Sweethearts in South Dakota (At the Altar Book 14) Page 9

  The house was quiet, Honey snoozing on the Navajo-patterned rug in the entryway, and he wondered for a moment where Willa was but hurried down the hall to their bedroom to grab a quick shower. Their door was closed, and he didn’t think to knock, just opened it, only to stop short. Willa was in there in a pair of loose black pants, one knee up on the scooter, her back to him, naked from the waist up. Her silky fall of black hair only partially hid the smooth skin of her back and a tantalizing lacy peek of her black bra. He was immediately assailed by the memory of how her warm skin felt beneath his hands, and his breath caught in his throat.

  She threw a startled glance over her shoulder, dark eyes as wide as a deer’s.

  “Sorry,” they both blurted at the same time, as she automatically crossed her arms over the creamy swell of her breasts.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” she muttered. “I spilled sauce on my shirt.”

  “I was just going to take a quick shower. I’ll go down the hall.” Ryder left the room fast, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off his wife if he didn’t. That settled it, he thought to himself. They needed to work things out. He wanted Willa back in their bed.

  Nine

  Willa’s cheeks felt hot when Ryder left, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. She was in their bedroom. The bedroom they’d shared until her self-imposed exile to the couch, anyway. She’d just been thinking about Ryder—thinking about how much she missed that part of their marriage—and then, to have him walk in right at that moment . . . something had to give. She pulled on a clean shirt and took a deep breath, wheeling her scooter out of the room.

  Thanks to Mrs. Hollis, a dinner disaster had been averted. She’d kept the chicken on low in the oven, not knowing exactly when Ryder would get home, and only had to make the pasta and heat up the garlic bread. They’d both figured Willa could handle that much without a problem. She filled up a pot with water, and then balanced it on the basket of her scooter and transferred it over to the stove, grinning a little. She may not be fully operational yet, but she was figuring out how to make things work. After putting the frozen garlic bread on a cookie sheet and popping it into the oven, she wheeled back to the sink to wash her hands. It was dark already, as she looked out the window over the kitchen sink, and in the floodlights from the barn, she could see fat snowflakes dancing in the strong wind. It was kind of nice, she admitted to herself, not to have to go out in that. Willa hated the cold.

  She was still watching the whirling snowflakes when she caught sight of Ryder’s reflection in the glass behind her. “Hey,” she said quietly. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, smelling clean and fresh, his hair still damp from his shower.

  “Hey,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck. “I’ve missed you.”

  Willa knew he wasn’t just talking about being gone for the day. She closed her eyes and leaned back into Ryder, soaking up his warmth. He kissed her in a sensitive spot just behind her ear, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted.

  “Are you hungry?” Ryder asked, his voice husky, the words sending a lick of heat through her.

  Willa broke away, only to turn the heat off under the boiling water. “Dinner can wait,” she replied, turning around to face him. Talking could wait, too, she thought as he scooped her easily up in his arms. For the next hour, neither of them had to speak a word.

  The next morning, after a long, beautiful night spent with his wife, interrupted by only the beep of the smoke detector, set off by some very overcooked garlic bread, and an intimate dinner of slightly dry chicken parmigiana, Ryder’s day was looking sunny—even though the wind chill was in the teens and the weatherman was promising six inches of new snow by nightfall.

  He poured a cup of coffee for Willa and sat down across from her with his own. “What’s on your agenda today?” he asked.

  She wrinkled her nose and looked so cute, Ryder wanted to lean across the table and kiss her. “I’ve got some physical therapy exercises, but after that, not much. How about you?”

  Ryder thought quickly of the endless things he had to do, including interviewing replacements for the two most recent employees who had defected to their competitor’s ranch. His sunshiny feeling dimmed a little, but he tried to smile like nothing was wrong. “The usual,” he said offhandedly. “Fence checks this morning, a meeting with Brodie around one, and some paperwork after that.” He technically wasn’t lying, but he still felt uncomfortable with the omissions. Willa had enough to do, focusing on healing. She didn’t need to deal with ranch problems.

