Page 3 of Chasing Liberty

He pushed up from the bed and reached into his boxers to adjust himself. “This is ridiculous, Liberty. The entire situation is ridiculous. Not everything has to be a production on the Rose stage.” He sauntered into the hallway as if he was finished with the discussion.

“We’re not done with this conversation.” She followed him down the spiral stairs and into the newly remodeled kitchen that she hadn’t once cooked in. She watched him open an overhead cabinet and take down a canister of instant coffee. “We do have a coffee maker.” She flipped on the Keurig.

“I prefer this.” He sprinkled in an eye-measurement of grounds, added a touch more, then turned on the burner on the stove to heat up the kettle. While he waited for the whistle, he leaned against the edge of the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “I think this is a bad idea.”

“Why?” She didn’t plan on this being an argument. She had thought he would want this as much as she did.

“Not everything in life needs a dramatic ending.” He yawned and looked out the window as if admiring the flower garden. The sunlight streamed in capturing his green eyes and making them iridescent. “I know it’s hard for you, and your family, to hear something so cruel, but life can be peaceful. It should be peaceful without all the drama.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Opening the fridge, she took out the bottle of Butter Cookie Creamer and the small jug of milk for him and set them on the counter. “I do live a peaceful, drama-free life.”

“Really? Says the daughter of the man who forced her to marry to secure a spot in his will. And the woman who hasn’t spoken to her twin sister in what, four months now? I think everyone in your family would rather eat crow than apologize. Should I mention—”

“I get your point.” She was grateful that the last bit of coffee spurted into her cup because she needed a caffeine fix fast to endure this exchange. She stirred a healthy dose of creamer into her cup and looked at him through the furling steam. “First off, Honor is still mad at me, and second, we do talk.”

“That bickering over Sunday dinner last week was called “talking’? It sounded more like two barn cats fighting over the last drop of milk.” The kettle whistled and he poured hot water into his cup followed by a heavy splash of milk.

“You’re not used to big family dinners. Everyone always bickers.” She gave a small wave of her fingers. She didn’t want to discuss Honor, or any of her sisters for that matter. She had an agenda that needed to happen before it was too late.

What was too late?

Each day she felt like things were getting deeper, more complex. Liberty had never liked for her life to be out of control. She’d always been the type to rush in and fix things, before they turned messy. Things with Wyler were headed on a path she wasn’t ready for.

“We’ve reached the end of our marriage,” she said as she set her cup down, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. She could blame it on her nerves, or how she’d been working non-stop for the last few months since she’d started the science-based horse training program, Stellar Steeds. Late nights and vigorous training had become the norm. She and Wyler had always seemed to find the time to land in bed, no matter how tired they both were. He worked hard too. Her daddy’s motto “hands work hard, and family works even harder” rang true. He expected the crew to treat the land like it belonged to them.

Wyler wasn’t a stranger to hard work though. His work ethic matched her own and was one of the things she admired most about him.

“That’s not what I saw last night,” he said smoothly, his gaze trickling warmth into her body.

“Wyler…”

“Liberty.” Her name fell off his lips like melted butter.

“Last night…well, I understand…” The words were lost when he closed the gap between them. She lifted her chin to look up—way up. At five-seven, she wasn’t short, but he clocked in at six-three, two-hundred pounds of lean muscle, and he surrounded her with his size like a cozy blanket on a cold night. He’d always made her feel safe and secure, until she reminded herself they had an expiration date.

He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, sandwiching her in with his powerful arms. His scent, a blend of sandalwood, mint, and coffee, enlightened her senses. Her body became slick with need that he stirred in her so easily.

“What exactly do you understand?” he whispered.

She rested her hand against his chest, thinking she would push him away, but instead she absorbed his heat and energy through her palm. “We do have chemistry. That is understood, but we had an arrangement. This was temporary. A trade. You married me in exchange for part of Crescent Rose. You should be happy that I’m ending things sooner. You can move forward with your plans.”

The wildlands she referred to was the beloved untouched property full of hidden treasures and a jaw-dropping view of the mountains. Liberty and her sisters inherited the land from a maternal uncle. Liberty had only met him a few times and knew very little about him outside of his desire to be alone. He’d lived in a tiny, primitive cabin hidden in the woods all his life, only coming into town on rare occasions. He could have been a very rich man had he sold the vast fields to developers, but he refused, choosing to live in poverty. He’d been dead for a fewyears before a surveyor found him sitting in his chair. His story had seemed full of heartbreak and disappointment.

Now she’d given Wyler fifty acres of her portion for marrying her. At the time, it had seemed like a fair trade. With a hundred acres of property remaining, she had plenty of space to build a permanent home for Stellar Steeds, and a home for her. Now that Daddy had added her back into the will, she would also have her childhood home, shared with her sisters, of course.

Some of her sisters didn’t seem to be taking their father’s demands seriously though.

Liberty hadn’t been willing to give up Sagebrush Rose. The land was as much a part of her as her arms and legs. She’d worked right alongside the hands over the years, had put in blood, sweat, and tears in every inch of the dirt. This was where the last thread of memories of her mother existed—where she had been laid to rest on a small hill that overlooked the ranch. Liberty rode every evening and had a lot of private talks with nature and God, and her mother, on those lonely sunset rides.

“Sweetheart, some things can’t be measured by material things,” Wyler said.

She tried to read his expression but couldn’t “What are you asking for, Wyler?”

He shrugged and his muscles flexed under her fingertips. “Hell if I know, but something doesn’t feel right about this fabricated breakup.”

She swallowed hard. “Yet the marriage of convenience feels right?”

He shoved away from her, and she dropped her hand, watching him swallow the last drops of his coffee before he rinsed it out in the sink. When he turned back there was nothing left but a semi-frown and a blank stare. “Seems like you already have your mind made up. Why are you even discussing the plan with me?”