Grace shook her head, staring long and hard at him. “Who are you, Wyatt Jennings?”
***
Wyatt put her question on hold long enough to pull his jacket from his backpack and settle it over Grace’s shoulders. She’d been shaking since back at the creek. Probably from shock, but there was also a nip in the air.
He grabbed a few logs and laid them carefully on the fire, then sat back down, still considering her question. For the first time ever he found himself wanting to open up to someone. Wanting to spill all his secrets. Tell her he was damaged and troubled and that his job, while extremely rewarding, had lately stressed him to the breaking point.
He wanted to tell her that while he liked being alone, he was lonely. Hungry for the kind of intimacy he’d never shared with another. That he’d been most loved by his mother, but she was gone and he hadn’t felt quite the same since.
But Grace was young and innocent, and their relationship—strictly business—was only temporary.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said when the silence stretched out too long. “I can tell you like your privacy.”
The fire snapped and popped, the new wood catching the flames. The smell of wood smoke scented the air.
Grace snuggled into the jacket. “And I take back all the bad things I said about you.”
He arched a brow. “What bad things?”
“Okay, maybe they were just thoughts.”
“You going to enlighten me?”
She deliberated for a moment, rubbing her lips together, a frown popping out on her forehead. “No. Definitely not.”
“I save your life and virtue and don’t get to know a thought or two?”
“Some things are best left unsaid. Besides,” she said saucily, “if you get your privacy, I get mine too.”
He considered that. “Disappointing, but fair.”
“Unless...”
The fire bathed her in a soft golden light. Man, she was a pretty woman. He wished, just for a moment, that he lived in Bluebell. That he wasn’t so far past her in age and experience. That he was toting a little less baggage.
“Unless,” she continued, “we could take turns. You share something, I share something, and so on and so forth.”
He was more tempted than could be considered smart. He didn’t need to develop any kind of intimacy here. Although he surely wouldn’t be around long enough for that to happen. Besides, after all the excitement, he was keyed up. Neither of them would be able to sleep for a while. “Three things.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Okay, three things. You go first.”
He gave her a mock scowl even as he considered what to say. There were many things he could tell her. Inconsequential tidbits about his life, experiences, and various foibles. His coffee addiction. His boundless curiosity. His weird habit of ironing every stitch of clothing.
“My mom passed away.”
Grace’s face fell.
He instantly regretted dumping something serious onto the moment.
She settled a hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry. How long ago?”
“Long time. I was just a kid. I’m way past the grief stage.”
“Still, it’s hard. My mom died too. Four years ago, in a car accident. My dad died at the same time.”
His heart squeezed tight. “That’s really tough, Grace. You were seventeen?”
“Eighteen. Starting my junior year. My brother came home from Denver, and my sister dropped out of college to come home and open the inn. That’s the only reason I was able to stay and finish high school.”
