Sunflower Lane (22 page)

Ava found that her hands were clenched in her lap. Deliberately, she unclenched them. For some reason, her mind was flitting through time. Yes, she remembered it all. She’d been wild about Frank and Bob—they were both bringing her flowers and gifts, flattering her, competing for her. Still, in the back of her mind, well, she’d always thought she’d end up marrying Ben.

There had been a period of a few months where she’d done her best to convince him to attend college in Montana, instead of someplace far away. They’d argued about it. She’d figured if he saw her with other boys, he’d be more likely to come around, and stay right here in Lonesome Way.

She knew she’d been spoiled by her father. He’d adored her, and she became used to getting her way.

“So you’re telling me that you and Margie—it was . . . only that one night?”

“That’s right,” he said heavily. “One night that changed the course of my life. Her life, too, and maybe yours. I’m not saying I didn’t know what I was doing—and I’m not using the liquor as an excuse. I accept full responsibility.” He shook his head, his brow furrowed, and Ava felt the beginning of sympathy flowing through her as she saw the honesty in those brown eyes she’d once known so well.

“When Margie asked me to meet her at Cougar Rock a month later, I did. That’s when she told me she was pregnant.”

Ava had heard as much. Rumors had flown around the town like snippets of ribbon whipped by the wind. She didn’t say anything, only nodded.

“Damn, she was more frightened that day than any girl I’d ever seen. She was desperate that no one in town ever know. Her parents found out, though, and raised hell. They insisted she leave. Told her she had to go to her mother’s
family in Spokane. They didn’t want anyone here to know, either.”

His face grew more somber as the memories rushed back. “I was in shock, but I told her I’d marry her, go with her. Her father probably would have shot me if I hadn’t. But that’s not why I did it. I knew I was responsible. And she was a mess.” He drew a breath, his face tight with regret as he met Ava’s gaze.

“I tried to make it right. My life turned upside down, Ava, and so did Margie’s. Her mother’s family took us to a justice of the peace the day we got to Spokane, and he married us. Then we lived with her family while I looked for work.”

Ava couldn’t think of a thing to say. She simply sat there, taking in his words.

“There’s one more thing you should know. It wasn’t a happy time. I mean, Margie and I both tried to make it work, but she miscarried only a month after we were married—”

“Oh, Ben. I’m so terribly sorry.” And she was. She closed her eyes for a moment as their sadness touched her. When she opened them again and looked at him, it was with compassion.

“You tried to do the right thing. I respect that. And then . . . something so awful happened.” She shook her head. “I know it was a long time ago, but I am sorry—for you both.”

“Thank you.” He drew a long breath. “Without the child, there was no glue to hold us together. We tried to make things work for a few months and then we just drifted apart. Neither of us were happy. She met someone else first . . . and . . . well, the divorce was mutual. I left Spokane after everything was finalized and switched to a college in New York City as I’d always planned.” He cleared his throat. “Only thing is, I’d
planned
on going there with you.”

“But that wasn’t meant to be,” she said softly, trying to fight the dryness burning in her throat.

Ben had made a mistake, but he’d been so young. They’d both been. He hadn’t actually cheated on her.

And she hadn’t exactly behaved impeccably herself.

“I was so terribly proud back then,” she admitted quietly. “And so sure of myself.” She’d tried her best to make Ben jealous and crazy so he’d do just as she wished—which was to stay in Lonesome Way.

Because it suited her.

Her father had always indulged her and she’d wanted Ben to do the same.

Had it ever been true love between them?

To this day, she didn’t know. They’d been so young, so full of dreams
.

But different dreams.

She was older and a little wiser by the time she met Clyde. Still, looking at Ben Adkins now, tall and handsome still, his piercing gaze intent on her, feelings and memories swirled through her in a most confusing mix.

“I was very stubborn and spoiled in those days.” She’d never admitted that aloud before, not to anyone. “But you could have said good-bye to me, Ben.”

“You’re entirely right. I regret that I didn’t, Ava. I hope you can forgive me.”

Ava recognized the honesty of the boy she remembered in the serious man sitting opposite her.

