bitter laugh escaped her pretty mouth. “We have a million things to talk about. Believe me, I’ve been wanting to have this conversation for a long time—years.” She swiped a hand through her hair, then rubbed at her weary-looking eyes. Finally, still not looking up, she whispered, “Are you even going to ask about him? About Justin?”
His body rigid, he shot back, “No. I’m not. I honestly don’t give a damn.”
“You rock-headed son of a bitch,” she snapped, jerking as if he’d slapped her. “You still don’t trust me, still think I’m a liar.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant, or why she’d imagine he gave a flying leap about whether she lied about this boyfriend of hers or not. That hint of hurt in her voice—buried deep below the anger—made him wonder. His resolve softened a little, and he almost apologized.
But then he reminded himself of all the reasons he had not to trust her. More importantly, he remembered why he needed to keep a firm wall in place between them: because she still affected him more than any woman ever had. So he said nothing.
Not that she waited for an answer. Nicole spun around and strode across the room toward the exit. But rather than bursting through it, she stopped, shook her head, and muttered something under her breath. He studied her stiff, straight back, knowing a major argument was going on in her head.
Finally, she turned back around. “I have to work with you, I have no choice.”
And she hated that, he’d lay money on it. Which made him smile. “Guess not.”
“Right now, the most important thing is Dad’s recovery. And if taking care of his practice—including working for you—helps in that recovery, then our epic blowout will just have to wait.”
“Epic, huh?”
Her eyes narrowed in visible resentment. “Beyond epic. But until that day, can we just pretend we have no history? Act like we never knew each other? At least until Dad’s better.”
Forget they ever knew each other? It would be easier for Wyatt to forget to draw breath. For more years than he could remember he had defined his life and the man he was by the lessons he'd learned in his relationship with Nicole. He mentally ticked them off in an ugly litany: trust no one, love never lasts, it's better to be alone than betrayed.
Yet, what she said made sense. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her help. Plenty of vets practiced in the horse country of north-central Florida. There were as many vets as there were ranches, and that was a considerable number. But, there weren't many he'd trust with his livestock.
Nicole had been born with a gift. Her affinity for animals had been obvious from the time she was a little girl, and he suspected she was as good with four-legged creatures as her father was. So what if she was lousy with the two-legged variety?
That didn’t matter. He didn’t want her around for his own sake, just for the sake of the Four C and the beautiful, valuable animals who kept the ranch in business. So it would be business only. Wyatt didn’t need to spend time with her, wouldn’t have anything to do with her outside of his own stables. Which suited him just fine.
"All right , I guess we don’t have any other choice," he muttered finally. "Our epic blowout will just have to wait.”
And hopefully, after it came, Wyatt could finally say what he had wanted to say for eleven years…and then get on with his life. Without any more thoughts of Nicole Ross.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nicole left her father's farmhouse about fifteen minutes before she was due at the ranch. The Four C was located five miles outside of Windover, off a main state road, and comprised about two hundred acres of mostly flat Florida ground. There were a few hilly spots, hilly for Florida at least, but nothing like the lush Maryland countryside where Nicole's mother lived. Still, the land was appealing. Only in Florida could one see a few small alligators swimming lazily in a ranch pond, just
Clive;Justin Scott Cussler