Chapter Four
Rafe rolled onto his back beside her, the grass cool and slightly damp against his skin. He draped an arm over his eyes, blocking out the harsh reality of the moment, and swore under his breath.
“Damn it.” With a sigh of frustration, he tugged his jeans back up, the rough denim scraping against his skin, stood, and headed toward the shimmering pond, its surface reflecting the fading light of the late afternoon.
“Well, that’s what every woman wants to hear after sex,” Maggie snapped, her voice sharp as she hurriedly dressed, the fabric rustling in the gentle breeze.
“That shouldn’t have happened, Maggie,” Rafe said, his tone heavy with regret as he pulled his shirt on, the fabric settling over his shoulders. “And you know it.” With a swift, angry motion, he tucked his T-shirt into his jeans, his movements tense, and strode toward his horse.
“I don’t know it. You could have stopped,” she retorted, her voice echoing with defiance as she quickly dressed.
“And you could have told me to,” he shouted back, his words slicing through the stillness of the afternoon.
Maggie marched toward him, determination in her every step, and placed a firm hand on his arm, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes were fierce, a storm of emotions swirling within them.
“I told you I didn’t want you to stop. Do not put all of this on me, Rafe Marshall” with a final, defiant look, she turned away from him, mounted her horse and galloped off through the field. The wind whipped through her hair as she disappeared into the horizon, leaving him standing alone, watching her silhouette fade into the distance.
“Fuck!” he shouted to the empty sky, his voice full of frustration and self-reproach. He sank back down onto the ground, the weight of his actions pressing heavily upon him, and berated himself with every name he could muster for not stopping when he knew deep down it was wrong to have sex with her. It was a path that led nowhere, and he had no desire to hurt her.
“Hell, you already did. Dumbass,” he muttered to himself, rising to his feet. He mounted his horse slowly, the familiar creak of the saddle beneath him, and headed back toward the barn. He took his time, hoping that by the time he arrived, she would be long gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts and regrets.
As he rode his horse into the yard, the crunch of gravel under hooves was the only sound accompanying him. Noticing that her vehicle was absent, he exhaled a deep sigh of relief, the tension easing from his shoulders. He knew their confrontation was inevitable, but he was grateful for the reprieve, at least for now.
“Damn it, you knew better,” he chastised himself, his voice barely above a whisper, as he guided his horse into the dimly lit barn. The scent of hay and leather surrounded him as he cooled the horse, the familiar routine offering little comfort.
He had always harbored feelings for her but maintained a respectful distance due to her marital status. Despite the fact that her husband was a jerk, her wedding band was a constant reminder that she was off-limits.
“She’s not married now,” he muttered under his breath, the thought hanging heavily in the air.
“Hey, are you talking to yourself?” a voice interrupted his musings.
Rafe turned to see Nate making his way toward him, the barn’s shadows dancing across his face.
“Yes,” Rafe admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Nate crossed his arms, leaning against a wooden post, and fixed him with a curious gaze. “Why?”
“No reason,” Rafe replied with a nonchalant shrug, eliciting a laugh from Nate.
“Okay,” Nate said, still chuckling.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was heading home and thought I’d stop in to see if you want to grab a beer Saturday at Dewey’s.”
“Sure. That sounds good. I told Markie to tell you to call me about that.”
“Yeah, she told me. I’ll meet you there around seven.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
Nate nodded but continued to scrutinize him with a knowing look. “What’s going on, Rafe?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” Rafe insisted, though the slight tension in his voice hinted otherwise.
“Uh, huh. Okay, see you then.” Nate lingered for a moment, his gaze still probing, before finally leaving the barn.
Rafe listened as Nate’s truck rumbled to life, the engine’s growl fading into the distance. He shook his head, knowing Nate had been on his case about Maggie for a long time. He always assured Nate it would never happen, but now, after what happened by the pond, his longing had only intensified.
“Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head once more. He walked out to his own truck, the afternoon air hot against his skin, and drove home. He wished it were already Saturday; he could certainly use a stiff drink.
