I watched her disappear up the stairs, then turned back to the dying fire.
My hands were shaking. My heart was racing. And for the first time in five years, the ice around it felt like it was cracking.
CHAPTER SIX
Amber
I came downstairs Saturday morning with my suitcase in hand, keys already in my pocket, ready to hit the road before the sun was fully up. I was going to see my mother, which was a good idea, considering what had happened between me and Dalton.
I needed to screw my head back on straight and keep my eye on the prize—a job well done. Not the hot rancher who had kissed me senseless in his living room.
As he’d pointed out, it was a mistake.
It was barely daylight outside, but the kitchen light was on.
Of course it was.
So much for my stealthy escape.
Dalton stood at the counter, coffee mug halfway to his lips, and froze when he saw me. His eyes dropped to the suitcase. Then back to my face.
“What’s that?” His voice was too calm. Too controlled.
“My bag.” I set it down by the door and crossed to the coffee pot, trying to keep my tone light. Normal. “I’m heading out to see my mom. Remember? I mentioned it earlier this week.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. On Monday. I said I was taking the weekend to visit her.”
His jaw tightened. “You said you wanted to visit her. I said no.”
Heat flooded through me—anger mixed with disbelief. “You said the weather might be bad. The forecast is clear until Sunday night. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
“The weather can change on a dime.” He set his mug down with deliberate control. “You’re not going.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. The storm’s supposed to move in Sunday. The roads will be bad. You’re staying here.”
I took a breath, trying to stay calm. “I haven’t seen my mother in two weeks. I need to check on her.”
“Call her.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Too bad. You’re not driving in a storm.” He crossed his arms, and I recognized that stance. Immovable. Stubborn. Completely unreasonable.
“I’ll leave early tomorrow and be back before it gets bad.”
“No.”
The single word—flat and final—made something snap inside me.
“I’m not asking for permission,” I said, voice sharp and crisp. “I’m telling you I’m going. It’s my weekend off. My mother needs me. And I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions about when and where I drive.”
“Not when those decisions are reckless and stupid.”
My hands curled into fists. “Reckless and stupid? I’m visiting my sick mother.”
