Читать книгу: «One Mother Wanted»

CHAPTER ONE

THE Augusta Room in the century-old, Steele-owned St. Christopher Hotel in Aspen, Colorado provided the perfect backdrop for the wedding reception of Thomas Steele and Cheyenne Lassiter. Autumn had cooled the September afternoon enough to permit fires in the carved Art Nouveau fireplaces at either end of the huge ballroom. Slender metal pillars encircled the room, while chandeliers hanging from the two-story-high vaulted ceiling bathed the room’s occupants with a soft pink glow as friends, neighbors and relatives toasted the happy couple. Curious hotel guests and tourists who’d wandered in from the street to see the historic ballroom found themselves accepting flutes of champagne and gawking at the movie stars, business tycoons, sports figures and politicians moving easily through the throng. Immense arrangements of creamy pink roses, white lilies and herbs, such as marjoram for joy and happiness, myrtle for love and passion, ivy for friendship and sage for long life, perfumed the air.

Alberta Harmony Lassiter could hardly wait to leave.

“Allie, aren’t you ready to go yet?” The boyish voice rang with desperation. “Cheyenne, I mean, Mom, said we didn’t have to stay forever.”

Allie smiled at her new nephew. Davy Steele had been an infant when his parents died in a plane crash. Cheyenne told him his mother would always be his mother, but if he wanted to call Cheyenne “Mom,” he could. Davy had eagerly embraced the idea.

Tousling the seven-year-old’s hair, Allie said, “We have to wait until they cut the cake and all that stuff.”

“Do we have to? That’ll take forever.”

“Yes, we have to. Since you’ll be staying on the ranch with Mom and Worth and Greeley, you’ll have plenty of time to ride horses while Cheyenne and Thomas are on their honeymoon.”

Honeymoon. It didn’t seem possible. It was a matter of weeks since Allie’s sister had met Davy and his Uncle Thomas. Today Cheyenne had become Mrs. Thomas Steele and Davy’s mother. Davy would undoubtedly soon call Thomas “Dad.”

Allie’s eyes grew damp. Her older sister married with a ready-made family. Cheyenne made a beautiful bride. Her sister’s beauty transcended mere physical appearance. Cheyenne’s glowing beauty came from within. The kind of beauty that came from being deeply loved.

Once Allie had thought she was loved like that. She’d been wrong.

“Oh, no, here she comes.”

The muttered words of dismay reminded Allie of the boy at her side. “Who comes?”

“Her.” He pointed toward a small girl trotting in their direction, a shy smile on her face. “I can’t get away from her.”

Despite a sense of familiarity, Allie had never seen the child before. Curly red ringlets framed a cherubic face. “She doesn’t look dangerous to me.” She looked about four years old.

Davy gave Allie a disgusted look. “She keeps bothering me.” The little girl reached for his hand and he jerked it from her grasp. “Go away. I don’t like girls.”

Giant tears welled up in the child’s eyes.

“See?” Davy appealed to Allie. “She does that every time I tell her to go away. Stop crying,” he said to the girl. “We’re going to have cake. Don’t you like cake?”

The girl nodded and reached out her hand again. With a huge sigh, Davy took it.

Giving Davy a smile in which commiseration mingled with approval, Allie crouched down so her face was level with the child’s. “Hi. I’m Allie and this is Davy. What’s your name?”

The little girl popped her free thumb into her mouth.

“She won’t talk,” Davy said. “Maybe she don’t know how.”

The child gave him an indignant look.

Allie swallowed a laugh. “Do you like weddings?”

The child shrugged. A second later her thumb shot out of her mouth and she fleetingly touched Allie’s dress. “Pretty.”

“Thank you. Your dress is pretty, too.” The neon pink monstrosity of ruffles and ribbons was too big and the wrong color. A torn ruffle had been inexpertly mended.

The little girl lovingly patted the acres of skirt. “Daddy bought it.”

“Who is your daddy?” Allie asked.

The child looked past Allie. Her face lit up like a million candles. “He’s my daddy.” She pointed up.

“Hello, Allie.”

Allie’s heart stopped. The room went dim. Her body froze and she forgot to breathe. What was Zane Peters doing here? He couldn’t be here. Not at a wedding. Not when she once believed she’d be the first Lassiter sister to marry. Believed she’d marry him. How dare he show up uninvited at Cheyenne’s wedding? How dare he speak to Allie? He couldn’t possibly think she’d forgiven him.