****
Maggie pulled the vehicle close to the steps of her apartment. The engine fell silent as she stared through the windshield. Slowly, her head drooped onto the steering wheel, and tears began to flow down her cheeks.
While Rafe harbored regret over what had transpired, Maggie felt nothing but unyielding certainty. She would never regret that passionate moment, nor would she ever allow it to fade from memory. In her past, she had only been with three men, yet none had ignited her spirit quite like Rafe did, and certainly Frederick never had.
With a heavy heart, she reclined in her seat, her eyes fixed on the fabric of the SUV’s ceiling as if seeking solace. After exhaling a deep, soul-weary sigh, she switched off the engine, opened the door, and stepped out. Ascending the stairs, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, then closed it behind her, and sank onto the sofa, letting the quiet solitude wrap around her.
Maggie knew that she would always remember what they shared, even though moments later, anger had sullied that connection. Now, as a single woman, the complications of her past seemed absurd. Was he worried about what Fred would think? Did he believe that Fred wouldn’t want them to be together? Shaking her head, she dismissed that notion entirely. In her heart, she knew Fred would never say anything. She and Rafe were adults.
From the very first instant their paths crossed; Maggie had felt an inexplicable pull toward Rafe. Even locked in a marriage that constrained her, she sensed that Rafe was no man to entangle with a married woman casually. His dignified allure promised something more real, an encounter of fate that would linger in her memory forever. She thought back to when she first saw Rafe…
Maggie accompanied Frederick and Fred into the barn filled with the mingling scents of hay and horses. Fred, his eyes aglow with pride, led them to admire his newest horse, and Maggie’s attention was captured by a tall figure striding toward them. With each measured step, the surrounding air thickened with physical heat. When he finally paused just a few feet away, Maggie’s breath hitched. Rafe stood there, a man of unequalled handsomeness, exuding raw masculinity and sex appeal that left her spellbound from the very first glance.
“Rafe, this is Maggie. Frederick’s wife. And Maggie, meet Rafe Marshall, the manager here. Rafe, you know Frederick.”
With a wry tone laced with sarcasm, he replied, “Yeah, I know him,” before his cool gaze shifted to Maggie. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his hand casually grazing the brim of his hat in greeting.
Maggie began to stammer, “You—” but quickly cleared her throat. “You too, Mr. Marshall,” she managed.
A smile curved his lips. “Call me Rafe.”
Her face warmed with a light blush as she replied, “Thank you. I will, Rafe.”
Even as Frederick’s grip tightened on her arm to steer her away from the barn, Maggie’s eyes remained irresistibly drawn to Rafe. Unable to shake her gaze, she stole repeated, longing glances over her shoulder.
That same night, however, darkness took on a different form. It became indelibly marked by violence, one of the worst beatings Maggie had ever endured. Frederick’s blows rained with such savage force that one strike shattered her jaw, leaving it broken beyond natural repair. The damage was so grave that she required surgery, where metal plates and screws were coldly embedded to piece her shattered bone back together, a brutal reminder of the abuse she suffered. Yet, she could say nothing to anyone. She knew how cruel Frederick was.
At the hospital, Frederick spun a deceitful tale, claiming that a horse had kicked her during a riding trip with a friend. But Maggie, bearing the raw pain of physical and emotional scars, understood all too clearly the true source of her torment. It was then that the realization cut through her: she had to escape from him before his cruelty escalated further and he killed her.
Doctors and nurses tried to get her to talk. They’d seen abuse many times and knew the signs, but Maggie could only repeat Frederick’s lies until they finally stopped asking her for the truth.
For months, she kept it to herself about his abuse, but when he hit her again, she knew she had no choice. She called the police and in desperation reached out to her friend, Sharon Waters. With compassionate resolve, Sharon and her husband helped Maggie break free from the clutches of Frederick while he languished in jail for domestic abuse. Regret tugged at her for not reporting him sooner, but terror had rendered her voice silent, for she knew he was capable of harm not just to her but also to her father. The looming fear for her father’s well-being had cemented her determination to sever ties with the man she’d been forced to marry.
