Skin Deep (18 page)

Megan sniffed, but she didn’t try to pull away. “When your gun fired, I … I thought it was Donny’s. I thought … I thought he’d shot Emily.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a chance to warn you.”

She tilted her head back, looked up at him. “No, please don’t apologize. You saved her life. You saved mine. I … I just didn’t know you were there.”

“I came in the same way he did—through your crawl space. It empties out behind your furnace. Did you know that?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I won’t be going back there again.”

She had a long road ahead of her there, as state law mandated the cleanup of meth labs to such a degree that sometimes the only real option was to demolish the home and rebuild. But whatever she had to do, Nate wouldn’t let her face it alone.

“I’m sorry, Nate.” She drew away, looked up at him, took his hand. “I’m sorry I left the ranch the way I did. I … I heard Chuck telling your father the things he’d read about me in the newspaper, and your father looked so angry. I couldn’t stand to think my being there was leaving you open to gossip, so I…”

“Ran.”

Her gaze fell. “So I ran.”

“My father
was
angry—at Chuck.” Nate sat in the chair beside the bed, bringing his face to her level. “He took Chuck to his office to tell him to mind his own damned business. But I think that was just an excuse, Megan. I think you’d been looking to run anyway. I could feel it—you drawing away from me minute by minute all day. Why, Megan?”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, spilled down her cheeks. “Did you ever have anything you wanted so much that when you got it, it didn’t feel real?”

“Yeah.” Nate had felt that way when she had kissed his scars.

“I care about you so much, Nate. But my past—it follows me everywhere. After last night, I … I just couldn’t wait around for the moment when you realized you don’t want … someone like
me 
… in your life.”

“Oh, Megan.” Nate cupped her cheek in his palm. “You saw beneath my skin and accepted the man I am, scars and all. Why is it
so hard
for you to believe that I can accept your scars, too?”

She stared at him as if in amazement, then laughed through her tears. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Hell, yeah, I do.” He leaned in, kissed her. “I’m not asking for forever right now, but I
am
asking for tomorrow. Promise me you’ll
try
. Promise me you won’t give on up on whatever this is between us—not till we’ve given it everything we have. I won’t let you down.”

“Oh, Nate!” She looked straight into his eyes. “I promise.”

# # #

Megan carried a drowsy Emily out to the parking lot, Nate on one side of her, Sophie and Marc on the other. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her baby girl and sleep—for a week, if possible. Her boss had given her the next few days off, insisting she take time to recover. Since Thanksgiving was Thursday, that gave Megan a full week to recuperate—and figure out where she was going to be living for the next few months until she could decontaminate and sell her house.

Julian was waiting outside for them. “How are you doing?”

“Uncle Julie?” Emily stirred sleepily.

“Hey, sweetie, I’m here. You look like a little girl who’s ready for bedtime.” Julian turned to Marc. “Your SUV’s warming up over there.”

Megan was about to say goodnight to Nate when a pickup hauling a horse trailer pulled into the parking lot beside them, the letters C and R painted on its side.

Nate stared. “What in the hell does the old man think he’s doing?”

Jack climbed out and walked toward them, wearing a sheepskin barn jacket, a gray cowboy hat on his head.

Emily perked up in Megan’s arms and reached for him. “Jack!”

“Good evening there, Miss Emily.” He hugged her, then met Megan’s gaze. “I was sorry to hear about what happened. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thank you.”

Megan introduced Jack to everyone and everyone to Jack.

“I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity,” Jack said when he shook Marc’s hand. “I had that wanted poster up on the barn wall for months.”

Marc grinned. “Want me to autograph it for you?”

But Jack’s attention was on Emily again. He motioned for them to follow him. “I brought someone to see you, Miss Emily.”

Megan looked to Nate.

Nate shrugged. “He’s supposed to be driving Baby Doe to the equine hospital at Colorado State University. I guess he thought he’d stop on the way and—”

“I sent Chuck in with Baby Doe.” Jack opened up the back door, disappeared inside for a moment.