She’d never forgive him. He’d hurt her more than any person had a right to hurt another. Past tense. He no longer had the power to hurt her. He had no power over her at all.

“Allie? You okay? You look kinda funny. Can’t you get up? Want me to get Grandma Mary or Cheyenne, I mean, Mom?”

Davy’s anxious voice snapped Allie from her trance. “No.” Her voice came out sharply. Giving Davy a smile she hoped was reassuring, Allie said, “I’m okay. My foot went to sleep.”

“Let me help you up,” Zane said.

She ignored his offer and his extended hand. Standing, Allie saw her older sister across the room. Concern covered Cheyenne’s face. And guilt.

Dam Cheyenne. For five years Allie had managed to avoid Zane Peters. She’d taught school in Denver, and when in Aspen, she’d developed a kind of radar that prevented chance encounters.

Without once looking at the man who had betrayed her, Allie headed straight for her sister.

“I can explain,” Cheyenne said, as soon as Allie reached her. “Zane was Worth’s best friend.”

“I’m Worth’s sister.” Allie paused. “Are you telling me Worth invited him?”

Cheyenne’s color heightened. “I saw Zane in town yesterday. He said ‘hello’ so cautiously, it would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad. You’ve told me a million times you don’t care about him anymore. That he’s nothing to you. But he was one of our oldest friends, and Worth misses him.”

“He’s never said so to me.”

“Worth wouldn’t. Okay, so he’s never said anything to me, either, but they were best friends forever.”

Allie hadn’t been born yesterday. “And that’s the only reason you invited him? For Worth?” She watched her sister’s face. Cheyenne had never been able to tell a convincing lie.

“Why else? I know you’re not interested in him.”

Proper decorum prevented one from strangling a bride on her wedding day, even if she was the lyingest bride that ever said her vows. “You know I hate it when you stick your pointed nose into my business.”

Red flagged Cheyenne’s cheeks. “It’s no more pointed than yours. Besides—” she looked somewhere in the vicinity of Allie’s forehead “—his wife is dead. You and Zane could—”

“Could nothing. You listen to me, Cheyenne Lassiter, it you want to be some stupid man’s doormat, go ahead. I don’t, so mind your own cotton-picking business.”

“Personally I can’t see my wife being anyone’s doormat.” A solid arm snaked around Allie’s waist.

“If you hadn’t been warned,” she said to a smiling Thomas Steele, “I’d feel sorry for you. The rest of us are stuck with her, but you could have walked away.”

“I may be a stupid man, but I can guess what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry I called you stupid—” mortification heated Allie’s face “—but sometimes my sister...”

“What did Ms. Busybody do now?” Thomas smiled at his bride. “I love you, Mrs. Steele, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to your interfering ways.”

Cheyenne looked so penitent, Allie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She summoned up a big smile. “I was surprised and overreacted. It isn’t every day my big sister gets married. I guess I’m a little emotional.”

Cheyenne gave her a big hug. “Liar,” she whispered in Allie’s ear. Taking Allie’s hands in hers, out loud she said, “I blew it. It won’t happen again. I promise. Cross my heart.”

Allie gave an unladylike snort and they both laughed.

Thomas looked from one to the other. “I’m never going to understand women, am I?”

“That’s what puts the fun in marriage,” Allie’s mother teased as she joined them. “My new grandson is going to go berserk if you two don’t hurry up and cut the wedding cake so he and Allie can head for the ranch. Davy rates riding horses much higher than weddings,” Mary Lassiter added with a laugh.

Short hair suited her.

She smiled at the groom. Once she’d reserved her warmest smiles for Zane. He’d fallen in love with Allie Lassiter ten years ago. Many things had changed, but not that. Never that

He had no right to love her, not after what he’d done. He didn’t expect her to welcome him back into her life. Or her arms. Which didn’t stop him from indulging in fantasies.

“Starving dogs don’t look that hungrily at food.”

Zane didn’t need to turn to identify the speaker. “When I ran into Cheyenne yesterday and she invited me to her wedding, I thought maybe...” He uttered a short, bitter laugh. “Allie didn’t know I was coming. Cheyenne didn’t tell her.”

