Furious with Webb for demanding an answer to a question that she’d been asking herself for weeks, Annalise jerked free of his grip.
“My feelings for my fiancé are none of your business.”
Scowling, Webb took a step back and settled his cowboy hat on the back of his head, his gaze narrowed on her.
“No, I guess they’re not.” Without another word, he turned and walked from the room, leaving Annalise standing alone in her childhood room, surrounded by a lifetime of memories…and a barely repressed urge to run after him.
…
Webb couldn’t sleep. Not when he knew that Annalise was back in town and less than a mile down the road. But for how long? And this time when she left, he knew it would be for good.
He swore, dragging a hand through his already finger–spiked hair. Why had he stopped at her house when he’d seen the light in the window? And why had he asked her if she loved the man she was planning to marry? What business was it of his, anyway?
He sank wearily down onto the side of his bed and dropped his head into his hands. Because he loved her, he admitted miserably. Always had and always would, in spite of the fact that she had chosen a life of glamour and fame as a model over a life with him.
With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the window, bracing a palm against the frame as he stared out across the dark moonlit pastures that separated his ranch from hers. He imagined her there in her parents’ home, asleep in her bed, her long blond hair spread out on her pillow like a halo around her face.
How many times as a teenager had he stood just so, thinking about her and yearning for her, then finally giving in to the urge to see her, hold her, and sneaking out the window? The Sweetheart Tree, he remembered, rubbing a hand over the sudden ache in his chest. He would race across the dark pastures, throw rocks at her window to awaken her, then she’d slip out, too, and meet him at their special tree.
The Sweetheart Tree. A thousand times since she’d left, he’d told himself he was going to cut down that damn tree. But he’d never been able to bring himself to do the job. The memories attached to it were too strong…too sweet. The Sweetheart Tree. Annalise. His sweet Annie.
He couldn’t lose her, he told himself, feeling the panic growing to tighten his chest. Not again. With a growl, he turned from the window, grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on as he headed outside and into the darkness.
…
Restless, Annalise lay in her bed, her eyes stubbornly closed, but her mind racing, refusing to let her sleep. She loved Bryan, she told herself for the 100th time since Webb had left. He was the perfect man for her. They had dated for two years, shared the same interests, the same group of friends. They enjoyed an uncomplicated and comfortable relationship.
She flipped open her eyes, her heart racing, to stare at the water–stained ceiling over her head. Comfortable? Had she mistaken comfort for love? Was it enough to base a marriage on?
Something hit the window at her left and she bolted upright at the sound. She listened, staring at the window, her heart pounding against her ribs, as rocks once again clattered against the glass. Webb! She leaped from the bed, ran to the window and threw back the musty drapes. She caught a glimpse of him in the moonlight, just as he disappeared around the side of the barn.
She stood, staring, her fingers fisted in the musty drapes. The rocks were the signal he’d used when they were teenagers to signal her to meet him at the Sweetheart Tree.
Memories swamped her of other times Webb had come to her in the night. The wild, breathless races through the shadowed pastures to meet him at the Sweetheart Tree. The hours they would spend in each other’s arms, enveloped by velvety darkness, a silvery moon offering the only light. She shivered, remembering the excitement, the passion that filled those moonlit nights.
Passion, she thought again, gulping as she continued to stare into the night. Had she ever experienced that level of passion with Bryan? The answer was quick…and negative. No, she’d never experienced with any man the passion she’d known with Webb.
She strained to peer into the darkness, knowing that Webb was long gone and had probably already reached the tree by now. Should she follow him? No, she told herself and gripped the drapes more tightly, as if to hold herself in place. She was engaged to Bryan. She had no business chasing through the night to meet another man. Especially Webb Aiken.
