Читать книгу: «Hunter's Vow»

Chapter One

Abby Conway had always believed Hunter Wyman would return to Brewster County for her.

Except in her dreams and fantasies, he had been wearing armor and riding a white horse. Handsome, virile, masterful, he would swoop down, securely grasp her wrist and scoop her up, nestling her between his hard chest and the horse’s reins. His warmth would enfold her, his strength would protect her.

She never once pictured him standing on the back porch of her bed-and-breakfast, shielding himself from a heavy April downpour with a neat black umbrella. Though she had clearly envisioned his beautiful gray-green eyes and his chiseled features, she never saw an expensive taupe trench coat casually slung over the shoulders of an even more expensive black suit.

And never, ever, in her dreams had she been standing in her kitchen, her red hair haphazardly tied in a knot at the top of her head, her jeans and sweatshirt threadbare and outdated, her nose dotted with flour.

“Hunter,” she said weakly because, frankly, that was all she could manage.

He smiled. “Abby.” Though almost seven years had passed and volumes and volumes of pain stood between them, his eyes warmed, his smile grew. “It is so damned good to see you.”

Abby’s eyes misted and her heart thumped. “It’s so damned good to see you, too,” she said, and swallowed the lump of emotion that tightened her throat.

“May I come in?”

She knew there was no reason to keep him out, yet she glanced around uneasily. Old habit, she supposed.

“Sure.”

She pushed on the ancient wooden screen door and granted him entry. Careful, polite, he stepped into her green-and-yellow kitchen. Holding the door open, he turned to lean his umbrella against the wall of her porch, then faced her with another broad smile.

“I can’t believe I’m really here.”

“I can’t believe you’re really here, either,” she said, meaning it. Her mind was working a thousand miles a second, pulling her out of her fantasy and grounding her in truth and reality. If he wanted her, he could have come back years ago. Given that he hadn’t, she had to force herself to see and understand that he was here only for his son.

Honesty compelled her to admit that if Hunter had come to claim Tyler after leaving her to have their baby by herself, there was a part of her that wanted to rail against him for the suffering of seven long, difficult years. However, there was another part of her that was too cold and tired to fight. In the last four years, the family fortune had been eaten up by medical bills and both of her parents had died. She was alone and broke and needed help, but more than that she was beginning to see that Tyler missed the influence of a man. She could raise him by herself, but Tyler would know life only as a one-dimensional struggle.

So, if Hunter Wyman wanted to be in his son’s life, Abby was willing to admit he needed to be there. Pragmatic and poor, she was also willing to concede his return was better late than never.

“I think I know why you’re here,” she said quietly.

Hunter sighed heavily. “Oh, God, what a relief. I wasn’t quite sure where to start…what to say.” He gave her another genuine, heartfelt smile. “I should have known better.”

The tenderness of his expression hit her right in the heart, but despite her fantasies she recognized she couldn’t take that personally. Any kindness Hunter extended to her was merely courtesy necessary for good communications and a good relationship for Tyler’s sake.

“Tyler’s at school right now, but he’ll be home at about three….”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. He stared at her. “Excuse me?”

She cleared her throat. “Tyler, our son, is at school right now. But he’ll be home at about three.”

Hunter grabbed her wrist to interrupt her. “Tyler? Our son?” he repeated, his face white with shock. “We have a son?”

She gaped at him. He couldn’t possibly be denying it! “You knew very well I was pregnant when you left.”

“Abby, your parents told me our baby had died.”

The blood drained from her face. “What?”

Hunter dropped her arm and ran his hand across his eyes. “Your parents told me you’d miscarried, Abby. That you didn’t want to see me…that you blamed me for losing the baby because I’d upset you…That’s why I left town…” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes again. “Oh, dear God.”

Oh, dear God was right, Abby thought, falling to one of the chairs around her kitchen table. As if the impact of seeing Hunter after so many years wasn’t enough, the realization that her parents could have been so cruel finished the job of buckling her knees. Her parents hadn’t liked Hunter, but Abby never thought they’d hated him enough to ruin her life—or to deprive Tyler of a father.

She wet her dry lips. “Hunter…”

“Abby, do you really believe I would have left you?” He turned, caught her gaze. “That I would have left a child…my son?”

