Out of the Storm (Buckhorn, Montana #1) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,39

up, the sooner she could get on with her life. Also the sooner everyone’s focus would be off him. He just hoped it would be soon enough. “He died in an explosion?”

“A refinery in Houston.”

“I’m sorry.” He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted bitter, but that was nothing new. “You never got to identify his body?”

She shook her head and looked around his cabin for a moment as if she knew where he was headed with this, since that would explain why she was convinced her husband was still alive. She’d never gotten the closure she needed.

“That must have been hard for you. You have two kids you said?”

“Two girls, Mia and Danielle. Mia was one and a half, Danielle just a few months old at the time. They’re both adults now. Mia has her own graphic-design business and is very successful. Danielle is finishing college at Rice University. She wants to teach elementary school.”

“I’m sorry, you did tell me that.” He shook his head. “How did you manage by yourself? Did your husband have insurance?”

“No insurance, but there was a settlement from the refinery. I never touched that money, though.”

He stared at her, his next words coming out too sharp. “Why not?”

She looked down again. “Because I always believed that Danny wasn’t dead and that when he came back, we’d have to return it. I did invest it, though.”

Smart lady. “So how did you live?”

“We had to move back in with my parents for a while, but I got a job editing and ended up a ghost writer.” She looked embarrassed. “Apparently I have a talent for telling other people’s stories.”

“You can make a living doing that?” He couldn’t help his surprise. Everything about this woman came as a surprise, however, especially the depth of her love for her husband and her faith that he had somehow survived. He wished he were that man more than she could ever know.

“It wasn’t easy, but we’ve done fine. The girls are strong, independent young women now.”

“Like their mother,” he said, thinking of how much she had accomplished and how little he had. Both of them had gone through their share of pain, but she hadn’t let it defeat her. He reminded himself that now she had a chance for happiness. He couldn’t bear that she might miss it because of him.

“You’re engaged.” He noticed that she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring and swore silently.

“We were. I thought I could move on. I can’t.”

He didn’t know what to say. This was not going the way he’d hoped. “I’m sorry about that. He says he loves you and wants to marry you.”

She looked away again. “Can you tell me how you got your scars?” she asked quietly.

He’d known the question was coming. It always came up eventually. “Car fire.” Those were just his visible scars. They both fell silent again. “Look, I’m sorry about your husband, but I’m not him. He sounds like he was a nice guy. I know he would want you to spend that death benefit, marry this man who obviously loves you and write yourself a happy ending.”

“You have a slight Texas accent.”

He took a sip of his coffee and put the mug down on the side table next to him, trying hard not to show his frustration. “Texas road construction. The twang, though, was from being born in Arkansas.” He leaned forward, elbows to his knees. “Katie—”

Surprise registered all over her reddening face. “That’s what Danny used to call me.”

“Sorry, I thought your boyfriend said it was Katie.”

“It’s Kate. Kate Jackson.”

“Kate, you seem like a really nice lady. I wish I was your husband, but I’m not. I’m just a guy with few prospects who only wants to be left alone.”

She nodded, her cheeks reddening even more.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he continued. “But you don’t belong here in this town or around me. I’ve nothing to offer you other than a mug of coffee—instant, at that.”

She put down her cup on the edge of the small kitchen table and ran her hand down the arm of the rocker. “You make beautiful furniture.”

“Thanks, but that rocker is one of my rejects. That’s why it’s in my cabin instead of sold last summer at the bakery Bessie owns. That’s how I make my living, such as it is. I never stay anywhere long. Though, I’ve been in Buckhorn too long. If you come back through on your trip, I won’t be here. That’s the way