Her goose bumps returned and she wrapped her arms around her chest to hide her upraised nipples. Mason’s gaze strayed to her chest, his lips lifted, then he looked at her face again.

“What are you doing out here? And why are you half-naked? You should know it’s cold outside.”

“I needed some air, I’m hardly half-naked, and I forgot it was so cold until I was already at the barn.”

He shook his head. “You never had a lick of common sense, woman.” He pulled off his jacket and moved so close she felt his body heat. “Come on. Slide into this.”

Irritated at his attitude, she wanted to say no, but that would be childish, so she put his jacket on. It was warm from his body. It smelled like Mason. She pulled it tighter around her, the smell of leather and male almost overpowering to her senses. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They stood that way for too long, Valerie staring up into Mason’s so familiar face. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move away, and he smelled so damn good. And that’s exactly what had gotten her into trouble earlier today. She stepped back and turned around. “So you got some new horses?”

“Yeah. Gage is doing a great job training. He’s gotten us some beauties.”

She walked along the stalls, stopping at a few to lay her hands on some of the new mares. “I can see that.” There were so many parts of ranch life she missed. The horses, the cattle. Riding alongside Mason.

She missed Mason.

No, she didn’t. She missed sex with Mason. That part had been incredible. Everything else between them had been a disaster.

She reached up to pet a mare, doing her best to ignore Mason’s presence. “I guess you stay busy. Not much time for any . . . social life or anything.”

“I haven’t gotten married again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She jumped when she realized he was right behind her. She turned to face him. “I assume you wouldn’t have been all over me in my room today if you were married to someone else.”

“I was all over you?”

“Yes.”

“I think you threw yourself at me because you’re starved for sex.”

If there had been a shovel nearby he’d have been a dead man by now. “You are so full of shit.”

“So you’ve often told me.” He didn’t seem at all irritated; in fact he looked downright amused. Which just pissed her off even more.

But she refused to let him get to her. “And anyway, that wasn’t what I was asking. I was just . . . concerned about you.”

He crooked a smile around a piece of straw resting in the corner of his mouth. “Sure you were, darlin’.” He turned and walked away.

She followed. “Don’t you ‘darlin” me, Mason. I’m not at all interested in your sex life.”

He stopped and pivoted, then pushed his hat back and arched his brows. “Oh, so now we’re talking about my sex life?”

Her entire body heated, from the tips of her painted toenails to the roots of her hair. “No. We are most definitely not talking about your sex life.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about yours, then. Gotten any lately?”

Her eyes widened. “Dear God. You haven’t changed a bit.” She spun on her heel and headed for the barn door.

“Val.”

“What?” She wasn’t about to stop.

“I’ll come by and pick up my jacket . . . later.”

“Asshole,” she muttered, shrugging out of his jacket and letting it drop to the barn floor. If the cosmos smiled on her, maybe it would fall into a pile of horse shit.

There was no refuge anywhere—at the house or in the barn. But at least the house only contained her sisters. She went through the front door and up the stairs directly to her room.

Unfortunately, Jolene was at the top of the stairs waiting for her.

“What?” Valerie asked.

“What are you running from?”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Nothing.” She brushed past Jolene and went into her bedroom. Jolene caught the door before Valerie could shut it.

Her sister made herself comfortable on Valerie’s bed, flopping stomach-first onto it.

“Ran into Mason outside, didn’t you?”

Damn Jolene for being so perceptive. “Yes.”

“He still has the ability to make your heart hurt, doesn’t he?”

When had her sister grown up and become so wise? She started to deny it, but what was the use? “Yes.”

“That’s why you don’t come back here.”

Valerie sat on the edge of the bed and blew out a breath of defeat, feeling like she’d failed at running away from the one thing she didn’t want to talk about. “Not all of it, but that’s part of the reason.”

Jo rolled over onto her back and leaned against the pillows. “What’s the other?”

That she wouldn’t get into. Instead, she lifted her shoulders. “I just needed to move on, to find a life outside the Bar M. I wasn’t meant to be a rancher, Jo.”

Jo cocked her head to the side and studied Valerie. “I’m not sure I buy that. You were as good at ranching as I was.”

“I just didn’t love ranching like you do. I was good at it, yes, but you love it. I don’t.”

“Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to love it.”

She felt the squeeze in her heart. “Loving something doesn’t mean you won’t destroy it.”

“Ah,” Jolene said. “So we’re not really talking about the ranch now. You’re talking about your marriage to Mason.”

She lifted her gaze to her sister. “What?”

“Mason. You’re talking about loving Mason.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You’re talking about loving and destroying. That’s not the ranch you’re talking about, Valerie.”

Dammit. Why did everything get turned around to talk of Mason? “There’s a damn good reason we’re not married anymore. And I’d appreciate if you and Brea would keep your matchmaking fingers out of our relationship.”

Jo raised her hands. “Whoa. Okay. Hands off. I get it.”

“Good.”

Jolene swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the door. “But, Val?”

“Yes.”

“I think you still love him. And he’s not destroyed, so maybe there’s still hope.”

“Goddammit, Jo!”

But Jolene had already pulled the door shut and hadn’t heard Valerie scream at her.

Somehow Valerie didn’t think that topic was closed.

four

the funeral was surprisingly well attended considering how much everyone had hated their uncle Ronald. But Valerie supposed most people were better bred than she was and would willingly pay their respects to the mean son of a bitch even if he’d never had a kind word to say to a single soul.

