How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart (12 page)

He was happy for her. He was glad he'd helped. But he was still bitter about how things had ended up. He'd offered her everything—his love—and she'd handed it right back to him.

Dawson came out of the tack room with Tara just as Clay turned the corner. Tara blushed and Dawson wore a foolish grin. “Hey,” he said to Clay, keeping Tara close to his side. “Glad you finally made it.”

Dawson's face was cheerful but Clay heard the underlying steel in the words. He should have come earlier and made an early excuse to depart. Irritation that had been bubbling all day flared. Dawson was going to play big brother when he knew nothing of the situation. He would
blame Clay when it had been Meg who told him to leave her alone. He didn't even know what Dawson's problem was. He had nothing to fear from Clay. It was over. “Just finishing up some haying,” he said lightly, knowing it sounded lame. “This was the first I could get away.”

Tara looked up at Dawson, then back at Clay. “I think I'll go get a drink.” She moved out of Dawson's embrace but Clay heard her whisper, “Be nice,” as she left.

Clay studied his friend. His best friend. Since this whole thing had begun with Megan things had been tense between them, as he always knew it would be. Ever since the wedding he'd felt Dawson's watchful eye. Dating a friend's sister was problematic—Dawson had no idea exactly how problematic. Clay didn't want to get into it so he deliberately deflected. “Things are getting pretty serious between you and Tara.”

“You could say that. Not so serious between you and my sister, though, right?”

It felt like a challenge and Clay was just frustrated enough to be annoyed that Dawson wouldn't take the hint. “Maybe you should ask Meg about that.”

“I'm asking you.”

What a time for Dawson to start playing the protective big brother. Clay clenched his teeth. “You don't have to worry about me making a move on your sister, okay?”

Dawson took a step forward. “I warned you about hurting her.” Dawson frowned. “Now she's moping through the house and you're nowhere to be found. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Damn it, Clay, I should kick your…”

“Do it, then,” Clay suggested, feeling his temper smolder. “Just do it if it will make you feel better.”

Dawson's steely gaze tempered. “I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't think she's the only one hurting.”

Clay met Dawson's gaze evenly. Wasn't this a fine turnaround? And the timing for pushing them together was perfect. Clay sighed. “You really should talk to Meg, bro. Though if you wanted to knock me around a bit I probably wouldn't stop you. I can't possibly feel any worse.”

Dawson's body relaxed. “You love her then.”

Clay considered lying and then figured there was no point. He'd counted on Dawson taking Meg's side, he realized. Knowing her brother, his friend, was trying to fix things between them only made the cut that much deeper.

“Of course I love her, you idiot. But it's not all up to me.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Frankly that's none of your business.”

Dawson shook his head and leaned back on the stall door. “What a pair you make. Jen said Meg's being as stubborn as you are and she's been moping around the house for days. Meg wouldn't even deliver your invitation for today. Neither of you have come out to the pub in weeks and don't say you're too busy. You're no more busy than the rest of us, and we've
all
noticed you dancing circles around each other. I don't know what happened, and—” he gave Clay a dark look “—I don't think I want to. But you guys need to talk. This is crazy.”

“Leave it alone, Dawson. Not tonight, not during her big night.”

“But…”

“Don't you get it? I don't want to talk to her right now.”

Clay heard a choked sound to his left and looked up. Meg was standing there, her dark eyes enormous and shining with tears. For a flash, a current seemed to run between them, the same buzz he felt every time she
looked at him. Would it always be this way? This jolt of electricity? The sizzling attraction? This was why he'd avoided her. It was too hard to love her and have this distance between them.

She'd heard what he'd just said, he was sure of it, and had completely misinterpreted it out of context. Damn it, was nothing going to go right tonight? He should have followed his first instinct when the invitation had landed in his mailbox—stayed home.

“Meg, I…”

Loud voices sounded by the barn entrance, coming closer and Meg's eyes widened further with alarm. She wouldn't want anyone to see her upset, and he ignored Dawson and rushed forward. Before she could even voice a protest, he grabbed her hand and hauled her into the tack room that Dawson and Tara had just vacated. “I'm locking the door,” Clay advised Dawson in an undertone. “You make sure we have some privacy.”