“Cheyenne couldn’t have gotten married without both her sisters in attendance,” Worth Lassiter said.

“Meaning Allie would have stayed away rather than meet me. How about you? Would Cheyenne have walked down the aisle alone if you’d known I was coming?”

“I knew. Cheyenne had second thoughts and asked me if she should phone you and take back the invitation. Then she decided you wouldn’t come. I knew you would.”

Zane couldn’t decipher Worth’s tone of voice. Nor could he bring himself to look at this man who’d been his best friend. “We had some good times together, you and I.”

“Yeah.” Worth added quietly, “I’ve missed you, you son of a gun, but Allie’s my sister. What you did about killed her.”

Zane said fiercely, “I’d do anything, pay any price, if I could undo what I did.”

“I know.”

Zane looked at Worth. “Does she?”

Worth shrugged. “She hasn’t spoken your name to me since the night she walked into the house and told us you were marrying someone else.”

“I thought she’d be married by now.”

“Men have been interested. She’s not. Between Beau and you, Allie’s opinion of men isn’t too high.”

Zane shoved clenched fists in his pockets. Men didn’t come much lower than Beau Lassiter, Allie’s late and unlamented father. Yet Zane couldn’t deny the truth of Worth’s words, no matter how painful they were. “Hannah’s been looking forward to the cake, but we’d better leave.”

“I never knew you had a yellow streak a mile wide down your back.” Worth walked away.

Zane watched his former friend cross the room. Worth had called him a coward. Zane had no idea why.

Laughter caught his attention. Allie and her two sisters laughed with the groom. Zane used to dream about her laughing in his bed. Although he’d tossed away the right to have those kind of dreams, the dreams had never stopped.

Hannah had wandered off again, but he kept her in sight. She stood near the bridal party, her big blue eyes locked on Allie. Little girls were supposed to be crazy about weddings, but Hannah appeared fascinated by the maid of honor instead of the bride.

Most people thought the two older Lassiter sisters looked alike. They couldn’t be more wrong. Cheyenne was an open book. Allie was a closed book, with only a precious few allowed to peek inside. Once Zane had been privileged to share her innermost thoughts. A privilege he’d stupidly thrown away. Even from across St. Chris’s ballroom, he could see how shuttered her face was, how hidden her thoughts and emotions. If he were a man given to crying, he’d cry now. He could have cried a million times over the past five years. Crying wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Neither would running. He’d stay until Hannah had her cake. Then he’d get the hell out of here. Away from Allie Lassiter.

Jake Norton joined the bridal party and put his arms around Allie and her sister Greeley. Zane had read in the newspaper about Norton and his wife staying on the Lassiter ranch while the movie star filmed a Western in the area. He knew the couple had become close friends with the Lassiters. The knowledge did nothing to stop the jealousy that rocketed through Zane as Allie laughed up at Norton.

He’d been an idiot to come. If only the bride would cut the damned cake. Not that he’d be able to choke any down. Just cut it, so Hannah could have her piece. Then he could leave.

She was so damned beautiful. More beautiful than five years ago. He could almost taste her mouth. His own went dry. Cut the damned cake.

Allie wanted to scream. They’d cut the cake, and everyone had toasted the newlyweds. Brides were supposed to be anxious to leave on their honeymoons. Thomas ought to be chomping at the bit to get Cheyenne to himself. If Cheyenne would throw the darned bouquet, Allie could escape. She had to get out of here.

Out of this clinging blue floral silk dress that had seemed so elegantly simple and classic when she’d put it on earlier. Now the dress felt wrong. Too tight. If he didn’t quit watching her... She couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.

“I assume you know Zane’s here. I just saw him. You okay?” Greeley asked quietly at her side.

Allie turned to her younger sister. “Of course I’m okay,” she said brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“How would I know? I’m just your half sister.”

“Greeley Lassiter, you are as much my sister as Cheyenne is. You make me furious when you say such stupid things.”

“That’s better than you standing there looking like the sole, dazed survivor of some disaster.”

“I don’t look like that,” Allie said in a low, fierce voice. At Greeley’s skeptical look, she added, “It was a shock, that’s all. I didn’t know Cheyenne had invited him.”

“I thought I detected the hand of our resident meddler. Want me to tell him to take a hike?”

