The Rancher's One-Week Wife. Kathie DeNoskyЧитать онлайн книгу.
in both of their best interest to call off their brief marriage. But when she had returned home, she’d thought about how little they knew about each other and she couldn’t think of a single thing they had in common besides not being able to keep their hands off of each other. Her breath caught and she had to swallow hard against the sudden wave of emotion threatening to overtake her.
“Get a grip,” she admonished herself. “Nothing has changed. He lives here and you live in Seattle. It would have never worked.”
To distract herself, she glanced around Blake’s neatly kept home. Even though the appliances were ultramodern, the rest of the kitchen appeared to be as rugged and masculine as the man who lived there.
A wooden butcher-block island sat in the middle of the kitchen with a variety of copper bottom skillets, pots and pans hanging above it from a wrought-iron rack. The cabinets were a warm oak with hammered black hinges and door pulls; the countertop was polished blue marble. A wagon wheel suspended from the ceiling with old-fashioned-looking chimney lamps served as a chandelier over the round oak dining table, while the windows on the wall behind the dining area framed a panoramic view of the Laramie Mountains, which surrounded the ranch.
“Beautiful,” she murmured as she gazed at the picture-perfect landscape. It was as rugged and fascinating as the man she was here to see.
Wandering into the living room, she wasn’t at all surprised to see a stone fireplace with a rough-hewn mantel surrounded by a grouping of heavy leather furniture and rustic wooden end tables. The room was so cozy and inviting, she felt as if she belonged there, which was absolutely ridiculous. She belonged in Seattle, in her own apartment with its modern decor and view of the city. And try as she might, she couldn’t imagine how it would have been living here with Blake. If that wasn’t enough to convince her that she’d made the right decision, she didn’t know what was.
But as she looked around at the colorful Native American throws on the back of the large leather sofa, and the pieces of vintage tack and Western accents hanging on the walls, she had to admit that Blake’s home had a warm, friendly feel to it that her place had never possessed. An uncharacteristic loneliness suddenly invaded every part of her. She did her best to tamp it down.
She loved her life in Seattle. She had a great job as buyer for a large import/export dealer and although she didn’t have much of a social life, she did occasionally go out with some of her coworkers for happy hour after work. But as she thought about how long it had been since that had happened, she took a deep breath. She really couldn’t say she had a lot in common with any of them anymore. They were all either married or in committed relationships and were more interested in going home to their significant others than hanging out to talk shop.
It was odd she hadn’t noticed that before she met Blake. And she had to admit that when she did realize it, she might have had second thoughts about her decision to end things with him. In the end, she hadn’t let that sway her and resigned herself to being the only one in her office with no one to go home to.
But the more she thought about it, the more her loneliness increased. Shaking her head to dislodge the unsettling feeling, Karly turned to go back into the kitchen to wait for Blake and walked right into his broad chest. Stumbling backward, she would have fallen if not for his big hands encircling her upper arms to steady her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Her voice failed her as she gazed up into his sexy brown eyes. For a split second, she thought she caught a glimpse of the warm, compassionate man she’d thought she was in love with. But just as quickly as it appeared the glimmer was gone, replaced by a closed-off stare.
“You’d better watch your step,” he said, his deep baritone sending a shiver coursing through her. “One of these days those ridiculous shoes are going to cause you to fall and break an ankle.” Before she could find her voice and tell him that she didn’t need his input on what she should or shouldn’t wear, he released her and motioned toward a door across the room. “Let’s go into the office for this talk you seem to think is so important.”
Blake stepped back for her to precede him into a study off the living room, and as she seated herself in the burgundy leather armchair in front of his desk, Karly forced herself to stay calm. The heat from his calloused palms through the fabric of her dress when he caught her had set her pulse racing and made breathing all but impossible.
She tried to calm herself as she stared at the outdoor scene intricately carved into the oak desk’s front panel. She’d just as soon face off with the bear fishing in the stream as she would having to deliver the news she’d traveled over a thousand miles to give Blake.
“So what brings you all the way to Wyoming, Karly?” He removed his hat and hung it on a peg by the door. “I’m betting you didn’t make this trip by choice.”
He wasn’t going to make their meeting easy and she really hadn’t expected him to. When they’d decided to dissolve their marriage eight months ago, they had both said things out of hurt and frustration that she was sure they both regretted.
“Please, Blake. Can’t we at least—”
“What do you expect from me, Karly?” he interrupted, sinking into the chair behind his desk. “I haven’t seen or heard from you since just before the first of the year. After we spent Christmas in Las Vegas, I came home expecting my wife to be joining me here for New Year’s Eve. Instead, I get a call telling me you’d changed your mind. If I wanted to stay married, I’d have to give up my life on the Wolf Creek Ranch, quit riding bulls and move to Seattle because you decided you couldn’t live out in the middle of nowhere.”
“That isn’t exactly what I told you,” she said, defending herself.
“Close enough,” he stated flatly.
“You were just as adamant that you couldn’t live in the city,” she reminded him, feeling a little guilty. He hadn’t been as insulting in his assessment of Seattle as she’d been about where the ranch was located. But dredging up what he said and what she said wasn’t getting to the point of her visit. When they continued to glare at each other for what seemed an eternity, she sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Blake.”
“Why are you here? I thought we settled things when I signed the papers without contesting the divorce.” He frowned. “By the way, I’d like to get a copy of the final decree. You said your lawyer was supposed to mail that to me, but like everything else you promised, it didn’t happen.”
Karly stared down at her tightly clasped hands. She supposed he was right. She had made several promises that she hadn’t been able to keep. She’d meant to keep them at the time. But once she went back home to pack her things and close her apartment, her sanity returned and the fear of failure had her second-guessing everything that had happened in Las Vegas.
“When I took the documents back to Mr. Campanella after you signed them, he suggested that I file for the divorce myself in Lincoln County on the eastern side of the state,” she finally said. “Which I did.”
Blake frowned. “Why?”
“The dockets in Seattle are filled with other domestic matters and it can take up to a year or more just to get a court date,” she explained. “All I had to do was mail the signed documents to the courthouse in Lincoln County and after the ninety-day cooling-off period the divorce would be final.”
“Mail them?” His frown darkened. “I thought a lawyer and at least one of the petitioners had to go before a judge for a divorce. At least that’s how I think it is here. Is it different in Washington State?”
Rubbing her temples, Karly tried to concentrate. This was what she’d come here to tell him. It was also where everything got extremely complicated. “If the petition had been filed in Seattle, Mr. Campanella would have been present. But Lincoln is one of only two counties where residents of Washington State file uncontested divorces by mailing the paperwork to the county clerk. Neither petitioner has to be present, nor do they have to have legal representation.” When she noticed his