A Cowboy's Touch (34 page)

The seconds passed in slow motion. Each jolt of the bull sent shocks of panic through Abigail. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable fall. She heard the announcer counting off the seconds, wished they’d go faster.

Eight seconds. Mad Hornet bucked, then made a sudden twist to the right. Then Wade was falling.

Abigail’s fingers bit into her palms. He hit the ground hard. She winced at the sudden impact.

The rodeo clown distracted Mad Hornet, but Abigail’s eyes were on Wade’s still form.
Move, Wade!

Then he shifted. He pulled himself to his feet, collected his hat, and exited the floor. Abigail let out her breath.

“You can breathe now,” Reagan said. “He’s fine.”

Abigail set her hand against her aching chest. “Why’s he—” She looked at her mom, at Reagan. “Why are we—”

“That’s something you need to ask him,” her mom said.

Why was he here? Didn’t he know the media would be all over him? There were TV reporters here. She’d seen the vans in the parking lot. He’d never get back to Moose Creek undiscovered.

“Like,
now
, Abs.” Reagan stood. “Come on.” They squeezed their way down the row.

The announcer continued. “There you have it, folks; he’s a man used to winning, and tonight’s no different! Let’s hear it for J. W. Ryan!” The crowd roared.

If nothing else, maybe they could shield Wade from the reporters. Why, oh, why had he come here? She caught snatches of conversation in the stands. Everyone was talking about J. W. Ryan, ignoring the announcer who was talking about awards.

Abigail followed her mom and Reagan down the stands and circled the arena to an entrance that said
Cowboys and Cowgirls
.

“They won’t let us in,” Abigail said.

But the man at the gate ushered them through. They followed the crowd of cowboys heading toward a rail that overlooked the arena. A mass of people, some with cameras, formed a throng, and she knew Wade was at the center.

“Are you back on the circuit, J. W.?”

“Where’ve you been the last four years?”

The reporters were relentless, yelling their questions across the heads of admiring cowboys. They’d never get in there.

Two men in orange vests pushed into the crowd. “All right, y’all, break it up! Stand back!”

“Give the man room to breathe!”

The crowd parted, drew back, but the videographers pushed to the front, still barraging him with questions.

“Hold it down now!” a cowboy shouted. “Give the man a chance to speak.”

The reporters quieted. Cameras flashed, one after another.

Abigail pushed through the cowboys in front of her, needing to get to him, somehow save him from those selfish reporters. When she reached the front, the employee held her back with an outstretched arm just as Wade’s eyes found hers.

His eyes locked on hers, softened. His stilted smile relaxed.

And then he spoke. “Know y’all are shocked to see me.” His familiar Texas drawl was the sweetest sound. “Thanks for the friendly welcome.” He rubbed his backside. “Your bull gave me a good, hard ride.”

The crowd chuckled.

“Where ya been hiding, Mr. Ryan?” a reporter shouted.

His lips tilted. Flashes fired. “Getting to that in a minute.” He found Abigail’s gaze once again.

Her breath caught and held.
What are you doing? Why are you doing this?

“Came out today to make an announcement,” Wade said. “Know y’all have a bunch of questions, and I’ll answer them. Not today though.”

The crowd groaned. A reporter swore.

“Are you living here in Wisconsin?”

“I’ll answer that question and a lot more real soon. Giving an exclusive interview to
Viewpoint Magazine
. It’ll be in their October issue. Don’t mean to tease, but that’s the announcement I came to make. Promise all your questions’ll be answered in that interview.”

Why had he said that? The magazine was closing—there wouldn’t even be an October issue.

He made eye contact with a few nearby cowboys. “I gotta run. Been nice jawin’ with y’all.” He started toward the exit, toward her. The security and several big cowboys held the reporters off.

Wade stopped when he reached her. His gaze burned into hers as he reached out. Abigail put her hand in his, then he turned and led her through the crowd. Her mind spun as they scrambled for the exit. What was going on? Against the back wall, Reagan and Mom watched them pass, smiling through tears.
They knew
.

“Come on.” Wade pulled her down a hall and out another exit where a young cowboy stood by a big brown horse.

“Thanks, buddy,” Wade said to the guy. “We’ll have him back soon.”

“Take your time, Mr. Ryan.”

Wade swept Abigail off her feet and set her in the saddle. Seconds later he was behind her, nudging the horse to a gallop.

40

A
bigail clutched Wade’s arms as the horse bolted off.

“Hang on,” he said.

She didn’t know where he was taking her—didn’t care where he was going. She was with Wade, and that was all that mattered.

They galloped through town, took a turn down a side road. After they’d ridden awhile, she felt him turn in the saddle.

“Think we lost them.” He slowed the horse a bit. “There’s a park up ahead. Doing okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He nudged the horse into a gallop, and the scenery blurred past. Abigail held on tightly. When they reached the wooded park, he slowed, guiding the horse deeper into the park through a copse of towering evergreens. They emerged by a riverbank.

“Whoa.” He pulled back. When the horse stopped, Wade dropped the reins. “Come sit by the river with me.”

He dismounted, then helped Abigail from the horse. She followed him, the bed of pine needles shushing their footsteps. When they reached the grassy shoreline, they sank down into its softness.

She waited, watching him. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. Was afraid if she did, he’d disappear, turn out to be a figment of her imagination. “Are we safe here?” she asked. “What if the reporters followed us?”

“Had some friends detain them. They’ll find me after the interview anyway.”

If
Viewpoint
published his interview, the media would be all over Moose Creek. She couldn’t let him sacrifice his privacy. It was too much. “No, Wade.”

“It’s already done. Worked it out with your mom. I want to do this.”

“But your privacy . . . Maddy.”

