Page 37 of More Than This Land

“I want to try.” The words felt like stepping off a cliff. “With you. I want to try being the man you see when you look at me instead of the one I’ve been pretending to be.”

“Luke.” His name sounded different. Softer. More precious.

They were sitting somehow. Luke didn’t remember moving to the old sofa, but they were there, close enough to see tiny freckles spattered across her nose and to realize that when she swayed forward, her lips were right there.

He almost closed the distance. One move and he’d be there. He’d finally give in to his baser side and kiss her before he even understood what they might be to each other.

Almost.

But some last vestige of control or maybe wisdom stopped him.

“I can’t. Not like this.”

Hurt flickered across Claire’s face. She pulled back, but her hand stayed on his chest. “Okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Luke caught her hand before she could retreat further. “It’s not okay. I want to kiss you so badly I can barely think straight, but I won’t start something I can’t see all the way through. I won’t do this halfway.”

Confusion replaced the hurt. “I don’t understand.”

Luke’s stomach twisted. His palms went slick, but he forced the question out. “Do you even want to stay in Covenant Creek?”

Ripples of tension spread through Claire’s posture. “What do you mean?” A guarded look closed her off from him.

He could stop and take it all back, but now that he’d brought it up, he had to know. “Are you staying, or are you here until your grandmother’s stable? Until you finish this consulting project? Until you can get back to your real life in Billings?” Her answer might destroy him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dealt with disappointment, but this might be the one to hit him hardest.

Claire’s hand slipped from his. She stood, pacing to the window where rain trickled down glass. Her shoulders pulled forward, arms crossing over her stomach. “I don’t know.”

The solemn quiet in her tone yanked out his heart and turned his chest to ice. “You don’t know.”

“I came back to take care of Granny Mama.” Claire’s reflection in the window looked fragile. “That was always the plan. Stay until she’s stable. Make sure she’s okay. Then go back to Billings and my career. I have connections and opportunities and a life I built there.”

“Had.” He stood but kept the room between them. “You had a life there. Past tense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve built something here too.” Could he get her to see that? He shouldn’t have to convince her to choose him, but he couldn’t help giving it a try. “You fit here, Claire. Probably better than you fit in Billings.”

“You don’t know that.” Her spine straightened, defenses rising. “You don’t know what I left behind. What I sacrificed to come back here.”

He shoved his hands deep into his back pockets to keep them under control. His feet were harder to manage, so he drove his steps behind the couch, increasing the distance. “Then tell me. Help me understand why you’d walk away from people who care about you, a place that needs you. From—” He stopped, jaw clenching.

She stared at him from the window, no longer fiery with indignation but soft and open. “From what?”

“From me.” The vulnerability in those two words scraped his throat raw. “Why would you walk away from me?”

Silence stretched between them, filled only by rain’s diminishing patter and their ragged breathing.

“I’m not walking away from you. We barely know each other, Luke. You’re my client. This is a professional relationship that’s gotten complicated.”

The words drove him onto his heels. “That’s what you think this is? Complicated business?”

“I don’t know what this is.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me. I came here to help my grandmother, not to fall for some rancher who’s still figuring out how to trust people.”

“I’m trusting you. I’m standing here being more honest than I’ve been with anyone in years. Telling you things I don’t tell people. Showing you parts of myself I keep hidden. That’s trust, Claire. That’s me fighting for this thing between us.”

“But you’re asking me to give up everything.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “My career. My plans. My independence. You’re asking me to bet my whole future on something that might not work.”

“I’m asking you to consider staying.” He ached to reach for her, but he kept his distance. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop begging, and knowing he’d have to put an ashy taste in his mouth.