“And why is that?” she asked contrarily. Clueless… the man is clueless. I cried a river over you, baby. “Do you think you’re the only one who was hurt over our breakup? Do you think you can holler at me, and my feelings won’t get hurt? Do you think I don’t feel bad that you feel bad? Do you ever even goddam think?”
“Huh?” He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. It felt as if she had. “The breakup was ten years ago. And you left me.”
I am so sick of that same old song. “Let me go, Rusty. I’m thinking about driving back to Houma tonight. I’m tired of this whole stinkin’ mess.”
“What stinkin’ mess?” When she flashed him an “Are you for real?” glower, he elaborated, “Are you talking about the loan shark mess… the no-divorce mess… the I-lied-to-my-husband-but-so-what mess… the Thanksgiving feast mess… or your mother mess?”
What a mess! “All of the above. And add to it the four failed marriages mess, the price of cattle mess, the my-husband-hates-me mess.”
He cocked his head to the side. “You said you weren’t crying over me. At least one or two of those messes involves me. And no way are you skedaddling off to Houma, babe. Me, I am not facing all these nutcake relatives of yours alone.”
Okay, you have a point there. “I’ll stay till after Thanksgiving then.”
“And the loan shark?”
Don’t remind me. “I don’t freakin’ care. Frankly, I’d rather face the Mafia thugs than…” She let her words trail off.
“Than what? Me?”
That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question. “Just forget about it.”
“I don’t hate you.”
It was her turn to say, “Huh?”
“When you were listing all your woes, one of them you named was my-husband-hates-me. Well, I don’t.”
The floodgate let loose then. Tears streamed out of her eyes without control.
“Now what did I do to turn on your faucets?” he asked on a groan, pulling her into his embrace. “You’re crying because I don’t hate you? Talk about! I can’t win for losing, babe.”
“You’re driving me crazy,” she wailed, and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against the curve of his neck. He smelled of horse and sweat and man. Eau de Raoul. They ought to bottle him.
“No, no, no. You are driving me crazy.” This was the point where he should be shoving her away. This was the point where they should both come to their senses. This was the point they kept coming back to, over and over and over… then stopping.
But neither of them wanted to break the embrace. And that was all it was. A man comforting a woman in distress. With soft kisses on her hair. Soft murmurs of “Shhh. Don’t cry, you.” Soft strokes of hard hands running from her shoulders to her waist, over and over. They meant nothing.
She sighed. “Why does everything have to be so difficult for us?”
“Got me, babe. Know this: I would crawl over broken glass for you, if needed, but I won’t—I can’t—exist in the chaos that surrounds you.”
“I can’t help the people and things around me. It’s who I am.”
“I know that.” He kissed her hair again, a little harder for emphasis. “And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing for you. It is a bad thing for me … at least at this point in my life. I have enough turmoil to handle. My father died while I was in prison, and I’m just now starting to grieve over him, especially after reading those letters. I suspect they’ll have to exhume my father’s body for an autopsy. Not a pleasant prospect, that. Getting my conviction reversed is going to be messy, to say the least. Dieu only knows how long it will take to get my vet license back and the ranch back into shape. Stress City, that’s me right now.”
“And I just add to the stress by suggesting you turn the place into a dude ranch?”
“You got it.”
“And you won’t even consider that my proposal has merit?”
“Charmaine…” he cautioned. “Living with you is like living on a roller coaster.”