Marriage At Circle M

“I’ll have them there on time, you know that.”

“It’s okay. You need to rest,” he insisted.

“Someone make you a doctor all of a sudden?” She drew away from the counter, crossing her arms in front of her.

His chin drew back at the sharp edge of her tone. “You’re sick. It happens to everyone.”

“Exactly. And the world doesn’t stop just because someone has the sniffles. I said I’d have them done and I will. Besides, I have other work besides Circle M. I don’t want to get behind.”

“Work, work. That’s all you ever do!” The words burst out of his mouth before he could stop them. Why was she being so stubborn? All he was trying to do was cut her some slack, and she wouldn’t have any of it.

Grace put her hands on her hips as the towel slipped sideways on her head. Here we go again, she thought. Yes, she worked a lot, but it wasn’t as though she had a family at home to look after. It was just her, and more than that, it was her time to do with what she wished. She’d bought this house all on her own after the divorce, and without a regular nine-to-five job, sometimes making the mortgage payment was difficult. Not to mention repairs and the fact that she tried to make it look like a home…And all that cost money. Instead she had to deal with Mike today, coming in and bossing her around. Why he felt it was his right to treat her like the girl who used to tag after him, she had no idea.

“Yes, I work a lot. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have an overflowing social calendar and like the rest of the world I have bills to pay!”

She spun away, angry with herself for letting Mike provoke her. The towel slipped all the way off and she caught it while strands of dark blond hair straggled down her back. With her free hand she pushed them back out of her face.

He studied her for a long moment before speaking.

“You having money troubles, Grace?” He said it quietly. Not criticizing. The way Mike, her old friend would have. His obvious caring was comforting in a way.

But seeing Mike lately was only making her more confused. She cared about him; always had. Yet he’d broken a bit of that trust, and she couldn’t forget it.

“No…I’m not,” she sighed. “But my cup doesn’t runneth over, either.”

“Let me help.”

She looked up into his eyes, faltering for a moment at the genuine concern she saw there. But no, it wasn’t Mike’s problem, and she’d learned long ago that she could only depend on herself. She squared her shoulders.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I like working, Mike.”

“Aren’t I allowed to be concerned about you?”

She sniffled once more and tucked her untidy hair behind her ears. “I’m not twelve anymore, Mike, and you don’t need to keep the playground bullies in line.” She swallowed, struggling to keep her voice cool and even.

He laughed, lightening the mood a little. “Seems to me there was a time that you kept the bullies in line for me.”

She flushed, wishing he’d just forget about that. Even as a child, she’d stood up for him when others didn’t. She knew now how silly it must have looked, a little squirt of a thing taking up for a boy much older than she’d been.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine. You must have work to do today. I’ll bring the checks over when they’re done.”

She didn’t wait for him to leave, but took the books from the table and went into the living room. When the back screen clicked quietly, she let out a long breath.

Mike gave Thunder’s chestnut hide a final, affectionate slap and left the stall, shutting the half door behind him. He’d bought Thunder and Lightning together as colts, the first horses he’d owned. They’d been named by the previous owner’s young son, and while Mike thought of changing their names to something less clichéd, one look at the boy’s crestfallen face had sealed the deal. When he’d loaded them into the trailer, he’d promised that he’d keep the names that the youngster had given them. And he’d kept that promise.

Lightning was out in the corral. Thunder was inside today, waiting for the farrier. The last thing Mike needed now was a lame animal.

Over the years his path had crossed with Grace’s, and during those times he’d always looked out for her, whether she knew it or not. He’d been off on the circuit when she’d met her husband, and when he’d come back she was already gone…married at nineteen and living in Edmonton. He couldn’t change that. He had been the one to leave, after all.

Over the years he’d passed through town occasionally and it struck him that she’d been so sad when she’d moved into the tiny bungalow all alone. He saw glimpses of that sadness still. It made him want to bundle her in his arms and make it better. He wanted Grace for himself. In every way, no matter how much she deserved better. For a long time he’d despaired of it ever happening, thinking he’d squandered his chance. But now…now he was back for good and he knew if he bided his time, did things right…there was hope.

He strode down the length of the barn, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. Reaching the door, he saw her car come creeping up the driveway. She was true to her word no matter how sick she was. The paychecks would be handed out on time. His face darkened with a scowl.

He should walk away, let her deliver her things to the office and leave again. Instead he left the barn door open and strode toward the house.

