she wouldn’t be a
woman she could care about.
But it still sucked.
***
Mac didn’t want to get out of bed. He couldn’t remember that ever happening to him.
Not even after an all-night bender. Because he was a rancher, and that meant getting
up at the ass-crack of dawn. It meant putting on his boots and his hat and getting
in gear.
Daylight was precious, and his land was his livelihood.
But right now, he figured daylight and his livelihood could go to hell. He was already
there.
How could the absence of someone feel so miserable? He was used to the presence of
a woman making him miserable. It was why God had invented breaking up.
Usually, after a breakup he felt light and free. Now he felt hungover, and he hadn’t
even gotten that drunk.
The simple truth was, when he thought about love and marriage, he was filled with
bone-deep terror. It was why he’d generally avoided thinking about it. It was why
his relationships always ended early. So he never had to face it. So he never had
to deal with the fact that he was afraid. Lucy was right—he was a coward.
He was afraid of being the callous bastard his father was. Afraid of being stupid
like his mother. He didn’t know which thought scared him more. But he’d never seen
it go another way. And when he thought of being locked in that endless hell with someone…
he just couldn’t even entertain it.
No matter how much it hurt now, it would hurt worse later. For both of them.
Which meant no matter how much he wanted Lucy, no matter how much he wanted to tell
her whatever she needed to hear to keep her in his bed, his life, he had to let her
go.
He growled and threw the covers off, planting his feet flat on the floor. He had things
to take care of. He didn’t have time to wallow. And still, all he wanted to do was
wallow.
“Sad sack,” he muttered, forcing himself to stand up.
He’d always assumed his life experiences had just beaten the ability to love right
out of him. But it turned out that wasn’t true. He could love. He was just too damn
afraid to do anything about it.
Anything other than hurt.
Chapter Eleven
Lucy felt proud of herself. She’d made it through two weeks of working at Mac’s house
without falling into his bed or falling apart. And neither was any mean feat.
The man was gorgeous and frequently walked around shirtless looking like a dessert.
He was visual cake, and she wanted to lick all the icing off.
And then there were the moments when the pain of not being with him, of not having
an emotional connection, hurt so bad she thought she was dying a little.
They barely spoke. He barely looked at her. They were almost worse than they’d been
when she’d first shown up on his doorstep. Because they’d been enemies then. But they
were strangers now. At least enemies had evidence of passion. This was… it was
like he was pretending nothing had happened between them.
The upside was that she wasn’t hurting over her marriage anymore. She just felt…
past it. She felt new, and different.
She also had the barbecue project to fling herself into, and now, with less than a
day to go before the big event, she was up to her neck in planning, so pining was
a little difficult.
“Almost done!”
Lucy turned at the sound of Carly’s voice, straightening from where she’d been tying
a bow on the back of a chair. Not a stiff, linen bow on a crisp white chair cover
like she might have done at a formal party. She, Sarah and Carly had been tying raffia
bows around wooden chairs for hours. But everything was getting close to completion.
They’d also spent time prepping Mason jars by putting sugar on the rims, perfect for
the strawberry lemonade that was going to be served. And the people who had volunteered
to man the grills had already started prepping the beef—high quality, highly sought
after beef provided by Mac Denton, of course.
She sighed. All right, so she might
woman she could care about.
But it still sucked.
***
Mac didn’t want to get out of bed. He couldn’t remember that ever happening to him.
Not even after an all-night bender. Because he was a rancher, and that meant getting
up at the ass-crack of dawn. It meant putting on his boots and his hat and getting
in gear.
Daylight was precious, and his land was his livelihood.
But right now, he figured daylight and his livelihood could go to hell. He was already
there.
How could the absence of someone feel so miserable? He was used to the presence of
a woman making him miserable. It was why God had invented breaking up.
Usually, after a breakup he felt light and free. Now he felt hungover, and he hadn’t
even gotten that drunk.
The simple truth was, when he thought about love and marriage, he was filled with
bone-deep terror. It was why he’d generally avoided thinking about it. It was why
his relationships always ended early. So he never had to face it. So he never had
to deal with the fact that he was afraid. Lucy was right—he was a coward.
He was afraid of being the callous bastard his father was. Afraid of being stupid
like his mother. He didn’t know which thought scared him more. But he’d never seen
it go another way. And when he thought of being locked in that endless hell with someone…
he just couldn’t even entertain it.
No matter how much it hurt now, it would hurt worse later. For both of them.
Which meant no matter how much he wanted Lucy, no matter how much he wanted to tell
her whatever she needed to hear to keep her in his bed, his life, he had to let her
go.
He growled and threw the covers off, planting his feet flat on the floor. He had things
to take care of. He didn’t have time to wallow. And still, all he wanted to do was
wallow.
“Sad sack,” he muttered, forcing himself to stand up.
He’d always assumed his life experiences had just beaten the ability to love right
out of him. But it turned out that wasn’t true. He could love. He was just too damn
afraid to do anything about it.
Anything other than hurt.
Chapter Eleven
Lucy felt proud of herself. She’d made it through two weeks of working at Mac’s house
without falling into his bed or falling apart. And neither was any mean feat.
The man was gorgeous and frequently walked around shirtless looking like a dessert.
He was visual cake, and she wanted to lick all the icing off.
And then there were the moments when the pain of not being with him, of not having
an emotional connection, hurt so bad she thought she was dying a little.
They barely spoke. He barely looked at her. They were almost worse than they’d been
when she’d first shown up on his doorstep. Because they’d been enemies then. But they
were strangers now. At least enemies had evidence of passion. This was… it was
like he was pretending nothing had happened between them.
The upside was that she wasn’t hurting over her marriage anymore. She just felt…
past it. She felt new, and different.
She also had the barbecue project to fling herself into, and now, with less than a
day to go before the big event, she was up to her neck in planning, so pining was
a little difficult.
“Almost done!”
Lucy turned at the sound of Carly’s voice, straightening from where she’d been tying
a bow on the back of a chair. Not a stiff, linen bow on a crisp white chair cover
like she might have done at a formal party. She, Sarah and Carly had been tying raffia
bows around wooden chairs for hours. But everything was getting close to completion.
They’d also spent time prepping Mason jars by putting sugar on the rims, perfect for
the strawberry lemonade that was going to be served. And the people who had volunteered
to man the grills had already started prepping the beef—high quality, highly sought
after beef provided by Mac Denton, of course.
She sighed. All right, so she might
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