"Which is?"
"A real working ranch. A legacy. A—" He rubs his temples. "After my dad left, my mom and this ranch were the only things I had. The only things that mattered. And I'm terrified of losing them. Of turning this place into something cheap and commercial and losing what made it special in the first place."
The raw vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. "Wade. I'm not going anywhere. And we're going to rebuild this ranch back to its glory without losing its essence. I promise you that."
"You know what? I'm very close to believing you."
I laugh despite the pain in my ankle. "I'm taking that as a victory."
"You should." He stands, then looks down at me. "Can I carry you to the guest house? You shouldn't be walking on that ankle."
My face heats. "Carry me how?"
"However you prefer. You can go on my back, or I can just carry you in my arms. Your choice."
The thought of being that close to him, of feeling his strength firsthand, makes my pulse spike. But I also feel ridiculous, like some damsel in distress who can't take care of herself.
"You don't have to—"
"Sierra." His voice is gentle but firm. "Let me help you."
"Okay. In your arms, I guess."
He bends down, and then I'm being scooped up like I weigh nothing. His arms are solid beneath me, muscles flexing as he adjusts his grip. One arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I'm pressed against his chest, can feel his heart beating steady and strong.
I glance around nervously as he carries me out of the arena, praying no one sees us. I must look like an idiot. Some lost princess being carried by her handsome, rugged prince. The guys will never let us live this down.
But God, it feels good to be held like this. To feel small and protected despite my extra pounds. Wade doesn't seem bothered by my weight at all, carrying me easily toward the guest house.
"You good?" he asks, glancing down at me.
"Yeah. This is just embarrassing."
"Why? You're injured. I'm helping. Nothing embarrassing about that."
"I feel like I'm failing some kind of test."
"The only test was whether you'd show up and try. You did. You passed." His arms tighten slightly around me. "Stop being so hard on yourself."
We reach the guest house, and Wade manages to open the door while still holding me. He carries me straight to the bedroom and gently lays me on the bed.
"I'll get ice," he says, starting to turn away.
"Wait." The word escapes before I can think better of it. "Can you... can you stay for a minute?"
He hesitates, then sits on the very edge of the bed, as far from me as possible while still technically sitting.
"Why are you sitting so far away?" I ask, confused. "Am I... do I smell or something?"
"What? No. I just—" He stops, and I watch his hands tremble slightly before he clenches them into fists. "It's nothing."
"Wade. You're literally shaking. That's not nothing."
He doesn't respond, just stares at his hands like they're betraying him.
I reach out, covering one of his fists with my hand. "Talk to me."
He pulls away. Actually jerks his hand back like my touch burned him.
