“Look, I didn’t come back to Bittersweet to stir up trouble,” he said.

“Too late,” she retorted but decided, though her heart was thudding with dread, that there was no time like the present to sort out a few things with this man who seemed to be, ever since she’d glided into this part of Oregon, forever underfoot. “Just because you dumped me ten years ago and—”

“I didn’t dump you.”

“Ha.” She shook her head and started gathering her purse. Coming here had been a mistake, and really, what had she expected—some kind of rationale for his need to buy the ranch? Or was it something more?

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you married another woman,” she said, the words, having been pent up for ten years, tumbling out of her mouth. “What do you call that?”

“A mistake.”

The word echoed over and over again in her heart. But it was too late to hear it, far too late for apologies or explanations. “Listen, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“But you did.”

“Never mind, I really don’t need to know,” she said, starting for the door.

“I should have called you. Shouldn’t have been bullied into . . . Oh, hell what does it matter?”

She swallowed hard and turned to face him again. Maybe this was the time to sort things out. “When . . . when I got out of the hospital ten years ago, you were already gone,” she said and saw a shadow of pain pass behind his eyes. “Dad said you’d had some surgery yourself, then eloped to Reno.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “That’s not exactly what happened.”

“No?” She stood straight and met his gaze with her own. “The way I see it, you were two-timing me.”

“Never.”

Oh, God, how she wanted to believe him, to trust the honesty reflected in his eyes; to think, even for a minute, that he’d cared about her. But she couldn’t. He’d been a liar then, and was a liar now. She was shaking inside and realized that the conversation was getting too personal. Way too personal, and Mason, blast his sorry good-looking hide, didn’t seem afraid to open doors that had been locked for a decade. “I think you should back off with Dad.”

“I thought we were talking about us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Mason. You took care of that. Remember?” She caught the door handle with one finger.

“It might be a good idea for me to explain.”

“And I think it might be a good idea for you to go straight to hell, but I told you that already, didn’t I? Ten years ago. If not, then consider the request retroactive.”

“Damn it, Bliss, don’t you think I’ve been there?”

She arched a cool brow. “I don’t really care.”

“Liar!” This time he reached forward so quickly she gasped. Strong fingers surrounded her arm.

“Obviously we need to talk a little more,” he said, pressing his face so close to hers she noticed the furious dilation of his pupils, felt the warmth of his breath on her already hot skin. Determination glinted in his eyes.