Clay shut the door and latched the hook. The room was a good size, but the abundance of tack and supplies made it feel smaller, closed in. It smelled of leather and the musty but pleasant scent of blankets. Clay looked at Meg and felt his heart take a leap. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly. She wore a Western style dress in pink, of all things, with a belt slung over her hips and new boots. The hue set off the roses in her cheeks, and he noticed that her hair had grown more, curling out at the tips in a soft, feminine look. The weeks of avoiding her hadn't helped at all. “I don't think I've ever seen you in pink before.”

“The pink is for…”

“I know,” he said gently. These days the color pink was automatically associated with breast cancer awareness.

“I have to stop hiding behind it,” she said quietly. “I can't pretend it didn't happen. That it didn't change me.”

Clay swallowed. It had changed her in more ways than she knew. He'd loved the old Meg but he hadn't been in love with her the same way he was now. He'd relied on her but he hadn't been the strong man she deserved. That ended now. He still loved her. Still wanted her.

He still wanted it all. Still believed in her.

And she was still looking at him like he couldn't be trusted.

 

Meg watched Clay run a hand over his face. When she'd invited him she hadn't envisioned them being locked in a tack room together. She'd rather thought he'd come, look around, shoot the breeze with Andrew and Noah and Dawson and stay out of her way.

As the hours had ticked by, she'd convinced herself he wasn't coming and tried to push away the disappointment. She told herself he'd rejected her invitation and her the way she'd asked him to. She blinked. Asked? No, she'd demanded he leave her alone and he'd done just that.

Seeing him with Dawson had given her heart such a lurch she was certain he could hear it. And then she'd heard what he said and the words still rang in her ears—
I don't want to talk to her right now.

She'd been successful then, in driving him away. In making him see reason. But she'd also been right. The friendship between them was destroyed. Things would never be the same. Their houses, their businesses would only be a mile apart but the distance between them in every other way was impossible to measure. How could she survive it, knowing how much she loved him?

But how could she not? His ranch was his life and she had built hers here. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? A
place of her own. Her own legacy, a life-affirming symbol, a way to ease her family's burdens. She couldn't give it up. Didn't want to give it up. For everything there was a price, and the deterioration of her relationship with Clay was hers.

“I'm fine, Clay. I should get back to the guests.”

She squared her shoulders. She could do this. Took one step, two. Couldn't look into his strong, beautiful face as she passed by him to go to the door. And then his hand grabbed her wrist. “Don't go.”

She stopped, fought for breath. Still couldn't meet his gaze. She had to be strong. Nothing had changed. “I have to. Please, let me go, Clay.”

“I wish to God I could.”

He dropped her wrist, but Meg couldn't move now. If she walked away it would be forever and her feet refused to listen to her brain. They'd hurt each other so badly. She dropped her chin. “Why are you making this so difficult? Why can't you just understand what I was saying and leave it at that?”

Why couldn't they just stop caring about each other?

“I've tried,” he whispered hoarsely. “Lord knows I've tried.”

“You can let me go,” she whispered back. “You have to put your foolish ideas out of your mind. I'm not the girl for you. You'll see I'm right one day.”

“So what are you going to do, run again?”

“Again?” She looked at him then, as the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder. There was no challenge in his eyes, no anger or pain. Just acceptance. “What do you mean, again?”

“You told me once that you would always be there for me,” he replied. “But you lied. Oh, I know, when you got
sick you didn't want to be a burden to those who loved you. When you came back, you kept everyone at arm's length. The moment I got close you pushed me away. And then things changed, Meg. I needed you. I told you I loved you and you couldn't leave fast enough. You accused me of being scared but it's not me, it's you now. Run, Megan. Run so you never have to face what's right in front of you. So you never have to care too much. You're good at it.”

Meg's lips dropped open. “How dare you,” she whispered. “How dare you judge me, when you don't know…”

“I tried to understand. I tried time and time again. You let me in, once.” His gaze was steady on hers and made her feel very, very small. “You let me in once and what you saw scared you to…”

“To death,” Meg answered. Clearly. Because that was what this was really about. “Say it. To death.”

“I don't need to, not anymore,” he replied. “But I think you might.”

Meg moved away, as far as she could in the crowded room. She rested her hand on the horn of a new saddle. They were going to clear the air once and for all. Tonight. While business associates and clients and neighbors enjoyed free food and music and laughter, she and Clay were going to ground zero in their relationship. So be it.

“I'm very familiar with death,” she said sharply. “More familiar than you can imagine.”

