A Cowboy Returns

His troubles became manageable as their tongues touched, tentative for the briefest moment. Then he took over the kiss. Dominating the moment, he took comfort in her nearness and yelped like a scolded pup when she bit his lip. Hard.

Parking both hands on his chest, she shoved and shouted, “What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” Eyes wild, she dragged a hand over her mouth. “You don’t waltz into town after fourteen years, run me off the road and then... You don’t... You can’t kiss me like...like...you ass!”

“‘Ass’? I kiss you and you call me an ass?” Eli’s lips thinned as his once-infamous temper, second only to hers and all but squashed under years of educational and professional training, raced forward like a laser-guided missile, target locked, impact imminent. “I’m going to point out the obvious here, Reagan. You kissed me, too.”

“I didn’t... That is... No. There was no mutual... No, I didn’t!” Chest heaving, she drove a finger into his chest. “Why are you even here? The funeral was two freaking weeks ago. You should’ve been here then. But you show up now, expecting everyone to bend to your expectations. That’s so typical, Eli. It’s always been the way you operate,” she snapped, backing up until she bumped into her truck. She hopped in, never taking her eyes off him. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still smart as shit when it comes to business and dumb as dirt when it comes to people.”

“Hey,” he objected, but she powered on without pause.

“You’re too late to do any good, Eli, but, then, you taught me what to expect a long time ago. I’d truly thought you’d show for the funeral, though. For your blood.” She looked him up and down with a critical eye as she delivered the blow he should’ve anticipated but never saw coming. “I might have been your girlfriend once, but Cade and Tyson are your brothers, Eli. They needed you.” Her gaze met his, anger turning the normally moss green color of her eyes deep and vibrant. “They needed you here to help them manage the mess your old man left behind, but you clearly couldn’t put your high-society life aside for a few days to come home and help them out of the bind they’re in. You never could be bothered. Not for them. Not for anyone.”

She moved to slam the door, but he grabbed it, stepping close. “That’s why I’m here now—to probate my father’s estate. But that’s irrelevant. You don’t get to sit there in your shiny truck, that captain’s chair your personal throne, and pass judgment on me, Armstrong.”

Jerking away as if struck, she stared at him with wide eyes. “It hasn’t been ‘Armstrong’ for eight years. It’s Matthews. And to you? Dr. Matthews. Nothing less, and never, ever anything more. Now let go of the door, Eli.”

His hand fell away from the truck.

She’d married Luke Matthews. He’d had no idea.

The reality he’d likely see her and Luke together while in town made Eli’s stomach lurch up his throat until he seriously wondered if he might puke. Wouldn’t that be awesome.

Then there was the fact she was a doctor. From the size of her truck and the type of work boxes, he didn’t have to ask what kind. A vet. She’d always wanted to be a large-animal vet.

He cleared his throat once, then twice, before he managed to croak, “Great. Happy for you.”

Slamming the truck door shut, she made it a point to click the locks down. Couldn’t get much clearer than that.

Her dog whined loud enough for Eli to hear the cry over the soft rumble of the truck’s engine. Reagan absently soothed the animal, her hand shaking.

Eli could totally relate. Years in court had trained him to present a totally calm and controlled exterior under extreme pressure. That didn’t mean his insides weren’t rattling, though. The emotions buffering him now were both uncomfortable and unrecognizable. But there was no point examining them too closely. This visit didn’t center around assuaging years of curiosity and doubt; nor did it have anything to do with healing old hurts. It was about finally closing this part of his life. Permanently.

Swallowing his anger and determined to keep things civil, he motioned for her to roll her window down.

Green eyes that had always before met his with open trust and absolute passion narrowed and glared. She punctuated the stare with a one-fingered salute. Without waiting for him to move, she slammed the truck into Reverse and punched the accelerator.

He leaped aside with a shouted curse.

The truck surged off the curb, suspension squeaking in protest. She shifted the truck into gear and, leaning on the accelerator, she rapidly put distance between them.

The dog, its tail still wagging, watched him with open curiosity thought the rear window.

Closing his eyes, Eli parked his fists on his hips and let his chin fall to his chest.

What the hell am I doing here?

“Settling an old debt,” he answered quietly. He was here to make sure his brothers were okay. Yet according to Reagan, he was already too late for that.