It all seemed so long ago, and yet, she remembered it so clearly.

“We both made mistakes,” she began. “We were foolish . . . young. I know that I was spoiled—”

“Oh, that you were.” He chuckled.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she straightened her spine.

“You were also damned irresistible, Ava.” He spoke the words softly, ruefully.

For a moment she thought she glimpsed a spark in his eyes. A spark of something that had been there when he’d looked at her long ago. But before she could respond to the compliment, or decide whether to accept it with a smile or a frown, her son-in-law suddenly stepped into the living room.

“Ava, Mr. Adkins, coffee’s ready. Diana said to tell you there’s apple pie and ice cream.”

“I know there’s apple pie.” As Ava rose from her chair, Ben followed suit. “Seeing as I’m the one who baked it yesterday.”

But Ben wasn’t taking a step toward the kitchen. “Ava?” He stood, hat in hand, staring at her questioningly.

She realized he wanted to know whether he should stay for pie and coffee, or whether now that he’d said what needed saying between them, she wanted him to leave.

“We’ll continue our conversation another time.” She smiled at him. “But you should know, Ben, that my apple pie is considered one of the best in the county. I taught Sophie, my granddaughter, how to make it and now she sells it at her bakery in town. A most successful bakery! If you don’t come try it and judge for yourself, you’ll be making a great mistake.” With a gracious smile, she swept ahead of both men into the kitchen.

Doug Hartigan glanced at the older man and merely shook his head. He was used to his very dignified and usually sweet mother-in-law—but she didn’t normally put on such airs. Not that he could recall.

“I’ll be damned. Thank God that woman hasn’t changed.” Ben’s grin was almost as big as his hat. At that moment he didn’t look in the least like a retired CEO of a major corporation. He winked at Doug and, hat in hand, followed Ava Louise like an eager puppy dog into the Good Luck Ranch kitchen.

A fever of activity pulsed through Lonesome Way as the Fourth of July drew near. Dawn pearled the sky on a crystal-clear morning with only four days left until the parade. Until the fireworks, the speeches and celebrations, the quilt auction, the dance performances, and the bake sale—all to benefit the community center and raise money for the indoor basketball court.

In her bedroom on Sunflower Lane, Annabelle pressed a kiss to Wes’s chest. They lay entangled together on her bed, warm and naked, gazing into each other’s eyes. She was quickly coming to the conclusion that morning sex was possibly even more delicious than afternoon or evening sex.

But then, every moment of sex with Wes was wonderful.

The day was perfect, the air still and peaceful. Faint peach light gradually stole the last of the dark. Slowly Annabelle traced her hands and lips across the hard muscles of Wes’s chest and down those powerful arms. With a growl, and a sleepy grin, he pulled her atop him.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“It really is a good morning.” She closed her eyes as his warm hands stroked down her body, as he drew her near and pressed his lips to her throat. Pleasure seeped through her smooth as wine.

“Much better than cereal to start the day,” she murmured.

“Understatement of the century.”

They kissed, long and deep and slow. Gazing into his eyes, she tangled her hands in his hair and pressed against his rock-hard body. “The kids . . . won’t be up for another hour yet,” she murmured. “We could go back to sleep . . . or . . .” She brushed a kiss against his shoulder. The sun had barely peeked through the last of the fading stars.

“Let’s make the most of it.” Wes’s eyes gleamed. He rolled over and switched places with her, nibbling and teasing her throat, her shoulders, and her breasts, then sliding his palms down her body. As she practically purred like a cat, his hands parted her thighs.

“Unless you
want
to go back to bed . . .” he suggested teasingly, lowering his mouth to her belly, then lower still, to the sweet spot he knew would make her moan.

“Not what I want . . . at all,” she gasped, as his tongue slipped inside her and the world spun. “Sleep is . . . way overrated.”

Wes laughed quietly. He loved the way she trembled and tensed and caught her breath as he ran his hands over her. He took his time licking and kissing and tasting her most sensitive places. In the past month, he’d discovered them all. He couldn’t get enough of making love to Annabelle. She was not only beautiful; she was so vibrant with her emotions and her pleasures—and the way she touched him was an enticing mixture of bold and tender. She’d discovered just how to make him fight for his own self-control.

