His pride in his home had spilled off of him as he’d circled the driveway and back out onto the lane last night before the saddle races, before the night of fun he’d given her. She could still feel his kiss on her lips.
“Snap out of it, Sof.” She shook her head and passed by, focusing on the paddock ahead and…was that? She hurried across the road to the fence to get a better look.
“Good Lord.” Sofie covered her mouth. There, in the middle of a pile of snow, lay a horse. She didn’t even know horses could lay down. Looking closer, she saw no movement. Couldn’t detect any evidence of breathing. It lay still as a marble statue.
She shouted, but it didn’t so much as twitch. Picking up a rock, she banged it on the fence, praying for movement, a sign. Nothing. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the cold wind amplified the pain.
Oh God, what should she do? Go to the lodge? She glanced around, but all the ranch hands she’d seemed to stumble over earlier were gone. The lodge would take forever. She pulled out her phone, but as Emily had predicted, the signal was nonexistent. The lane she’d passed peeked through the trees. Dan’s cabin. He’d told her where the key was, informing her that if she needed a place to escape to, or wanted a kitchen or anything, it was available to her.
Another intense glance at the horse, a beauty in pale brown, and she hurried toward the cabin as fast as her unstable body could take her.
Huffing and puffing up his steps, she reached for the key in the lantern only to have the door yanked open.
“Sofie. You okay?”
The tears erupted on a sob, and she fell into Dan’s open arms. “There’s a horse. He’s dead, and I didn’t know what to do, and what if some kid sees it. I’m so sorry, Dan.”
Dan held her and shook. Was he upset, too? She glanced up, only to see him trying very hard not to smile. Smile? What kind of animal was he?
“Are you laughing?”
He shook his head. “No. I mean…” The rest of him shook again.
“Dead horses are funny to you?” She lurched out of his hold and walked back down the steps. Lord, if ever she needed a splash of reality this was it. Now the slight illusions of Dan in and out of his cowboy attire would surely stop rearing their heads at the most inconvenient times. He was laughing over a dead horse, for goodness sake. Well, hello, other shoe. She knew he was too good to be true, although she never imagined such cruelty.
“Sofie. Wait up.”
She kept moving, aware he followed but refusing to acknowledge such an evil-hearted man. How could she have been so wrong about him?
They came up to the paddock where the horse still lay. Dead as a doornail. Only…were those people on the fence? And were they laughing, too? Was everyone in Fly Creek heartless? Definitely not Mayberry.
She stepped up to the fence, and Dan slid in beside her. A quick glance showed him holding an apple. Lord, he was eating. It was like a sideshow at the circus. Where was her popcorn?
The people across from them were hooting and hollering, and still, the horse lay dead. It was horrible, and her hormone-ridden body couldn’t take any more.
Through streaming tears, she cried, “Y’all are horrible, insensitive people. Please find someone to take care of this poor creature before a child sees.”
Dan sobered and covered her trembling hand. “Okay.” He took a loud, crunchy bite of the apple, and the horse leaped up onto his front hoofs, kicking out his back then trotting over to Dan, who proceeded to palm him the remaining fruit. Stroking the equine’s snout, Dan tried to hold in his smile and failed as Sofie gaped at them.
“Sofie, meet Royce.”
Sofie glanced from the perfectly content and very much alive horse to the people on the far fence who were laughing and smiling to the cowboy beside her. Had they all played a cruel joke on her? Let’s tease the city slicker?
“I’m sorry. I should have warned you about him. He’s kinda famous in these parts.”
“Famous for playing dead?”
“Pretty much. If it makes you feel any better, he got me and Becky Jane, the vet. She was about as hysterical as you were. Now she refuses to give him the time of day despite his attempts at repentance.”
As if he knew he was being discussed, Royce nudged Sofie’s arms several times until she couldn’t resist stroking his smooth snout. “That wasn’t very funny, Royce.”
She stared at his chocolate brown eyes and could swear she saw a little bit of remorse. The man next to her, however… “I cannot believe you let me fall for it.”
“Me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I was all but self-combusting in your arms?”
Dan’s gaze turned from one of repentance to one of heat as he looked her up and down. “Self-combusting, huh?”
Uh-oh. She took a step back. “Poor choice of words.”
Dan crossed his arms. “I don’t know. Things were a little heated.”
“Heated as in I now know you’re an evil-hearted man.”
He grinned, and Sofie couldn’t hold in the laugh. Royce snorted and went to the visitors on the other side, probably to pull the wool over on their eyes, too.
“I’m sorry. I was surprised, and then by the time I realized what had happened, you were hell-bent on getting away. I figured actions might speak better than words. If I had said he was playing dead, would you have believed me?”
Sofie twisted her lips and narrowed her gaze. “Probably not, but don’t you know you don’t mess with pregnant women’s feelings?”
“Actually, I did know that, thanks to your sister. I promise, hand to God, it won’t happen again. Anything to do with your feelings will be genuine.”