This time Grace heard him open the front door. She’d been listening for it, to be honest, and had chosen to stay in the kitchen rather than the intimate, closed space of the study. She didn’t plan to be there long; she didn’t want to spread her germs to either Alex or Maren. Mike had been such a hardheaded idiot at the house earlier, she frowned. She had to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted was yet another spat with him. It seemed to be all they did lately, and she didn’t quite understand why.

She made her hands busy, stuffing checks in envelopes and writing names on the front. She didn’t look up from her work but knew when he was at the threshold. The air simply changed.

“Hello, Mike. Got your checks done.”

He stepped in. “That’s great. I’m glad you could fit it into your busy schedule.”

When she looked up, it was work to keep her mouth from dropping open. Mike looked…formidable, standing squarely in the doorway, his hat still on his head and his jaw so tensed it almost made a right angle.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. Funny how by just standing there, he could provoke her. His whole manner told her he was angry about something, although she didn’t have a blessed idea what it was this time. Still, she attempted a light smile as she responded.

“I took some meds and had a nap.” The words were slightly thick; the congestion hadn’t quite cleared, although she was feeling much better. The tip of her nose wasn’t even showing that much redness anymore. “It was no trouble getting them drawn up.”

She didn’t look up, but turned her attention back to the envelopes. “I wanted to get them here. I have a couple of jobs lined up for tomorrow.”

“While you’re sick?”

“I’m much better, thank you, and for your information my plan was to go home, make some soup and watch a movie with a blanket before falling blissfully into sleep and waking up completely cured.” She didn’t even attempt to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

Mike waited several seconds before speaking again.

“It didn’t occur to you to maybe rest for a few days? Do you have a hard time telling people the word no?” he bit out.

She goggled at his sharp tone. So much for keeping her cool and not letting him get to her. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. How’s this? Do I want to discuss this with you again? No!” She spun away, fiddling with papers on the table without really seeing.

Why, oh why, was everything an argument with Mike these days? He’d always had this protective streak when it came to people he cared about. People like herself, like Connor. But lately, it was different. He acted almost like he was entitled to have a say in how she lived her life, and he absolutely did not.

“You couldn’t have heard me this morning.” She tried to muster her iciest tone, but failed when her plugged nose interfered. “I’m not discussing my schedule or health with you.”

“Well, that’s just fine.” Mike swept an arm wide. “That’s just great, Grace!”

The checks were forgotten behind her as she squared off. “You know, Mike, I’m not fond of this proprietary attitude you seem to have lately. What gives you the right to dictate to me how I live my life?”

“The right?” He took two steps forward until she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. “The fact that you obviously need someone to, instead of letting you make disastrous decisions!” His voice thundered throughout the room.

“Keep your voice down,” she warned. “There are other people in this house who are probably trying to rest.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, but didn’t move.

“This is my life, Mike,” she whispered harshly. “My decisions to make. My mistakes. Nobody—and that definitely includes you—is going to tell me what I can or can’t do. Frankly going to work when one has a cold can hardly be called a ‘disastrous’ decision.”

“I hate it that you look out for everyone else but yourself. Someday, Grace, that’s going to catch up with you, and then where will you be?”

With a sigh, he dropped his shoulders from their offensive stance.

Surprise had her rooted to the spot when his hand lifted and his fingers grazed the soft skin of her cheek.

“I just want to look out for you.”

The resistance drained from her body as her eyes fluttered closed against his touch, so suddenly tender and gentle. “I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe.” His other hand lifted so that now both his thumbs gently rubbed the crests of her cheekbones.

Her breath caught in her throat as she opened her eyes to find Mike’s staring down at her. Staring through her, right into her core, it seemed, his gray eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It matters.” His gaze dipped to her lips and clung there. “You matter.”

She swallowed. She mattered? To Mike? And he wasn’t looking at her now like he usually did. For the most part it was like they had never been more, like it was a blip on the road to where they were now. But now…friends didn’t stare at lips the way he was looking at hers, or let their fingers caress cheeks.

Still cupping her jaw, he leaned in, his mouth only a breath away as he whispered, “I just can’t let you get hurt, Grace…”

She reached up, circled his wrists with her hands and pulled them away from her face. She stepped back, putting distance between them. Longing still curled through her, a wanting that was almost too strong. She could feel his arms around her even though it had never happened. And it would be wrong, she realized.

“You can’t let me?” Her words were soft in the confused silence. She chanced a look at Mike. He was rooted to the spot, his brows pulled together. He didn’t understand. It was even more reason for her to pull away.

