So very different from the family she’d been raised in. Theymade it hard to think of the people she’d grown up with—especially her father—as family at all. Not when she applied the same term to these Coulters.
Their first game became the best two out of three, then the best three out of five as Gil’s competitive streak grew with each lost hand.
Patience did her best not to win every hand, but all three of her opponents were so easy to read, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from responding to their cues.
Still, she did manage to lose one game to Miles, and she kept her margin of winning small on the others. More than that, she had fun. The banter between the brothers, both those playing and those watching as they licked pie from their forks, made her smile. Even Lillian joined in, showing her quick wit and charm.
It wasn't until Patience glanced at Jonah after their fourth game that she realized he wasn’t smiling. Did it bother him that she’d won so much? Maybe he thought she should have allowed Lillian the chance. She should have, and Gil too. The others wanted to play another hand, but she declined as politely as she could.
Jonah was the first to stand, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. "I'll go get a load of firewood before I head to the bunkhouse."
Her heart leapt at the chance to talk with him alone. She could find out what she’d done wrong so she didn’t make the mistake again. He was forthright enough to tell her without being mean. She followed him out into the misty night where the damp air clung to her skin.
She caught up to him at the corner of the house, his broad shoulders hunched against the wet chill.
"Jonah, wait." Her voice sounded small in the vastnessof the night.
He turned to her, his expression unreadable in the cloudy night.
She paused in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes met hers, a hint of wariness in their depths. "Nothing's wrong, Patience. Just tired is all."
"Was it the card game? Did I do something to offend you or the others by winning too much?"
He gave a humorless chuckle. "Nothin' like that. Everyone had a grand time." Yet bitterness tinged his voice.
"Then what is it? If I made some mistake, I want to know so I don't repeat it."
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't realize how talented you were at cards. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cheating." He paused, shaking his head. "Though I can't think of a way to cheat at Rounds."
Patience wasn’t sure if his words were meant as a compliment or an insult. "I just watch for tells. People always show what kind of hand they have, if you're watching closely enough."
His eyebrows raised. " Like what?"
She wasn’t one to share her secrets, but there couldn’t be harm in telling him what she’d observed. "Well, Miles's left eyebrow twitches when he has a good pair. Lillian taps her fingers on the table when she's close to going out. And Gil..." She couldn't help but chuckle. "The more he tries to conceal his hand, the easier it is to know what he’s thinking."
By the time she finished, Jonah wore an expression somewhere between a smile and a smirk. "So, what's my tell then?"
The question caught her short. His? But even as she thought the word, she immediately knew her answer. In fact, he was doing it now. She met that intense gaze. "Your eyes. They twitch at the outside corners, just a little, when you're deciding whether you want to be serious or not."
He pulled back. "They do not." His words were firm, butthere was a playful light in his eyes—and that unmistakable twitch.
She lifted her brows, reaching up to touch the spot, just so he’d know where she meant.
But the moment her fingers brushed his skin, heat from the contact nearly seared the pads of her fingers. Awareness sparked between them, and there was no amusement in his gaze now.
He was so close. Close enough that he could move in a little and take her lips with his.
He didn’t look away. She felt frozen even before he captured her wrist in his warm hand. Even in his gentle grip, she could feel his power, though he was incredibly gentle as he lowered her hand. But instead of releasing her, he slid his fingers until their hands were palm to palm. Then he slid his hand around hers so it cradled the back of her hand, palm up. His thumb stroked her palm in a movement that stole her breath, his eyes intense as they locked with hers.
"Patsy..." His low voice sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the damp chill. "You matter to me.” His eyes dipped to her mouth, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze in her belly before it lifted to meet hers again. “I'd really like to kiss you right now."
A thrill sizzled through her, but she had to stop this, to pull back. She had to protect her heart from this man who threatened to topple all her carefully constructed walls. She couldn't let herself get too close, not when she had plans to leave, to finally pursue her dreams. That peaceful cottage in the valley. Freedom from the control of any man. Even this one, as tempting as he was right now. He wouldn’t always be like this. No man could be trusted.
He seemed to sense her inner turmoil. His thumb stilled, but his grip on her hand tightened, anchoring her in place.
"But I won't." His gaze never wavered inhers. "Because you matter to me, and I don't ever want you to feel like you're not safe with me. Not for any reason."
