He lets out a quiet chuckle. "Can’t help myself."
Then he's pulling on boots and a weathered jacket. A moment later, he’s disappearing into the gray morning. Five more minutes and he’s gone. It’s like he was never here at all.
Patty June arrives ten minutes later in a truck that's seen better decades. She's a small, wisp of a woman with silver hair and sharp eyes that miss absolutely nothing.
"Well, aren’t you sweet. You're the California sister," she says, looking me up and down without an ounce of subtlety. "We’ve all heard a lot about you."
"I'm sure you have."
"Mm-hmm." She doesn't elaborate, just helps Lucy into her coat and boots. "Walker says the power might flicker. There are candles in the drawer by the stove and flashlights under the sink. Don't mess with the generator unless you know what you're doing."
"Oh, okay. Thanks, I’m sure I'll manage."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "I expect you will."
Lucy bounds forward. “By Eliza! I’ll bring you some of the batch I make.”
“I can’t wait.”
They leave, and suddenly I'm alone.
The house feels different without Lucy's chatter. It’s quieter, that’s for sure. I notice the photos of her at various ages. There’s a child’s drawing framed on the wall. It’s a stick-figure man and girl, both with huge smiles. I see the worn copy ofGoodnight Moonon the coffee table.
All of it swirls around me like a warm blanket on a cold day. There’s a soft charm here that I’ve never experienced before. I’m still pissed off at Danner, but a small part of me is starting to understand that this place is special.
I search for the button to turn on the fireplace. When I don’t find one, I assume this kind requires actual logs. So I settle for a blanket and pull out my laptop. I try to work with mixed results. I fire off one email for every two times I think about Walker.
I use the opportunity to bring myself down to reality by reciting the facts of my situation.I’m horny for a smoking hot cowboy. That is California’s fault. The dudes there are skinnier than I am. It’s Christmas. Walker is a sexy single dad. I have, of course, fallen for him. That’s Hallmark’s fault. None of this is real.
By the time I hear the front door open, I've almost convinced myself this morning was a fluke. Then Walker walks in, and all that careful reconstruction crumbles to dust.
He's soaked. Rain drips from his hair, his jacket, the brim of his hat. Mud cakes his boots and streaks up his jeans. He looks exhausted and rough, like he’s been fighting the elements for hours, and it's the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
"Fence is fixed," he says, shrugging off his jacket. "Cattle are secured. Lucy?"
"She’s still with Patty June. They’re baking."
He nods, toeing off his boots. "Good. That’s good."
Silence stretches between us. Heavy. Electric. It’s the same charge from this morning, but now it’s amplified.
"You should get out of those wet clothes," I say, and immediately regret the way it sounds.
His eyes meet mine. They’re dark and knowing. "Yeah. I should."
But he doesn’t move.
Neither do I. Instead, we pick up right where we left off.
"Eliza." He says my name like a warning. Like a prayer. "I've been thinking about you all day. Couldn't focus on a damn thing except how you looked in my kitchen this morning. In my shirt. Looking at me like…"
"Like what?"
He crosses the room in three long strides and stops inches away from me. He’s so close I can smell the rain on his skin.
"Like you wanted me to kiss you."
My heart slams against my ribs. "I didn’t?—"
