Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(103)

He walked away.

And said only “Good night.”





Chapter Eight





When Perrie awoke, the first thing on her mind was the brilliant sunshine. The second was the fool she’d made of herself last night.

Stifling a groan, she rolled over and curled on her side, wanting to pull the covers over her head and stay there forever.

Fool. Idiot. What were you thinking?

She could have sworn Mitch wanted to kiss her, but maybe what she sensed was only how badly she wanted to kiss him. It had taken her hours to fall asleep, replaying that scene in her mind—remembering that they’d gone beyond his contempt, beyond stiff politeness, and finally, actually had a conversation that was almost friendly.

And that somewhere, all of that had changed. Somehow, the air had thickened with almost palpable emotion, so charged that she’d succumbed to its seductive lure, let herself want.

He’d been so close that she could feel the warmth of him, could smell that scent that was only Mitch—part forest, part woodsmoke…all powerfully male.

He’d made her feel safe before, but this was totally different. She wanted to clutch at those sinewy arms, slide her fingers into that dark, tousled hair, feel the connection of her body against the solid length of his.

And she’d swear he’d felt it, too, in that charged moment when time had seemed to stand still.

But when she’d closed her eyes, unable to look at his dark beauty any longer without betraying herself…

He’d said good night and walked away without a backward glance.

What did you expect, Perrie? Simon told you you’re no good at this. You’re not a passionate woman, that’s all there is to it. There’s something missing in you.

But for one tantalizing instant, she’d thought it might be different with Mitch.

She rolled again, burrowing deeper. She’d never be able to face him again. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Then she drew a deep, steadying breath and threw back the covers, leaping from the bed.

She had to face him, whether she wanted to or not. She’d done lots of things in her life that had seemed impossible at first. Facing Mitch would be nothing compared to escaping Simon.

Perrie’s eyes widened as she realized that she hadn’t thought of Simon in over a day. Not one thought. Not a whisper of worry.

It was a record. Simon had dominated her life for years now. Please, God, let this last. Don’t let him find us.

The butter-gold bars of sunshine sprouted the seeds of hope in her heart. Perrie felt the first stirrings of optimism that she would figure it all out, would find a path for Davey and herself, even if it meant leaving this place.

Even if it meant facing Mitch. Asking him where they stood, regarding the cabin.

He wasn’t inside, she was almost sure. Somehow, the cabin felt different when he was there. Once she would have said it felt crowded, but now it felt empty when he was gone. But that wasn’t her concern. Either he would go or they would, that was the certain end.

And knowing that she would handle it, whatever came, renewed her strength. She felt almost like her old self again—not just before her illness, but like the girl who had once thought she could control her fate.

The girl had been wrong, but there were seeds of her that Perrie could use. She could work hard, she could learn, she could make herself and Davey a life.

So when Davey’s eyes popped open, she greeted him with a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead. Rise and shine.”

He glanced at the window. “Wow, sunshine! Can we go outside today? Can we take a walk and look around, so I can show you some cool places Mitch showed me?”

Perrie nodded. “I think a walk sounds just great.”



“Slow down, Davey,” Perrie called out. Mitch still had not appeared by lunchtime, so she’d fixed them lunch and left his warming in the cabinet on back of the woodstove.

Her steps slowed as she reached the small clearing.

Davey darted here and there, all the energy of the two days before exploding from his small frame after being released from the cabin’s boundaries. “Look, Mom, I see tracks over there!”

Perrie couldn’t answer. Before her stood the grandfather spruce Grandpa Cy had called the Old Man of the Mountain.

I spread his ashes around the grandfather spruce.

Perrie’s hands clasped between her breasts, her vision blurred by her tears.

“Mom, come—” Davey’s voice turned worried. “What’s wrong?”

She could barely hear him, lost in a thousand memories of the gruff old man who’d been her foundation. Over all the years her mother had dragged her from place to place, boyfriend to boyfriend, the only anchor in Perrie’s world had been Cy Buchanan.