A horse’s hindquarters appeared at the door, the horse backing slowly down a ramp.

“Buckwheat!” Emily squealed. “You bringed my horsie!”

“Well, of course I brought your horsie!” Jack frowned, tying the reins to a hitch on the trailer’s side. “When a little girl has a bad night like you had tonight, sometimes she just needs her horsie.”

Megan was afraid she was going to cry again. She handed Emily to Jack, who carried her over to the gelding.

Buckwheat tossed his head and snorted a greeting.

Emily leaned forward, hugged the horse’s neck. “Oh, Buckwheat, I’m so happy to see you. There was bad, bad man, and he was going to hurt Mommy, but Nate shot him, and he’s gone now. I was so scared.”

Buckwheat whickered, seeming to listen, tolerating Emily’s affection with good spirits.

And then everyone crowded around, petting the horse’s muzzle, patting his neck.

Megan’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome.” His gaze was fixed on Emily, a suspicious sheen in his eyes. “And by the way, if I have a problem with you, you’ll know it because I’ll tell you. So don’t you ever run out on me again, young lady. And know this—you’ve got a home at the ranch as long as you need one. Anyone who has a problem with that can get the hell off my payroll and off my land.”

“Yes, sir.” Megan felt Nate’s arm go around her shoulder. She looked up at him. “Would you mind if Emily and I came home with you tonight?”

He kissed her forehead. “If you’re sure it’s what you want to do. I don’t want to rush you. I want you to feel—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “I’m sure.”

In short order, Buckwheat was loaded back into the trailer and the doors secured.

Sophie appeared carrying one of her kids’ car seats. “You can borrow it for as long as you need it. We have an extra.”

“Thanks, Sophie.” Megan gave her sister-in-law—and closest friend—a hug.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Marc asked, his gaze following Nate, who was loading the car seat into the backseat of his truck.

“Yes, I am. I really care about him, Marc, and he cares about me.”

“Alright then.” Marc nodded. “Call if you need me.”

“I will.” Megan watched her brother walk away, Julian and Sophie beside him.

And as she stood there in the dark, something Nate had said last night came back to her.

It’s not so much that the world won’t forgive you, Megan, honey. It seems to me that you won’t forgive yourself.

And she realized he was right. She’d never really forgiven herself—for what she’d done to her brother, for what she’d done to herself, for what she’d done to Emily.

But, how, exactly, did one forgive one’s self?

Maybe she didn’t have to figure that out tonight. Maybe it was enough just to know it was something she needed to do. Maybe it was enough for now just to be conscious of it.

And then Nate was there, beside her. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

He walked her to his truck, opened the door for her, and steadied her as she climbed into the warmth of the cab. Emily was already sound asleep in the backseat, a blanket tucked around her. Then they set out, Jack following behind them with the horse trailer.

And as the lights of Denver disappeared in the rearview mirror, the mountains gleaming white in the moonlight ahead, Megan knew the weight of the past was still with her. But with Nate beside her, it no longer felt so heavy.

S
even months later

A
lone for the first time all morning, Megan stared into the floor-length mirror.

A bride stared back at her.

If you had asked her last fall whether she’d be getting married in June, she would have laughed and shaken her head, knowing with one-hundred percent certainty that she would not. And yet here she was, about to marry a man she loved more than life, a man who cherished her, a man who had become a doting father to her precious daughter.

The bride in the mirror smiled.

The Vatana Watters gown had transformed her, lengths of ivory washed silk organza and silk taffeta making her feel like a princess, the intricately embroidered bodice fitting perfectly, the pink silk sash at her waist the perfect touch to make the gown a little less formal for an outdoor wedding. She wore nothing on her head, nothing on her wrists or throat, the princess cut Canadian diamond studs Nate had given her for Christmas and her two-karat princess cut engagement ring her only adornment. Her hair had been styled into waves, the sides drawn back into a silver barrette, the length of it left to spill over her shoulders. Her makeup was minimal. She looked … classy, beautiful,
happy
.