“Worth talked to him.”

“And told him to leave?”

“Obviously not. They seemed to be just talking. They didn’t shake hands or anything.”

“I should hope not.”

Allie gave her sister a quick squeeze of appreciation for her loyalty. “No, Cheyenne is right. If he no longer matters to me, he and Worth should be able to resume their friendship. If Worth wants such a shallow friend.”

“If,” Greeley emphasized the word, “he no longer matters?”

“He doesn’t matter,” Allie said firmly. He couldn’t matter. Their love had died. Not died, been trampled in the dirt. Nothing remained. Nothing. She forced a smile to her face. “Cheyenne’s finally ready to throw the bouquet. You know she’ll aim it over here. You catch it, because I’m not going to.”

Sent on its way with teasing comments, the bridal bouquet arced through the air. Directly toward Allie and Greeley. Allie stepped to her right at the exact second Greeley stepped to her left. The bouquet sailed between them.

“Look, Daddy! The lady threw flowers to me.”

One look at Cheyenne’s dismayed face confirmed Allie’s suspicions about her older sister’s intent.

“I’m not getting involved in this.” Greeley strolled away before Allie could ask what she meant.

“Are mine,” came a determined voice from behind Allie.

She turned.

Zane crouched inches away, speaking to his daughter. The little girl clutched the bridal bouquet to her chest and shook her head. “Mine.”

He held out his hand. “No, they’re not. The flowers are for a big girl.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“They’re for a lady,” Zane amended. “Give these back to the bride, and we’ll go to a flower shop and buy you some flowers.”

“I caught ’em.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

The little girl’s mouth wobbled. “I want ’em.”

Allie wanted to smile indulgently like everyone else watching the scene. The high color on Zane’s face told her he knew he and his daughter were the focus of attention. Not that that would stop him from doing what he thought was right. Zane Peters prided himself on doing what he thought was right.

He wrested the flowers from his daughter’s grasp and awkwardly wiped a tear from her cheek. “We can buy yellow flowers. You like yellow flowers.” Desperation edged his voice.

Red curls bounced as the little girl shook her head. “Don’t want yellow flowers. Want these.”

Without stopping to think, Allie leaned over and jerked the bouquet from Zane. Turning her back to him, she offered the flowers to the little girl. “Here. You caught them.”

The little girl put her hands behind her back. “Daddy said I can’t have ’em.”

Allie wanted nothing to do with Zane’s daughter, but the girl had caught the bouquet and should be allowed to keep it. Allie knelt on the floor. “Your daddy is a man, and men know nothing about weddings. Whoever catches the bouquet keeps it. It’s a rule, and I know your daddy doesn’t believe in breaking rules.” Allie coated the last sentence with deliberate mockery.

The little girl looked at the floor and shook her head. Her hands stayed behind her. “Daddy said flowers for a big lady.”

“I’m a big lady. May I have the flowers?”

The little girl hesitated, then nodded sadly.

“All right, if they are my flowers, I may give them to someone else, and I’m giving them to you.” Allie held out the bouquet, proving she could act with dignity and fairness, no matter the circumstances.

The little girl started to bring her hands forward, stopped and looked past Allie in her father’s direction. Then, smiling shyly, she accepted the bouquet and buried her face in a large lily. “Pretty.” She held the bouquet to Allie’s face. “Smell.”

Hoping compliance would make the child and her father go away, Allie sniffed.

“What do you say, Hannah?” Zane prompted.

“Thank you.”

Hannah. Unbelievable pain slashed through Allie. The child had been named after his grandmother. They’d planned to name their first daughter Hannah. This little girl could be, should be, Allie’s daughter. Allie’s throat ached with the effort not to cry, then hot, burning anger replaced the pain. He’d taken “their name” and used it for that woman’s daughter. Not that it mattered anymore. He didn’t matter anymore.

“Allie, aren’t you ready yet?”

Davy’s impatient voice rescued her. She smiled gratefully at him. “Ready and raring to go.”

The child’s hand tugging on her arm kept Allie from rising. “You his mommy?”

Allie shook her head as Davy pointed to Cheyenne and said proudly, “She’s my mom now. That makes Allie my aunt.”

“Whose mommy?” Zane’s daughter asked.

“I don’t have any children,” Allie said stiffly.