“You don’t get it, Mike. You say you can’t let me get hurt. And I can’t let you make decisions for me.” Not again, she almost added.

“Even when you make mistakes?”

“Then they’ll be my mistakes, not yours. Thank you for your concern, but it’s unwarranted.”

“You almost kissed me a moment ago.”

Her tummy flopped over. Yes, she had. And her body still hummed, yearning to know if kissing Mike would be the same. Or different. Or better. She’d been that close.

“I think you almost kissed me.” She tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t do that. Don’t change the subject. There’s more going on here than you’ll admit.”

Memory hummed between them, drawing out the silence. What if things were changing between them? What then? Would he back off, leave her when it suited him? Would she give him the chance to do that again? Could her heart take it?

She’d said enough while they were dancing, and had no desire to humiliate herself again, or set herself up for heartbreak.

“That’s right, there is more going on,” she averred. “There’s you being very heavy-handed with me, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think right now.”

“That makes two of us.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, Grace, I’m just trying to protect you.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want or need your protection.”

“Fine. Then there’s nothing left for us to say.”

He spun from the room and seconds later the front door slammed. A few seconds after that, she heard Maren’s cry; the noise had awakened her from her nap. Johanna’s muffled voice filtered down from the upstairs. In a few moments they’d both be up and about and Grace wanted to be gone before that happened. The last thing she needed was more questions.

Hastily she shoved the final check in an envelope and scribbled a quick note, putting it all in the center of the table. When she went out to her car, Mike had left.

Men, she thought irrationally, slamming into the car and shoving it into gear. She was two miles down the road when something felt wrong. Grace pushed on the gas pedal, her eyes widening with alarm at the sudden loud clunk that shook the car. Everything seized…she cranked the wheel and her foot instantly hit the brake. Her head snapped forward, hitting the wheel just above her right eye.

She was finally stopped dead, square in the middle of the road. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

She couldn’t just sit here. She shifted into Park and then into Drive again. Nothing. She could not move.

“No, no, no,” she chanted, shifting again, desperate to get off the road. “Do not quit on me, baby.”

Unfortunately the vehicle wasn’t listening, because it stubbornly stayed in the middle of the dirt road. She turned off the engine, unbuckled her seat belt and got out.

Something smelled hot. She got down on her hands and knees and looked underneath. Reddish-pink fluid dripped on to the ground.

Grace got up, dusting off her pants and taking several deep breaths. She was fine. This wasn’t like the other time. The car was stopped but she was unhurt. She left the driver’s side door opened, grabbed the wheel with one hand and managed to push the hunk of metal a few feet closer to the shoulder of the road.

She hadn’t gone off the road, hadn’t hit anything. It could be worse, she reminded herself, knowing exactly how much worse it might have been. Panting from the exertion of pushing the car, she took a few moments to sit on the front bumper and catch her breath. Her hair was askew around her face, so she let it down all the way, letting it cascade over her shoulders.

Of all the things to happen today. First the cold, then fighting with Mike, twice even. Their arguing had to stop, and she had to come up with a way to get it through his thick head once and for all that she was running her own life. It had been much easier when he’d kept his distance, going about his business and just being the regular friend he’d always been.

Tears threatened. “Stop it,” she chided herself. Just because she was tired and still a bit sick was no reason to get all emotional. And neither was Mike a reason. She got back up and lifted the hood, as if magically looking beneath it she’d figure out exactly what had gone wrong. Now that he seemed to be paying her more attention it was driving her crazy. But she’d asked for it, hadn’t she? Asked for Mike to look at her differently.

She put the hood back down and sighed, remembering the feel of his fingers on her face, how close his lips had been to hers this afternoon. He was right. There was something between them.

But Mike was changing. He was settling down. He had his own business now, and was building a house…looking to the future, and probably a family. All the things she’d wanted back then.

For that very reason, there shouldn’t be anything between them. Not if she were to be fair.

She grabbed her purse from the car and squinted up at the sun. At least there was no chance of rain. That would have been the icing on the cake. Her thin-soled sandals slapped on the light asphalt of the road as she started back toward the ranch. She’d have to go back and call for someone to tow the car. And who knew how much that would cost to fix. Her budget was already stretched too thin.

She was about a half mile from the vehicle when she saw a figure on horseback cutting through the pasture on her left. She kept walking. It could be any number of hands; she knew exactly how many because she’d written their checks that very afternoon.

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