The Cowgirl & The Unexpected Wedding

“The kiss was the greeting. The rest was regrets.”

He laughed at that. “I know exactly what you mean.”

She regarded him suspiciously. “You do?”

“I was kinda hoping I’d gotten it all wrong, too. Care to try again, just in case the first time was an accident?” The question had nothing to do with his bet with Cody and everything to do with his longing for further experimentation. He’d spent too many restless nights dreaming of having this woman back in his arms. The discovery that she still fit him like the other half of a carved piece of wood was too tempting to resist.

Lizzy shook her head as if to clear it. “No, please. Once was enough to prove the point.”

“Coward.”

“Me?” she protested. “If you thought the last kiss was all that great, where have you been for the past five years?”

He liked the disgruntled attitude and decided to spur it on. “Comparison shopping,” he said.

She frowned at that.

Hank clung to the tiny hint of jealousy. “According to your family, you haven’t exactly been living in a cocoon,” he accused, immediately proving that he was just as capable of envy. Every mention of a man in Lizzy’s life had set acid to churning in his gut, though until now he’d been good at hiding it.

“True.”

He studied her speculatively. “So, Miss Lizzy, what do we do now? Wait another five years before we try it again?”

She considered that, her expression thoughtful as her gaze locked with his. Heat sizzled in the air. Finally she shook her head. “Pick me up at six.”

Hank’s pulse kicked up like an unbroken horse at the touch of a saddle. “For?”

“I wish I knew,” she said with a sigh. “Trouble, more than likely.”

“Now, Miss Lizzy, I do like the sound of that,” he retorted.

“Don’t go getting any wild ideas, cowboy,” she said, and started to clamber back over the fence.

Hank wasn’t ready to see her go. Not yet, not even with the promise of a whole evening ahead of him. “Lizzy?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re not busy,” he said oh so casually, “why don’t you stick around?”

“Why?” she asked bluntly. “You need some help with this fence? Word is it was just fine before you started tampering with it.”

He winced at the direct hit, but pressed on. “Actually, I was hoping you’d join me for lunch. I brought a couple of extra sandwiches, just in case you happened by.”

Her expression brightened. “Ham and cheese?” she asked, eyeing his saddlebags with a gleam in her eyes.

“On Mrs. Wyndham’s home-baked pumpernickel bread,” he said, knowing she would find that—if not him—irresistible.

“Did you bring pickles, too?”

“A whole jar.”

She was pawing through the saddlebags in an instant. When she’d plucked the thick, foil-wrapped sandwiches from them, her face lit up.

“I’ve dreamed of Mrs. Wyndham’s sandwiches,” she admitted as she moved to a spot in the shade of a huge old cottonwood. “I’ve been in a lot of delis the past few years, but none of them has gotten it quite right. Your housekeeper ought to be declared a national treasure.”

“It’s the bread,” Hank said, taking a spot beside her and stretching his legs out in front of him. “I don’t know what she puts in it, but the taste can’t be matched.”

“How’d you remember that I loved these so much?”

If only she knew how many times he’d sifted through the memories of every moment they’d ever shared. After all, she’d trailed after him for years, pestering him with questions and as time passed and she grew into a woman, blistering him with looks hot enough to sizzle steak.

“I remember a lot of things,” he said quietly, his hat low so she couldn’t read his expression.

“Such as?”

He could pretend, as he had done so many times in the past, treat the question dismissively, or he could tell the truth. Maybe it was time for a little straightforward honesty between them.

“For one thing, the way your eyes light up with golden sparks when you take the first bite,” he said, tilting the hat back and keeping his gaze on her steady. “The way your tongue darts out to lick the mustard from your lips. The way you always save one bite as if you can’t quite bear to finish.”

She blinked and swallowed hard, but it was Hank who looked away first. If he started cataloging all the rest of the things he remembered about Lizzy, they’d waste the whole afternoon and his blood would be in a heated frenzy.

“How’s med school?” he asked, forcing a neutral tone into his voice. This was safer ground, turf that would remind him of all that stood between them still.

“Okay.”

“Still getting straight As?”

“Not this quarter,” she said.

He heard the rare insecurity in her voice and wondered at it. “How come? Is it tougher than you expected?”

Even as he asked it, he wondered if he wanted the answer to be yes, wanted med school to be so tough that she’d give up on it and come home. But of course, Lizzy was no quitter and coming home a failure wouldn’t sit well with her. That was no way to get what he wanted, and he knew it.

“Not so tough. I just haven’t been able to keep my mind on my studies the way I should the past few weeks.”

“Since Harlan’s heart attack?” he guessed, knowing how mat would have thrown her. He’d almost called her then to offer support or sympathy or, just as likely, to finally hear the sound of her voice again. That was what had held him back. He hadn’t fully understood his own motives, and that was dangerous with a woman like Lizzy.

She nodded, then faced him, her green eyes with those daggling flecks of gold now clouded with worry. “Do you know how he is?” she asked. “I keep getting the feeling that nobody’s telling me the whole truth.”

He wanted to smooth away her frown, but settled for a teasing comment intended to do the same job. “Hey, you’re the budding doctor. Couldn’t you tell by looking at him that he’s doing okay?”

“He looks good,” she admitted. “But he wouldn’t let me examine him.”

Hank chuckled at her disgruntled tone. “I’m surprised you didn’t wrestle him down and do it anyway.”

“Believe me, I was tempted.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “And you haven’t answered my question, either. How is he?”

“What did your mother say?”