Devious - Lisa Jackson [23]
So what the hell was he doing here?
She’d been headed for her car but angled from the path to tromp across the wet grass bordering Freya’s pride and joy, an herb garden that was as drenched and beaten down as the rest of the foliage.
With a massive groan, the driver’s door opened and Slade stepped onto the gravel just as Bo, unable to contain himself a second more, leaped from the cab. Whining and squirming, the big dog raced up to her.
“Hey, boy,” Val said, her heart melting as she squatted down to pet the dog’s sleek head and receive exuberant licks on her face and hands. “Yeah, I missed you, too.” The hound couldn’t get close enough to her, and for a second she remembered bringing him home from the pound, a small black and tan puppy with bright eyes and ears that nearly hung to the ground.
“And me? You miss me, too?” Slade asked as he slammed the truck’s door shut and leaned against the front quarter panel. His voice, with his easy East Texas drawl, brought back memories that were better left forgotten.
Still scratching Bo behind his ears, she lifted her gaze. “You’re kidding, right? Miss you?” She almost laughed, except nothing about their meeting was funny. “Like I miss the plague.”
He squinted, his face an expression of disbelief. “You always were a pathetic liar.”
“Unlike you,” she said, “the master of deceit.”
He didn’t crack a smile.
“So what’re you doing here, Slade?” Straightening, she felt the heat of the morning sun upon her back, the promise of a warm day after last night’s battering storm. The jays were chattering, and from a hidden branch an owl softly hooted.
“I thought we should talk,” Slade said, “just you and me. Face-to-face. No two-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyers speaking for us.”
“We tried that. Didn’t work.”
“Maybe we should try harder.”
“Seriously?” She thought back to their marriage, the times she’d tried to communicate with him, the times he’d clammed up, the way he’d been so distant. Unreachable. The mess with Cammie. Slade’s incredible ego. Her own pride and stubborn streak. “So you drove down here in the middle of the night and slept in your pickup?”
“I just got in a few hours ago, and I didn’t have a reservation—didn’t think you’d appreciate me waking you up.”
“You got that right, but I think it’s too late for any more discussion. It’s over.”
“Not if we both work at it.”
“What?” she said, stepping closer. “Who are you? Where’s the aloof cowboy who really just didn’t give a damn about his marriage? The guy who came on to his wife’s sister and when it didn’t work, blamed her?”
“That’s not how it happened, and you know it.” He squinted at her, and she looked away.
Somewhere in the distance, the pace of the day was picking up. Val felt the change. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the hum of morning traffic, running along St. Charles Avenue a few blocks over, increased. People going about their workdays.
It was after eight; she’d slept in after a night of tossing and turning, and the last thing she needed was Slade Houston in her backyard. She had work to do at the inn. Freya was already making breakfast for the handful of guests who had spent the night, the smells of sizzling bacon, hot maple syrup, and apple fritters wafting through an open window. Val’s early morning job was to keep the coffee coming and the dishes cleared.
“What I know, Slade,” she said firmly, “is that if you drove all the way here from Bad Luck to convince me to give it another go, you wasted a trip. I’m not changing my mind.” The hound, damn him, whined at her feet and stared up at her with big, sad eyes. Her heart wrenched. “But if you want to, you can leave Bo with me.” She felt her lips twitch into a bit of a smile. She’d always been a sucker for animals. Strays to purebreds, Val loved them all.
“You can get your own dog.”
“Okay,” she said, not going into the fact that it was she who had made the trip to the animal shelter. She still believed the hound would be happier chasing