  Willa didn’t miss the way Ryder’s eyes shadowed at her question. Was he working too hard? She had to remind herself that, whether he asked for these responsibilities or not, he wasn’t used to the rigors of running a ranch. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Oh, no,” he said, his smile a little bit strained around the edges. “You just focus on yourself for now. Have you read anything good lately?”

  She let the issue go, teasingly giving him the highlights of a futuristic-police-procedure-novel, she’d finished a couple days before but decided privately that she’d surprise him and get on the computer later this afternoon. There wasn’t any reason she couldn’t help with paperwork. And, she thought with a little spark of excitement, there wasn’t any reason they both couldn’t work. Maybe the Circle G could benefit from a partnership after all. She might not have been willing to loosen up on the reins before, but after a few weeks’ break, Willa could admit that it would be nice to share the load with someone.

  She jumped up from the table as quickly as her injured ankle would allow, filled with a rising sense of optimism, and hopped around to where Ryder sat. He looked up at her, alarmed, but she leaned down and gave him a kiss.

  “What was that for?” he asked in puzzlement. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added, pulling her back in for another swift kiss when she laughed and tried to break away.

  “Nothing, cowboy. Hadn’t you better get to it? Cattle wait for no man.”

  Ryder gulped down the rest of his coffee and pulled a heavy sheepskin jacket he’d bought online the week before. Tugging down his black stocking cap to cover his ears, he gave her his trademark heart-melting smile. “Miss me?”

  “Definitely,” she assured him. And then he was gone, swallowed up in the cold, pre-dawn darkness.

  Before she did anything else, Willa made her way to the living room and pulled out her laptop. Christmas was coming, and she was going to order Ryder a real, one-hundred-percent genuine cowboy hat. He had earned it.

  Brodie was waiting for Ryder impatiently that afternoon. “We need to talk to Willa,” he said, without preamble.

  “What’s going on now?” Ryder pulled off his leather gloves and flexed his cold fingers. If this was what South Dakota was like in December, he didn’t even want to know what kind of temperatures January would bring. He sank down in the chair across from Brodie’s desk and stretched out his legs.

  “I know you want to protect her and let her focus on that ankle of hers, but things are getting serious. Jake called from Merrill’s Meats, and the Silver Sage offered them a better price than we could. Merrill’s is our biggest client.”

  Ryder sighed, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples, where the beginnings of a headache brewed. “Who is behind this Silver Sage? Why haven’t they been an issue for us before?”

  Brodie scowled. “I don’t know anything about them, and I’ve lived in this area for the last twenty-five years. From what I can tell, it’s a new outfit, and they’re becoming more than just a burr in the Circle G’s saddle. We’ve lost six experienced hands to them, and now eight beef contracts. They’re threatening the livelihood of this ranch. You have to talk to Willa. I don’t think she’s going to appreciate being left in the dark on this. In fact, she’s going to be furious when she finds out what’s been going on.”

  “You’re right,” Ryder said, feeling defeat creep up on him. “I’l
l go do it now.” The money wasn’t the issue, he thought, giving Star an absent rub as he passed the whickering horse. He’d made enough on the sale of his business that they could sell off all the cattle and do just fine running a petting zoo or something. A harsh wind smacked him in the face when he opened the door to the barn, making his eyes water.

  It was the fact that he’d failed Willa. It could only be his fault that things had gotten so bad so quickly. The ranch meant everything to her, and in a matter of weeks, he was running it into the ground.

  Willa stared at the computer, not comprehending the numbers she was seeing. Numbly, she scrolled through spreadsheet after spreadsheet. This couldn’t be accurate. She had only been away from everything for a few weeks. There must be some mistake.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  Honey gave a welcoming woof and pranced to the door, tail wagging. Willa slowly raised her eyes to see her husband framed in the doorway. A light dusting of snow in his hair was slowly melting. His cheeks were reddened by the wind, and his blue eyes looked tired.

  “Can we talk?”