Lila said people attended out of respect for the family. Maybe so. Valerie’s parents’ funeral had been standing room only. There’d been weeping. Then again, her parents had been kind people. Maybe someone had left Uncle Ronald in a basket on her grandparents’ doorstep, and they’d taken pity on him and raised him as their own. Because no way in hell would Valerie ever believe Uncle Ronald and her father were of the same blood. Ronald had been mean as a rattle-snake, always coiled and ready to strike out at whatever innocent victim was foolish enough to get close. And every eye at the church and cemetery that day was bone dry. No one cried over his death. What did that say about a man’s character?

They held a luncheon at the ranch after, and lots of folks attended, which gave Valerie a chance to catch up with people she hadn’t seen since she’d left town two years ago. That was both a good and a bad thing. She loved catching up, but hated fielding the same old questions about where she’d been, why she left the ranch, and what was going on with her and Mason.

In that her sisters were her lifesavers, especially Jolene, who steered people away with talk of cattle and horses and the exorbitant price of feed. And Lila, who stuffed everyone’s faces with enough food their mouths were too full to talk. Fortunately, Mason had begged off attending the luncheon, claiming he had ranch work to do, so she didn’t have to face him along with the questioning stares of everyone from town.

According to them, you didn’t leave ranch life. You were born and bred to it, you married into it and you died doing it.

Why in hell weren’t they badgering Brea with questions? Probably because she knew how to hang out in a corner and resemble a potted plant. No doubt not a single soul even recognized her behind her scraggly hair and boho outfit. If only Valerie could be obscure. As the oldest, she was the best known other than Jolene.

By the time the crowds had left, Valerie was exhausted. Tension had drilled her shoulders into hard knots. She was glad this day was over, and she wanted nothing more than to hide in her room. Brea and Jolene were in the kitchen with Lila. Valerie stayed in the great room, searching for leftover cups and spoons and the like.

“Rough day?”

Her shoulders tensed at Mason’s voice. She turned and managed a smile. “It wasn’t too bad.”

“Sorry I wasn’t here. Bet you had to field a lot of questions about us.”

“I managed.”

Dirt smudged his face and rained off his jeans as he moved into the room, his boots tapping on the wood floor. God he looked good enough to . . . eat.

It had been a long, long dry spell. The last man she’d been with had been . . . him.

“You look tense.”

She lifted her chin and dropped her shoulders. “I’m fine, really.”

“I used to know you better than you knew yourself. You’re not fine. There are dark circles under your eyes. When was the last time you slept?”

Years ago. “Don’t worry about me.”

His lips quirked. “Old habits die hard.”

He moved in, his fingertips brushing hers. The contact was electric, surprising.

What they had was in the past. It should be dead, buried, along with any feeling she’d had for him. But the whoa of chemistry was still there, undeniably roaring to the forefront with the simple touch of fingers.

It wasn’t fair that this was happening.

His gaze shot to hers and she was lost in the darkness of his eyes. Memories swirled around her. Their first touch, first kiss, and so many moments after that, mingling together like a movie in fast forward. Despite the self-preserving need to run, her feet stayed rooted to the floor, curiosity and need swirling like a tornado inside her, around her.

“Leave me alone, Mason.” She finally found the strength to take a step back.

“Is that what you really want?”

She’d taken his heart and stomped all over it. Why didn’t he hate her? Hadn’t he moved on? Why did he look at her with the same kind of heat he used to, the all-consuming kind that threatened to drop her to her knees?

She knew she shouldn’t have come, that she wouldn’t be able to handle this. Handle him.

Shuddering an inhale, she backed up another few steps, breaking the spell. “It’s exactly what I want.”

The smile never left his face. “I don’t believe you.”

She skirted around him, unable to meet his knowing look. He’d always known her better than anyone. “Start believing it.”

But as she walked away on shaky legs, needing to grip the railing as she made her way up the stairs, even she didn’t believe it.

The evidence was in her pounding heart, her trembling legs, her hard nipples. One look, one touch, and she was turned on, wanting him, needing him just as much now as she always had.

She might have divorced him and walked away, but she’d never really left him.

She could talk a good game, but when faced with the man she’d loved and left, she was toast.

She couldn’t even convince herself she didn’t want him anymore. How was she going to convince Mason?

mason tossed his gloves on the worn table in the main room of his small place just down the road from the main house. Only a few rooms and one bedroom, it suited him just fine. It gave him privacy, away from the hands after a long day.

He left the lights off, needing the cool afternoon darkness of the house to quell the heat raging inside him. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled in on one of the old comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace, stretching out his legs so he could just breathe for a few minutes.

How could touching Valerie spark such an inferno inside him? He’d have to get a handle on this and quick.

Then again, he’d seen the fire light up in her eyes, the desire flame instant and hot just like it had been for him. It hadn’t been one-sided.

He’d teased her last night in the barn, wanted to irritate her—anything to get some kind of reaction from her other than her usual polite, say-nothing conversation that drove him crazy. And earlier in her room . . . God, he hadn’t expected that wildcat, the woman she used to be. But she’d only given him a glimpse, and then as usual, she’d pulled back, locked herself up tight and wouldn’t let him in.

So he’d done what he normally did when she drew back from him—he’d pissed her off. She’d always had spirit, but she banked it. He’d seen plenty of that spirit, that lust for life, when they were together, when things had been hot and heavy and good between them.

He hadn’t been the one to give up, to run. That had been all her doing. And maybe he should man up and walk away, just let this thing between them die once and for all. But he was also old enough and smart enough to read a cry for help, and Val was screaming loud inside.