Marriage At Circle M. DONNA ALWARD
The words came out “it-th okay;” the steamy bath hadn’t relieved all of her congestion. She sniffled, tried again. “Come on in.”
Mike followed her in, still holding the materials she’d need to do payroll, his customary hat still shielding his eyes.
“Thank you, Mike, for delivering the books.”
“Your cold sounds bad.” When Johanna had told him that Grace was sick, his first thought hadn’t been about working with the horses, or helping with the construction of his house. Instead he’d volunteered to be a delivery boy. He’d thought he could make sure she was all right after her outburst the other night. He wanted to take care of her. There was something about Grace that inspired that urge to protect, even though he knew she deserved better.
“I tried tea and honey and I took a decongestant, but it hasn’t kicked in yet,” she explained, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
“Yes, well, you can drop off the checks when they’re done then. Payday is tomorrow, but the guys’ll understand if you’re a little late. You deserve a day in bed.”
Grace looked up into Mike’s eyes and he noticed how flushed and pretty she looked. The thought of her in bed didn’t help his current mental state, either.
“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