Free In Bed with the Wrangler by Barbara Dunlop Page A

began.
    “I wasn’t worried.” His tone was crisp.
    “Oh. Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”
    “Your parents told me you were fine, and that you’d taken the trouble to contact them.”
    Amber clearly heard the “while you didn’t bother to contact me” message underlying his words.
    “Are you over your tantrum, then?” he asked.
    She couldn’t help but bristle. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
    “I think you’re behaving like a child.”
    She gritted her teeth.
    “You missed the Chamber of Commerce speech,” he accused.
    “I hear you didn’t,” she snarked in return.
    Another silence. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Honestly, Amber.”
    “Forget it. Of course you gave the speech. It was an important speech.”
    Her words seemed to mollify him. “Will you be ready in time for dinner, then? Flannigan’s at eight with the Myers.”
    Amber blinked in amazement at the question.She’d been gone for three days. She’d broken off their engagement.
    “I’m not coming to dinner,” she told him carefully.
    He gave a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Is this about the Switzerland trip?”
    “Of course not.”
    “I explained why I had to go alone.”
    “This is about a fundamental concern with our compatibility as a couple.”
    “You sound like a self-help book.”
    Amber closed her eyes and counted to three. “I’m breaking our engagement, Hargrove. I’m truly sorry if I hurt you.”
    A flare of anger crept into his tone. “I wish you’d get over this mood.”
    “This isn’t something I’m going to get over.”
    “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this could get?”
    “I’m sorry about that, too. But we can’t get married to keep from being embarrassed.” She flicked a gaze to the baseball game, watching two colorful young figures dash around the bases.
    “Are you trying to punish me?” asked Hargrove, frustration mounting in his tone. “Do you want me to apologize for…” He paused. “I don’t know. Tell me what you think I’ve done?”
    “You haven’t done anything.”
    “Then get ready for dinner,” he practically shouted.
    “I’m not in Chicago.”
    He paused. “Where are you?”
    “It doesn’t—”
    “Seriously, Amber. This is getting out of hand. I don’t have time to play—”
    “Goodbye, Hargrove.”
    “Don’t you dare—”
    She quickly tapped the end button then shut down the power on her phone. Talking around in circles wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
    She defiantly stuffed the phone into her pocket and drew a deep breath. After the tense conversation, the carefree baseball game was like a siren’s call. Besides, it was nearly lunchtime, and she was tired of looking at numbers.
    Determinedly shaking off her emotional reaction to the fight with Hargrove, she headed outside to watch.
    Stephanie was standing at the sidelines.
    “Looks like fun,” said Amber, drawing alongside and opening the conversation. She inhaled the fresh air and let the cheerfulness of the crowd seep into her psyche.
    “Usually it’s just the kids,” Stephanie told her. “But a lot of the hands are down from the range today, and Royce can’t resist a game. And once he joined in, well…” She shrugged at the mixed-age crowd playing and watching.
    A little girl made it to first, and a cocky, teenage boy swaggered up to the plate, reversing his baseball cap and pointing far out to right field with the tip of his bat.
    Royce gave the kid an amused shake of his head, walked back to the mound and smacked the ball into the pocket of his worn glove. Then he shook his head in response to the catcher’s hand signals. Royce waited, then smiled, and nodded his agreement to the next signal.
    He drew back, bent his leg and delivered a sizzling fastball waist high and over the plate. The batter swung hard but missed. Royce chuckled, and the kid steppedout of the batter’s box, adjusting his cap then scuffing his runners over the dirt