“I’m done hiding.” He looked at her, his blue eyes intense. “I want to do this . . . for you, Abby. I don’t expect anything in return.”

What did that mean? He didn’t want her anymore? When he looked away, she was suddenly uncertain and afraid. Afraid all this hadn’t been about them at all. Had she read too much into his grand gesture?

She wanted to reach out and touch him. Wished he would take her into his arms. But instead he stared over the water that rippled past.

“I want to tell you about Lizzie,” he said finally.

You don’t have to
, she was about to say. But the purpose in his voice stopped her. It was something he needed to do.

“Go ahead,” she said.

He pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on them. “I told you before that we were happy in the beginning, but that something happened after Maddy was born. Lizzie became depressed, agitated. It was subtle at first, but it got worse as the years passed. I begged her to see a doctor.”

“She wouldn’t go?”

Wade shook his head. “Didn’t believe in drugs, and after a while she blamed her moods on me.”

The sadness in his voice made her want to wrap her arms around him. Instead, she wrapped them around her knees. “Was it postpartum depression?”

“I think so. She was always the jealous sort, but after Maddy was born, it got out of hand. She imagined I was cheating on her. But it wasn’t true. Even in the darkest days of our marriage, I never touched another woman, despite how the tabloids made it look.” He looked at her as if he needed her to understand.

His vulnerability made her melt. “I believe you. You’re not that kind of man.”

Seemingly satisfied, he looked back out over the river. “Lizzie had a fit whenever I went out. But I had to get out of there sometimes— away from the dark cloud that hung over our house, over our relationship. It was suffocating. She stopped going anywhere by the time Maddy was a toddler. Our relationship was . . . strained. I almost took Maddy and left a few times, but I still loved Lizzie, worried about what would happen if we left.”

“What about her family?”

“They were messed up, dysfunctional. Never even came to her funeral.”

“That’s awful.”

“Our life looked so enchanting, but it was just painful and lonely. The day Lizzie died, I’d placed first in the qualifying rounds, and I was in the mood to celebrate. Came home, showered, begged Lizzie to come. I was meeting Dylan and a bunch of friends for supper at a local hangout.

“I was high on success when I came home, thought I had a chance of convincing Lizzie to go.” He shook his head. “She was mad that I wanted to go out. When she wouldn’t go, I offered to take Maddy, but she started making accusations about a certain cowgirl on the circuit. I’d admitted to Lizzie at one point that Celeste had made overtures. I never encouraged the woman, but Lizzie didn’t believe me.”

She could feel his desperation to make his wife believe him, and her heart ached for him. “Must’ve been frustrating.”

“I was making more money rodeoing than I ever dreamed, but all Lizzie wanted was to move away and start a ranch somewhere. I kept putting her off, wanted to earn as much as I could while I was in my prime.

“We had a huge fight that night. I left angry and stayed out late. When I got home, Lizzie was asleep on the couch. I saw her in the darkness, thought about carrying her to bed, but I was still mad. I checked on Maddy and went to bed.”

She could see the pain on his face and wanted to soothe him with a touch but wasn’t sure it would be welcomed.

“I woke early,” he continued. “And when I went into the living room . . .” He swallowed hard. “She was gone. There was an empty pill bottle on the floor. The woman refused to take medication to help her, but took a whole bottle to kill herself.” His jaw worked.

Abigail felt his sorrow as her own. What a tragic thing to experience. “I’m so sorry.”

“Called for help, but it was too late. If I’d checked on her when I came in, maybe . . .”

She set a hand on his arm. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. She was ill, Wade. She needed help and refused it. You can’t blame yourself.”

He drew in a breath and blew it out. “All hell broke loose after that. I was in shock, had Maddy to take care of—a little girl who’d just lost her mommy. Our housekeeper had heard us arguing the night before, and that caused speculation—” He shook his head.

Abigail’s eyes burned at the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry. That’s so unfair. It must’ve been horrible.”

“By the time I was cleared, I just wanted to take Maddy and disappear. So I looked into property in Moose Creek. Had no ties there or anything that would leave a trail. The property was on the market at the right time, and I bought it.”

“Do you ever regret leaving Texas? Leaving everything behind?”

“I brought the only thing that mattered. Moose Creek was out of touch with celebrity gossip, and the few who recognized me respected Dylan’s grandfather enough to keep quiet. They gave us a soft place to fall.”

Just what he and Maddy needed at the time. “Does Maddy know the truth?”

“After we settled in Montana, I told her. Didn’t want her finding out some other way, and I didn’t want her thinking Lizzie didn’t love her.”

“It’s good that she knows.” It would make it easier on her when the interview hit the stands.

It hit her then that Wade had finally told her, that he trusted her enough to reveal that wound. That alone meant the world. “Thank you for telling me, Wade. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Wade tugged his hat, a familiar move that set her heart aflutter. “I wanted to.”

He looked at her again, and she wanted to drown in the warm pool of his eyes, wanted to dive right in there and wallow around for an eternity or two.

“I was a jerk that last day at the ranch. Jumped to conclusions, didn’t give you a chance to explain—”

He had it all wrong. “No, Wade. I’m the one who’s sorry—so sorry for hurting you and Maddy. I never meant to, it’s the last thing I wanted to—”

“Hush, Abby.” He reached out, laid his palm on her cheek.

She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. His touch felt so good; she hadn’t known how much she’d missed it until that second.

And the way he was looking at her now . . . She heard everything those eyes said, and she soaked it all in. Her lungs were ready to explode, her heart was ready to burst from her chest.

When he leaned toward her, she forgot everything. Everything but his touch. His lips found hers, brushed gently across them. They were warm and soft and everything she remembered. She touched his face, loving the familiar angles, the rough feel of his jaw.