so much passion and love, definitely love, would cause him to change his mind. She’d never had such a strong connection to a lover. She knew he hadn’t, either, because she’d seen the emotion shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t just leave.

But when he walked into the living room wearing his coat and hat and carrying his duffel, she knew that he would do exactly that. His face had lost all expression. It was like looking at a stranger.

He swallowed, the only sign that maybe he didn’t have himself completely under control. “Goodbye, Whitney.”

“So you’re really going to do this.” It was less a question and more a statement of disbelief.

“Obviously I’m not the right guy. I need to get out of your life so you can find him.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d offered him her heart. Maybe not in so many words, but he had to know. She’d never fallen this hard for someone and his rejection hurt like hell.

“Whitney, don’t look at me like that.” His mask of indifference slipped a little and his voice softened. “This is for the best. You’ll realize that eventually.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “It might be for the best if you’re determined to wall off a huge part of yourself. If that’s your final word on the subject, then you’re not the right guy.” Her throat tightened. “But if you ever change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

Stupid man
. “You probably won’t, but if you ever do, you know where to find me.” She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. She would not reach for him.

He nodded. “Okay.” And he turned and left.

She didn’t move. Instead, ever the optimist, she stood there praying that he’d get partway down the hall and realize that he’d just abandoned his chance to live a whole life. For the rest of the day and well into the long, cold night, she kept expecting her intercom to buzz or her phone to ring. This was the man who’d driven through a blizzard to be with her. If he gave himself time to analyze that crazy trip, he might figure out why he’d made it.