Falling For The Rebound Bride

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “After I get settled.” Although he supposed the sooner he got the reunion stuff out of the way, the sooner he could retreat into his work.

In theory, anyway.

Back in the rental car, Colin waved to his father as he pulled out of the driveway, then headed toward the only decent grocery store in town. He wished he could say he was looking forward to dinner that night. Except the problem with being around people who knew you—or thought they did, anyway—was the way things you didn’t want leaked tended to leak out. He’d put his parents though enough as it was, even if he honestly couldn’t say what he could’ve done differently while still being true to who he was. But for sure he wasn’t about to dump on them now, or give them any reason to doubt he’d made the right choices. If nothing else, he owed them at least a little peace of mind, assurances that he was okay.

And if he wasn’t...well, he’d figure it out. You know, like a grown man.

The store—all three aisles of it, more like some dinky Manhattan bodega than one of those mega suburban monstrosities—was mercifully empty on this weekday morning. And surprisingly well stocked with a bunch of chichi crap Colin had little use for. He could cook, after a fashion—at least, he’d moved beyond opening cans of soup and microwaving frozen burritos—but he was definitely about whatever took twenty minutes or less from package to stomach. Give him a cast-iron pan, a couple of pots, he was good.

He was about to toss a couple of decent-looking steaks into his cart when he heard, from the next aisle over, the women’s laughter...the same laughter he’d heard at the dinner table the night before. Same as then, it wasn’t so much the pitch of the laughs that set Deanna and her cousin apart as it was...the genuineness of them, he supposed. As in, one was actually happy, and the other was pretty much faking it. Although whether for her own sake or her cousin’s, Colin had no idea.

Nor was it any of his concern.

They were talking about nothing of any real importance that he could tell. Not that he should be listening, but if they’d wanted privacy, yakking in a small store wasn’t the best way to go about that. He plunked the steaks in the cart, worked his way over to the pork chops. Yep, he could still hear the two of them. Because again, small store. What he found interesting, though—from a purely analytic standpoint—was how different the cousins’ voices were. Deanna’s voice was lighter, sparklier, whereas Emily’s was...

With a package of chicken legs suspended in his hand over the case, Colin paused, frowning as he caught another whiff of Emily’s voice, and every nerve cell, from the top of his head to places that really needed to shut the hell up already, whispered, Oh, yeah...

Then he blinked, the fog dispersed and there she was.

“Oh. Hi.”

One thing about grocery store lights, they weren’t known for being flattering. Meaning he probably looked like a neglected cadaver right now. And yet even without makeup—none that he could see, anyway—in a plain old black sweater and pair of jeans, her hair pulled back in a don’t-give-a-damn ponytail, Emily was...okay, not beautiful. But definitely appealing.

Especially to a guy who hadn’t had any in a while. And who, up to this very moment, had been perfectly fine with that. Or at least reconciled to it. Not liking at all where his thoughts—let alone his blood—were headed, Colin looked back at the chicken in his hand. “Hey,” he said, realizing he looked about as dumb as a person could look. He finally tossed the chicken in the cart, then looked back at Emily. Because what else was he supposed to do? Unfortunately, she still looked good. Especially with that amused smile.

“I’m, uh...” He waved at the half-filled cart. “Stocking up.”

“Us, too. I promised I’d cook while I was here. In exchange for...” She flushed slightly. “It just seemed fair, that’s all. Especially since Josh has his hands full with ranch stuff this time of year, and Dee’s getting her gallery set up in town.”

“Her gallery?”

“That’s what she did, before she moved back. Worked at a gallery. Doing acquisitions and such. But this one will be all hers, showcasing local artists, she said. I figured I could at least help out while I was here. Instead of playing the guest.”

Colin nodded. “You know how long you’re gonna be here?”

“I’m...playing it by ear.”

“You don’t have a job or something to get back to?”

“No, actually. Not at the moment. I mean, I did, until...” Looking away, she rubbed her nose, then poked through the packages of ribs. “These are really good done in the Crock-Pot.”

“That so?”

“You should look online, there are tons of recipes.” By now not even the sucky florescent lighting could wipe out her blush, which started at her neckline and spread to her eyes, making him think of other kinds of flushes, which in turn made him seriously consider sticking his head in the nearest freezer case. “Well. I’ll leave you to it. See you around?”

“Sure.” Oh, hell, no.

Clutching her package of ribs, she walked away, her very pretty butt twitching underneath a layer of clingy denim, her hair all shiny and bouncy underneath the lights. Colin would’ve groaned, but that would’ve been pathetic and juvenile.

But far worse than the kick to the groin was the tug at something a bit farther north, where empathy had staked a claim all those years ago. Because he could—and would—ignore the butt and the hair and, okay, the breasts pushing against the sweater. But those eyes...

