To Have And To Hold - Dawn Temple Mills & Boon Cherish

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Oh, great. Now he gets it.

      Stunned, she twisted her head whiplash-fast, but the scathing comment she’d planned dissolved on the tip of her tongue. Travis and Danny stood there, less than two feet apart, shoulders thrown back, eyes squinted, sneering at each other.

      Lindy stomped her foot on the ground, the way she would if her prized Holsteins Thelma and Louise were being bullheaded and needed a distraction. The heel of her black pump burrowed into the ground. Darn it.

      “You two look like a couple of puffed-up peacocks. Cut it out!” She took a deep breath, counted to ten. Then twenty.

      “Danny, I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?” She lifted her cheek to accept his kiss. With a last glare at Travis, Danny turned and headed back to his truck.

      Too tired for more stalling, she addressed her attorney. “I’m assuming whatever you don’t want to tell me has something to do with him.” She indicated Travis with a jerk of her thumb.

      Chester nodded.

      “Okay.” Another deep breath. “Let’s hear it.”

      “Yesterday, I contacted Mr. Monroe in my capacity as executor of the Lewis estate,” Chester said, sounding very lawyerly. “I informed him of Mr. Lewis’s death and requested his presence at the reading of Lionel’s will.”

      “Why?” Lindy’s voice echoed inside her head, as if it came from the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. Her internal warning siren no longer hummed. It clanged. At full volume.

      “Your grandfather left his entire estate to Mr. and Mrs. Travis Monroe.”

      The clanging in Lindy’s brain stopped, replaced by the rushing roar of shock. Her heart sank to her feet, taking her blood supply with it. Despite the afternoon sun’s warmth, a chill seeped into her bones. She wrapped her arms around her body and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Keeping her tears locked up felt like an impossible task.

      Mr. and Mrs. Travis Monroe. The words danced a teasing jig around her brain. Suddenly the ground beneath her feet seemed to shift, throwing Lindy off balance. Travis’s strong grip on her shoulders steadied the ground, righted the world.

      “No,” she whispered. Her eyes popped open. Travis’s face hovered a few inches from hers. “Don’t touch me.”

      She jerked her shoulders free from his hold and moved away. He stepped closer, his startled eyes drilling into hers.

      “At least now I know why you’re here.” She widened the gap between them. This time, he didn’t follow. “You came to Land’s Cross because of Pops’s will.”

      A pink tinge crept up Travis’s neck, but he kept his eyes level with hers. “’Fraid so.”

      She’d known his reasons for being here had nothing to do with her, but hearing him admit the truth still stung. See, Pops, he doesn’t want me.

      Apparently, though, he wanted her farm. Why else would he be interested in Pops’s will? Her dreams for the future were tied to that land. No way she’d let him get his hands on her dreams. Not again.

      How do you know what he wants, Lindy girl? Did you ask? Did you ever tell him what you wanted? Pops’s words drifted into her memory. Her old-fashioned grandfather had spent the past year trying to convince Lindy to give her marriage a second chance.

      “Now, Lindy, give the boy a break.” Chester’s voice shocked her. For the second time in under an hour, Travis had made her forget where she was. “He’s just doing what Lionel wanted.”

      “What about what I want?” she demanded.

      Travis stepped up again and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, she raised her hand between them. “Don’t bother asking, Travis. You can’t give me what I want.”

      She wanted Pops to be alive.

      She wanted to make her dream of opening Country Daze, a hands-on teaching farm for schoolchildren, a reality.

      She wanted to be a wife and mother.

      “I want to go home.”

      Travis watched Lindy stalk away, disappearing behind the giant oak in the cemetery’s center. At least six feet wide, the tree hid her completely, offering the perfect place for a good cry. And if anyone deserved to shed a few tears, it was Lindy.

      Knowing an audience would only embarrass her, Travis stayed put, letting her grieve in private.

      You can’t give me what I want.

      Nothing new there. He’d failed his wife in every way possible.

      Much sooner than he expected, Lindy stepped back around the tree. Her face showed no signs of a crying jag, just pure determination. Blond curls, freed from their knot, bounced on her shoulders. Bare legs protruded from the black skirt still partially bunched up around her hips. After three steps, the lightweight material resettled at her knees. Black pumps dangled from her right hand. Dark stockings hung from her left.

      What the devil is she up to?

      As she walked toward him, the breeze stirred. A strand of hair brushed her cheek, clung to the corner of her mouth. The black silk stockings she carried fanned out, wrapping around her derriere.

      He swallowed. Hard. The lump in his throat slid into his gut. An acidic trail of need burned through him.

      Beside him, Warfield expelled a forced cough.

      Travis cleared his throat, dried his palms on his thighs before jutting a hand into her path. “Lindy, what’re you doing?”

      Without breaking her stride, she walked around his arm. “I told you. I’m going home.”

      He spun, watching her hips twitch as she stalked toward the road. Those sexy stockings billowed behind her, taunting him.

      Warfield clucked like a little old lady.

      “What?” Travis snapped.

      “Nothing.” Chester shrugged, smiling. Travis hated that smile, like the old guy knew a secret. “Those Lewises are the most stubborn creatures God ever put on this Earth.” With a final cluck, Warfield turned and headed in the opposite direction Lindy had taken.

      “Damn, these people are all nuts.” Shaking his head, Travis jogged after Lindy, catching up to her quickly. He grasped her arm just long enough to stop her momentum.

      “Lindy, wait. My car’s this way.” Pointing in the direction Warfield had gone, he indicated his silver BMW. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

      She ignored him and silently resumed her escape, stomping down the road that led to the main highway. Catching up to her again, he grabbed her arm, stopping her, but this time, he didn’t drop his hold. “Damn it, Lindy. I’m the only one left to give you a ride home.”

      She stilled, her face angled over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide as saucers in her unexpectedly pale face. For a second, she looked more scared than angry. Then her eyes narrowed. “I have no intention of taking a ride from you.” Her voice quivered as she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

      “Then how do you plan on getting home?”

      “Walk.”

      “You can’t walk home from here.”

      “Sure I can. It’s only two miles.” Angry color refilled her cheeks as she once more turned her back on him.

      He watched in amazement as she took off again, this time cutting across the grassy lawn. The rattle of a diesel engine sounded behind Travis. He stepped to the shoulder as Warfield’s truck rolled to a stop next to him.

      “Told you she was stubborn, boy. She decides she’s gonna walk, you can bet your bottom dollar she’ll walk all the way. Leastways, she’s sure not gonna take a ride from the enemy.”

      “Enemy?”

      “You

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