Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(98)

All of a sudden, Perrie was sick to death of being careful. Tired of playing it safe, of being afraid of every shadow, every single misstep.

She wouldn’t do anything about how he made her feel—couldn’t, because they must go soon. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t imagine how it would be, if he didn’t want her gone—and she didn’t have to leave. If they were alone here, just the two of them, no past to come between then, no future to decide.

She didn’t have to tell anyone, least of all Mitch. But in her own private thoughts, she could spin a new kind of story. One where two bodies, one dark and one fair, intertwined. Where whatever this feeling was that Mitch stirred could be explored.

Where maybe, just maybe, she could coax the lone wolf to the fire, even for a minute.

Then she heard the front door opening and quickly fled to the room she shared with Davey.





Chapter Seven





“I can’t do this,” Davey sighed, crumpling the length of soft rope in his hand.

Perrie started to soothe him, but Mitch spoke up first.

“I thought the same thing when I was learning.” He smiled at her son as he’d never smiled at her. “Come here.” He set down the piece of wood he was whittling and scooted forward on his chair, patting his thigh. “Come stand right here.”

He settled Davey in front of him, reaching around her son’s body. “Let me hold these ends for you again.”

Patiently, he instructed Davey through the steps of tying a square knot once more, his deep voice gentle and calm, no matter how Davey’s fingers fumbled.

Perrie watched her child’s intense concentration, watched the big hands work with the tiny ones as the fire lit the two of them with a golden glow.

In that moment, she felt the lash of regret. Davey should have had this all his life. Should have been granted a father who would care for him, guide him, show him how to be a man like—

A man like Mitch.

She jerked her gaze away from them, shocked to her marrow at the direction of her thoughts.

Mitch wasn’t a father, didn’t pretend to be one. Or to want to.

He was a rolling stone, gathering no moss.

He was a difficult man, hard and cynical. He had no interest in the family he had, much less in acquiring a new one.

And she—did she want another man in her life? A man to restrict her, to shove her into his own definition of who she should be? To walk away from Davey when he was too much trouble?

No. Absolutely not. She and Davey were enough for each other. It was that simple. She would care for Davey until he was grown, and then—

What would her life be, once Davey was gone? For that was the way of nature—babies grew up and left the nest. She would be alone.

Alone, as she’d been so often in her life. Her mother hadn’t been interested in motherhood at all. She’d wanted laughter and good times and raucous fun.

Only with Grandpa Cy, only in these mountains, had she found peace. Only here had she felt like she’d belonged.

“Look, Mom! Look what I did!” Davey rushed to her side to show her the knot he’d made, with Mitch’s help.

Over her child’s blond head, she met Mitch’s gaze. Thank you, she wanted to say. Hoped she was saying, with her eyes.

Thank you for caring more than his own father ever did.

“This is wonderful,” she responded. “You did such a good job.” She drew Davey close, breathing in that little-boy scent. “I’m very proud of you.”

And then she lifted her gaze again, capturing in Mitch’s eyes a naked longing that hurt her to her soul. Her throat thickened with tears she dared not shed. She held his gaze, measure for measure, refusing to look away.

Dark eyes studied her own for long moments, within them a maelstrom of need and confusion…and a loneliness so deep that her heart ached.

For that span of time, she felt closer to him than she’d felt to anyone but Davey in years. It made no sense, given that he had never uttered a word to make her think he wanted more than he had.

Caught in the grasp of his powerful spirit, Perrie could barely resist the sigh that threatened. A sigh that reached out to this solitary man. Part wish to comfort him, part longing for a safe harbor of her own.

When Davey spoke, she felt jarred to her bones.

“Tell me more about Ermengilda, Mom,” he pleaded.

Perrie snapped her gaze away from Mitch’s. She could barely remember her own name, much less Ermengilda’s story. “Oh, sweetie, I don’t think Mitch wants to hear that.”

“Sure he does!” Davey turned. “Don’t you, Mitch? I told you my mom makes up cool stories. This one’s about a princess who’s a fish.”

When Mitch’s amused look met hers, Perrie felt her cheeks warm.