Was that a hidden meaning? A challenge? An invitation? Thrills of the emotional kind shot off in all directions as she debated which, if any, of the options seemed best. Before she could make a decision, Dan tipped his hat and walked back toward his cabin.
“Oh, by the way, I’ve made plans for us tonight.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I think you’ll enjoy a little downtime.”
Was it her imagination or was there a sexy promise to his words?
…
“Baking cookies?”
“You have a problem with cookies?”
“Of course not, but when you said you had plans for us…”
Well, crap. Had he screwed this up? He’d hoped a nice, simple evening in might be better after the foul-up that afternoon with Royce, and all the traipsing about Fly Creek they’d done. Dan thought maybe they could relax in each other’s company, maybe make some of the lines that had been forming in Sofie’s normally angelic face ease. He could only begin to imagine how overwhelming it was to move to a new town, eight months pregnant, and know no one except your sister, only to have said sister up and leave.
And what better way to relax than baking.
“We can totally go out. What’s your pleasure? The Wooden Nickel again, or maybe a movie? Bowling probably isn’t the best choice right now…”
“There’s a bowling alley in Fly Creek?” Disbelief laced the question.
He rocked back on his heels. “Yep, and we even have a stoplight, in case you forgot.”
She punched him in the shoulder, looking slightly bashful. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
In that moment, smiling, blush coloring her face, Sofie looked radiant. Before he realized what he was doing, he brushed a piece of hair off her cheek and froze. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Before she could respond, he quickly escaped into the kitchen, aware that she remained in the exact same spot. He was a fool. That was a sweet gesture. One reserved for couples. Or people who might be couples. Sofie and him were neither, and honestly, neither had the right ingredients to become one, either.
“Cookies for the win.” Her voice was slightly strained, and it was his fault. He’d cros
sed the line again, only this time he didn’t have any mistletoe to fall back on. No matter how much he told himself to keep his distance, there was something about her that kept drawing him to her.
“I even got the ingredients to make some horse biscuits. You know, in case Royce acts up again.”
When she launched a glove in his direction, he knew his joke had lightened the tension.
They worked in tandem, measuring, pouring, and shifting around one another. Dan was extra careful not to touch her in any way. He didn’t want her to add another set of worries to the mix. One cup of horny cowboy.
Falling back on simple, light conversation, they asked surface questions to pass the time and avoid the white elephant in the room.
“Favorite holiday?” she asked as she sifted flour into a bowl.
“Christmas,” he said, without thinking.
Silence echoed. Crap.
A quick glance showed her looking about his cabin, her brow furrowed.
“Why haven’t you decorated for Christmas? If it’s your favorite holiday.”
Dan pulled a tray of cookies out and set them on the cooling rack. He could lie and say there’d been no time this year. End of discussion. No opening for more to come spilling out. But this was Sofie, the very pregnant angel who had somehow wormed her city slicker, I’m-doing-things-my-way, Madonna-looking smile into his life. He didn’t think he could lie to her.
Placing another tray into the oven, he shut it and dropped his oven mitt on the island. Sofie had half a cookie hanging out of her mouth.
“Want some milk?”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
He smiled and poured some milk and then cocked a hip against his counter. “Two reasons. One, everything just felt off this year and the urge to go all out wasn’t there. And two…I wasn’t planning on being here.”
Her large hazel eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, chasing the gooey cookies with the whole glass of milk. “Were you going to visit family?”
“I don’t have any family.”
“Oh.” She scraped at some crumbs on the counter. “So you were leaving Fly Creek?”
He nodded, suddenly unsure of the emotions pouring off the woman across from him.
“Why?”
Ahh, the key question and one he felt like a fool trying to explain. How did you complain about not feeling like enough, being appreciated enough, when the person doing the listening had traveled cross-country with everything she owned, eight months pregnant to boot.
Before he could figure out how to answer, she snapped her fingers.
“That’s what you were doing the night we met. Leaving.”
Escaping. Running Away.
“Yes.”
“And I stopped you.”
He shrugged. “Technically, the cows did.”
She narrowed her gaze. “And now you can’t leave because you’re stuck babysitting me.” Frustration poured off her, and she pinched her lips and threw her hands up. “I’m so sorry. I know what it means to be trapped.”
Dan rounded the counter and placed hands on her shoulders. “I’m not stuck doing anything. I have enjoyed every minute we’ve spent together. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Is there someone else?”
“What?”
“Were you leaving for a woman?”
“No. God, no. I was leaving for me. In Fly Creek, I’m the dependable one. The one good enough but never enough. Friend but never lover. Surrogate son but never the son. Supported, tolerated, but never wanted and needed. I want to be someone’s first choice. I want to give to someone who wants me not for what I can do or but because I’ll do.”
“I don’t think anyone around he—”
Dan held a finger up to her lips, ignoring their softness, the urge to taste rosy skin and lick honey and crumbs from the corner. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted to be honest with you.”
