The late-morning air was warm, promising a hot afternoon. Summer in Fool’s Gold was beautiful with plenty of blue skies, and the mountains looming to the east were green.
They continued on their walk, Cece prancing beside him. His thoughts drifted to Montana.
There was no way to avoid what had happened between them. No way to gloss over the fact that he’d hurt her. He’d been stupid to think she wouldn’t notice the fundraiser. Given how much time they were spending together, of course she expected him to ask her.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d never had to worry much about a woman’s feelings before, he realized. The brief, temporary connections he usually made excluded emotions on both sides. There was mild interest, some conversation and sexual release. Little more.
Montana was different. He finally understood what it meant when people said someone had gotten under their skin. It was more than a cliché—it was a sensation. An ache, a need, an inability to forget or ignore.
He kept seeing her wounded expression, the pain in her eyes. Remembering that made him feel guilty, because he made it a point not to get close enough to wound anyone. He didn’t get involved for a reason. Some of it was because he was always moving on, and some of it was because he didn’t want to feel guilty.
He supposed the logical solution was to simply end things with her. To walk away, complete his time and leave. Simple. Clean. Honest.
But every time he thought about doing that, everything within him rebelled. How could he not spend time with her? Not only because she haunted him, but because of what she’d said while they were having lunch. She no longer saw his scars.
No one had ever done that before. People got used to them, considered them a part of him, but no one had been able to transcend them.
He’d always known she was special, but that simple statement had made him see she was more than that. More than he deserved. And to hurt her without reason, to cause her even a second’s worth of pain would be to violate some of the newfound good in his life.
“Complications,” he muttered.
Cece looked up at him and wagged her tail.
They made their way back to the side entrance, where they’d come down. As they approached the stairs, Cece stopped and assumed the “You can pick me up” position, then gave a little jump as he reached for her.
“You’re a smart little girl,” he said, holding her close.
She gave him a quick lick on the chin, then snuggled against his chest, her paws tucked against his arm, as if it would never occur to her that she would be dropped.
“Such trust.”
He took Cece to Kalinda’s room, thinking he would remove her harness there. As he walked toward the half-open door, he heard soft crying.
“Don’t,” Reese pleaded. “Don’t cry.”
“I don’t want to be like this.”
“They’re just burns.”
Simon stopped, still out of sight but able to hear.
“They’re horrible and they hurt and I’m ugly. I’ll be ugly forever.” The cries got louder and harder. “No one will ever like me. No boy will ask me out. I’ll never get married.”
Simon couldn’t begin to imagine how uncomfortable Reese must feel. He was just about to walk into the room to see if he could help when the boy spoke.
“You’re not ugly and you’ll have lots of friends. Tell you what. If nobody asks you to marry him and you still want to get married, I’ll do it. We can get married.”
“You mean that?”
“Sure. Pinkie promise.”
There was a shuffling sound.
Simon stepped in and saw Kalinda smiling through her tears.
As easily as that, he thought. Because she was just like Cece. She believed and trusted that no one would deliberately hurt her.
He found himself wanting to make sure that trust wasn’t broken. That she would grow up the way Montana had—safe in a world that took care of her.
MONTANA SAT ON THE LAWN at Max’s. The dogs and the new puppies were busy with a complicated game of play that involved jumping over Montana. Or in the case of the puppies, scrambling.
She lay on the warm grass, staring up at the sky, trying to figure out her life. In the past few weeks, a lot of things had disrupted her simple plans.
Max came out of the house and started toward her.
She sat up and studied her boss, taking in his long, easy stride and rugged good looks. He must have been irresistible when he was younger, she thought. Tall and lean and probably more than a little dangerous. Had he really swept her mother off her feet? And if he had, why had Denise chosen to stay in Fool’s Gold and marry Ralph Hendrix?
Not that she was sorry. If her mother had made different choices, none of her children would have been born.