Free Dakota Home by Debbie Macomber

she was with. Only once in all this time had she mailed him a postcard. It’d come from someplace in California in the middle of winter, when the wind-chill factor lowered temperatures in Buffalo Valley to Arctic levels. He’d been shivering his ass off and she’d been getting a tan on a California beach.
    Locking the door, Buffalo Bob shut down the restaurant and bar for the night. No need to sit in an empty room, cranky and depressed, when he could do the same thing in front of his television.
    He’d just started up the stairs when he heard the phone. He paused, his foot on the bottom step, half-tempted to let it ring. But he didn’t get many calls, and curiosity got the better of him.
    â€œYeah?” he barked into the phone.
    â€œHey, is that any way to greet your one and only Buffalo Gal?”
    â€œ Merrily? Where the hell are you?”
    â€œSame place as always.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing there when you should be here?” He knew she didn’t like it when he made demands, but he couldn’t stop himself. “When’re you coming back?”
    â€œMiss me, do you?”
    She didn’t know the half of it. “You could say that,” he said, playing it low-key.
    Her laugh was quiet and sexy. Just hearing it sent shivers racing down his spine. It hurt his pride to let her know what a sorry excuse for a man he was without her. But, dammit, she meant more to him than even his pride.
    â€œI’ve been thinking about you,” she whispered, as if it was a concession for her to admit that much.
    â€œYou coming back or not?”
    â€œI’ve been considering it.” She laughed again and he could imagine the look on her face—her teasing smile, her eyes wide open, eyebrows raised.
    â€œWhen will you get here? I’ll put out the welcome mat.” Despite everything, he couldn’t keep the eagerness from his voice.
    â€œI can’t say,” she murmured.
    â€œYou need help?”
    â€œWhat kind of help?”
    â€œI could send you money.” Buffalo Bob realized the minute he said the words that he’d made a mistake. Like him, Merrily had an abundance of pride, and he’d already stepped on it once, earlier in their relationship, by offering her a loan. In fact, she’d come to him that day, wanting to help him without stepping on his pride. Her generosity had touched his heart and it was then that he’d recognized something profound. He loved her.
    Buffalo Bob wasn’t a man who loved easily. Over the years he’d had plenty of women, and sex had always been available. He hadn’t been looking for emotional engagements. Women passed in and out of his life; he barely noticed. Merrily was different, had always been different.
    â€œI don’t need your money,” she said curtly.
    â€œOkay, okay. But if you ever do—”
    â€œI gotta go.”
    â€œMerrily,” he shouted, stopping her, “don’t hang up!”
    â€œWhat?” she snapped.
    â€œYou didn’t say where you were.”
    â€œSo what?” She sounded bored.
    â€œWhat’s the weather like?” It was a silly question and without purpose, other than keeping her on the line.
    â€œI don’t know. Gotta go outside and look.”
    â€œIt was over eighty here last Tuesday.”
    â€œIn Buffalo Valley?” Her voice was skeptical. “I thought you’d have had your first snowfall by now.”
    â€œWe could get snow this month, but more likely it’ll come in November.” He grimaced; he was beginning to sound like a television weatherman.
    â€œGotta go,” Merrily insisted.
    â€œCall me again, all right?” He tried not to plead.
    â€œI…I don’t know if I can.”
    â€œWhy not?” he demanded. A hundred scenarios raced through his mind and he didn’t like any of them. “You’re with someone else, aren’t you?”
    â€œYou don’t