“And it scares you. You faced it and won but you're not so sure you can again. You think I don't understand? Do you think it's been easy for me knowing there are no guarantees? At least I'm still here.”

Anger flared in Meg's chest. “Well, bully for you. I'm sorry I'm not the perfect Clay Gregory who has made all the right choices. Do you have any flaws, Clay? Any weaknesses?”

He didn't reply, but the answer may have just as well been spoken since they both heard it.
She
was his weakness. How many times had she been tempted? The words were there waiting to be said. In would be so easy right now to just give in and pretend it was all okay. But Meg had been through the fire once before and she knew what it did to a person. And every time she thought about giving in, she felt the lick of those flames and knew she couldn't do that to him.

“When are you going to stop running?” he demanded.

She scrambled to make sense of things. Clay always opened up all these feelings she'd rather keep shuttered away. He kept pushing but not hearing her! “You don't listen,” she said, letting go of the saddle horn. She folded her arms around her middle, trying to hold on to her emotions but they were bubbling way too close to the surface. “You don't get it. I'm not running anymore, Clay. If anything, I'm seeing things clearly. I see you. I really see you. And you need someone who can be there for you always. I can't give you that. You're right, okay?” Her voice lifted but she was unable to stop. “I
am
afraid to face it again. I
am
afraid that the next time I won't win. And if I don't win, that means I die. It means losing everything! You need more than that. You need someone who will be there forever. You need someone who can give you lots of babies and a happy house and…and security. I can't give you those things, Clay, and I want you to have them.” Her voice was high and shaking now. “I can't make you happy! So please. Please, find someone else!”

Clay stepped forward. “There is no one else!” he yelled. The air in the room vibrated as the words rang out.

Then, to Meg's dismay, Clay dropped his head. “There is no one else.”

Those words, quietly uttered, shredded her emotions more than any angry outburst. She felt like crying but knew it wouldn't help either of them. She'd never truly seen Clay defeated before, and if her heart hadn't been broken before, it was now. She had wanted to save him from pain, and all she'd done was destroy him.

Meg held her breath as Clay raised his head. His eyes glittered and everything in her melted. She hadn't seen Clay cry since the one time she'd caught him crying in the pasture after his mother's abandonment. He was right. She had promised him she would always be there for him but she hadn't kept her promise, because she had held herself back from loving him when he needed her most.

Not in all the years she'd known him had she seen him this emotionally naked. And it was because of her.

“D
ON'T,”
she whispered. “Oh, Clay. I would give anything not to hurt you.”

He let his gaze drop to her mouth, her beautiful, bow-shaped mouth that just now was quivering with emotion. He understood now and rather than ruin him he felt the glimmerings of hope. She was afraid, but afraid
for
him. It changed everything. He took another step closer and he could see the sheen of moisture sitting on her lower eyelids. If she blinked it would surely spill over on to her cheeks. But she didn't blink. He held her gaze, drawing her to him like a magnet. He lifted his hand and ran it down her arm until he clasped her hand in his.

“I went into this with my eyes wide open,” he said. “I was so afraid, Meg. You'd always been there for me. It was easy with you and suddenly all that was gone. All the hateful things I said before you went to Calgary—they ate at me for months. I tried to get through to you and I failed. I thought of you alone, taking your treatment, and it nearly drove me out of my mind, wondering how you were. Yes, I was afraid. But not knowing was worse. The mind can think up horrible scenarios.”

“I was afraid to let anyone see me that way.”

“I know,” he answered. “But I missed you. I missed seeing you all the time and laughing with you and I
missed just knowing you were there.” He squeezed her fingers. “I missed you,” he repeated simply.

“I missed you, too. Thought about you when I was alone, wondered how you were, wished I could talk to you. But I knew it would be too hard for you…”

“So you tried to protect me, too,” he murmured. How many times over the years had she tried to spare him from pain? How had he never seen what was right in front of him before—how much he loved her?

He rubbed his thumb along her wrist. “When you came back, I tried again. I told myself it was because there were years of friendship between us. I tried to ignore how I really felt because I was scared, Meg. I admit it. I watched my father die, and I watched it destroy my mother. She didn't just leave him, she left me. And I didn't ever want to give anyone the power to leave me again.”

“This is exactly what I'm saying.” Meg nodded, but Clay put a finger over her lips.

