‘Given your father’s volatility, you must have known from the start that accepting a position on my ranch held a degree of risk, but you took that job with all it entails. I don’t accept your resignation. You’re a courageous woman, Rose, but you still have to learn that it takes more courage to step forward than back.’
Raffa’s words echoed in Rose’s head long after he’d slammed the door behind him. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life frightened that love might leave as it had when her mother died? Raffa was so special, was the thought that he might live up to his formidable reputation and walk away holding her back? He was doing everything in his power to help her. Why was she ranging herself against him? Was he right in saying she was holding on to a cause that no longer needed her? If that was true, it could only be to avoid the risk of breaking her heart.
He hammered the gas all the way back to the pub. Rose was strong enough to make her own decisions. If they excluded him, so be it. No woman had ever put so many obstacles in his way, but easy was boring. He was always seeking new challenges, but he hadn’t expected one to come in the form of a woman who checked him every step of the way.
Springing down from the vehicle straight into a pothole of mud, he cursed in a variety of languages, but ended up laughing at yet another example of how Rose could distract him beyond reason. It made no sense to keep her close when she was determined to follow her own path, but what had common sense ever had to do with him and Rose? Each time he brought logic into play where Rose Kelly was concerned, logic let him down.
The silence was deafening. She’d heard nothing from Raffa in the week since their last encounter at the farm, but she’d thought about him night and day, wishing she’d left the door open instead of sending that text, and then compounding it by insisting she intended to follow her own path. Even the progress she’d made with drawing up plans for the animal therapy programmes couldn’t close the yawning gap left by a man with expressive black eyes and a will as strong as her own.
Was this love?
No, this was pig-headed stubbornness. That was what it was. So, suck it up, Rose. She was ready to fire the starting gun on recruiting staff and identifying animals for the Irish retreat—there were others who could do that, but Rose must oversee it.
Must she? Did she execute every job on the ranch, or were others quite capable of handling things on their own without her close supervision? Wasn’t the idea of a team just that—each part knew what it had to do and got on with it?
With a growl of frustration—who liked to hear the truth, especially when it came from herself?—Rose picked up the phone to confirm with the applicants she’d chosen that the status of the project was full steam ahead.
There was still the achingly hollow hole left by Raffa. If Rose had thought distance would soothe her where that was concerned, she was wrong. He might have ignored her letter of resignation, but the urge to share every tiny detail of the progress at the retreat with him was eating away at her. There were some things he did know. Raffa had visited her father, which had shocked Rose to the core. Facing up to the truth, that she was no longer the crucial element without which her family would crumble, left her feeling calmer, and ready to speak to Raffa. It was long past time to talk things through with him face to face.
‘He’s not here, love,’ Sylvia, the landlady at the pub, informed Rose. ‘I thought he would have let you know that he flew back to Spain this morning.’
‘Right. Yes.’ Having anticipated a rational discussion with Raffa, Rose was completely thrown. She puckered her brow as if recollecting. ‘I must have got the days mixed up.’
She trembled all the way home—from shock at Raffa’s leaving. There was nothing to be done about it, she told herself fiercely. Lifting her chin, she strode on.
There was a parcel waiting for her at the farmhouse. Rose’s heart turned over when she identified Raffa’s bold black script. Backing into the kitchen, tearing the package open as she went, she pulled out the note inside.
Thought you might need this. R
It was the notebook Rose had been keeping since the day she started work on Rancho Raffa Acosta. It was thoughtful of Raffa to send it on, but it felt like the first step in a long goodbye. She guessed it had been found on the jet and one of his people had sent it back to him. Rose was never careless with things like this, and had to accept that a world full of Raffa Acosta was a world full of distraction. Turning the notebook over in her hand, she imagined him thinking about her as he sent it on, maybe hoping she took it as a sign to move on.
That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Then why did she feel so bad?
A few days later another delivery arrived from Raffa. She didn’t open this one right away. Instead, she placed it on the kitchen table, where it sat like a silent visitor, waiting to be acknowledged. The packaging was neat, the handwriting unmistakeable. What was it this time? A scold’s bridle to stop Rose speaking her mind, or maybe a potion for removing mud from her clothes? She braced herself for hurt as she glanced at it. Still, it was thrilling to know Raffa was still thinking about her—in a purely professional sense, of course. He was noted for his concern for staff members.
Walking around the table, she trailed her fingertips over the packaging, imagining him holding it, lifting it, writing her name. Sitting down at the table, she finally reached out to grab it and rip off the paper. It was an academic book on the study of animals and their great value in helping those with addictions. What broke her was seeing the name on the spine. Having met the author on board thePegasus, and admired his work, Raffa had given her the most precious gift possible. She hugged it close, as if that could transmit her gratitude. Then she read the message on the flyleaf.
Thought you might need this too. R
If this was Raffa’s blessing for Rose to go her own way, it was the most thoughtful goodbye she could think of. There was no reason to feel sad. So why was she crying? What good were tears when there was work to be done? Her first job was to thank Raffa for the gift. Finding paper and pen, she took a moment to think, then wrote.
Thank you for such a thoughtful gift. I will need this.
I need you too.She didn’t write that bit down.
Please tell the professor I’ll treasure every word.
Another pause followed and then she wrote more.
Until we meet again. R
She was effectively saying goodbye to her dream, a dream that had changed beyond all recognition when she became emotionally and physically involved with Raffa.
Had that dream changed? Was she incapable of compartmentalising work and romance? She didn’t exactly sit around daydreaming on hay bales, or waste time in bed, discussing the respective merits of various horse liniments.
Too much time had been spent worrying about planning and logistics, Rose concluded. Could she do this or that, while she was here or there? What about risking her heart for a change?
