Read Cowboys are Forever Online
Authors: Hope Whitley
Now it was time to panic, Marielle told herself wretchedly two days later when she still hadn’t heard from Trey. She felt physically ill from shock and pain, moving through the days like an automaton … going through the motions of her life in a daze. And the nights … the endless nights were worse. Long hours of lying wide-eyed in bed, her mind too agitated to allow her exhausted body the rest it needed. From heaven to hell in a few short days, she thought dismally.
Finally, she knew that she had to accept with her heart what her mind knew: Trey had ditched her. She’d been a conquest. Just another notch in his belt, she told herself sadly, wiping away a tear. He was probably making his point by staying away—hoping she’d get the message. Well, she had. Loud and clear.
Marielle then decided that she’d spent enough time wallowing around in self-pity and nursing a broken heart. Her heart
was
broken and she didn’t expect to get over it anytime soon. If ever. Still, life went on. Samantha would be here in a few days and she wanted to fix up the house a little. That would be a more productive use of her time than sitting around crying.
Trey had decided to stay away from Marielle for awhile. For one thing, he needed time to try and get his feelings under control. Right now he couldn’t trust himself not to either cuss her out or throw himself at her feet and beg her to love him. For another thing, he thought with a frown, he didn’t want to be around this Sam person. Seeing the two of them together would just be rubbing salt in the wound. But, Lord, how he missed her! He wondered if he’d ever stop missing Mari, ever get over this aching need to see her, talk to her and—he groaned—touch her.
He’d been in a foul mood for days. Bandy and the boys eyed him warily and tried to stay out of his way. He didn’t blame them. He could barely stand his own company. Sometimes he saw the concern on their faces and that just made him grumpier. He didn’t want their pity. Hell, he didn’t need it—he felt sorry enough for himself. He’d been in his office all morning now, trying to concentrate on some book work. But the figures swam before his eyes.
He blinked wearily, and then slammed the open ledger shut. It was no use, he told himself morosely, leaning back in the leather swivel chair. He couldn’t think of anything but her … Marielle … and Sam. What kind of man had Mari fallen in love with? He wondered. What was so all-fired special about good ol’ Sam? It was impossible that any other man could love and care for Marielle more than Trey himself did. He massaged his jaw thoughtfully. Sometimes women could be fooled by men, taken in by superficial charm and sweet talk. He wouldn’t want that to happen to her.
Or—Trey was electrified by a sudden idea—he’d told her that he never wanted to get married again. She probably thought that he meant it. Hell,
he’d
thought he meant it when he said it. She had said the same thing, then told Sam that she was ready to get married. Maybe if he went to her and told her that he’d changed his mind about marriage, that
she’d
changed his mind about marriage … maybe he could give this Sam some competition.
At least he could put up a fight for her, he realized. He loved Marielle, didn’t want to live without her, couldn’t stand the idea of her marrying anyone except him He’d be damned if he’d let some New York dude waltz in here and steal his woman right out from under his nose without any opposition. Trey made up his mind as he put his hat on and strode out to his truck. When it came to a fight, Trey Masterson wouldn’t roll over and play dead. He was about to try and give Sam a run for his money!
Marielle was in the kitchen when she heard someone knocking at the front door. “Come in,” she called loudly. Her heart leapt when she heard the quick, sure footsteps in her living room. It sounded like Trey.
“Who’s there?” she asked cautiously. Her pulse clamored wildly. It was him! Suddenly he was standing in the door way looking at her.
“It’s me, Marielle,” he told her unnecessarily. “I’m here.” He crossed the room to where she stood in front of the sink. “I’m here and I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came to say!” He grasped her by the shoulders almost roughly. “Marielle Stevens, can you look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me … that the night we spent together didn’t mean anything to you … that you love another man and want to marry him instead of me?” He drew a deep breath.
Marielle stood frozen, her trembling hands behind her back, staring at him in mute amazement.
“Don’t answer me yet,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’ve got one more question first.” Suddenly, he kissed her passionately, a hard demanding kiss that gradually became soft and irresistibly seductive. Marielle melted against him, stunned and breathless. Trey
did
love her!
“Now,” he demanded forcefully when he finally broke off the kiss. “Just tell me, Marielle—can Sam kiss you like that?”
Marielle stared at him blankly. “Trey, what on earth are you talking about?”
“I know all about him,” Trey said. “Bandy heard you on the phone with him, remember? Can he kiss you like that? Make love with you all night and have you screaming his name the way you did mine? Can he do that, Marielle?”
Marielle’s face cleared as comprehension dawned. Oh, Lord, she thought—this was priceless. She started laughing. “I don’t know, Trey. To be fair about it, I don’t think she’s ever wanted to k-kiss me, but—” she began, dissolving in helpless laughter. What a mix-up, she thought, recalling now her conversation with Samantha and how it must have sounded to the elderly man who’d overheard only her side of it.
Trey broke in. “
She?!
What do you mean—she?”
“Just what I said. She. Her. Sam’s a female—Samantha. She’s my oldest and best friend,” Marielle explained. “And the only person I’m ready to marry is you. That is,” she said feeling suddenly a little shy and unsure, “that is … if you want me.”
Trey whooped with joy and threw his hat in the air, smiling broadly. “Do I want you? Woman, you just try to get away from me! Sam will get here just in time to be your bridesmaid.” He stepped closer to Marielle, his deep, dark eyes shining with love. “I love you, Marielle Stevens. These past few days when I thought I had to be way from you have been pure hell.” He folded his strong arms around Marielle and held her tightly. “Hold me, Marielle,” he said softly, “hold me and tell me you love me, too.”
Marielle swallowed. “I … I can’t,” she said unhappily.
Trey looked down at her, his expression puzzled. “What do you mean you can’t?” His gaze traveled to her arms, still held behind her back. Mutely, she held them out so he could see her problem, the problem she’d been wrestling with when he got there.
One of her hands was stuck fast to a cardboard contraption with a sticky surface. Trey stared at it curiously. “What is that?” he asked.
“A glue trap,” she said. “I have a mouse and I bought this trap and then the poor little mouse got stuck in it and Trey,” she rushed on breathlessly, “it was just awful! The poor little thing squeaked and squeaked—it was stuck by the very tip of its tail, and so I tried to get it loose and I did, but—”
Trey finished the story for her, grinning broadly. “But it got loose and you didn’t. I understand,” he told her sympathetically. Marielle saw his shoulders begin to shake with laughter he was unable to hold back. Trey looked down at her, his eyes brimming with laughter and love and deep, abiding tenderness.
He smiled that slow, sweet, sexy smile that had captured her heart from the very beginning and said, “That’s my Mari.”
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