“How come? They playing with angels?”

“Let’s go, Hannah,” Zane said in a rough voice.

“But Daddy, maybe her kids know Mommy.”

Zane snatched up his daughter and walked away.

A hand gripped Allie’s shoulder. “You okay?” Worth asked.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Davy said you looked funny.”

“Davy thinks I look funny every time he sees me in a dress,” Allie said to her brother, trying to make a joke of it. “He says I look like a girl.” She mimicked the disgusted tone of Davy’s voice. “He wants me in jeans because I promised him we’d ride horses after the wedding. Where’d Davy go? He was in such a hurry to leave.”

“Last minute hugs and kisses from the bride and groom.”

Loud voices caught Allie’s attention. “They must be leav...” Her voice died as she spotted the cause of the commotion.

Zane’s daughter was throwing a grade-A tantrum in her father’s arms. Hanging on to her bouquet with one hand, she used her other hand to cling to one of the stylized metal Art Nouveau pillars. Zane’s face turned the shade of cooked beets as onlookers tittered with laughter. The child drummed his side with her feet. “I want down,” she howled.

Setting his daughter on the floor, Zane grabbed in vain for her hand as she darted across the ballroom. The little girl skidded to a stop in front of Allie, still kneeling on the floor. Throwing her arms around Allie’s neck, Zane’s daughter pressed an enthusiastic kiss on Allie’s cheek. “Bye.” The little girl spun around and dashed back to her father, her childish voice floating across the ballroom. “I had to tell Allie bye.”

The rest of his life without Allie. How long must he pay? Hadn’t he been punished enough? Zane had had five long years to think about the answers to those questions. No punishment, no matter how severe or how long, could wipe out what he’d done. Allie’s face when he’d told her would forever haunt him.

He’d thought he’d reconciled himself to the devastation he’d wrought. Accepted that Allie would never be part of his life. The minute he saw her at Cheyenne’s wedding, he knew he’d been deluding himself.

The crazy idea came to him on the way home from the wedding. There must have been too much sugar in the wedding cake. Or else the smell of those damned flowers had rotted his brain.

For about the hundredth time, Zane picked up the telephone. And put it back down. If he drank, he’d pour himself a huge glass of courage. Except he no longer drank alcohol, and no one knew better than he that drinking made a man stupid, not brave.

At the wedding reception, Allie had avoided looking at him. Not that he was any great shakes to look at. An ordinary guy with black hair and a square jaw. Allie had never seemed to mind the ridiculous dent in his chin.

Smart about everything else, Allie had been stupid when it came to him. Stupid enough to love him. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for his pitiful scheme. She wouldn’t believe it for a second. She wouldn’t do it.

He’d searched long and diligently for the right horse.

Zane rubbed one thumb over the other and eyed the phone. Think about the filly. Damn it, even if he’d royally screwed up his life, the filly deserved help. He’d call.

Allie would hang up on him.

Angrily he pushed the phone aside and rose. Allie roamed through his mind the way she used to roam around his family’s ranch. At the uncurtained window, he stared into the black night. Nights were the worst. Thinking about Allie. Remembering. Little things. Like the way she stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she concentrated. He used to tease her that one day she’d be on a horse, concentrating, and the horse would buck and she’d bite off the end of her tongue.

His body tensed with need. He wanted to nibble that tongue. Gently. Lovingly.

He’d thrown away that privilege. Thrown away love.

Horses moving in the home pasture caught his eye. The filly would be in the middle. She never let herself get isolated. The other horses were her protection. She didn’t trust men.

Allie could teach the filly to trust.

If he didn’t call, Allie couldn’t help the filly. He started to turn toward the phone, then stopped.

If he didn’t call, Allie couldn’t say no. There was no reason for her to say yes and too many reasons for her to say no. If she said no...

Zane couldn’t remember when he hadn’t known Allie. At first she was merely one of Worth’s sisters. Then she’d turned sixteen, and he found himself falling in love with her. On Allie’s eighteenth birthday he asked her to marry him.

Allie’s mom asked them to wait. Mary Lassiter had married young. Beau Lassiter had been a rodeo cowboy, long on looks and charm, short on character. Beau had left Mary on her parents’ ranch when she became pregnant with Worth. After that, Mary stayed on the ranch while Beau rode the rodeo circuit. Whenever a bull stove him up, Beau would head to the ranch where Mary nursed him back to health. Then Beau returned to the bright lights, alone. More often than not, he left Mary pregnant.