At eighteen, alone, scared, pregnant, listening to the explanations of two parents she believed loved her, Abby had thought it all made sense. At twenty-five, looking into Hunter’s candid eyes, his compelling face, she knew the truth. It hurt so much that her hands began to tremble. “Oh, God.”

Hunter drew a long breath. “Okay, let’s not panic,” he said. “I came here to apologize to you for leaving without saying goodbye and to get your forgiveness so we could both let go of the past. The plan has changed a little bit, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work this out.”

The first half of his words reassured her, the second half didn’t sound like Hunter at all. Confused, she surreptitiously peeked at his sedate trench coat, his expensive black suit, the shoes that probably cost more than she’d paid for Tyler’s entire school wardrobe, and it suddenly hit her that seven years had passed. Seven winters, springs, summers and falls. Seven Christmases. Seven Thanksgivings.

Though the daydream that got her through many a difficult day had been having Hunter Wyman ride up on a white stallion to take her and Tyler away from all their troubles, the truth of the matter was she didn’t really know this man at all.

Worse, he said he had come to get her forgiveness so he could let go of the past—which meant he wanted to let go of her.

He wanted to forget her.

He had as much as come right out and said it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Tyler?” Hunter demanded of his best friend and partner, Grant Brewster, as he paced the floor of Grant’s den.

Tall, muscular, black-haired Grant leaned back on the burgundy leather chair behind the huge mahogany desk. Though Norm Brewster had died the year before, the familiar study was still the headquarters for the Brewster fortune and the old chair still the seat of power.

Grant crossed his arms on his massive chest. “How the hell was I supposed to know you didn’t know?”

“How could I have known?”

“You left town in the middle of the rumors that Abby was pregnant. The whole town knew she was having your baby. I figured you had your reasons for leaving and if you wanted me to know them, you would tell me.”

Hunter sighed. “Her parents told me she had miscarried.”

Grant conceded that point with a nod.

Hunter sighed wearily. “I should have realized they lied.”

“But you didn’t,” Grant said, sounding old and wise and enough like Norm Brewster that Hunter’s head came up sharply. “You might have been twenty-four, but you were fairly immature. Forgive yourself and move on.”

“That’s approximately what I told Abby we needed to do.” Hunter paused, then began to pace again. “I meet Tyler this afternoon. We’re not putting it off or hedging the truth.”

“Good for you.”

When several seconds passed without Hunter making any further comment, Grant prodded, “But…”

“But I’m scared to death.”

“Don’t be. Tyler’s a great kid. Abby’s been a fabulous mother. In spite of some very difficult years.” Grant shifted on his chair. “If you want the truth, I’d say your return is perfect timing. She needs help.”

Hunter turned. “What kind of help?”

“Every kind of help. She’s working as a waitress at the diner to supplement her income because the bed-and-breakfast doesn’t make that much money, and her parents’ illnesses exhausted every cent her family had. She’s overworked and underappreciated.”

Hunter took his seat in front of Grant’s desk. “So, she needs money? I can pay child support….Hell, I can pay back child support….I want to pay back child support.”

Grant caught Hunter’s gaze and held it. “You owe more here than child support. If you’re going to survive your return to this community, people need to see your integrity. You can’t just talk about it. You can’t just toss money around.”

“Are you saying that in order for our construction company to make the transition from Savannah to Brewster County I have to make amends for my past?”

Grant shrugged. “Only if you want people to respect and trust you.”

Knowing Grant had deliberately hit a nerve, Hunter laughed. “You’re a dog.”

“I’m an honest, forthright dog because that’s what my father taught me.” Glancing down at the paperwork on his desk, Grant dismissed his partner. “Now, go do the right thing.”

“Come in, Hunter,” Abby said with a smile, as she held the screen door for him that afternoon. “Tyler’s not home from school yet, but that’s normal when it rains. Unless I missed my guess, he and his friends are probably jumping in puddles.”

Laughing nervously, Hunter stepped inside and shrugged out of his coat. Though it had insulted him that Abby’s family had never let him beyond the kitchen, right now being in the kitchen gave him a homey, welcome feeling. A sense of rightness, a sense of comfort.

A sense that he belonged here.