Explaining the twisted reasons behind that ill-fated union was a challenge steeped in shame. She could never admit to Rafe or Fred that coercion and manipulation had driven her into marriage; the reality was too bitter. Instead, Maggie clung to the solace that her father had at least forgiven her before his passing. A bittersweet memory of a love she deeply missed. Though her father had been heartbroken by her marriage to Frederick, she had seen no alternative when her only hope was to secure his care. Some truths she mused, were destined to remain misunderstood by the masses. Rafe knew some of what she’d gone through, but he didn’t know all of it and she wondered what he would think of her if he did.
Under the protection of Sharon and her husband, Maggie managed to slip away. That night, when Frederick’s fist struck with lethal intention, she had summoned the courage to call the police. While he languished in jail, she gathered the few possessions she could claim as her own and disappeared into the night without a backward glance. For a spell, she remained hidden, until Luke McCallister contacted her with unsettling news: Fred’s horses had been stolen.
In that moment, Maggie’s intuition screamed that Frederick was behind the deed, an act that, though disheartening, was entirely consistent with the bitter man he had always been. She prayed fervently that she never saw him again.
Leaving behind the quaint familiarity of Whitefish to settle in Clifton demanded every ounce of courage Maggie possessed. Yet, driven by a tender love for her father-in-law, a man left isolated by Frederick’s incarceration, she moved closer to him. Determined to bridge the void of loneliness, she made regular visits to see him at least twice a month.
Fred’s gentle kindness was a beacon in her life, a brief reprieve from the loss of her own father. In the warmth of their shared moments, she found comfort, especially knowing that Fred’s affection for Rafe was as deep as a father’s love, a sentiment she believed was returned with equal devotion.
Though curiosity twined itself around her thoughts, Maggie never dared to ask Fred or Rafe about Rafe’s parents. Their fate remained an enigma, a mystery suspended in time, whether they were still alive, she could not say. She found herself yearning to unravel every secret of his past.
Sitting quietly on her sofa, Maggie resolved to speak with Rafe more openly. She longed for him to understand the depth of her attraction, to gauge if there might be even the slightest chance for them to be together. With a mix of steely determination and vulnerable hope, she declared, “Whether you like it or not, Rafe Marshall, I will be around.”
****
Saturday evening, Rafe found himself perched on a bar stool at Dewey’s, the dim glow of the bar casting soft shadows on his face as he cradled a cold, frothy beer. The gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses provided a temporary escape from his restless thoughts. He was a little early to meet Nate, but the stifling confinement of his own home had become unbearable, a place where all he did was think of Maggie. Her presence lingered in his mind like bittersweet perfume ever since their passionate encounter. He longed for her again, though he knew the forbidden nature of their connection complicated matters. To him, Maggie was still Fred’s daughter-in-law, a lingering bond from a past marital union with Fred’s son, and Rafe wondered how Fred might react if he knew how Rafe felt about Maggie.
“Hey,” came a casual greeting. Rafe looked over to see Nate approaching, sliding onto the stool next to him as naturally as if he’d always been there.
“Hey,” Rafe replied, his voice low and slightly distracted.
“Have you been here long?” Nate asked, his eyes scanning the lively environment while he attempted to catch the attention of a busy bartender.
“Not really. Maybe fifteen minutes. I just needed to get out of the house,” Rafe replied, his tone hinting at more than just a mild restlessness.
“What’s wrong?” Nate’s concern broke through the chatter around them.
Before Rafe could voice more, Dixie Townson, dressed in the uniform of a seasoned bartender, leaned in with a smile. “What’ll you have, Nate?”
“Whatever’s on tap, Dixie. Thanks,” Nate answered effortlessly.
Dixie then turned her attention to Rafe. “Rafe? You good?” she asked, her tone warm yet probing.
“Yeah, I’m fine for now, Dixie. Thanks,” Rafe murmured, forcing a smile as his thoughts weighed heavily on him.
“Be right back,” Dixie said, swiftly moving on to get Nate’s beer.
Rafe lifted his beer toward his lips but paused when he felt Nate’s steady gaze on him. With a resigned sigh, he set the glass down and met his friend’s eyes.
“What?” Rafe asked, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Why did you have to get out of the house?” Nate asked, his concern unmistakable.
