Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,8
looking at her.”
“You?” He held her gaze for a second before glancing at his watch and frowning. “I figured you might have a date later.”
Damn him. “I do,” she replied, a little goaded.
If the thought of her going out bothered him at all, he managed to hide it. What did you expect after seven years? she asked herself.
“A date with a hot bath and a good book.” She found her work jacket on a hook near the door and slid her arms through the sleeves.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” she admitted, trying to compose herself. Why after all these years did her heart race at the sight of him?
She dusted her hands and thought about the reason he’d come back: his uncle’s estate. “I’m sorry about John.”
“Me, too.”
“He didn’t want a funeral—”
Waving off her explanation, he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I just came back to tie up a few loose ends, that’s all. Where’s your father? I thought he was running things.”
“He is. He, uh, had business in town.”
“But he’s coming back?”
“Of course.”
“When he gets back, tell him I want to see him. I’ll be up at the house.” He glanced through the rain toward the weathered two-story farmhouse across the yard.
Tessa’s gaze followed his.
With its high-pitched roof, dormers and broad front porch, the old house had stood in the same spot for nearly a hundred years. It had been updated since the turn of the century—two bathrooms, central heat and electricity had been added—but it still appeared as it had when it was built by Denver’s great-great-grandfather.
Denver cleared his throat then looked at her again, his eyes studying her face. She felt his gaze sliding from her straight red-blond hair past hazel eyes and a freckle-dusted nose to the sharp point of her chin. She wondered how he saw her—if she looked as he’d remembered. If he even cared.
“You know,” she whispered, clinging to her rapidly escaping courage and feeling her fists curling into tight balls as she thought about the past, “I’ve waited all this time to ask you this one question.”
His head jerked up. “Shoot.”
“Why?” She stood dry-eyed in front of him, her chin tilted upward, her eyes searching his face—a face she’d loved with all her youthful heart. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”
A muscle jumped angrily in his jaw. “Didn’t seem the thing to do.”
“But you could have called or something—” She lifted her hands helplessly and hated the gesture. Despite the fact that seeing him again opened old wounds, she couldn’t let him see that she was still vulnerable to him in any way.
Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he crossed the weathered barn floor, eyeing the munching horses, the hayloft now full of new-mown hay, and the bins and barrels of oats, wheat and corn. “By the time I thought about it, there was no point,” he said. Then his gaze softened a little and he studied the rusted bit of an old bridle hanging on the wall. He ran his fingers slowly along the time-hardened leather reins. “I thought by now you’d be married with about five kids.”
“So did I.”
“What happened?” He regarded her with genuine perplexity, and she felt some of her old anger simmer again.
“The man I wanted to marry left town without saying a word.”
He didn’t move. The rain beat steadily on the roof, breaking the silence that stretched yawningly between them.
Tessa forced the issue. Though quaking inside, she sensed this might be her only chance to find out what had happened. “You wouldn’t see me in the hospital,” she accused, her voice surprisingly calm, “wouldn’t take my calls and returned all my letters unopened.”
His jaw hardened. He dropped the reins but didn’t say a word. One horse nickered and Tessa glanced toward the manger.
The way she saw it, Denver’s silence was as damning as if he’d said he hadn’t cared. She drew on all her courage. “Before I knew what was happening, my dad told me you’d taken off for Los Angeles.”
He almost smiled, his eyes narrowing. “I couldn’t keep the plastic surgeon waiting.”
“Without saying goodbye?” she asked, bewildered and wounded all over again. “After everything we’d planned?”
“We didn’t plan anything, Tessa.”
The wind shifted. Rain poured through the open door. “But you’d asked me to marry you, move to L.A.—”
“I never said a word about marriage,” he cut in, his voice harsh. “Think about it. You were the one who wanted to tie me down.”