They were carrying firewood from the shed when Evelyn slipped.
Jonah caught her around the waist.
Her body went rigid.
His hands released instantly.
Too instantly.
Evelyn almost fell again.
“Sorry.”
Jonah stepped back.
She stared.
“You can hold someone after catching them.”
“I wasn't sure.”
“I would've told you.”
“Yes.”
The answer irritated her.
“You're excessively careful.”
Jonah looked at her.
“I’ve been accused.”
Evelyn brushed snow from her skirt.
“Sometimes it feels like you're afraid of me.”
“I am.”
She blinked.
“What?”
Jonah picked up the dropped wood.
“You asked.”
“Afraid of what?”
He looked at her.
“Wanting too much.”
The air changed.
Evelyn forgot the cold.
Jonah continued toward the house.
She remained behind.
“Jonah.”
He stopped.
She approached slowly.
“What do you want?”
His jaw tightened.
“That isn't a safe question.”
“I asked it.”
He looked down at her.
Evelyn had never seen hunger restrained so carefully.
It frightened her.
Not because it threatened.
Because it waited.
“You,” he said.
One word.
No decoration.
Evelyn's breath caught.
Jonah looked away first.
“That's why I keep distance.”
She stepped closer.
“Because you want me?”
“Because wanting you doesn't change our agreement.”
Something inside her broke open.
Not love.
Not yet.
Possibility.
Evelyn lifted one hand.
Touched the front of his shirt.
Jonah went perfectly still.
She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fabric.
Hard.
Fast.
That surprised her.
“You're nervous.”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled.
“Good.”
Jonah’s eyes darkened.
“That cruel streak is showing.”
“Maybe.”
Her fingers moved slightly higher.
He did not touch her.
Evelyn whispered:
“You can put your hand on my waist.”
Jonah did.
Slowly.
One hand.
Nothing else.
Heat spread through her body.
She felt suddenly foolish for noticing how large his hand was.
Or how gently he held her.
Evelyn looked at his mouth.
Then immediately hated herself for it.
Jonah noticed anyway.
Of course he did.
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“If you want me to stop, say it.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“Say you understand.”
She stared at him.
“I understand.”
Only then did he kiss her.
Once.
Briefly.
So careful it almost hurt.
When he moved back, Evelyn remained leaning toward him.
Jonah's breathing had changed.
“So that's it?”
He looked confused.
“What?”
“One kiss?”
“You told me one hand.”
She laughed.
“Jonah Reed.”
“What?”
“You are the most infuriating man I have ever met.”
“That sounds like Clara.”
She grabbed his shirt.
Pulled him down.
Kissed him again.
This time longer.
Jonah made a low sound against her mouth that sent warmth straight through her.
His second hand started to move.
Then stopped.
Evelyn took it herself.
Placed it against her back.
“You can touch me.”
His eyes searched hers.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her again.
When they finally separated, Evelyn was flushed and breathless.
Jonah looked worse.
She smiled.
“That was not part of the bargain.”
“No.”
“Problem?”
“Potentially.”
She laughed.
They did not share a bed that night.
Evelyn expected disappointment.
Instead she felt relief.
Desire had entered the marriage without becoming obligation.
That mattered more than she could explain.
Through winter, affection grew.
Not straight.
Not easily.
Some nights Evelyn wanted Jonah close.
Others, a sudden sound or movement dragged St. Louis back into the room.
Jonah learned not to ask:
“What did he do to you?”
He asked instead:
“What do you need now?”
Sometimes the answer was space.
Sometimes firelight.
Sometimes his hand.
Once, surprisingly:
“Stay.”
Jonah sat outside her bedroom door until sunrise.
Not inside.
She found him asleep against the wall.
Evelyn cried in the kitchen before making breakfast.
By spring, Reed Ranch no longer felt borrowed.
She planted herbs near the porch.
Changed the curtains.
Bought better bookkeeping paper.
Convinced Jonah to sell twenty head at a higher market rather than take Silas's standing offer.
The decision cleared one promissory note.
Jonah handed her the cancellation paper.
“You did that.”
“We did.”
“You found it.”
“You owned the cattle.”
“You negotiated.”
“You kept me from accepting the first price.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Fine.”
“I saved your ranch.”
Jonah lifted an eyebrow.
“Dangerous claim.”
“Why?”
“I may have to keep you.”
She looked at him.
“You already married me.”
“Still seems suspicious.”
She threw a dish towel.
He caught it.
Then June brought St. Louis back.
The first sign was a rider arriving at dusk.
Not one of Silas's men.
Not local.
City coat.
Black horse.
Jonah saw him from the barn.
Evelyn saw him from the kitchen window.
The cup slipped from her hand.
It broke.
Jonah entered immediately.
“What?”
Evelyn could not speak.
The rider dismounted.
Walked toward the porch.
Jonah looked at Evelyn.
Her face told him enough.
“Who?”
“Charles Berringer.”
The name tasted poisonous.
Jonah's posture changed.
Evelyn grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Do not decide for me.”
The old Jonah might have argued.
This Jonah nodded.
“What do you want?”
Her hands shook.
“Stand beside me.”
“Done.”
“Do not speak unless I ask.”
His jaw tightened.
“Done.”
They went outside together.
Charles Berringer was forty-five.
Well-dressed.
Silver watch chain.
Polished boots unsuited to ranch mud.
A face women might have called handsome before they noticed how often his smile failed to reach his eyes.
He looked at Evelyn.
Then Jonah.
“Mrs. Carter.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted.
“Mrs. Reed.”
Charles smiled.
“I heard a rumor.”
“You came a long way for gossip.”
“I came for property.”
Jonah's muscles tightened.
Evelyn spoke before him.