Rafe shrugged, a weary motion that spoke of tired resignation. “Long day,” he offered, the simplicity of his answer belying the storm of emotions beneath.
Dixie soon returned, setting Nate’s beer on the bar with a friendly smile before moving off to tend to another patron.
“Every day’s a long day on a ranch,” Nate remarked, the tired humor in his voice lightening the mood.
“Some are longer than others,” Rafe responded with a soft, defeated sigh, and noticed Nate still staring at him. “What is your problem?”
“My problem? I don’t have one,” Nate said. “But apparently, you do. You know you can tell me anything, Rafe, and you know it goes no further.”
“Not tonight,” Rafe murmured.
“So, something is up?” Nate prodded, his tone both playful and sincere.
“Nate, let it go for now. Please,” Rafe pleaded, his eyes revealing a glimmer of vulnerability.
“All right,” Nate conceded, taking a contemplative sip from his beer. “Damn, this place is packed tonight.”
“When isn’t it?” Rafe replied with a wry smile that failed to reach his eyes.
“True,” Nate agreed, giving him a gentle nudge with his elbow. “So, how many women have hit on you in those fifteen minutes?”
Rafe narrowed his eyes in a mix of irritation and amusement. “None.”
“Bullshit,” Nate laughed.
“Whatever,” Rafe muttered, his tone indifferent despite the quiet tension.
“Damn, if I’d known you were going to be in this kind of mood, I would’ve stayed home with Markie,” Nate teased, his voice lightening the heaviness of the air.
“Sorry. I just have something on my mind. I’m hoping a beer or two will help,” Rafe replied, his gaze temporarily drifting back to his drink.
“Okay. I’m sure you’ll tell me when you want to, if at all,” Nate said reassuringly. With that, he turned his stool to face the crowded room, and remarked, “Good band tonight.”
“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, his tone distant.
“Damn, Rafe. Should we just go? You’re obviously not in the mood to be here,” Nate suggested, leaning closer with genuine concern.
“I’m sorry, Nate. I guess I don’t really want to be here,” Rafe admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you want to go?” Nate pressed gently.
“Not yet. Let me just relax for a little longer,” Rafe replied, his eyes fixed on a spot beyond the bustling scene.
“Alright. Uh, oh. Here comes a couple of women,” Nate observed, lifting his beer to his lips with a spark of mischief. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, as Nate’s hidden grin was revealed by the playful glint in his eyes. The women continued walking toward them until Rafe looked at them and shook his head, then they turned and walked away into the thick, lively crowd, leaving the two friends enveloped once more in the soft murmur of the evening.
After what felt like endless hours in the dimly lit bar echoing with the low hum of conversations and clinking glass, Rafe was desperate to escape. He wasn’t itching to return to his empty home, yet lingering here was equally unbearable. Rising from his seat, he motioned Dixie over with a wave and settled the bill for both him and Nate.
“You didn’t have to pay mine,” Nate remarked with a trace of disbelief in his tone.
Rafe waved off the comment with a dismissive grin. “I practically ran you in here for nothing. It’s on me.”
Concern etched on his face; Nate’s brow furrowed. “I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you like this.”
Dixie returned with a hand full of bills, which Rafe casually waved aside as if dismissing an inconsequential worry. She offered a soft, grateful “thank you” before slipping back into her duties behind the counter.
“Let’s go,” Rafe declared with quiet urgency, nudging his way through the throng of patrons clustered like a living, pulsing mass.
Outside, the night air and the distant hum of Main Street greeted them. The two men paused, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a loaded silence that spoke volumes. Rafe’s eyes flickered under the streetlights as he signaled Nate silently to follow him. Together, they made their way to Rafe’s truck, parked right next to Nate’s.
They leaned back against the truck’s front, arms casually folded, the silence between them laden with unspoken questions. Rafe was well aware that Nate was waiting for him to bridge the chasm of his feelings with words. If nothing came, Nate would simply let the silence hang as a question in the night air.
Rafe exhaled deeply. “Maggie and I…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to discard the weight of confession.
“You and Maggie, what?” Nate pressed, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.