  After one glance at his face, Willa knew all she needed to. Ryder looked guilty again.

  “What’s going on here? Why does it look like half of my business is gone?” She almost choked on the last word.

  “We’ve run into some trouble lately. I didn’t want to worry you with it.”

  “The trouble,” she bit out, her voice like ice, “is that you don’t know the first thing about running a ranch. Why some incompetent city slicker dude from out East thought he could just waltz in here and take things over . . .”

  Ryder’s face hardened. “Stop, Willa. This city slicker is your husband, not some stranger off the street.”

  She didn’t care. Temper had taken over, and she pushed herself up from the desk shakily. “You made no secret of the fact that you wanted the ranch from the beginning. It’s never even been about the marriage for you. As soon as you found out about the Circle G, I could see it in your face. You wanted it.”

  “Stop it, Willa,” Ryder said again, more harshly, his own temper finally fraying. “I had no idea about the Circle G, and you know it. I’m not the one who can’t see past it to what’s most important. Our marriage. I have enough money to support us through tough times.”

  “Oh, and that makes it all better,” she laughed bitterly. “You have enough money, so if my family’s ranch fails, oh well. I thought everything would be fine if I just found a man who didn’t know the first thing about ranching. A man who would leave everything to me, and who would stand back and let me do what I needed to do. Instead, you come into my life and get involved and wreck everything. It all came clear that day in Brodie’s office. Those words are burned into my head. ‘Teach me everything you know about this place, so I can run it myself.’ I should have just married someone local instead of going to some . . . some matchmaker. This was all a mistake.” Even as she blurted the words, Willa knew she had gone too far.

  Ryder’s face went pale and still. Willa’s own heart twisted, and she wished she could call the words back, but it was too late. Even Honey whimpered and slipped past Ryder to leave the room, her tail tucked low.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words seeming to echo in the office. “I will accept that your injury is my fault. If you hadn’t come in and only heard part of that conversation, you might not have run off and hurt yourself the way you did. I’ve done my best with the management of the Circle G and will accept any consequences of the decisions I’ve made. Make no mistake, though.” He stalked toward the desk until they were nearly eye to eye and she could smell the light spice of his aftershave, underlaid with the clean smell of snow and the outdoors. “Blame the ‘matchmaker’ if you want, but I believe that God put me here for a reason. He found me my perfect match. I love you. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and if you can’t see beyond your own stubborn, one-sided views, that is your problem.”

  Without another word, he turned and stalked out. She sat down slowly in the office chair, her legs shaking so hard they wouldn’t hold her up anymore. Willa heard banging and rustling in the room next door—their bedroom—and moments later, she saw Ryder walking by with a suitcase, his strides measured, and his face a cold mask. He didn’t look at her, and her heart seemed to seize in her chest. He was leaving. What had she done?

  She laid her head down in her folded arms, wishing she could cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.

  Hours later, Willa sat on the couch, rubbing Honey’s soft ears as the dog snored next to her. Her body was still, but her mind wouldn’t stop moving: replaying the arguments they’d had, worrying about the ranch, feeling awful at the thought of what it might mean to lose everything and what her grandfather would think. She couldn’t make herself get up and waited to hear the back door open, Ryder’s heavy footsteps and his upbeat voice asking her what was for dinner. Just the thought of food made her stomach churn uneasily. She wished she could talk to someone. She wished someone would tell her what to do. Things were so much easier when it wasn’t her in charge.

  When she did finally hear the door open, she scrambled awkwardly to her feet. “Ryder?”

  “Just me,” came Mrs. Hollis’s voice, sounding more gravelly than usual. “Ryder sent me to see if you needed anything.” She came to the doorway of the living room, tiny fists on her hips. There was a remoteness to her expression that Willa hadn’t seen before.

  “No, I’m okay,” Willa answered stiffly. Mrs. Hollis nodded once, briskly, and turned to leave.

  “Wait, Mrs. Hollis. Please. Where is he?”

