Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,89
visit me here. And Brad . . . Brad standing outside the window. Not able to get in.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I—I can’t believe I said that. I must be insane.”
“Not insane. Just unhappy.”
“I have no reason to be unhappy. I have everything I could ever want. Everything!” She crushed the damp tissue in her hand. “It’s only that . . . He’s so big. Everything about him. His voice. His appetite. His ambition. He sucks all the oxygen out of the house until I can’t breathe!” Her eyes widened with alarm. “I don’t know what I’m saying. He’s a good husband. A good father. He gives me anything I want. He loves me.”
Tess settled at the table, saying nothing.
Kelly curled her hands around the warm mug. “It’s . . . exhausting.”
“Have you thought about talking with someone?” Tess said gently.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dealing with a lot. A counselor might help.”
“I don’t need a therapist! God, no. Brad would be so hurt.”
Tess cocked her head, speaking softly. “Then how are you going to fix this?”
“I don’t need to fix anything! I’m fine. In a mood, that’s all.” She pushed the mug aside and rose. “I’m sorry you had to listen to this.”
“It can help having someone to talk to.” Tess hesitated, then gave in to her do-gooder instincts and found a scratch pad from the clinic where she’d worked. She wrote her name and cell number. “I can’t always get a signal, so I don’t know how useful this is.” She held out the paper. “If you need to talk . . .”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Kelly said, even as she stuck the note in her purse.
Tess didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “You’re welcome to use the cabin whenever you need to get away.”
“Really? You’d let me do that?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” Kelly fiddled with the clasp on her purse. “If anybody found out what I’ve said . . . I’d appreciate it if you kept this conversation to yourself.”
“Tell that to Wren. She’s the blabbermouth.”
Kelly managed her first smile. “Thanks.”
* * *
Kelly had just left by the front door when the back door opened and Ian came in. So strong and steady. So decent. Beneath that hard-bitten exterior, the most honorable man she’d ever known. He gestured toward the front windows. “Is it my imagination or did I see Kelly Winchester heading down the trail toward town?”
“Not your imagination. She’s my new bestie.”
“How did that happen?”
“The magic of my personality.”
“Why do I think there’s more to the story?”
“Because you’re more perceptive than you like to let on. What are you doing down here?”
“Checking up on you. The next time you decide to disappear, leave a note.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re hauling around a six-week-old baby!”
She was glad he didn’t know about the nasty messages on her car.
As he wandered toward the fireplace and bent over to look up the flue, she curled her toes in her sneakers. She had something she needed to get out of the way before she let another hour pass. “Wren’s asleep,” she said. “Let’s go upstairs and get this marriage thing off the ground.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ian straightened from the fireplace and gave her his patented half-lidded glare. “I don’t like your attitude.”
“My attitude?”
“‘Getting this marriage thing off the ground.’ It makes it sound like a job on your To Do list.”
Maybe it was. Once this was behind them, she might be able to relax again. “You want to be seduced? I can do that.”
“And do it very well, I’m sure.” He propped an elbow on the roughly hewn fireplace mantel. “As you’ve told me several times.”
This wasn’t going the way it should. She felt as clumsy as one of the teenagers who kept showing up at the door. “I’m not sure what you want.”
“I know you aren’t.” He crossed his ankles, his smile bordering on smug.
He’d unbalanced her, and she didn’t like it. “Do you want to do it or don’t you?”
“There it is again. That vicious frown of yours.”
“That’s it!” She stomped toward the stairs. “I’m done with whatever game this is. If you want me, come get me. Otherwise, you can go to hell!”
* * *
He watched her—the luscious Widow Hartsong—storm upstairs. She was furious with him, and he was furious with himself. From the day they’d met, he’d wanted her. And here she was—all ready to give herself over, and what did he do? He put the brakes on. Not once, but twice! Any other man would have