Rafe met his gaze steadily. “Had sex.”
The confession hung between them, suspended by the night’s air. When Nate remained quiet, Rafe searched his friend’s face for any sign of judgment or shock. Instead, he saw a hesitant shake of Nate’s head before the words tumbled out.
“I’m sorry. Did you say you and Maggie had sex?”
Rafe nodded slowly. “Yeah. She invited me to go riding, and I couldn’t say no. We stopped at the pond by the edge of the field and… well…” He shrugged, the gesture raw and uncertain.
“So, now what?” Nate’s question was soft but insistent, seeking clarity in the haze of Rafe’s admission.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Rafe replied, his tone betraying a wistfulness that belied his words.
“Rafe, I know how you feel about her. Ever since the day you met her, you’ve wanted her.”
“She was married,” Rafe murmured.
“Yes, she was . But she isn’t now,” Nate countered.
“I don’t think Fred would appreciate it. I mean, he still sees her as his daughter-in-law.” Rafe’s words spilled out with a mix of caution and sorrow.
“But she’s not really. Besides, I think Fred would be delighted to see two people he cares about come together,” Nate reasoned.
Rafe turned toward Nate. “And if I hurt her? Then what? Fred wouldn’t be happy, especially after everything she endured with Junior.”
Nate’s laugh was soft and understanding. “It wouldn’t be the same sort of hurt. You’ve never even thought about laying a hand on her or any woman.”
“There are other ways to cause pain, Nate. Besides, she’s just so far out of my league,” Rafe admitted with a shake of his head.
Nate laughed. “Oh, let’s talk about leagues for a minute. Take Markie, you know, the veterinarian . I’m just a humble ranch manager, yet we love each other. That’s all that matters.”
“I don’t think I want to risk it. If Maggie and I got together and then, for some reason, drifted apart, it wouldn’t just break her heart, and it would shatter Fred’s. He has seen what she’s been through. To see her hurt would be like watching a part of him die. She’s like the daughter he never had. Frankly, she means more to him than Junior ever did.”
Nate sighed, the nighttime air enveloping his words. “I truly believe you and Maggie need to lay everything out on the table. Jumping into a relationship with the expectation that it’s doomed is a disservice to what might be something wonderful. Think about Markie and me, we didn’t start off on the best footing. She had her judgments, and I had my pride, but we pushed past it. Honestly, I can’t imagine my life without her. You owe it at least to yourself to give it a real shot. Who knows? You and Maggie might just share something extraordinary. Unless, of course, the sex was bad.”
Rafe’s lips curled into a small, amused smile as he met Nate’s tilted gaze. “It wasn’t bad. It was... incredible.”
“If the chemistry is that undeniable, then go for it. And if it turns out that it was just a fluke, you both can move on.” Nate exhaled sharply. “You know, she lives just up the street, above the shop. Why not talk to her?”
Checking his watch, Rafe noted, “It’s already ten o’clock. She might be in bed.”
“Or maybe she’s just relaxing in front of the TV. Stop making excuses, Rafe. I really think you two should see if there’s something more there.”
Rafe ran a hand along his jaw, conflicted yet determined. “I suppose I could drive over.”
“Take a chance, my friend. I did, and I’ve never looked back. I’m going home to my woman. Talk to you tomorrow,” Nate said as he began making his way around his truck.
“Alright,” Rafe murmured.
Nate opened the door of his truck, stepped onto the running board, and glanced back over the roof at Rafe. “I’d better not see your headlights tailing behind me.”
Rafe chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “I’d give you a good start before I left.”
“Just go see her. Damn it, you are the most stubborn man I know.”
“That’s rich coming from you—the pot calling the kettle black. You head home to Markie. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
With that, Nate started his truck, the engine rumbling as he drove out of the crowded parking lot. Rafe stood for a moment, watching the retreating taillights as his thoughts weighed heavily upon him. With a deep, contemplative sigh, he climbed into his own truck and started the engine. As he eased to the end of the parking lot, he faced a silent decision: a left turn would lead him home, while a right turn would steer him into town.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, determination hardening his features as he turned right onto Main Street.