  The older woman raised her eyebrows at Willa’s pleading tone, and her face softened a bit. “In the bunkhouse with the men. Well, what ones we have left.”

  He hadn’t left the ranch. She let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

  “I do need a favor after all. Would you call Brodie for me and ask him to come by as soon as he can? I’ll be in the office.”

  Willa wheeled her scooter that way, leaving Mrs. Hollis shaking her head disapprovingly. “Brodie’s not the one you should be talking to right now,” she muttered but went to call him anyway.

  “No,” Brodie said firmly. “You’re not thinking straight, Willa. Selling the ranch isn’t the answer.”

  “Well, what is, then?” Willa threw her hands in the air. “The ranch is the problem between Ryder and me, so I should just get rid of it, right? That’s what he wants.”

  Brodie shook his head uncomfortably. “I can’t tell you what to do, Willa, but this isn’t something you’ve thought through. You haven’t even talked to Ryder about it—doesn’t he have a say? You think this is what he would want, but I’ve worked with him every day for the past several weeks. He already loves this place, probably as much as you do. When we started losing men to the Silver Sage, he took up as much slack as I did and worked three times as hard. Didn’t you even notice how exhausted he’s been?”

  Another pang of guilt ran through Willa. She’d noticed that Ryder had seemed tired, but she just figured it was because he wasn’t used to the daily physical work that ranching required. After Brodie left, his usual friendly attitude a little distant, Willa stayed at the desk, staring at the unchanging numbers on the computer. She didn’t know how to fix this, and there was no one she could talk to. Mrs. Hollis and Brodie hadn’t come right out and said anything, but she could feel their disapproval. She hated conflict, and she hated feeling like a disappointment.

  Before she was fully conscious of what she was doing, Willa was digging through her desk drawer for a small, purple-lined business card.

  The phone rang twice before a cheery voice answered, “Matchrimony! How can we help you?”

  “Dr. Lachele,” Willa said in an unsteady voice. “This is Willa Griffin—Willa Pearce.”

  “Willa!” Lachele exclaimed warmly. “How are you, girl? How’s that handsome man of yours? Keeping you busy?” The woman chuckled.

  “I’ve got
a problem,” Willa said miserably, her voice clogging with tears that still refused to be shed. “I’ve messed everything up.”

  “Come on, now,” Lachele said kindly. “How bad can it be?”

  “Bad. Ryder moved out to the bunkhouse today.” Just saying it out loud made Willa duck her head in shame even though Dr. Lachele couldn’t see her.

  But to Willa’s surprised, the doctor gave a tinkling laugh. “I’ve heard of the doghouse, but this is the first time one of my clients has been sent to the bunkhouse. Tell me all about it, snickerdoodle. Let’s see what we can do to fix it.”

  Within minutes, Lachele, in her no-nonsense way, cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Which thought hurts you more, sweetie: the thought of losing the ranch and disappointing your grandfather, who is beyond caring about what happens here on Earth, or the thought of losing Ryder, the man you love and who God helped pick out just for you?”

  Put that way, the answer was simple. She loved Ryder. He was the most important thing in her life, and she didn’t have to go it alone anymore. Together, they would decide how to fix everything. She thanked Dr. Lachele and promised to update her in a few days, feeling as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders when she finally hung up.

  It was full dark by the time she got off the phone, and Honey was whimpering to go out, so Willa grabbed her cell phone to call her husband while she was waiting for the dog to finish her business. The call rang several times and rolled over to voicemail, the friendly sound of Ryder’s voice telling her to leave a message only strengthening her need to talk to him in person.

  “Ryder, it’s me. Please call me. We need to talk. I . . . I love you, and I’m sorry. I want to fix things, but I need your help.”

  She hung up, and opened the door, whistling for Honey. Outside, the snow was falling so heavily, she couldn’t see the floodlights in the truck lot. She whistled again, and Honey staggered through the door, her fur already weighed down with clumps of heavy, wet snow. “Not a good night to have to go outside,” she commented to the dog, brushing her off in the mudroom as best she could.