Page 183 of Huckleberry Hill
“I’m Hadley’s grandmother,” Muddy explained.
“Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” I asked, looking at Declan and then at Muddy.
“Sure thing, sugar. Come on, Declan. Let’s go ice that lip.”
Declan walked toward me and stopped. “You okay?” he whispered.
“I should be asking you that,” I whispered back.
“I’m fine.” He touched my cheek and then kissed my forehead. “Come find me when you’re done?”
I nodded.
“Come on, Tempest.” Muddy scooped up the goat and the three of them left. The front door shut, leaving me alone with a man I’d once loved. A man who now felt like he belonged to another version of me. A version of me who had lived another life.
A lesser version of me.
I held out the engagement ring to him. “Even if there was no Declan and there was no baby, I still wouldn’t go back to New York with you. You told you me you loved me. You told me my infertility was something you could deal with. But then you did the one thing in the world that you can never come back from—you left me, Gianni. You left me and you didn’t look back and now it’s too late. I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t strong enough to stay with me through thick and thin.”
He stared at the ring, and the with a deep, regretful sigh, he took it back. Gianni opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but at the last moment, he closed his lips.
There wasn’t anything more to say.
Chapter Forty-Two
The Ranch
* * *
Declan sat on the front porch of the cabin, nursing a beer. His lip had stopped bleeding, but his jaw was definitely bruised.
“Is he gone?” Declan asked unnecessarily.
I nodded. “He’s staying in town for the night though. At the Regal Beagle.”
The Regal Beagle had once been an old bar and brothel that serviced the miners of Huckleberry Hill during the silver rush in the late 1800s. It was built up in the Roaring ‘20s and then boarded up during the Great Depression. It sat there for decades untouched until Huckleberry Hill grew big enough to support a bed and breakfast. The decor was still Victorian grandma-core at its finest, and over the reception desk was a picture of the owner’s beagle wearing a crown; hence the name.
“I don’t like the bastard,” Declan said. “But his eye was swelling shut. Was he safe to drive?”
My lips twitched. “I had Dad drive him.”
“Did you now?” Declan’s slow grin stretched across his face and then he winced when his lip split open again. “Damn it.”
I raised the bakery bag. “Want one?”
He shook his head. “Those are all for you.”
“Okay then. I’m going for it.” I dove into the bag and pulled a cookie out and bit into it.
“Why didn’t you tell him who I was?” Declan asked finally. “For that matter, why didn’t you tell him you were pregnant?”
“First of all, you walked in right after he arrived and second, I was trying to avoid something like that,” I said, pointing at his lip. “Did you break his nose?”
“Yep. His nose was too perfect to begin with.” He paused. “You didn’t tell me he was handsome.”
“Not that handsome.” I tried to keep the smile inside. I was starting to really like my new jealous, possessive Declan.
