Dan had a way of tugging on that little softhearted underbelly she tried to ignore at all costs.
Damn, damn, damn. She needed to nip that in the bud quick.
She stepped onto the porch and paused, taking a deep breath of the summer evening. The sun had set, but the sky was still light to the west. Not for long. Stars already twinkled in the east. It was enough to settle some of the pain stirring around in her gut.
Until Dan stepped out behind her.
She should move for the truck. Get away from him as fast as possible. But she needed this view. For a couple more seconds. To feel okay again. Strong again. Like she could handle…everything.
“So, what happened to your dad?”
She should have known it’d never be that easy. “Horse spooked and threw him. He’s pretty much paralyzed from the waist down.” She ran her hands over the smooth wood of the railing. “Happened a few years ago. Can’t say any of us are used to it.”
“That’s tough.”
Tough. Yes. But it wasn’t a tragedy. Just halfway there, or something. “You know, it’s not so bad.” She kept thinking if she said it often enough, out loud, to Caleb, to whomever, someday it would start being true. Not so bad. “We thought he was going to die. So, we’re lucky really. It knocked Caleb out of his rebellious stage.” But Caleb had already had a third beer to his lips when she’d asked Dan if he was ready to go. Rebellious stages weren’t so easy to break. Not when they were rooted in a pain he refused to share with anyone else. A pain she’d never been able to reach or understand.
And if Caleb went back to the way he’d been…
He’d promised he wouldn’t. She had to believe in that promise, even if she’d long ago learned promises were bullshit in the face of reality. “It could all be a lot worse,” she forced herself to say. Because she wasn’t breaking down in front of Dan. She wasn’t breaking down, period.
“It could be a lot better though.”
Her throat closed up, but she wouldn’t let her emotions have that kind of power over her. So, she went with the truth. “Yeah, it could.”
“Things seem bad.”
“Not bad, though we’re kind of robbing Peter to pay Paul. Medical bills, part-time nurse, making the house accessible, on top of ranch stuff. But we’ll get through. That’s why I had to…”
“That’s why you had to take the job with me even though you’d rather be here fixing this.”
She shrugged. It felt weird having him know that, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad weird. Just odd. “Anyway, it won’t affect how much time and effort I put into you. Don’t worry about that.”
“Trust me, I’m not worried about that.” He was silent for a few seconds, his hands only a few inches from hers on the railing.
For the briefest of moments she wished he’d put his hand over hers. Offer some physical comfort. Because that would be pretty nice right about now. Someone offering something simple. To care, or at least pretend to.
That told her everything she needed to know about her current mind-set.
“I…if you need money…”
The offer snapped away the self-pity, the fear, because fuck his pity. She was doing this. It was hard as hell, but she was doing it. “How long have you known me, Dan?”
“Uh, two days.”
“You don’t offer money to someone you’ve known for two days. I don’t care how much you have.” She made a move for the truck, but his hand rested on her elbow.
He didn’t grab or hold her there, but the touch was enough to make her freeze. To try to hold in everything touch might elicit. Sparks. Attraction. Want.
Fear.
This wasn’t the comfortable touch she’d yearned for a few minutes ago—this was something bigger. And she wanted nothing to do with it. She had more than enough on her plate.
“Let me pay you weekly. I thought monthly would work, because it’d keep you around longer if you decided I blew, but let me do it weekly. And I’ll up it, a bit.”
Again, the pity allowed her to break free. Step away from his fingertips against her skin. Even if that stupid touch would remain burned into her memory, she was the one who broke it. “I don’t want your charity.” But it was tempting. Necessary. Charity or not, more money…more frequently…the things she could do with that.
“You’ll take it, though, won’t you?”
The “no” was on her lips. The “fuck you.” The “I quit.” But she was too smart to let any of those come out. “Yes. Not much of a choice.”
“You can teach me how to cook.”
“Huh?” She frowned back at him. What was he talking about?
“For the added money, you can teach me how to cook.” He smiled, and as charming as that smile was, it was more dangerous than his innuendo, than his body, than everything. Because that smile was kind. Like when he’d signed that kid’s backpack outside the diner. She had to admit that he was kind, and that was dangerous.
Tyler had been kind, but he’d never made her heat from the inside out. That had been the appeal, why she’d agreed to marry him. He’d never leave and ruin her.