Memories of the love and laughter they had shared all those years ago lured him but Hunter fought them. Thinking this through after his talk with Grant, he had actually considered that to the residents of rural Brewster County, Pennsylvania, “doing the right thing” by Abby meant that he should marry her. He had even considered that if he and Abby could pretend the past seven years hadn’t happened, pick up where they left off, and get married, they would be the happiest two people in the world. The picture was so appealing that the temptation to believe nearly dragged him under.

But he also knew the truth about life, people and relationships. There was no such thing as a sure thing. Though he believed Abby had loved him, and he also believed she understood he left because her parents had lied to him, she was only eighteen when they were dating. Not only could her feelings about him have changed as she matured, but she had seven years of hating him under her belt. God only knew what that might have done to her. God only knew how that might have colored the way she had raised their son.

So what he planned to do in his meeting with Tyler, his relationship with Abby, was expect nothing from either of them. He would let them give what they wanted at their own paces, and accept whatever he got as enough.

No expectation, no disappointment. It was a good rule to live by.

However, when Abby turned and smiled at him, Hunter’s heart lurched and he once again got the sudden urge to just ask her to marry him and force them into a position where they would have to rekindle their old love. He could still feel the heat and the fire, the passion, of making love to her. It suffused him, seared him with memories he thought long forgotten. Memories that made him ache for the commitment he thought they could have made seven years ago.

However, if circumstances precluded them from attempting marriage then, plain, old-fashioned intelligence precluded it today. Hunter knew so much more about love and matrimony now than he had at twenty-four. And he refused—absolutely refused—to jeopardize his relationship with Tyler because he still had a few flights of fancy about Tyler’s mother.

But he had to admit she was beautiful. He had forgotten that. Somehow over the years he convinced himself that she was the red-haired, freckle-faced rich kid who had money but no looks, who had more or less befriended the shy farmer’s son because they were both outcasts. Seeing her stunning hair, shot with fire by the afternoon sun, her shimmering green eyes, her smooth alabaster complexion, he remembered things the way they really were. She might not have been popular in high school, but it wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive. The more he thought about it, the more Hunter realized she had been an outcast by choice. She wanted more, and to Abby he had been more.

Her faith in him had puffed him up and boosted him at a critical point in his life. Her confidence literally made him who he was today. And though he couldn’t risk a try at the fairy-tale world they dreamed of, he could give her honesty, justice and money. Genuine, hands-on, spendable reality. Not fantasy. If they were going to resolve the problems that faced them, they had to stay away from fantasy and stick with reality.

Glancing around the comfortable kitchen, Hunter recognized that was probably the reason she was keeping them in her kitchen, the room he was accustomed to being in, rather than the living room. This was reality for them. He had to remember that and stay the hell away from daydreaming. He was much too smart for daydreaming anyway. He had gotten over that years ago, and couldn’t believe he was slipping back into that bad habit now. He had to be as practical as Abby was.

Right at that moment, Abby wasn’t thinking about anything practical, reasonable or even sensible. Not only was she too nervous to be analytical about the finer points of introducing her son to his father, but it hit her full force that she didn’t know the silent stranger standing in her kitchen.

She had loved Hunter Wyman all of her adult life, but seeing him again after seven long years, she had to wonder what happened to him. He was as handsome as when he left—maybe more so—but his sedate, businesslike demeanor didn’t fit. She couldn’t reconcile her Hunter to this composed and quiet man. He had been much too passionate about life to be so…well, stuffy.

“You’ve certainly changed,” she said, wanting him to look at her so she could see his eyes. When her efforts were rewarded by his glance in her direction, Abby’s heart sank. He even lost the friendly warmth he had that morning when he first showed up at her door.

“I had to change. I wanted a better life.”

She knew that. Part of what drew her to him had been his desire for a better life and the courage and drive she knew would get it for him. “It appears you got everything you wanted.”

“And then some,” he agreed, taking a seat at the table when she offered it with a wave of her hand.

“Would you like tea?”

He smiled. “You remember.”

She acknowledged that with a slight tilt of her head. “I remember a lot of things.”

“So do I,” Hunter agreed, gazing around the room.

She expected to see at least a shadow of anger, if only because he had hated being banished to her parents’ kitchen. But not one iota of sentiment crossed his face. His brow didn’t crease. He didn’t frown. No memories haunted his eyes. She told herself to be glad that he had grown up and grown beyond his history, but that didn’t satisfy the emptiness that seemed to seep into the room by degrees as she came to terms with the new man that he was. He had definitely moved beyond his past, and though she had wished that for Hunter a million times, suddenly she wondered if that wasn’t a mistake.