Damn it. A blessing and a curse, both, being able to sense another’s pain.

Especially when combined with the helplessness of knowing there wasn’t a single damn thing you could do to alleviate it.

So. New goal, he thought as he pushed the cart up to the cashier, relieved to see the two women had apparently already checked out. Stay out of Emily Weber’s way as much as possible while she was still here.

Which, with any luck, wouldn’t be very long.

* * *

Limbo.

That was the only way to describe her current state of mind. Or current state, period, Emily thought as, breathing hard, she completed the loop around the ranch she’d been running every day for the past week. Oh, she’d been keeping busy for sure, cooking and cleaning and playing with little Austin and baby Katie, who was teething and drooly and fussy and absolutely adorable when she wasn’t screaming her head off. And at least—she rounded the training corral between the main house and the old foreman’s cabin—the stress and heartache were easing up...some. Although why she’d thought a week or two away would heal her, let alone really fix anything, she had no idea. At some point she’d have to return to real life, face her parents and her friends and everything she couldn’t face before. As it was, she was ignoring her mother’s calls, which had become more frequent because Emily was ignoring them. Although unfortunately she hadn’t yet found the cojones to delete Mom’s messages without listening to them.

Then again, maybe listening to them was proof she had more balls than she was giving herself credit for—

“Oh!”

Her cry wasn’t enough to scare off the coyote, although the thing did glance her way, as if to ascertain whether Emily was worth its consideration. The critters weren’t really much of a threat to the horses, apparently—at least, Josh only shrugged when she’d told him she’d also spotted one on her last run—but City Girl Emily still felt it wise to steer clear.

Until she noticed something fuzzy and small in the dirt about ten feet from the coyote. A possum? Squirrel? She couldn’t tell. But the gray varmint, who’d clearly decided to ignore Emily, was closing in, and—

“Get out of here!” she yelled, flapping her arms like a madwoman and running toward the whatever-it-was, startling a bunch of birds from the top of the nearest piñon and spooking a trio of horses in the nearby pasture. “Go on! Get!”

The coyote hesitated, giving her a what-the-hell? look.

“I said—” Emily snatched a fair-sized stone off the ground and hurled it with all her might at the animal, where it pinged harmlessly in the dirt three feet in front of it, raising a cloud of dust. “Get!”

And damned if a spurt of pride didn’t zing through her when the thing actually took off, loping up the road without looking back. Her heart hammering in her chest, Emily approached the small, now whimpering animal, her chest fisting when she realized it was a puppy. What kind and how old, she had no idea. And what to do next, she had even less. But she had to do something. Unfortunately, Dee and Josh were running errands separately with the kids, and while she knew Josh’s brother Zach had his veterinary practice in town, she had no idea whether he was there or not. Besides which, her cousin and her husband had taken both trucks—

The puppy released the most heart-wrenching, plaintive cry ever, and Emily sank cross-legged onto the dirt to pull him into her lap, which was when she noticed dried blood on one of his paws. She carefully touched the spot and the poor little thing cried out in obvious pain. Damn. Hauling in a breath, Emily glanced over at the foreman’s cabin a hundred or so yards away. The rental car was there, meaning Colin was probably home, but...

She gingerly hugged the mewling baby dog to her chest, stroking his soft fur and making soothing, if probably unhelpful noises. Despite Colin’s living within spitting distance of the main house, they hadn’t seen each other since that silly encounter in the grocery store. Dude had serious hermit tendencies, apparently. Although truth be told, given her reaction to him back there in the meat department Emily had been just as glad. Not because of the silly, awkward part, but definitely because of the dry-mouthed, wanting-to-plaster-herself-against-him part. Which flew in the face of everything she was. Or thought she was, anyway. As in, logical. Levelheaded. Not given to fits of insanity.

Never mind that simply sitting here thinking about Colin’s mouth and jaw and eyes, ohmigod, and that little hollow at the base of his neck was making her feel as though molten ore was flowing through her veins.

“Jeez, girl,” she muttered. “Get over it.”

As if it was that easy. Because despite keeping busy, and running her butt off every day, and her determination to not think about her shattered heart and the bozo who’d shattered it, her heart had other ideas. In fact, the longer she was away, the more hurt and angry she got that she’d been played for a fool. That she’d let herself be played for a fool, taking the path of least resistance because...why? Because everyone else had been happy?

Clearly, she needed to majorly overhaul her definition of that word. Not to mention her expectations, she thought as her mouth twisted. Meaning she knew full well all this fizzing and bubbling was nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to Michael’s betrayal, a primitive—and completely ludicrous—urge to get even.

The pup whimpered again, nuzzling her collarbone...

Telling her wayward loins to shut the hell up, Emily heaved herself to her feet, the puppy cradled against her chest, and marched toward the cabin.

She thought maybe this was called taking back the reins.