With the help of her widowed father, Yancy Nichols, Mary had raised four kids. Greeley not even hers. No one ever heard a word of complaint from Mary. When Mary asked them to wait, Zane assumed she wanted Allie to be sure. Later he wondered if she’d seen something of Beau in him.

He was nothing like Beau Lassiter.

Hearing the lie, Zane felt like smashing his fist through the window.

He wanted to blame Beau for what happened. Beau, whose irresponsible behavior had rushed his children into adulthood. Six years older than Allie, Zane had often told her she needed to lighten up, to live a little, but she’d been inflexible, and intolerant with youthful high spirits in others. In him.

No. He wouldn’t make excuses. The sole responsibility for what had happened belonged to one person. Zane Peters.

He shouldn’t have gone to Cheyenne’s wedding, but the temptation to see Allie, to speak to her, had been overwhelming. Watching her stand tall and slim beside her sister as Cheyenne said her vows, he’d ached to touch her. When he’d seen her smile at Hannah, he’d craved one of her smiles.

One look at her face told him she hadn’t forgiven him. If not for Hannah, he would have left.

She’d been kind to Hannah.

His daughter had rattled on about Allie all the way home. Zane had lost count of the things he regretted, but he’d never regretted Hannah. It wasn’t Hannah’s fault Allie hated him. He knew who to blame.

So did Allie. Allie would never blame Hannah, because she loved kids and animals.

She’d help the filly. Allie hated him, but she’d help the filly. And then, maybe... Taking a deep breath, Zane dialed.

At the sound of her voice, intense longing swept over him. He couldn’t speak.

Allie had polished the kitchen and bathroom, cleaned the cat box and walked Moonie so long the greyhound had practically sighed with relief when they’d returned to the condo. She’d washed windows, done her laundry, baked a loaf of bread and caught up on filing for C & A Enterprises, the small, specialized tour agency she and Cheyenne owned and operated. The night stretched endlessly before her.

She should have stayed in Hope Valley at the Double Nickel, the family ranch named for her great-great-grandparents. Or persuaded Davy to stay in Aspen with her instead of at the ranch. With Cheyenne gone, the condo had too many empty corners. Too much quiet. She needed a roommate. Someone who’d fill the silence. Silence led to thinking. And remembering. Allie didn’t want to remember.

As if she’d ever forget.

By the time she was ten, Allie knew every nuance of Zane Peters’s walk. She’d memorized his low-pitched laugh and his slow and easy way of talking. The way he’d drawled her name and called her honey had sent shivers down her spine. She’d teased him, telling him he was a Southern boy, not a true Westerner.

The accent came from his Texas-born mother. Dolly Peters had ridden the barrel-racing circuit where she’d become fast friends with Mary Lassiter, and like Mary, had married a rodeo cowboy. The difference was Buck Peters quit the rodeo and came home to his family’s ranch near Aspen. Buck and Dolly had moved to Texas when Dolly’s aged parents needed them, and now they operated the Texas ranch Dolly had inherited while Zane raised and trained horses and ran some cattle on the Colorado ranch.

Her thoughts always circled back to Zane. If Allie hadn’t agreed to her mother’s request to wait, she and Zane would have been married almost eight years now.

Or divorced.

Loving Zane hadn’t blinded her to his flaws. He had a reckless streak and took too many chances. Allie had been away at school, but reports filtered to her about his partying. She’d worried about him drinking too much and driving too fast on the curving mountain roads back to his ranch. Home on a holiday visit, she’d nagged him; he’d accused her of not trusting him and of asking friends to spy on him. The argument had escalated until she’d ripped off her engagement ring and shoved it in his shirt pocket. Told him to go away, that she’d never marry him.

If he’d apologized, begged her to take back the ring... He hadn’t. Without a word, he’d left her standing in front of the ranch house. She’d watched him tear out the gate and down the dirt road, driving so fast his truck fishtailed on the curves.

Her throat ached with angry, unshed tears. She didn’t want to think about Zane. The shock of his betrayal. The wrenching pain. The slow, agonizing realization that her life had drastically changed.