She nodded, and he reluctantly let his hand fall. Putting space between them, he scooped up the remaining cookies and placed them on the wire rack to cool.
“If it means anything, I think you’re great.”
The words were so soft, spoken to the white plate in front of her, one finger tracing the rim while the other cradled the top of her belly. His hand stood suspended with a cookie on the silicone spatula.
“I think you’re great, too.”
She glanced up between her lashes. The look of hope and fear, of curiosity and wariness, kept him firmly planted where he was. Had the conflicting emotions been missing, he would have rounded the counter faster than a hockey puck on the ice. But Sofie also had a secret. She knew what it felt like to be trapped. She had a reason driving her wariness. A reason supporting her conflicting emotions when it came to him. And that kept his boots firmly planted in the friend zone.
Despite the kisses they’d shared the other night, Dan knew that he and Sofie needed to remain friends. Her reasons might be confusing her, but his were solid. He was leaving. She was staying. He needed appreciation to give freely without expectation. Sofie’s desire to stand on her own two feet—her struggle with accepting any kind of help—that was the exact opposite of everything he hoped to find one day. These were the arguments that kept him from rounding the island, no matter how much he yearned to.
Chapter Eight
Sofie heaved her awkward body onto the sofa and settled into the corner. Shock still coursed through her over Dan’s confession. For a man who seemed so sure of himself, so straightforward and firmly entrenched in both the ranch and the town, to want to leave… But she understood. She had a similar issue, although stemming from a different source. She needed to prove she was enough. Strong enough, smart enough, stable enough. The confidence she swore she had was smashed to smithereens by Brent, and despite starting to glue the foundation back sliver by sliver, it was still unstable and unusable.
Dan stoked the fire, and Sofie allowed herself to admire the nice ass encased in denim—textbook firmness and rounded to fit a palm. Not that she had any intention of testing either. Well, the intention was there, but not the follow through.
“Warm?”
“Perfect, thank you.”
He settled in the armchair, and she had no doubt it was a conscious decision. The moments earlier in the kitchen were full of sexual tension and awareness. It was mutual, but hers came with a healthy dose of hell no. Dan had seen and respected that. Now she looked at him, the fire dancing over his black curls, and wondered what the hell she’d been thinking.
He’s leaving. Which was both a blessing and a curse. Because if she did follow through, she wouldn’t have to worry about things becoming serious or about losing herself in him. But she also believed he was the sort of man she could fall for one day. Only, he could never be that man… She couldn’t let him. Her son would take priority. She refused to rely on anyone ever again, and she could see how important it was for Dan to take care of those he cared about.
“Sofie?”
“Hmmm.” She was lost in her thoughts, staring at the flames, picking out images in the orange and red depths, the blue intensity no longer the driving force burning the logs.
“Why did you come to Fly Creek?”
“To escape.” Her hand flew to her mouth as soon as the words were out, and her gaze shot to Dan’s. He now sat on the edge of the chair, tension ensuing every long line of muscle.
“Escape what? Are you in danger? Do you need help?”
Oh God, why had she said that? Now she would have to share, or share something, and then all the looks, the lingering touches would stem from pity. Or, even worse, he might try to rationalize Brent’s behavior.
“My ex-husband. And, no, I’m not in danger, and there’s nothing you can do. I mean, you’re doing more than I would expect anyone else in your position to do.” She
waved her hand around and attempted to laugh. “You know, welcome committee and all that.”
Dan didn’t smile and instead collapsed against the chair and said, “What a bastard.”
A thrill, followed by warmth, spread throughout her chest. She shouldn’t be happy or thrilled or warmed, but the blind faith Dan just showed in his statement meant more to her than anything else he’d shown her the past few days.
“How do you know he’s the bastard?”
He snorted. “Because I’m not stupid.” Sitting up, he clasped his hands in front of him. “If you need to talk, I have it on good authority that I’m an excellent listener.”
And in that moment, in the coziness of a cabin in the little town of Fly Creek, Sofie wanted to spill everything. The things she still hadn’t had a chance to tell Emily. The things her parents didn’t even know, and she wanted to share them all with this man who had instantly trusted that whatever had sent her clear across the country was a valid reason.
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” She sighed and rubbed her belly. This was always quiet time for her little man. Come another hour and he would be somersaulting worse than the SooperDooperLooper at Hersheypark.
“How about the final straw?”
She looked him in the eyes. She could still feel the pain of that moment when Brent had killed any love she might have had left for him. Her heart broke just thinking about it. “When he told me to get rid of the baby.”
The anger and fire erupted from Dan as he flew out of the chair and paced away from her. “What the hell.” He ran a hand through his hair, his movements stilted and jerky.
“I guess you can imagine my response to that.”
Dan stopped mid-pace. “Probably a lot more articulate and less primal than the response I’m having right now.”
“Actually, no. I had no response. Not a verbal one at least. I started making plans to leave at that moment. Things had been building for a while, and I think in the back of my mind I knew that choice was coming from the moment I found out I was pregnant.”
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