The Cowboy's Wife For One Night

She took a sip of coffee and he watched her long, elegant throat through the open collar of her red shirt. They were both sixty-three years old and he felt like a teenager, aware of her, of himself, in a way he’d never thought he’d be again.

Of the love he’d felt for Sandra for a long time.

Desire came as a bit of surprise.

“Where is Victoria?” Sandra asked, staring down at her cup.

“Gone,” he said quickly. “After the divorce she moved to Idaho to be with her sister. I haven’t heard from her.”

She shook her head. “That’s no way to end such a long relationship,” she said, and he sat, dumbstruck. Victoria had made Sandra’s life miserable five years ago, made everyone’s life miserable for eons, and she was chastising him for finally divorcing her?

“Marriage is sacred,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s easy to say when you have a good one,” he said. Sandra and A.J.’s marriage had been salt in his wounds.

She nodded, slowly, but he could tell she wasn’t agreeing with him. “You gave up a long time ago, Walter,” she said and he sat back, dumbstruck.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to resist sarcasm. “Do you remember my wife?”

“I do,” she said, looking him right in the eye, making him feel like a fool. “The woman that hit your son and treated your trusted employees like garbage. I remember her well. Probably more than you, since you weren’t around most of the time.” She stood up and he realized how wrong this was going, how terribly opposite from what he’d dreamed, and he stood up, too.

“I’m sorry, Sandra,” he said. “I didn’t want to fight.”

She paused beside him, wrapping a bright blue shawl around her thin shoulders. God, she was lovely.

“You never do,” she whispered. “And sometimes…sometimes you need a good fight.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, electrifying his old and dried-out body, and then, before he could move, she was gone.

Leaving behind the scent of roses and spice and the shame that, even when he thought he was right, he was all wrong.

Mia threw Blue’s onto the table in the corner of the tack room, narrowly missing Jack. Which, of course, had been the plan. The dream had been beaning him upside the head with a rock.

“Whoa!” he said, turning around. That stupid hat that made him look like the Marlboro Man, but without the disgusting cigarettes, sat on his head like he’d been wearing it every day for the last fifteen years. Like he’d been born wearing it. “Mia, what the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“I’m done with bed,” she snapped, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind her. The aches and pains of her body made her words a lie; she’d be back in her bed soon enough. But not until she’d had this conversation with Jack.

“What the hell was last night?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. It took a lot of courage to do this. She’d stood in her room most of the morning trying to muster up the guts to face this horrifically embarrassing situation head-on.

His smile was slow and knowing, and part of her body started to simmer.

“I know you’re not terribly experienced,” he said with a drawl, “but I figure—”

“Stop it, Casanova,” she spat. “I’m asking you why? I’m not a toy, Jack.”

The smile died. “I know.”

“Then why? We agreed on a divorce. You said you were leaving.”

“No.” He stepped closer. “I said I was leaving after you told me you wouldn’t give me a chance—”

“To experiment?” she screeched.

“Yeah.” His face got firm, his eyes hard. “I’m sorry if my choice of words offended you, Mia. But you have to remember, I don’t have all that much experience, either. Now the way I see it, you’re not supposed to be doing heavy work for a while longer, and I’m here for two more weeks until I have to go see the board anyway.”

She shook her head. “Forget it, Jack. It won’t work.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because if you couldn’t fall in love with me in thirty years of friendship, or five years of marriage, then why would you fall in love with me in two weeks?”

He stepped closer and then closer again, and she really regretted slamming that tack room door shut. Actually, she really regretted coming out here for this little showdown. She was so weak when it came to him. One push, a nudge even, and she’d topple whichever way he wanted.

“You were right, Mia. I never saw you. Not…this way. Not as a real wife or a lover. And I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. But listen to me when I say you are not a replacement for my work. You could never be. You’re too…big for that. Too important for that. And I see you, now.”