Reunited. Kate Hoffmann
their marriage, which many in town had cautioned her against simply because no one really knew him at the time, another side of her husband emerged. Lazy, shiftless, domineering. He’d insisted on taking over her finances. He’d shouted at her when she questioned what he was doing with her money. He began to spend more and more time away from home. Some nights he hadn’t come home at all.
Mattie sagged against the worktable, holding the serving platter against her stomach. She’d never known where she’d gone wrong as a wife. She’d lain awake nights wondering what to do. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know the state of her marriage, or how she was treated by her husband—a man the town admired because he was so good at deceiving everyone, as he’d deceived her. She couldn’t admit how wrong she’d been in marrying him.
Mattie pinched the bridge of her nose, her mind spinning. It seemed that now, this morning, she could hardly stand up under the weight of it.
If only she could forget.
She bolted upright. Oh, heavens. Last night.
The kitchen door burst open with a gust of cold wind, and a man filled the doorway, his hat pulled low, his long coat whipping around him.
The serving platter slipped from Mattie’s hand and shattered on the floor.
Oh, heavens. Last night.
He slammed the door and crossed the kitchen, his gaze sharp and penetrating beneath the brim of his hat. Mattie gulped and backed up a step.
Stopping in front of her, the shattered platter on the floor between them, he gave her a long, grim look.
“I woke up and you were gone,” he said, and his tone told her he was none too happy about it.
“I had to leave,” she said.
“Why?” His gaze hardened. “Because you were done with me?”
Heat bloomed across Mattie’s face, reddening her cheeks as a deeper wave of humiliation swept through her. She’d thrown herself at him—a perfect stranger. She’d asked him to make love to her—practically begged him to do it.
How could she have done such a thing? Never in her life had she even imagined doing such a reckless thing.
Mattie turned away, unable to look him in the eye. “Last night…last night was a mistake, Mr….” She glanced back at him. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“McQuaid,” he growled. “Jared McQuaid.”
Mattie gulped, trying to force down her embarrassment. “Oh, well, yes of course. I remember.” She cleared her throat. “As I said, Mr. McQuaid, last night was a mistake.”
“You didn’t seem to think so just before dawn.”
She winced, remembering what they’d been doing at that particular moment, and her cheeks burned anew. “Well, no, I suppose I didn’t. But still, it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Seemed to me you needed it.”
She moaned with humiliation and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, clasping her hand to her chest.
“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “Your husband hadn’t made love to you in months.”
She gasped and spun to face him again. “How did you know that?”
“You told me.”
“I told you that?” she wheezed.
“Yeah. You said it somewhere between ‘make me forget’ and ‘don’t stop now.”’ Jared leaned closer. “Sound familiar?”
“Oh, heavens…” Mattie spun away, unable to tolerate the heat of his gaze, or the heat burning inside her.
She stalked to the cupboard at the rear of the kitchen and pulled out the broom and dustpan, desperate for something to do. But when she started sweeping up the broken serving platter she felt even more conspicuous with Jared scrutinizing her every move.
Her skin tingled where his gaze touched her. Memories of last night sprang into her mind. She’d never experienced such a night—never imagined it was possible to do some of the things they’d done. Even on his best night, Del, her own husband, had been woefully lacking in comparison.
Mattie cast a furtive glance at the man towering over her, then focused her gaze on her chore. Jared McQuaid was ruggedly handsome. Well over six feet tall; she remembered brushing her legs against his longer ones during the night.
He had big shoulders and arms; he’d rolled her around the bed with considerable ease. A hard chest; her fingers had raked over it a good portion of the night. Thick, black hair; she’d yanked on it more than once.
Now, this morning in the light, she saw that his eyes were blue. The very last secret the man held.
Thanks to her wanton behavior last night.
Mattie cringed, a deeper heat crackling inside her.
But he’d made her forget, just as he’d boasted he could. She’d forgotten all her troubles. And how welcome that had been, even for those few hours.
His strength went beyond the physical. In her kitchen last night she’d seen it. Jared McQuaid could carry the weight of his own troubles, plus hers and dozens more.
Another shudder passed through Mattie and her cheeks heated again. Embarrassment. Humiliation.
What else could it be?
Mattie made tiny strokes with the broom, trying to make the chore last as long as possible. If he saw she was busy maybe he would simply go away.
She wanted him to go away. Good gracious, how she wanted him to leave. She never wanted to lay eyes on this Jared McQuaid again, or to be reminded of last night.
She’d propositioned a stranger. Wrestled him like a wild bear. And liked it.
A little whimper slipped through Mattie’s lips at the thought. She dashed to the trash bin with the dustpan full of broken china, and took her time emptying it.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she said a silent prayer that when she turned around, Jared McQuaid would be gone.
“Why are you here today?” she heard him ask.
With a sigh she turned and saw him wave his big hand around the kitchen.
“Nobody expects you to be open for business,” he said. “Not today.”
Mattie stuffed the broom and dustpan into the cupboard, a little peeved that he wouldn’t take the hint, do the decent thing and leave her alone with her humiliation.
“Since you’re brimming over with my personal information, and have such an excellent memory of everything I said last night, perhaps you’ll recall that my husband left me penniless? I have to open for business today.”
“No, you don’t,” he said softly. “What you’ve been through isn’t easy to bear. You need some time.”
“I hope you won’t think I’m rude, Mr. McQuaid, when I point out that this is none of your business.”
“You made it my business,” he told her. “Last night.”
She faltered and touched her hand to her throat. “I know you feel…used…under the circumstances.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Circumstances?”
“Yes.” Mattie tried to look at him, but failed. “The circumstances in which I…used you.”
She felt his gaze burn hotter against her skin, and Mattie wished with all her heart that she could simply disappear in a puff of smoke. It was too much. All of it. Everything she’d been through in the past three days was simply too much to bear.
Seeing Del fall from the roof, one of the very few times he’d done something