Shine Not Burn(79)

“A long time,” Maeve finished for me. “And in all those years, Mack never reciprocated the feeling.”

“But don’t they live together?”

“Yes, but not as a couple.”

I snorted. Mothers could be so clueless.

Maeve frowned at me for a split second. “No, really. I’m not privy to all of their private moments, but I know my son.”

I nodded noncommittally, not believing a word of it. Maeve believed it, but that was just a mother’s naiveté, what she wanted to be true. A man like Mack and a woman in love with him for over ten years couldn’t possibly live together and stay just friends. He would have had to beat her off with a stick, and he was too nice a guy to do that.

I shook my head, battling tears. It figured. I had the best sex of my life with a man who was already spoken for, and the sex education he’d provided me was enough to make me realize that the man who’d I’d planned to marry was not the man for me. Or maybe he was. Maybe I was better off with a guy who was cold, calculating and absolutely sure of how I fit into his life.

Nothing made sense anymore. I was so confused. The divorce papers in my bag were either my ticket to happiness or my doom; I had no way of knowing. Investing in a Magic Eight-Ball when we got into town seemed the best plan of action at this point. Asking it to solve my problems would probably put me on a better track than I’d be able to manage for myself.

“When they were growing up, Hannah was always on the outskirts of my boys’ games. She watched them doing their rodeos when they got older, went to their sporting events … but never once did Gavin give her the time of day. He didn’t respect her is what he always told me. She married another man - a friend of Gavin’s - and then ended up in a bad way a couple months back, so he offered her a place to stay. He did it at his friend’s request, not Hannah’s. He’s just being a good friend.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, staring out the window. Maeve was pushing a knife into my chest with every word. Next she’d probably tell me how they had to share a bedroom, all because Mack’s such a good guy. A veritable saint in form-fitting jeans and a cowboy hat.

“You should talk to him about it. He’ll explain.”

“He doesn’t need to,” I said, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice. “It has nothing to do with me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Maeve had stopped in town at a red light. She glanced at me before driving forward through the cleared intersection.

“I’m sure.” I said, knowing it wasn’t true. Mack and Hannah had lots to do with me. He’s my husband, but he belongs with the girl who’s loved him half her life, not the one who couldn’t even remember she married him. Standing in the middle of that wouldn’t be fair. Great sex does not make a relationship, and besides, we were opposites in every way. He’s a cowboy, I’m a lawyer. He lives in the dust and I live on the asphalt. He rides a horse and I drive a clown honkey-horn having Smart Car.

Maeve pulled into a parking lot. “Here’s the grocery store. Come on in with me and we’ll grab a few things before we head on over to the party supply place.”

I got out of the truck and followed her in, my eyes staring at the ground in front of me as I mulled over my situation. I didn’t see Hannah until she was almost on top of me.





Chapter Thirty





“WELL, IF IT ISN’T THE foreigner. Fancy meeting you here. How’re you doing there, Annie?” Hannah sauntered over in a pair of denim short-shorts and a red blouse tied at the bottom à la Daisy Duke, abandoning her grocery cart near a pile of books set up in a display near the front doors. The only thing she was missing were ponytails on either side of her head; instead, her hair was left curly and loose. It appeared less brassy than the last time I’d seen it, making me think she’d just spent some serious dough at the beauty salon. I glanced down towards the bottom of her long legs at her cute, multi-colored embroidered cowboy boots. Where I came from, she would have been laughed at for looking like a silly hayseed redneck. But out here, the whole get-up made her look like a country-western singer. A really pretty one. Maybe even sexy, too. My heart sank, suddenly seeing her through Mack’s eyes. She was like every cowboys’ wet dream right there in the flesh. She probably knew how to bake pies, too. I wouldn’t know the first thing about doing that. I’m more the buy and defrost kind of girl.

“Her name is Andie, not Annie,” corrected Maeve. She looked deceptively calm and casual about being approached by the girl we were just talking about in the truck in a not very complimentary way.