He’d been with quite a few women in his day but none of them was anything at all like Annabelle. Not just
passionate, but brimming with life, with beauty and determination and a sweet tenderness that brought out something in him he hadn’t known existed.

Damn it, he was getting gooey. Sentimental, or something . . .

Get a grip,
he told himself. The only thing dampening his pleasure as they made love in her very feminine bed, with the frail pink light of the new day glistening through the room, was the knowledge that he’d be leaving her soon. Leaving those kids, who’d inched their way into his heart. They became embedded a little more each day, which was why he was glad he was leaving soon.

Five days
.

In five days, he was going to Wyoming. Leaving this house, and the children Annabelle tended with such love. Leaving Annabelle, with her laughter, her bravery and spirit.

It struck him with a powerful thwack to his gut that he couldn’t have ever suspected, that it wouldn’t be as easy as he’d first thought. He’d never imagined getting this close to anyone, even her. It had just happened. He’d never felt a pull like this with any woman before . . . ever.

Perhaps because they both knew his days in Lonesome Way were drawing to an end, their morning lovemaking was sweeter than ever. He covered her lips with a last lingering kiss before he pulled on his clothes. Then he eased out the door, moved silently down the hall past the sleeping children’s bedrooms, avoided the fourth step from the top, which squeaked, and the third step from the bottom, which creaked, and let himself out of the house with a stealth he’d learned sneaking up on the baddest of the bad guys.

Twenty minutes before the kids even thought about stirring, he was halfway down the path to the cabin. After letting Treasure outside, he put up coffee, poured food for the dog, freshened the mutt’s water bowl, and finally lowered his tall frame onto the old porch steps with a mug of black coffee in his hand.

He could get accustomed to all this. The view and the peacefulness.
And Annabelle, in his bed
.
Seeing her in his day and in his night.

Every night.

But he wasn’t going to. This life wasn’t for him. Though the grasslands were thick and green and the mountains west of Lonesome Way rose majestically in the distance, the road called to him.

It always had.

This was his father’s town. The one Wes had left behind. The day he’d taken off on his own, he’d vowed that he’d never live here again.

But as he gazed at the house down Sunflower Lane, all he could think was that the woman who lived there called to him, too.

Not intentionally, but she was in his mind, in his bones, maybe even in his heart, the way no other woman had been before.

He took a gulp of coffee, feeling unsettled. He knew he’d better head out soon before the crazy spell of this town made him loco. When he’d lived here, he’d hated it. But this time around, something had changed.

And he knew what it was.

Annabelle. She and those kids had made him see Lonesome Way through a different lens. Or maybe he was changing, too.

He’d let himself get too close to them. Big mistake. He should probably take off today, not even wait until the fifth. Each day might make it a little harder to break away. Harder for him, and for them.

Gritting his teeth, he realized he needed to finish a few things in the cabin, put another coat of varnish on the floor, sweep out the crawl space in the corner of the bedroom.

Then the place would be in spick-and-span shape for Annabelle to rent out.

He needed to pay a nice long visit to Sophie before he left. And spend some more time with his mother and grandmother. He’d schedule a playdate with Sophie’s son, Aiden, make some more memories with the little guy, and spend an afternoon with Ivy. By the time he got around to coming back for a visit, all those kids would have changed so much.

So would Megan and Michelle and Ethan, he realized. They’d remember him, though—he was pretty sure of that. Wyoming was only a hop, skip, and a jump, relatively speaking. Once he and Scott got the business up and running, he could always come back every six months or so, check on everyone. . . .

Six months. A lot could happen in six months.

Then he remembered he still had to convince Annabelle to keep Treasure. . . .

Annabelle . . .

How in hell was he going to leave her? The thought of it made him hurt deep in his gut.

Well, he’d done some hard things before. When it came to it, he’d just go. Quick and clean.

And he’d know better than to take even one look back.