“Is it true?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak. That last article she’d written knowing full well she wouldn’t send it—or any of the others—to Roy. And she’d poured out her heart into it.
She’d admitted to falling in love with Max.
“I don’t want to go back to New York,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He watched her a moment, his thumb still caressing her hand. “I don’t want that either.”
“You don’t?” Her stomach knotted with hope.
“I love you too, Delia,” he said, emotion lacing his words. “But I’m not sure if I should.”
Panic threatened to choke her. He was going to send her back anyway. It was too much, and even though she’d wished for a miracle, she’d known all along that this would be his choice. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t only read what you’d written here. I read your column in that newspaper. Several of them. And Delia . . .” Hepressed his lips together a moment, as if he was thinking about what to say next. “I can’t ask you to stop writing. You have a talent for it.”
Warmth rushed through her at the compliment, but it felt hollow if it meant she was going to lose him. “I choose you. And Anna,” she said. “I’ll give up my work.”
Max grimaced. “I can’t ask you to do that.” He grasped her hand between both of his and turned toward her. “But I had an idea. The lady who placed my advertisement, Mrs. Gilbert, has a friend she works with in Cañon City. That lady likely has contacts with the newspaper there. I thought that perhaps we’d put in an inquiry with them, to see if they’d like an experienced writer to send them articles. You could write about topics of interest to other ladies, as you did in New York, or you could write about Crest Stone or anything they might request. What do you think?”
Delia stared at him, her mind barely able to move past the fact that he didn’t want to put her on the next train home. She never imagined he’d try to find a way to allow her to keep writing.
So, instead of answering him, she yanked her hand from his grip, threw her arms around his neck, and stretched up to kiss him.
A surprised sound echoed from his throat, and he laughed against her mouth before wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer. Delia melted against him. He was something she never knew she wanted and now something she couldn’t live without.
When he pulled away to look down at her, she felt dizzy. All she wanted was to pull his mouth back to hers and to lose herself in him.
“I suppose that’s a yes?” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” she said, tugging at the back of his neck to draw him back to her.
Max laughed low in his throat before lifting a hand to the back of her head to claim her lips again.
Delia happily let her thoughts fly away. This was a life she’d never imagined. A man like Max, a daughter, a family of her own, and writing.
It was something she would be thankful for, for the rest of her days.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER . ..
“Their names go here.” Max pointed at a line in the ledger. “And you write the room number here. Each night they pay for gets a littlexon this line.”