Trying to wipe the unforgettable taste of her off his lips, he crossed the still-vacant street and crammed himself into the compact car before making a left and heading up Highway 54.

He was going to get this done and get gone. That would spare everyone involved any further awkwardness. Then he’d return to Austin, to the career he excelled at and the life he’d carved out for himself.

And Reagan was right. He wouldn’t look back.

* * *

REAGAN MATTHEWS MUSCLED her heavy-duty truck around the corner and shot down the highway as hard and fast as the GMC would go. She had to put distance between herself and that...that...man.

But it wasn’t just the man—it was the memories. She’d tried to put up a good front with Eli, to come across as both indifferent and controlled. Even she knew she’d botched it up and let emotion get the best of her. The apathy she’d dug for had been, at best, a shaky mirage. A strong gust of wind would have swept the bulk of it away, a million seeds of discontent that simply wanted answers.

But then he’d kissed her.

If her apathy hadn’t stood a chance against a simple breeze, it couldn’t hold out hope for survival when faced with the force of nature that was Elijah Covington.

He’d been the sole shareholder of her heart, the one thing she was sure she couldn’t live without. All those days spent at the river, just the two of them listening to music, talking, watching the sunset against the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Then there were the nights. Hours spent stargazing and more hours spent discovering each other, learning the touches that elicited the most pleasure, the sensitive spots to kiss softly, the right time to love gently and the time to let it all go and be as wild and free as the world around them.

Then he’d left.

So many years she’d held out hope he’d come back. She’d been the talk of the town for so long, first with shared hope, then pity and then the fool who simply couldn’t let go of a man long gone. She’d never stopped loving him. She’d just stopped looking for him.

Reagan traced her numb lips with trembling fingers. Her chest had constricted to the point she couldn’t draw even half a breath. But her heart... She rubbed her sternum. Her heart hadn’t hurt this bad in years, and wasn’t that a testament to the way she’d lived her life.

She allowed reality to sink in, accepting that Eli’d had his arms around her again, and it had felt as familiar as it did foreign. A broken sob ripped out of her chest. She’d spent the past fourteen years trying not to drown in heartache and regrets. Then he showed up and, with a single kiss, pulled her under those dark emotional waters again. He acted as if it had meant as little to him as if he were ordering a cup of coffee to go.

When she’d broken away, she’d begun to sink.

Taking the first dirt road she came to, she slid to a stop, dust billowing around her. She rested her head on the steering wheel and rolled her forehead back and forth, trying to force her roiling thoughts to fall into place.

She’d have to repair the Blue Swallow’s landscaping. But the damage really hadn’t been her fault. Most people reacted poorly when a ghost ran them off the road.

Elijah Covington.

“Not a ghost,” she said, voice hoarse. “Just a memory. A...mistake.”

But that wasn’t true, either. Loving him had never been a mistake. Holding on to the faith he’d figure out he belonged here, too? That she was the one for him? Those were her major screwups, the two things that had given him the power to thoroughly and effectively decimate her heart.

Swiping her cowboy hat off, she cursed as she rewound her hair and tucked it under the hat. “It’s been fourteen years now, Matthews. You’ve moved on. You have a career and a life story, neither of which include him.”

She didn’t have much of a life at the moment, though. What she had were long, backbreaking days and endless, lonely nights.

In the passenger seat, her dog, Brisket, whined.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Untucking her shirt, she wiped the sweat—not tears—off her face.

The iPad alarm sounded. She glanced at the screen with a physical wince. Almost nine. She was due at the Jensen place in a little less than an hour to draw up health papers on their steers before they shipped the yearlings to the livestock auction in nearby Dalhart, Texas.

Scrubbing her hands over her face, she forced a deep breath. All right. Eli had come home. So what? He was fast-flowing water under the charred remnants of a bridge burned long ago. She could avoid him for however long he was here. And knowing him, it would only be temporary. He had run before; he would run again. That was what he was good at, after all.

Shifting the truck into Reverse, she backed out onto the highway as a faded red car started up the two-lane highway from the boulevard. Slow but sure, the car closed in on her. The driver was hunched over the wheel as if he were nothing but an origami miniature of a large man. Dark hair blew in the breeze from the open window. Large hands wrung the steering wheel. If the poor thing had been alive, he’d have killed it a thousand times over.