Chapter 65

Meredith stopped dead in her tracks.

She stood rooted where she was.

There was something so insidious about seeing the man she was in love with standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in broad daylight, with another woman wrapped around him.

And not just any woman.

Oh, no.

This woman was statuesque and blonde and built. Like, seriously built.

Meredith couldn’t see her face, because it was currently buried in the crook of Garrett’s neck and shoulder, but she had no doubt the clingy woman was drop-dead gorgeous.

Worse than that, he was as tangled up in her as she was in him.

He was holding her tightly and a wisp of air couldn’t have passed between their bodies, they were so melded together.

Right there in front of God and everyone.

Right there in front of Meredith.

Garrett’s head popped up and he caught sight of her, as she remained completely speechless and dumbfounded. Immediately numb from head to toe, paralyzed by a rampant case of what the fuck?

They stared at each other for endless seconds, as her heart disintegrated into ash and her entire universe ceased to spin correctly on its axis a moment longer. Rather, it’d just been hurled off its course and was spiraling radically out of control, making her instantly nauseous.

From beside her, Mort Fischer from the pawn shop halted, stared and then said, “Ain’t that your beau?”

Meredith whirled around and marched off.

Before she shattered into a million pieces right there on the street, for everyone and their brother to see.

She escaped around the corner of the building and then hit a dead run to the boutique. She shoved the front door open, skirted a few customers and then flew up the stairs to her apartment, as Genevieve called after her.

Meredith’s hands shook so badly she could barely get the key in the lock, but then she slammed the door shut behind her, latched it and tore through the foyer, bursting into her bedroom. Where she dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. And stared blindly at the polished hardwood, trying desperately to un-see what she’d just seen.

It wasn’t only that another woman who was in Garrett’s arms—it was that she was clearly a striking woman. And she’d for-sure been in his arms before. The familiarity they shared had been damn-near palpable.

And goddamn had they been holding onto each other for dear life!

What the actual fuck?

Tears stung her eyes and bile burned up her throat.

Meredith wasn’t one for theatrics or drama, but…

Garrett was her first boyfriend.

Garrett was her first lover.

Garrett was her first love.

So why the hell wouldn’t she break out in body-wracking sobs over seeing him embracing the leggy blonde as though he’d desperately been looking forward to holding her again and couldn’t believe his good fortune that she’d suddenly appeared before his very eyes?

Dangerously taking that thought a step further, Meredith wondered if that particular woman was an ex, who’d come to her senses and had returned to Garrett?

Don’t think that! Meredith told herself.

Do. Not. Think. That!

But, come the fuck on!

Meredith could not deny that a man who looked like Garrett Slater really ought to have on his strong arm a woman who looked like blondie.

More so than being with someone of Meredith’s petite and geeky stature, she mentally contended.

What the hell had he seen in her, anyway? Meredith questioned.

Certain she’d never know.

Perhaps she’d been a novelty—someone different from his usual runway model types, for surely he’d dated a bevy of beauties who all resembled Lacey Carrington. Maybe he’d had his heart crushed by one of them and that was why he’d gotten hung up on Meredith.

She was safe.

A guaranteed non-heartbreaker.

An easy bet…If not a “sure thing.”

Her insecurities weren’t supposed to get the best of her anymore, she knew it, she believed in it.

And yet…When you were in love, the vulnerability factor went through the goddamn roof, didn’t it?

And she was suffering the traumatizing effects straight to the core of her being, so that it wasn’t just Meredith crying…It was her very soul weeping right along with her.

And her very sensible brain told her she never should have thought a man like Garrett Slater would be in love with her in the first place…And most definitely not for long.

***

“Did Meredith just come through here?” Garrett hastily asked Genevieve as he threw open the door to the beauty boutique and the bell above rang sharply.

“’Bout two minutes ago,” she said. “Meredith went straight up to her apartment. You two lovebirds get in a tiff over somethin’? Let me guess…” She propped a manicured hand on her hip and jested, “You couldn’t decide on Portofino’s over The Prime Cut for dinner tonight, right? I have told that girl time and time again that she needs to learn how to cook.”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” he absently mumbled as he worked his way through the store, weaving around the tall glass displays, attempting to not be the proverbial bull in the china shop.

He was already the jackass who’d just devastated two women.

First, Meredith, when she’d seen him on the street with Rachel.

Second, with Rachel herself, when he’d quickly unraveled from her, set her away from him and had told her that he, unfortunately, couldn’t do a damn thing for her right now, because he had to get on after Meredith.

Rachel had glared at him. And had demanded, “Who the hell is Meredith?”

“She’s the one,” he’d shot back, before taking after his girlfriend.

Who had clearly misread the entire scene on the street.

And why wouldn’t she?

Rachel had been wrapped so tightly around him, he’d practically been wearing her.

She’d been in borderline hysterics as she’d pleaded with him to join her cause—and he’d felt like shit that he had his own commitment to tend to right now, on Chase’s ranch.

Then he’d gotten a glimpse of Meredith and…

While Garrett was hopelessly devoted to his responsibilities and to the horses he worked with, there was no greater cause at present than setting the record straight with his woman.

Because even five minutes of her thinking he was stepping out on her was five minutes too long for her to be thinking he was stepping out on her.

He bounded up the stairs to her apartment and tried the handle on the door, not surprised to find it was locked. But he knew she’d come this way, so he had no doubt she was inside.

He pounded on the door and called, “Meredith Jane, you let me in now, honey!”

No response.

He beat the heel of his hand against the wood again.

“I can very easily explain what you saw,” he told her through the barricade separating them. “The woman’s name is Rachel Baxter. She’s a large-animal vet from Wyoming and her horse just made a miraculous recovery from a severely debilitating bout of laminitis.”

“No horse makes a miraculous recovery from a severe case of laminitis,” Genevieve said from behind him, as she rested a booted foot on the first step.

“They can’t be cured, but they can survive. This particular horse had the coffin bone penetrating through the soles of his feet and was actually in need of being put down—he could no longer stand without being in excruciating pain. The euthanasia didn’t happen, though. And somehow…He pulled through. And—and why the hell am I explaining this to you, when I need to be speaking with Meredith Jane?”

“Because I have the key to her apartment, cowboy,” she sassily said as she held up the silver ring with the assortment that was used around the shop—and for Meredith’s personal space.

“Fine,” he said with a grunt. “To be perfectly clear, someone came to Wildfire seeking my help and she was incredibly distraught. So much so, I absolutely should not have simply deserted her just now. Though…” He could honestly contend, “Rachel Baxter’s damn good at taking care of herself, so. She’ll pull herself together. Meredith Jane Carlisle, however, has an erroneous thought in her head that needs to be banished. Right this very second, Genevieve.”

She tossed him the keys.

“Had a feeling you wouldn’t purposely break her heart,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t intendin’ to do it inadvertently, either.”

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, calling out her name as he crossed the threshold.

But as he searched high and low—and the apartment was only so big, admittedly—there was no sight of Meredith.

Leaving him to think…She fucking left the building via the fire escape?

And…Where the hell would she have gone?