“Hush, and let me finish.”

He slid his finger off her mouth, but his gaze dropped there just for a moment, almost like a kiss before he continued on.

“It didn't work. I fell in love with you, Meg. I knew it the night of the wedding. You were so beautiful. Transformed. I acted on impulse and kissed you but it changed everything. Suddenly you weren't just my friend anymore—you were so much more. I tried to back off. I wanted to protect my heart so I told myself that I'd be better off keeping my distance and so I decided to help you with this place instead.”

He swept his hand out to the side. “And it's amazing. You've done it, and it's going to be wonderful. I'm so proud of you, Meg.”

“I owe you so much, Clay, I know that.”

“No, you don't. Because I didn't give it freely, you
see? I gave you this so I wouldn't have to give you myself. I'm not proud of that, but I understand it now and I won't make the same mistake again.”

He took her hand in his. “And then you got sick and I nearly went out of my mind with worry and worst case scenarios. It was then that I figured it out. It doesn't matter how hard I try to keep my heart safe. It's already yours. I tried to show you that. Tried to tell you that it didn't matter. I love you as you are. I accept that you come with risks. I want you anyway. No matter what.”

“And I keep pushing you away,” she whispered.

“Because you're afraid. Because you think you're not enough. But you are, Meg. Because there is no one else for me but
you
. There never has been, not since the day when you were seven years old and you took my hand in yours and said you would always be there. Why do you think all my relationships ended after a few weeks? It just took me a long time to figure it out. I had to face losing you to realize that I don't want to give up. I don't want to walk away. Because if I do that, I have nothing.”

Her lower lip quivered as she whispered, “I love you so much that the idea of having you and losing you again is paralyzing.”

His heart soared as she finally said the words he'd wanted to hear for so long. So close. It was all within his reach now. “Say it again.”

She swallowed, seemed to struggle with the words. Gorgeous girl, he knew it wasn't easy for her. But he'd wait. He'd wait forever if that was what it took to hear her say it again.

“I love you.”

“Now believe in it.”

He held out his arms.

 

She couldn't hold out any longer. In all the weeks, the months since she'd come home, she'd fought the need to walk into his embrace. With a sob she took the final step into his arms and the security and acceptance waiting. His arms tightened around her, holding her close. She wrapped hers around his ribs, spreading her hands over his shoulder blades. This was where she belonged. It was where she'd always belonged. How foolish she'd been to push it away.

For long moments they stood that way, holding on to each other. Something happened in those moments; a recognition that there was no more fighting feelings, no more fighting fate. That whatever was to come they'd face together. The muted sound of the music outside disappeared. Meg knew she should be out there to see people off. The business was what she'd worked toward for ages. But this…oh, this. This was far more important.

“Okay?” Clay finally spoke into the stillness, the word vibrating in his throat so that Meg felt it against her hair. She nodded, the stubble of his jaw rasping against the tender skin of her cheek. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful. It was okay. It was more than okay.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, lifting her hand and touching his face.

“No more sorry. No more hiding and running, Meg. Only love and trust and being there for each other from now on. You don't have to do this alone.”

“Now I have you beside me,” she replied with a wobbly smile. “I've loved you for so long, Clay.”

“How long?”

She smiled. “A long time. Maybe since you gave me this.” She put her hand in her skirt pocket and took out the rock.

“Good grief. You've kept that silly thing all this time?”

“Of course I did. I was eight years old and my hero gave it to me.” She smiled up at him. “It's my good luck charm, you know. I had it with me the day you asked me to be your date at the wedding. Where all this started.”

Clay stepped back a little and the air around her felt cold, until he knelt on the dusty floor of the tack room. “In that case…I probably should have waited. Taken you somewhere romantic and made it special, but I don't want to wait. I don't want us to waste a single moment, or piece of good luck.” He held her hand in his. “Will you marry me, Meg?”

She had no idea what the future held. But then, who did? She had been afraid to reach out her hand to him, afraid that he would not take it. But he had taken it anyway. And now that he had, she didn't intend to let it go. Clay Gregory. Her childhood hero, friend and now lover.

But one barrier still stood in their way, one thing that Meg knew she had to be honest about to be utterly fair to him. “Before I answer, Clay, you need to know that it might be difficult for me to have children. It could take a long time, or not at all.” She held her breath, hating the words, wishing she didn't have to say them. Now that happiness was so close, knowing she truly might not have children of her own felt very bitter indeed.

