Page 5 of Bryson

Dropping her case in the tiny foyer, she went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"Have you heard?" his mother demanded as soon as he stepped into the living room and shed his sodden jacket. His bones ached. Today had been a particularly trying day, after a sleepless night. Two horses had foaled in the early hours of the morning and some of the cattle had gone wandering.

The ranch was a multibillion-dollar business, one that kept him constantly on his toes. He had taken the place into the twenty-first century by including modern equipment to aid with most of the duties, but there were still things that were done the old-fashioned way.

He had simply stopped by to change his muddy clothing after dealing with a busted feeding trough, to head back out again.

"Heard what?" Not even bothering to slow his stride, he headed for the stairs with his mother on his heels.

"She's back."

That stopped him cold. He had no need to ask for clarification; he knew exactly who she was referring to.

Turning to face her, he was careful to keep his expression neutral. "How do you know that?"

Barbara McNab straightened her thin shoulders and lifted her chin, her emerald-green eyes cold. "The grapevine is alive and well in this community, as you well know. She arrived on the afternoon flight and is staying at the Rose Cottage."

Emotions raced through him like a flood, warning him that he was not over her. He had known that even without the evidence.He had been kidding himself that he had moved on when it was far from the truth.

"Does the grapevine have any idea why she's back?" he asked tightly.

"We both know why she's here." Barbara wrapped the thin shawl around her shoulders and sniffed. "She has come to try and win you back. It will not matter to her that you're involved with a wonderful woman." Her gaze sharpened and she looked around before stepping closer. She was well aware that the servants gossiped, but she was never one to give them added things to talk about. Her son and that woman had done plenty of it. "You'd do well to remember that."

His mouth tightened and his spine stiffened. Turning on his heel, he strode up the stairs and went to his suite. Slamming the double oak doors shut behind him, he stepped from the tan and cream living room into his bedroom. Dragging off his clothes, he balled them up and tossed them into one corner of the vast room. He had left his boots in the mudroom. Sitting on the edge of the wide sofa facing the bed, he peeled off his sodden socks and just sat there staring. What the hell was she doing here?

It couldn't be to take things up with him again. She had made it plain that it was over.

The last harsh words they had said to each other came crashing back.

"You never intended to stay. Damn you, Julianne, I thought you were committed."

She had stared at him balefully as she threw her stuff into her suitcase as if she could not wait to leave.

"Your mother hates me. She makes it plain every day that I do not belong here. And what's your response every goddamned time? 'She's not that bad.' Well, she's worse and I don't need to take crap from anyone."

He had stared at her in mute dismay. "You want me to choose between you and my mother? She's my mother, dammit!"

"I don't want you to choose. I want you to be a man and acknowledge what's right in front of your eyes. I'm not good at competing. I happen to be a lousy loser, and that's what's happening here. I'm losing. She's been your mother for all your life. You just met me. This was a mistake and it's best we found that out before it's too late."

Dragging his fingers through his wet hair, he surged off the sofa and stalked into the bathroom.

She had just stumbled out of the bathroom after a particularly horrible vomiting fit when she heard the vehicle crunching on the loose stones. She did not have to look out the window to ascertain who it was. She had expected him to come as soon as he heard she was in town. Knowing what she did about this town, she knew he would have been informed. Nothing happened here without him or his mother being privy to it.

But how she wished she was better prepared! How she wished she had been given a reprieve at least for one damned night. Now she would be facing him, feeling as weak as a kitten and completely vulnerable. The pregnancy was kicking her up and down and sideways. She had decided to be adventurous and had tried a chicken sandwich she had picked up on her way, and it had turned against her.

Besides, she wasn't looking her best. Her hair was pinned haphazardly on top of her head, and she was still moist from the sweat that had poured from her face while her head had been bent over the commode. She wasn't looking forward to a fight with him, which was inevitable.

Closing her eyes briefly, she tightened the sash of the robe around her narrow waist and went to get the door.

Taking her time, she slid the lock open and pulled it open. She thought she had been prepared for seeing him again, but not for the sudden slamming of her heart against her ribs. He was without his hat, which was usually part of his ensemble, and hisdark wavy curls were rioting around his face and shoulders. His long, lean frame was shown to perfection in faded denims and a striped cotton shirt open at the neck.

His brows quirked mockingly, green eyes sweeping over her face and chest. "Well? Are you going to invite me in?"

Without a word, she stepped back to let him in.

Shutting the door, she leaned against it and watched as he sauntered as if he owned the damned place and went into the living room, waiting for her to follow him.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way into the living room and sat down on one of the comfortable sofas, curling her legs under her.