Shay’s head was fuzzy, her thinking cloudy. The pills. She hadn’t heard right. He hadn’t just suggested they make this marriage real.
“Hear me, Shay? I want us to stay married.”
“What the heck. Stop saying that.”
“Give it five months. Think about it . . . I can fill in around here, relieve you of financial strain, offer some stability for Olivia. Wouldn’t it be nice not to worry about money for once?”
“Stop it! What kind of harebrained idea—This was a mistake.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Am I?”
He had to be. Because from her perspective this seemed awful one-sided. She got the help. She got the money. Maybe he was lonely for a woman and weary of the unwanted strings necessary to get one. Maybe he remembered the chemistry they’d had once upon a time, the sizzle that arced between them whenever they’d touched.
He was out of his mind if he thought she was joining that circus again. She crossed her arms. “What’s in it for you, McCoy?”
He looked down at his fingers, toying with the brim of his hat. Then he shot her a look that made her breath catch. That set her veins on fire and weakened her limbs.
“I want another chance, Shay.”
Another . . . what? He couldn’t mean it that way. Yet he was looking at her like . . .
Worse yet, an invisible force tugged at her heart, trying to convince her to believe something she knew was reckless and foolish. After all he’d done, after all the pain she’d gone through, she had to admit he still had a hold on her.
Travis watched Shay blink once, watched the confusion dance across her face like ripples over a river. He’d made her speechless, not an easy task.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said. “But I’m asking just the same.”
Shay sprang to her feet. Then her broken foot hit the floor beside the other. “Blame it!”
Travis stood, reached toward her. “Shay—”
She swatted his hand away and sank back onto the cushions. “Get out.”
Her breaths came hard and heavy. Her face was flushed, whether with anger or exertion he wasn’t sure. Still, this was the only chance he was going to get.
“Not until I finish.”
She shot him a look. Her nose flared.
She was a captive audience if there ever was one, and she knew it. But maybe a little space was in order. He paced across the room and leaned against the windowsill.
“I’m only asking for five months. I’ll run things around here till you’re back on your feet. After that we can work side by side. I’ll foot the bill—pardon the pun—for anything you need. Anything at all.”
Did he sound too desperate? Because he was. He’d take her back at any cost, but he couldn’t let her know that.
“What kind of game is this?”
“It’s no game, Shay.” If she only knew how serious he was. “I have regrets.”
He’d already scared the tar out of her. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she’d shot from the sofa. She was as spooked as a cornered cat. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her he wanted a second chance. Maybe he should’ve made something up.
But he wasn’t going into this with trickery. He was shooting straight, right from the get-go. If that spooked her, so be it. Lucky for him, she didn’t have many options.
“Don’t you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d gotten married?” he asked.
“No, I don’t.”
He hoped that wasn’t true. If it was, he really had his work cut out. “Five months. A real effort to make this work.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
He didn’t like her pessimism. “If it doesn’t . . . I’ll leave. I’ll give you an annulment—if that’s still an option . . .”
She was shaking her head, clutching the pillow against her stomach like her life depended on it. “No.”
What did he go and say that for?
“Don’t need your answer now. Mull it over.” He put his hat on his head.
“Don’t need to.”
He glanced out the window. “Olivia’s ’bout done with the weeding. All right if I keep my promise?”
Her lips pressed together. She was tempted to say no, but she wouldn’t. “Fine. Have her back in an hour. And not one word of this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Stay off that foot now.” He left just in time. The pillow hit the door right behind him.