Chapter 21 #2
Then her door opened and Michael stepped out onto the small square porch.
He lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the porch light and looked across the yard to where they stood.
“There you are,” he called out. His voice was filled with relief and a forced good cheer.
On his face was a misery that tore at her.
She turned to Jake. “I’d better go see—”
“Yeah.” He took her fishing pole.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not a problem.” He leaned into her and gave her one soft, warm kiss. He pulled back, looked at her for a long moment, then kissed her again, just a little longer this time. “Thanks for the fishing. And everything else,” he added silkily.
She bit back her dreamy smile and watched him go, then walked to her cabin. “Hey you,” she said to Michael. “Everything okay?”
“Come talk to me.” He held open her door. “Please?”
“Sure.” She stepped inside, where she stopped and gasped in shock and surprise.
There were candles everywhere, along the floor, on every countertop, on her coffee table, and in each windowsill, all lit and flickering fiercely.
In addition, rose petals had been scattered on every surface of the small cabin, filling the air with their strong scent.
“For you,” Michael said, and shut the cabin door.
She turned in a slow circle, absolutely stunned by the amount of time he’d spent putting everything together.
He took her hands, looked down at them, at her fingernails still lined with fish bait.
“It was the only way I could think of to tell you what I should have told you the day we met, and every day since.”
Oh, God. “Michael—”
“Callie, I love you. I’ve always loved you, through your entire short and stupid marriage to Matt, a man who never appreciated you, through you working your fingers to the bone for that tyrant Richard—”
“He wasn’t a—”
“Through all this fantasy you’ve had of buying this place—”
“Wait a minute.” She tried to tug her hands free but he held firm.
“What do you mean, fantasy? Michael, I’m serious about buying this place.
I filled out your loan papers—” She stared at him, a funny feeling deep in the pit of her stomach.
“I filled out your loan papers and kept asking you about them, and you’ve been vague. Terribly vague.”
“Yes.”
“Because…you didn’t process them?”
He gave her a sad smile. “Do you really think I would do that to you?”
She tried to relax but couldn’t. Nor could she tug free because his grip tightened, painfully so now. “No, I didn’t think you would do anything to hurt me,” she said carefully. “But maybe that’s the problem. I didn’t think at all. Michael, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry.” He leaned in and kissed her. “Don’t flinch from me,” he murmured, still holding her hands too tight. “It’s just me.”
“Yeah.” She stared at him, thoughts racing along with her heart. “I’ve been thinking about all the mysterious incidents.”
“Have you?”
“It could have been Amy,” she said, watching him carefully. “Or Lou.”
“Stone gets my vote.” Michael shook his head. “An alcoholic.”
“Right. But Stone was gone when someone took potshots at Jake and me, and Lou couldn’t have had access to my office because he never comes into the big house.”
“Eddie, then?”
“Eddie has an aim like a sniper.”
“Maybe he missed on purpose,” Michael said, and shrugged.
Her heart was in her throat now, pounding so hard she thought she might throw up. Or you missed on purpose. “You didn’t process my loan, did you.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “If you’d gotten that loan, you’d never see how much you need me. I was beginning to worry you’d never see.”
Goose bumps broke out on her arms and the back of her neck. She stood there frozen in shock as he smiled, calm and sweet as always. “I tried patience,” he said. “That didn’t work. I’ve been trying to scare you into my arms for months now. You never so much as budged.”
“Scare me.” She was shocked he couldn’t hear her heart drumming. “Like…letting out the horses. Like taking my coil wire.”
Another long moment while things flashed in his eyes that terrified her. “It was time to take matters into my own hands,” he finally said.
She tried to back away, but his hold prevented that. “It was you. The stolen money, Sierra’s saddle—”
“I nearly came back the next night and killed that horse for hurting you,” he said in a friendly, easygoing voice. “I let the pigs out, I stole the money. I have it set aside for you, of course, I only meant to rattle you a bit.”
“The shed. How did you know I’d go to the shed?”
“I didn’t. It was just a stroke of luck that you were walking into it as I was arriving. I smelled the fumes from my truck for God’s sake. You really should fire Stone.”
“Let go of me, Michael.”
When he just regretfully shook his head and pulled her against him, she shuddered. The fear and anger surged together into a powerful fury. “Let go.”
“Can’t.”
She kneed him as hard as she could, and with a sharp cry, he dropped to the floor.
She bolted for the door, but he lunged for her with surprising speed and agility, grabbing her foot and yanking it out from beneath her.
She went down hard, hitting her head on the coffee table.
Her vision filled with bright stars. The table tipped, and so did the candles, raining down hot wax and lit wicks near her face.
The throw rug beneath her caught on fire, and she felt her eyebrows singe, and her shirt.
Frantic, she slapped at the smoking material and tried to scramble away from the flickering flames now around her, but Michael still had her foot.
Then the front door burst open, and Amy stood there. “Callie? I heard you scream—” She took in both Michael and Callie on the floor, locked in battle around the fire starting to rage. “Callie!”
With a roar, Michael hauled himself to his feet and backhanded Amy across the face. She dropped, hit the leg of the upturned table, and lay unmoving.
“No—” Callie broke off when Michael turned toward her.
Chest heaving, face damp with sweat, he gave her a gentle smile. “Now. Where were we?”