Elias read the sentence twice.
Then walked toward the stove.
Lara frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Burning it.”
He dropped the letter into the fire.
“Elias!”
“It was mine after you handed it to me.”
“That is questionable logic.”
“Write your lawyer.”
“I don’t have one.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
She stared.
He returned to the table.
Lara shook her head.
“You cannot solve every problem by becoming angry.”
“Watch me.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then her expression softened.
“Thank you.”
Elias shrugged.
“For destroying my correspondence.”
“Yes.”
“You’re welcome.”
The attraction between them became harder to ignore.
It lived in pauses.
In looks held too long.
In Elias standing behind Lara to reach a jar from the high shelf and both of them suddenly becoming aware of the inches between their bodies.
In Lara repairing a tear in his shirt while he was still wearing it because he claimed removing it would waste time.
Her fingers brushed his chest.
Elias went perfectly still.
Lara whispered:
“You’re staring again.”
“You’re touching me.”
“You asked me to fix the shirt.”
“I didn’t think you’d do it while I was inside it.”
“You were complaining.”
“I complain constantly.”
“I noticed.”
She tied the thread.
Her hand remained against his chest one second too long.
Elias caught her wrist gently.
Lara looked up.
“Careful.”
Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers.
“You keep warning me.”
“You keep needing warning.”
“What happens if I stop listening?”
His eyes darkened.
“Lara.”
She smiled.
Then stepped away before courage turned into something neither was ready to manage.
That night Elias did not sleep.
Neither did she.
Days later, Caleb Ryland came to Whispering Pines.
He arrived with four riders.
Elias met him outside the barn.
Lara watched from the porch.
Caleb smiled when he saw her.
“Well, Mrs. Montgomery.”
“Miss Higgins.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
Caleb looked toward Elias.
“Cold man.”
Elias stepped forward.
“What do you want?”
“Business.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“I’ve heard every version.”
Caleb removed a folded document.
“Eight thousand dollars for the southern acreage and river access.”
“No.”
“Ten.”
“No.”
“Twelve.”
“No.”
Caleb looked toward Lara.
“Maybe your circumstances have changed.”
Elias’s expression sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
“A wife costs money.”
Lara came down the porch steps.
Caleb laughed.
“My apologies, ma’am.”
She stopped beside Elias.
“No need.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow.
Lara smiled.
“I already know what kind of man you are.”
His grin faded.
Elias glanced at her.
Caleb returned the document to his coat.
“Winter’s going to be hard.”
“It usually is.”
“Cattle disappear.”
“They do.”
“Barns burn.”
Elias’s eyes went cold.
Lara felt the change in him.
Caleb smiled again.
“Think about the offer.”
He mounted.
Before riding away, he looked at Lara.
“Boston still has trains east.”
Elias took one step forward.
Lara caught his sleeve.
Caleb rode off laughing.
Elias looked down at Lara’s hand.
“Why did you stop me?”
“Because he wanted you angry.”
“I was.”
“Yes.”
“That usually happens when men threaten my home.”
Lara stared toward the departing riders.
“No.”
“What?”
“He wasn’t threatening your home.”
Elias frowned.
“He was threatening what you love.”
The words hit harder than expected.
Elias looked toward the ranch.
The barn.
River.
Cabin.
Then Lara.
She noticed.
He looked away too late.
That night, Lara cooked stew again.
The same recipe.
Elias sat at the table.
She placed the bowl before him.
He looked at it.
“Trying to make me emotional?”
“Apparently food is my most effective weapon.”
He smiled.
Lara sat opposite him.
“Elias.”
“Yes?”
“If the railroad clears tomorrow, I could leave.”
His smile vanished.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to?”
Silence.
Lara’s heart pounded.
Elias stared at his hands.
“I want you to have a choice.”
“That is not the question.”
“I know.”
She waited.
He finally looked at her.
“No.”
Lara stopped breathing.
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t want you to leave.”
The room became perfectly quiet.
“Why?”
Elias laughed once without humor.
“You really intend to make me say all of it.”
“Yes.”
He stood.
Walked around the table.
Lara looked up.
Elias stopped in front of her.
“Because the house sounds dead when you’re not talking.”
Her eyes softened.
“Because I haven’t eaten properly in eight years.”
She smiled.
“Because you argue with me.”
“That cannot possibly be attractive.”
“It is.”
He leaned closer.
“Because you make me laugh when I don’t want to.”
Lara’s breathing became shallow.
“And because every time you walk into a room, I forget why I spent years telling myself I was better off alone.”
Her eyes filled.
Elias’s voice dropped.
“So no.”
“I do not want you to leave.”
Lara whispered:
“That sounds dangerously close to affection.”
“It’s worse.”
“What is worse?”
Elias touched her face.
His thumb stopped near the scar.
He did not avoid it.
Lara closed her eyes.
“Wanting you.”
She opened them.
Elias kissed her.
Not carefully enough to be polite.
Not roughly enough to frighten her.
Years of restraint collapsed into one desperate moment.
Lara grabbed the front of his shirt.
Elias pulled away first, breathing hard.
She looked almost offended.
“That was brief.”
He stared.
“Lara.”
“Yes?”
“You are not helping.”
Her mouth curved.
“You are the one who kissed me.”
“I made a mistake.”
She stepped closer.
“Make it again.”
He did.
This time neither pretended the kiss meant nothing.
When they finally separated, Lara rested her forehead against his chest.
Elias wrapped both arms around her.
For the first time in years, he did not feel trapped by closeness.
He felt afraid of losing it.
That fear proved justified two nights later.
A glow appeared beyond the kitchen window.
Elias woke to Silas shouting.
“Fire!”
The hay barn was burning.
Flames climbed twenty feet into the night.
Elias ran outside half-dressed.
Lara followed despite his order to stay inside.
Ranch hands formed a bucket line.
Snow helped contain the flames, but the dry hay burned fast.
Then Lara heard animals.
Horses.
The stable connected to the far side.