Cowboy's Honor - Sample

Chapter Two

"You're as beautiful as you ever were."

The burst of emotion was so sudden and unfamiliar that Megan choked on the sob that tore from her throat. She quickly covered her mouth with her hands, but Clay was staring at her like he'd never seen her before. Megan Briggs did not cry, especially not in front of anyone. But this time she seemed unable to control her reaction. It hit too close to her heart.

Clay Gregory had just said she was beautiful. She closed her eyes and two tears slid down her cheeks. The irony hit her like a fist—she wasn't beautiful. Not anymore, not even close. For years she'd longed to hear those words from his lips, and now that she didn't want them, they were offered in the bitterest of circumstances. Because she was less than whole and vulnerable and worst of all—needy.

She'd solicited his remark, rather than simply accepting his tepid reaction to her pixie-short hair. And of course he would say that, out of duty. Out of sympathy.

Clay didn't know the changes cancer had wrought on her body and the scars it had left behind. Losing her hair was nothing in the greater scheme of things. She was missing a breast. She'd had treatments that had changed so much of her body chemistry that things she'd barely given a passing thought before—like one day being married and having a family - were suddenly important and very uncertain. And yet somehow she knew, deep inside, that even if Clay was only trying to make her feel better, somehow he meant the words. She gathered them close to her heart and cherished them.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to pull the pieces of herself together. Both times she'd seen Clay since her return, she'd teared up and she didn't like that one bit. If she couldn't deal with one annoying rancher, how could she face her friends—the whole town for that matter—with a smile on her face? The last thing she wanted was to break down in public. She had never been a crier, but her emotions seemed harder to control these days. She couldn't just jump back into the social scene without trusting herself to hold it together first.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Great. First she'd practically forced him into paying her a compliment, and now he looked like he'd rather be anywhere than standing in her kitchen. "Don't mind me." She picked up the towel and folded it neatly to give her hands something to do. Embarrassment crept through her as she tried to explain. Honesty was probably the best approach – as honest as she was comfortable being, anyway.

"The truth is, Clay, I'm working through stuff. I know I'm not the same woman I was a year ago. I look different. I feel different." She swiped her finger under her eyes, wiping away the rest of the moisture. "Physically...there are some adjustments. Emotionally too. But I made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry for that."

Of course she had made him uncomfortable. Talking to Clay about cancer was like chatting to a closed door—words bounced off and there was no response. He avoided the topic whenever he could. When she'd told their circle of friends of the biopsy results, Clay had turned ashen and left the room. Cancer had stolen his father and in a way his mother, too. And if Meg knew anything about Clay from their years of friendship, it was that he handled things in one of two ways—he charmed his way through or put his shoulder to the wheel.

Since he wasn't employing his charms, Meg could only assume he was forging ahead, doing what he had to do to make the best of the situation but wearing blinders to everything negative about her illness that bothered him.

Clay's dark eyes caught hers. "I'm fine." He paused for a second and then asked, "Is that why you didn't go to the pub the other night? Because you're working through stuff?"