In growing out of his past, he had outgrown her. In moving beyond his roots, he behaved as if he had none.

She handed him his tea. “Here you go,” she said, sounding more like a waitress than a friend. She just barely stopped the instinct to reach into her apron for a customer receipt, and the near slip almost made her laugh, but one look at Hunter’s serious countenance stopped her. Where was the happy man she’d loved? Where was the smile she had lived for?

“So, you’re partners with Grant Brewster now?”

He nodded. “Grant actually saved my construction company. I had hit a rough spot, and he had come to Savannah looking for a place to invest some money. We were a match made in heaven.”

Watching him while he talked, Abby was struck by the emotion in his voice. The first real emotion she had heard since his warm hello that morning. He loved his company, but she couldn’t help but remember a time when he thought they were the match made in heaven. Now he used the phrase to describe a business.

“That’s…interesting,” she said, then grimaced because her tone conveyed exactly the opposite meaning of what she intended.

Hunter chuckled. “The truth is, Abby, I’m probably not very interesting. I more or less became successful by changing. I’m not wild and rebellious anymore. Not hot-tempered anymore. I don’t lose my cool. I handle things.”

“That’s good,” Abby said but she was oddly disappointed. Not that she wanted him losing his temper, particularly around Tyler, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering how this remote stranger could enjoy the prosperity that had once been so important to him.

Forced into a strained silence, Abby peeked at him and the very act of looking at him took her breath away. His dark, dark hair accented the smooth angles and planes of a face that would have made him the perfect candidate for modeling. He was still so damned sexy and gorgeous, it was impossible not to think of him as the guy she had loved all those years ago. Recognizing this really was Hunter—Hunter Wyman in her kitchen!—shot an unexpected ripple of tingles down her spine, which she quickly squelched. This might have been the boy who had wanted to wrap up the world and give it to her gift-boxed, but the man he had become had new beliefs….

Before she could complete her thought, Tyler burst into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom!” he said and immediately reached for a cookie.

With the moment of truth at hand, Abby froze. She glanced at Hunter and saw that he, too, seemed paralyzed. Reserved, composed, he sat motionless, waiting for her to do what had to be done.

She cleared her throat. Gazing at her dark-haired, grayish-green-eyed little boy, the picture of Hunter in elementary school, she was swamped by fear. It was a good thing—a very good thing—for Tyler to meet his father, but she suddenly had the feeling they could have timed it all a little better. At the very least, they could have prepared him.

However, now that the wheels were turning, it was too late to stop, too late to try to think of a way to make this easier. Hunter was in her kitchen. Tyler was staring at him with wide-eyed curiosity. The ball was in her court.

She stooped to her son’s level. When she put her hands on his small shoulders, he gave all his attention to her. “Honey, this man is Hunter Wyman.”

As if in slow motion, Abby’s little boy lifted his gaze away from her up to Hunter. Instead of seeing the explosion of happiness she expected to see on her son’s face, Abby found herself looking at gray-green eyes full of fire.

“Hunter is your father,” Abby added slowly.

Tyler’s lips thinned and his chin lifted. Because Abby knew her son so well, she easily recognized the look that expressed the bottom line to everything he felt.

Condemnation.

“I know. You told me Hunter Wyman was my father.”

“Well, this is him,” Abby said brightly. “He’s moving back to Brewster County because he’s partners with Grant Brewster. So now he really gets to be your dad.”

Though he spoke directly to his mother, Tyler never took his gaze from Hunter’s face. “He didn’t want to be my dad before this?”

“He was away,” Abby began, but Hunter interrupted her.

Hunkering down to Tyler’s level as Abby had, Hunter captured Tyler’s attention. “I didn’t know you existed. I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry,” he said honestly, humbly. “Sometimes adults do things that don’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense, and people who shouldn’t get hurt do.” He paused, giving Tyler time to digest that. “I shouldn’t have left town without finding out for sure what had happened to you…and your mother.” He glanced at Abby for emphasis. “Because I didn’t, we didn’t get a chance to know each other. This is my fault. I will fix it.”

