Page 4 of This Time Around
Less than five minutes later, we pulled off the two-lane road and onto a gravel drive.Metal gates were opened, barely allowing enough room for the car to pass through.Our tires rumbled as we drove over thick, metal lines the same level as the ground.A curved sign hung over the narrow drive and gleamed brightly as if recently polished.
Marx-Splendid Ranch
From what Max told me, his sister Corinne married Robert Marx, practically a farming legend around these parts.Max’s sister fell in love with Robert when they were freshmen at the University of Kansas, and the rest was history.They died just over two years ago, together while driving down to Oklahoma for a horse show.The deepness of emotion when he shared what happened to his sister, his concern about his niece, his insistence she needed help and I could be that guy for her while getting my head on straight was the final straw in taking my agent’s advice.
But who in the hell was Splendid?
I barely finished the thought before the driver pulled up to a house that made my eyes bug out.Farmhouse.
It was a freaking farmhouse, looking exactly like it hadn’t changed a single inch since the eighteen hundreds.I’d seen photos of homes like this.I’d seen them in magazines and in movies and on sets, and hell, it’s not like I hadn’t driven past farmhouses before in upstate New York, but there was something about this one.
This freaking farmhouse made my blood rush.
It was cinematically perfect in its upkeep from the bright white paint to the red front door and crisp black shutters.The front, wrap-around porch had a gleaming gray stain, and along the railing, as well as at the edges of every single step, were red and black flower pots, blooming with a wide array of flowers in whites and yellows.I couldn’t have imagined a more picture-perfect farmhouse.
“We’re here,” the driver said, when I didn’t climb out of the car.
I was too busy gawking at the house, the porch, the red and white barn to the left, a smaller house to the right, and a handful of other small buildings.
“Got it.”I pulled out a twenty and handed it to him before sliding out of the car.He met me at the trunk, pulling out two of my suitcases while thanking me for the tip.I grabbed two more duffel bags.
I packed as light as I could, but three months was a long time, and who knew what could happen.Plus, I grabbed every personal item I could find, because hell if I was going to give Camilla the belief she had a right to anything of mine anymore.
As he slammed the trunk closed, I shook his hand and wished him well, and when he was back in his car, I spun on my heels, taking in the front porch on the storybook farmhouse.
“Now what in the hell do I do?”I scrubbed my hand down my face again.The wig caught on my ear and I tore it off along with the hat.
I used it for security at the airports and in public, but now there wasn’t a need.
Bending down, I tucked both items into a pocket and as I stood back up, a wooden door slammed closed.
A woman, much younger than I expected for some reason, walked across the front porch and paused at the top of a set of stairs.
Her long dark hair billowed in the wind, blowing around her shoulders, creating her own personal shawl as we stared at each other.
She didn’t look thrilled, but I was Cooper Hawke.I was used to women pretending to be immune to me, Camilla being the perfect case and point.
There was something about this woman’s hesitance to welcome me that made me pause.
“Hello,” I finally said when our silence stretched well past awkward.“I’m Cooper.Are you Miss Marx?”
The name Max gave me of his niece escaped me.
Her body jolted and she stepped forward.“Splendid.Marx was my maiden name.”She walked down the stairs.She moved with the grace of a woman comfortable in her own skin, a trim woman who clearly took care of herself, based on the slender thighs, and the slight curve of hips obvious in her skin-tight jeans that were tucked into worn, tan cowboy boots.
I couldn’t hold back a grin.A storybook cowgirl perfectly fit the home.
And something around me settled.Something released, like the breeze of the Midwest actually had the ability to blow away all my feelings of stress and anger and betrayal.
I shook off the strange sensation.She was married, based on the diamond on her ring finger.
I flipped through my conversations with Max but couldn’t recall him mentioning she was married.But who knows?I’d been so baffled at the idea of coming here I probably missed it.
As she walked closer, it was her eyes that pulled me in.They lacked warmth.There was nothing.
They weren’t cold or angry.The rich, black pools were void of absolutely anything.
Much like my own had appeared to me in my mirror’s reflection since I walked out on Camilla.