Clay got to his feet, the knee of his jeans dusty from the floor. He cupped her face in his hands, touched her lips with his, and smiled.

“Then that's how it is. If we want children, we will find a way, I promise. There's always adoption. Where would I be now if Aunt Stacy hadn't adopted me? Now,” he said firmly, “do you have any other objections or are you ready to give me an answer?”

She loved the hint of a smile that flirted with his lips as he asked. “Yes,” she answered, letting her heart fill
with joy where once fear had lived. “My answer is yes,” she repeated and gave a whoop when Clay lifted her in his arms and spun her in a jubilant circle.

 

November was usually known as a bleak, gray month, but to Meg it was the most glorious month of the year. The harvests were in, the first snows from the Rockies had given the prairie a dusting of white, and today she would marry Clay Gregory and start her new life. Downstairs the guests were waiting. Up here, in the biggest room of the Inn, Meg was soaking in every precious minute of the day she'd never thought she'd have.

Lily and Tara, dressed in bronze satin gowns, arranged Meg's train while Jen handed her a bouquet of warm-hued roses threaded with pearls. Only Meg and the florist knew that in the center of the arrangement was an oval rock with a golden streak through the middle. Meg reached out and took Jen's hand.

“Thank you,” she said, then turned to look at Lily and Tara. “All of you. For being there for me, even when I made it difficult. For helping make today so special.”

Jen stepped back and smiled. “You look gorgeous, Meg.”

“So do you.” Jen's dress was slightly different, the same rich bronze but featuring an empire waist similar to Meg's style. The latest member of the Laramie family, MacKenzie Gerald, was only twelve weeks old and Lily had worked her magic. The result was flattering styles for the bridesmaids and a stunning, flowing gown in ivory for Meg. The sheer overskirt was the most romantic thing Meg had ever seen.

There was a knock on the door. Jen's skirt made the shushing sound that only long gowns make as she went to the door and opened it a crack. She came back with a
smile. “Two minutes. And Drew says Clay's as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Direct quote.”

Meg wanted to laugh but could barely breathe. The girls picked up their bouquets and lined up at the door to make their descent down the stairs, where they'd wait at the door for their cue. Meg clutched her bouquet and followed. Her father waited at the door, slightly stooped because of his back but beaming in a tuxedo complete with jeweled bolo tie.

“Dad.”

“Sweetheart.”

They started down the stairs but halfway down her father stopped and pressed his free hand to her arm.

“Meg, I'm not the kind of man who expresses his feelings very well, or often. But I want you to know. I'm real proud of you, honey. Your mom and I both are. How you took on your treatment and how you built your own business. Clay's a good man, but I made it clear to him he's getting the real prize.”

“Dad.” Meg was in true danger of ruining her makeup as she blinked rapidly. It was tantamount to a speech for her father. Not that she'd ever questioned his love. It had always just been there.

“I didn't tell you to make you cry. I just…” He cleared his throat. “Before I give you away to another, I want you to know that we have never considered you a burden.” At Meg's startled look he smiled. “I may be a man of few words, but I see things, Meg. Having you as our daughter has been our privilege. Never a burden. Never forget how much we love you.”

“Oh, Daddy.” Meg sniffled and the congregated guests could wait. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hug.

He smiled. “Now, let's go get you married. You've kept Clay waiting long enough.”

And she had, she realized. The summer and fall had seemed endless, even though she'd had the business to get off the ground and they both had ranches to run. Now their interests would be joined; she was still going to run the stable as part of the Briggs family business with Clay as her partner.

The music started and the doors opened.

Clay waited at the end of the aisle and the moment their gazes met everything else faded away. She didn't see the faces of their friends, or the glowing candles, or the stands of flower arrangements. She only saw Clay, so tall and dashing in his tuxedo sporting his own bolo and spit-shined new boots. Clay, who'd challenged her at every moment. Clay, who'd believed in her when everyone else considered her a risk. Clay, who'd been so very sure of her when she hadn't even been sure of herself. His lips began to curve and so did hers, until they were both smiling brilliantly at each other. She was no longer afraid. Instead she was looking forward to their future together, no matter what it held for them.

Her hand was placed inside his, warm and secure. And when the minister asked, her answer was as crystal as a bell.

“I do.”