“How?” Tyler asked simply.

Yeah, how? Abby echoed in her head.

Calm, cool, collected, Hunter said, “I don’t know yet. But if we take this one step at a time, everything will work out. For right now, though,” he said as he rose and walked back to the table, “it’s enough to finally get to meet you. If you want to go up to your room or go outside with your friends, I understand.” He paused and smiled. “You can do whatever you normally do.”

Tyler peered at his mother. “Can I go outside?”

“I’d rather you changed into play clothes first,” Abby said, feeling ridiculous making the inane request, given that she had just introduced her son to the father he had never met.

Tyler nodded and raced from the room. Abby turned and gaped at Hunter. “Well, that was warm and fuzzy.”

“We’re boys, Abby, not girls.”

“You didn’t even hug him!”

“He didn’t want me to hug him,” Hunter replied.

“Hell, he didn’t even want me to touch him.” From the quiver in his voice Abby might have believed that bothered Hunter, but his next words were again detached and indifferent, making her think she had imagined the emotion. “It was almost as if somebody might have told him things about me that made him afraid of me.”

Abby gasped incredulously. “What?”

Hunter faced her. “Did you hate me so much that you had to poison his mind against me?”

Abby might have actually appreciated his accusation, if he had said it with some feeling. Since it was delivered with complete composure, she didn’t trust it.

“First, I didn’t hate you,” Abby quietly replied, so confused she knew she didn’t dare lose her temper for fear she had misinterpreted something and would make a worse mess out of this situation than it already was. “Second, I didn’t tell him anything but good things about you.”

“That’s not how it looks to me. There’s no other explanation for how he could hate me even without knowing me….”

Before Hunter could say anything else, Tyler slid into the room again. “You hurt my mom,” he said simply, his chin raised defiantly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your mom,” Hunter quickly retorted. But Tyler didn’t listen. He grabbed another cookie and shot out of the back door.

“You still expect me to believe you didn’t say anything to him?”

Abby only stared at Hunter. She understood that Tyler’s jumping in and out of the room—and the conversation—was only his way of dealing with his anger, and typical behavior for a six-year-old. But she couldn’t get herself to explain that to Hunter because his insinuation was infuriating. And personal. All these years of sacrifice and struggle, she had never once said anything hurtful or hateful about Hunter. She couldn’t stand here and let him make the accusation as if he had the right—as if he had every right in the world to everything he wanted after deserting them.

“Do you really think me capable of trying to get him to hate you? And if I did, why?” she demanded. “To what end?”

“Your parents got rid of me seven years ago by lying to me,” he said. “What was their reason for that? To what end?” he asked, mimicking her, but he shook his head as if to stop himself. “Okay, let’s just calm down.”

Again he hauled back his anger and controlled himself, but Abby’s eyes narrowed. She would have welcomed the opportunity to argue any of this out with him, but because she believed it was better not to fight, she reined in her temper just as he had. However, the part of her that was hurt and upset, the part that had been abandoned, knew they would never resolve any of this without an opportunity to clear the air, because they both had feelings they had to deal with. Though Hunter kept leading them in the direction of a real, honest discussion, as if he understood that, too, he never let them finish. Seven years ago he not only would have let her have her say, he would have encouraged it.

And he would have had his say, too.

“The bottom line is that I want a relationship with my son,” Hunter said, removing his coat from the back of the kitchen chair. “So if I can’t form a decent connection with Tyler while he’s in your custody, I’ll file for custody myself.”

Without another word he strode out of the kitchen and Abby stood, openmouthed, staring at her back door. Now where had that come from? After the great pains he took to make sure they didn’t argue, it didn’t make any sense to threaten to file for custody.

For a few seconds, she considered that he might not care to get his say or to hear hers, because he was simply going to push until he got what he wanted—to bulldoze his way into their lives. But she honestly hadn’t seen signs of his being unreasonable in either of their conversations. Actually, she hadn’t seen signs that he wanted anything at all until his parting shot.

The truth was she had absolutely no idea what to think. She didn’t have a clue who he was or how to deal with him. She didn’t know how to keep the peace with him, resolve the past, or even come to a halfway decent agreement, because any time an emotion entered the picture, he quickly quashed it.

But one thing was clear. He’d changed. He’d really changed.