Page 20

He’d have fought for me.
Tears swarm my eyes when I hear the chatter at the shoreline, but I ignore the gathering crowd to swim deeper into the center of the body of water that stole my mother's life.
Because, despite that, I feel safe here.
Clyde can’t get to me when I’m in the lake.
It’s well known that he can’t swim.
Grand-mèrewon’t touch me either—she hates the lakes now. Has since Mom died.
“Child, come on out of there before you freeze to death!”
And it’s as if a lifetime of fear has been washed away.
Uncaring if sheisSatan’s lieutenant, I holler, “Worried I won’t make it to the altar in time?” I don’t care that the staff will hear our business, though I know she’ll loathe it.
Sounds of splashing follow my words, so I tilt upward, frowning when I see a mop of black hair bobbing in the water as a ranch hand swims toward me tosaveme.
Ha.
Too late for that!
A few feet away, his head finally breaks through the surface.
It isn’t a ranch hand.
Everything inside me stills and flickers to life all at once.
My feet cease treading water as I go rigid, then my chin bobs beneath the surface and they start up again before my head goes under fully.
Him.
The reason I survived adolescence.
The reason I ran away.
The reason I'm coming home.
My eyes lock on a face I haven’t seen in over a decade, yet it’s one I’ll always know—will never forget.
It’s different now—older. Scars on his throat from the fire. Lines from exposure to the elements.
Beautiful, nonetheless.
As I hover there, locked in the flames of his regard, he rumbles, “Considering she brokered the deal, I think you not making it to the aisle is a definite concern, but no more so than for me, Susanne.”
“What are you doing here?” I spit, jerking away from him when he grabs one of my arms.
“Same could be asked of you. Why are you in the middle of a lake in April? They only just melted. You must be fucking freezing.” He slicks his hand over his drenched hair. “I know I am.”
“Then get out. I never invited you in here. It’s still McAllister water until you hitch your wagon to mine.”
“We’ll be doing more than that.” His eyes narrow and the lick of distaste I see in there would’ve broken my foolish heart if he hadn’t shattered it a long time ago. “You sign the contract yet, Susanne?”
I have no idea why I hiss the words at him, but I do anyway: “It’s Zee.”
“You want me to call my future wife ‘Zee?’”