“And what do you think happens when she realizes she’s been standing next to Fraser Kincaid all week without knowing?” Dex stepped into my line of sight, forcing me to look at him. “She’ll feel exposed. Manipulated. Like you saw something private and didn’t have the decency to tell her who was watching.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Because he was right.
“Tell her tonight, or tomorrow,” Dex said. “Before someone else does.”
“And if she throws us off the property?”
“Then at least she’ll be making an informed choice.” His voice softened, just slightly. “Stop deciding what she can handle. She’s not that fragile.”
He was right. That’s exactly what I was doing. Deciding for her. Protecting her from a truth she had every right to know.
Just like everyone else who’d ever underestimated her.
Dex turned toward the door, then paused.
“You said she trusted you. Told you real things.”
I nodded.
“Then you owe her the same.” He held my gaze. “Or whatever you think is building between you is already built on a lie.”
He left.
I stood in the dark library, watching the last of the storm drain from the sky.
Tomorrow. I’d tell her tomorrow. Walk up to her, say the words, and watch whatever she’d started to feel for me die on her face.
I owed her that much.
I owed her more than that, but it was all I had.
CHAPTER FIVE
ROSE
I watched him leave.
He didn’t look back. Didn’t pause. Didn’t do any of the things that would’ve given me a reason to be angry, which was annoying, because I really needed a reason to be angry right now.
I turned back to Ricky, forcing my voice steady. “Good boy. Storm’s almost over. You’re okay.”
He dropped his head and sniffed at the hay like maybe the world wasn’t ending after all. I kept my hand on his neck, stroking slowly, even though my fingers were shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.
My boot had slipped. Graham had caught me. That was it. Basic reflex. Nothing worth the way my pulse was still hammering like I’d run a mile.
Except his hands had been steady when everything else wasn’t. And he’d stood in this barn with a terrified horse and talked to it like the animal’s fear mattered more than the storm. And then,then, he’d looked at me like I was a person instead of a problem, and I’d opened my stupid mouth and told him about my parents.
I never talked about the crash. Not with strangers. Not with guests. Not with men who’d been on my property less than forty-eight hours and had already seen me in a towel.
Then he’d offered up his own damage without me asking for it.My dad died when I was nineteen.Said it like a trade: here’s mine, since you showed me yours. His voice, rough and unsteady when he spoke about his father losing everything, was no act. I knew performance. I’d hosted corporate executives who performed empathy for a living.
That was real.
Ricky’s ear flicked toward me.
I pressed my forehead against his neck, breathed in the warm smell of horse and hay, and gave myself a minute. A minute to feel whatever this was, the heat still sitting low in my stomach from his hands on my waist, the ache behind my ribs from a conversation I never should’ve had, and then I was done.
I straightened up, wiped my palms on my jeans, and got back to work.
