Page 9 of A Colorado Claim

The idea scratched at an old memory she couldn’t quite call to the surface, the notion bothering her. She dug her toes into the silty earth beneath the water.

“Gibson, you’re at a fortunate place in life financially that some people never achieve. You could follow any dream you’re passionate about—”

“Not true,” he corrected her, shifting to face her. Behind him, the eroded bridge pilings made a moss-covered backdrop. “I was passionate about you once, Lark. That’s a dream I’ll never have back.”

Her thoughts evaporated like mist, the draw of this man compelling even after all the heartache he’d caused her. But she knew better than to act on it now, no matter how much he affected her. He hadn’t fought for her, she reminded herself. Not even a little bit.

She wouldn’t have ever asked him to retire, but she felt sure he could have found ways to be home more between road trips. Other players did. And he could have found ways to help ease her sense of loneliness and disconnect when they were apart.

“Giving up on that dream was a choice we both made.” Shaking her head, she flicked her toes along the surface of the creek, sending a spray onto a nearby log. “Now, what happened with us is sort of like this...” She kicked up another small spray, startling a bullfrog on the shore. “Water under a fallen down, forgotten bridge.”

Which reminded her that they really weren’t going to resolve any of the old issues between them today, no matter how much she wished that seeing him didn’t affect her. So, getting to her feet, she slid on her shoes again and told herself this was a good time to walk away.

Gibson let her words rattle around his head for a moment as Lark strode away from him. Retreating. He wanted to call to her, but he also recognized the need for caution in his response.

He disagreed with her. Strongly.

But he knew better than to cross swords with his clever ex-wife unless he was truly ready to dig in and stand by what he said. Her experience as a counselor made it easy for her to see through bullshit and ego. She had a way of carving right to the deeper point of an argument, even before he realized what they were arguing about.

So he weighed and considered. Chewed on the idea of their old dreams being forgotten. Water under the proverbial bridge.

And still couldn’t let her indictment of their past slide. He couldn’t let her pretend their time together was all bad, that it meant nothing. Shooting to his feet, he jogged a few steps along the creek toward the path that led to Crooked Elm, catching up to her quickly.

“You have to know that’s not true, Lark.”

“Which part?” She swung around to face him, green eyes brighter than usual, the color of spring moss. “Us both giving up on the dream? Or that our past is over and forgotten?”

Inside, his brain insisted that he hadn’t been the one to give up on the dreams they shared, even though he’d moved on since then, damn it. But his sixth sense told him that was dangerous terrain for an argument. Instead, he stuck with the safer view.

They stood close now. Nearer to one another than they’d been on the rock ledge. He caught a hint of her fragrance—the lavender soap she preferred and some kind of minty shampoo she used. Nostalgia slammed him, almost as strong as the jolt of desire that was automatic whenever she was near him.

“Our past may be over, but clearly neither of us have forgotten it. Otherwise, seeing each other wouldn’t be so—” His gaze dipped from her eyes to...lower. All without his permission. He forced his attention back up where it belonged even as his fingers flexed with the urge to touch her. “—charged.”

Her lashes flicked briefly. Hardly a flutter. But definitely a sign that she’d needed a moment to collect herself.

“That has more to do with wounded pride than anything else.” She tilted her chin at him, a silent dare to contradict her. “I don’t think either of us enjoy failing at something we set out to accomplish.”

“Is that what you think our marriage was? A failure?” And damn, but she knew how to push his buttons.

“It ended in a courthouse with you going one way and me going another.” Her eyes flashed, breath quickening. “What else can we possibly label it?”

Two great years where he got to call her his wife. Then she’d walked away from him when he needed her most. But he’d be damned if he’d revisit that hurt now.

“Call it what you like. You can’t deny the pull between us even now. You can file all the dissolution of marriage papers you want, but you can’t dissolve attraction with a court order.”

She opened her mouth, presumably to argue with him, then snapped it shut again. Clamped her teeth in her lower lip for good measure.

He felt the light scrape of those straight white teeth in his mind’s eye, a phantom, teasing brush of them along his shoulder. His abs. And lower.

Yeah, the attraction hadn’t gone anywhere.

His thoughts must have shown in his eyes because a slight shiver went through her, so subtle he would have missed it if he’d blinked. They stood together, breathing in the same air as the space between them seemed to shrink. His hands lifted, very ready to touch her.

Until a bird streaked past them, plunging into the creek with a splash.

Lark startled away from him, seeming to recover herself as she resurrected some space between them. Disappointment swelled even as he knew he should be grateful for the interruption. He didn’t have a plan where Lark was concerned, and his record with her had proven that wasn’t wise.

But it didn’t make him want her any less.

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