Chapter Twenty

Hannah…

Roarke arches a brow at me, challenging me to reply to Martha. I do so without hesitation. I pick up a cookie and stuff it in my mouth. The sweet taste hits my tongue, and I spontaneously moan, which really isn’t the best reply to a question about Roarke. I try to fix this. I point to the cookie. “That moan was for the cookie, not Roarke.”

Everyone laughs, including Roarke, which is one part good and one part bad, because I think I’ve made it seem like I might moan for Roarke. Which I did.

Just.

Last.

Night.

I try again. “Roarke and I aren’t a couple. I’m not even sure we’re really friends.”

“You look at him like you want to gobble him up, like the cookie,” Martha teases.

“I do not!”

“I think you do,” Roarke interjects.

“I do not.” I lean on the island to face off with him. “I do admit that you’re still hot, but that means nothing but trouble in my book. However, you’re really sweet to animals, you even save their lives, so we might, and that ‘might’ is a big one, get to the friend marker.” I pick up another cookie and look at Martha. “And these cookies are the best thing on planet earth.” I then look at Jessica. “How do I go about talking to the team about the auction, or would you prefer to do that? This part of the process will be urgent. We need to get the auction lined up to start advertising for it. And how do you think the guys would feel about posing in Santa hats for the marketing material?”

Everyone laughs again, and Jessica says, “Why don’t we spend tomorrow together, getting everything moving?”

“Roarke will do it,” Ruth says.

“Shirtless,” Martha adds.

Roarke holds up his hands. “Oh no. I keep my shirt on. The horses and I will do the hats. That’s where we draw the line.” He takes a bite of a cookie and eyes Martha. “And I agree. Your cookies are the best. Every new creation is better than the last.”

“Thank you,” Martha says. “I’m thinking I’ll launch a gingerbread cookie for the festival. It seems Christmas appropriate. What do you think, Hannah? We could have an area for kids to decorate them, too?”

“I love it,” I say. “Can you bake a batch so I can shoot some photos for the advertisements?”

“I have to come up with the cookie,” Martha says. “But I’ll start working on it this evening and get something baked, even if it’s not the final recipe.”

“Perfect,” I approve. “Now, let’s talk about rides, booths, events, as well as a scavenger hunt. Oh, and the town decorations. Is the mayor involved?”

Roarke’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket, eyeing the number and answering the call. “What’s up, Amanda?”

Amanda isn’t a name I know, and I hate the way my stomach knots at his familiar tone with her. I don’t even know who this person is. Why am I reacting this way?

“I’ll be right there.” He disconnects. “I have an emergency that I need to attend to at the hospital.” He looks at me. “When you’re ready, call me. I’ll either come get you or send someone to pick you up.”

“I’m not bothering you during an emergency,” I say. “Go, Roarke. Save a life.”

“I’ll take her where she needs to go,” Jessica says. “No worries. Go. Go.”

Roarke’s eyes linger on me, and I feel his hesitation before he gives Jessica a nod and turns and heads for the door. I hate the torment I just felt in him, and the idea that he’s distracted by me, yet again, while caring for an animal, bothers me. “I’ll be right back,” I say, and without looking at the room, I hurry after him.

I step onto the porch as he’s reaching his truck. “Roarke.” He turns to face me, surprise etched on his handsome face.

“You coming?”

“Not now, but uh, saving animals is sexy. You know that, right?” It’s out before I can stop it, my gut driving me to say what it feels like he needs to hear, what lets him know I support him. And it’s not flirting. I’m just speaking the truth.

My reward is a rumble of his deep, masculine laughter, the tension I’d sensed in him fading away. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m going to come and sing to Snowflake when I’m done here. Okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, giving me a wink, before he climbs in his truck and starts the engine, a man headed out to be a hero, like he is most days.

I watch him back out and drive away, wishing I was with him, which isn’t new. I’ve wished I was with that man for years. Maybe it’s time to be friends. Maybe that’s how I reconcile that need. We were, after all, best friends. I lost a future husband. I lost a friend. Having one of the two back would be pretty wonderful. It’s a growth thing. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing for us.

The door opens behind me and then shuts as Jessica steps to my side. “You still love him.”

I could deny the truth but why? “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Nothing is enough when you’re thousands of miles apart. I’ve gotten to know Roarke, and I wondered why he was alone. Now I know. He looks at you like you’re his beginning, middle, and end.”

But I’m not, I think, and not just because he cheated. He didn’t even fight for me. He didn’t come after me. I swallow hard and remind myself of Martha fighting to survive the loss of a child. My problems are nothing. This festival is important. It’s about helping those who need help, about a charity for kids. “Let’s go talk to the mayor,” she says. “In answer to your question, yes, he’s involved. He wanted us to stop by today. I think you know him. Luke Kilmore.”

I turn to look at her. “Luke’s the mayor?”

“Yes. He said you two were friends.”

“We’re more than friends,” I say. “Luke grew up here, too. He also became a rodeo star, and we crossed paths in Vegas a few years back.”

“Oh,” she says. “Is this a problem?”

“Nothing happened, but not by his choice. That was mine. He felt too close to Roarke. I just couldn’t do it.”

Her lips curve. “Because you love Roarke. I think that’s pretty special. Years and miles apart and you were loyal to him. Let’s grab a cookie for the road and go see the ex-rodeo star. Seems we should auction him off, too, don’t you think? Find him a nice hot mama who isn’t you.”

I laugh. “Yes, I do believe we need to auction him off.”

She opens the door and glances back at me. “We’ll save you for Roarke and Roarke for you.” With that, she goes inside the house, leaving me to think about that premise.

Roarke.

Me.

Us.

God.

I want him. I want to forget the past and just be with the man I love, wrap him up for the holidays and make him mine, but I know me. I will never let go of the betrayal, and yet, I can’t seem to let go of him. I should put a Santa hat on the man and auction him off, but I won’t because it’s not just the betrayal I can’t let go of. It’s him.

But I go back to where I was a few minutes ago. Maybe we need closure, the kind I was looking for on some level by sleeping with him last night. I missed the mark, though. The closure we need is about forgiveness. I don’t have to forget. I do have to forgive, and that’s what leads us back to friendship.