And she
was
happy—happier than she’d dreamed she could be.

She turned to the side, glanced down at the skirt and the chapel train, loving the way the dress moved, loving the way it made her feel.

What would Nate think?

He hadn’t seen the gown. In fact, he hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning at breakfast. She’d packed up and stayed at Marc’s house for the night so that she and Sophie could focus on all the little details—manicure, pedicure, facial—and so that they could honor the tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding.

Nate had had his hands full anyway, getting the meadow at the picnic shelter ready for the wedding and two hundred guests. Though he hadn’t wanted a bachelor party, Marc and Julian had insisted, getting all the guys together and dragging Nate through the bars of downtown Denver. Meanwhile, Sophie had invited her circle of friends over for a bachelorette party that had consisted of a dessert buffet, romantic comedies—and a few risqué gifts.

And now Megan was twenty minutes away from walking down the aisle.

A knock came at the door, and Sophie walked in, Emily behind her. Sophie was Megan’s matron of honor and wore a Watters gown of soft blue, while Emily was the flower girl, her gown a tiny replica of Megan’s, a crown of rosebuds on her blond head.

“Are you ready?” Sophie retrieved Megan’s bouquet of pink cabbage roses. “The limo is here.”

It was a ten-minute drive to the picnic shelter—the same route they’d traveled by sleigh last November.

Megan nodded, smiled. “Yes.”

She felt like she’d waited a lifetime for this moment.

Another knock.

Sophie opened the door just a crack, then stepped back as Marc entered.

He took one look at Megan—and then just stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “You look …
beautiful
.”

Megan smiled at his reaction. “Thanks. You look pretty decent yourself.”

Dressed in a black summer tuxedo with an understated brown vest and brown and black striped silk tie, he looked much better than he had when he’d stumbled in the house drunk at three in the morning. He glanced over at Sophie. “Can I have just a minute with Megan?”

“Just don’t make her cry. That’s not waterproof mascara.” Sophie reached for Emily’s hand, still holding Megan’s bouquet in the other. “We’ll wait for you in the limo. Do you have to go potty, Emily?”

Marc waited until Sophie and Emily were gone, then drew Megan into his arms, and for a moment he just held her. “My baby sister is all grown up.”

Megan fought the lump in her throat. “I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you. You know that, right? When I think of what I put you through…”

Marc had done so much for her, rescuing her from the streets, risking his life repeatedly, sacrificing six years of freedom to protect her.

He stepped back, tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Hey, you were never a burden.
Never
. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, felt the pricking of tears.

“Besides, you’ve got to give yourself some credit.
You
made yourself into the woman you are today. I am so damned proud you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He hugged her again, then drew back and looked at his watch. “We need to go. The groom is waiting.”

# # #

Nate glanced at the time.

“Looking at your damned watch every ten seconds isn’t going to make her get here any faster.” The old man sat in the shade of the picnic shelter in his dress uniform, his medals polished, his Ranger tab as crisp and new as if he’d earned it last week and not fifty years ago. He grabbed another folding chair, opened it, motioned for Nate to sit.

Nate had no idea why he was nervous. It wasn’t the stereotypical fear of tying the knot that men supposedly felt. He wasn’t afraid to be married. He’d known a month into his relationship with Megan than he wanted her beside him for the rest of this life. If he could put a finger on what was making him so edgy it would be…

“I want everything to be perfect for her.” Nate adjusted his saber and sat.

“It will be. Hell, son, that girl loves you so damned much you could ask her to marry you in a hog pen, and she’d say ‘yes.’”

This made Nate grin in no small part because it was most likely true. “Were you nervous when you and mom got married?”

His dad frowned as if struggling to recall. “I was a hell of a lot more hung over than you are, but, yeah, I guess I was.”

At least the old man could admit it.

Nate took a deep breath, willed himself to enjoy the anticipation of watching Emily come down the aisle, of seeing Megan as a bride, of slipping the gold band his father carried in his jacket pocket onto her finger. “You do have the rings, right?”