CHAPTER SEVEN
Dalton
The door slammed behind Amber, and I stood there staring at it like an idiot.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I turned to find Cade glaring at me. Actually glaring. My easygoing brother who never got mad at anyone looked like he wanted to punch me.
“Stay out of it,” I muttered, turning away.
“No. I don’t think I will.” He moved to block my path. “You just told that woman not to call you when she needs help. What the fuck, Dalton?”
“She’s driving into a storm—”
“No, she’s not. She’s driving to see her sick mother on a clear Saturday morning. The storm doesn’t hit until tomorrow night. She’ll be back before then.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t get to control her life because you’re scared!” Cade’s voice rose. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re terrified she’s going to leave and not come back, so you tried to stop her. And when that didn’t work, you said something cruel to push her away first.”
I turned and walked toward the coffee pot, needing something to do with my hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” Cade followed me. “I’ve watched you do this for five years. Anytime someone gets close, you push them away before they can hurt you. But this time it’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“Because you actually care about her.” He paused. “Don’t you?”
I grabbed my mug and poured more coffee that I didn’t want, not answering my brother’s question.
Because the answer was yes. God help me, yes.
I cared about Amber Maxwell in a way I hadn’t cared about anyone in five years. Maybe longer. Maybe ever, if I was being honest with myself. I hadn’t really cared about Sarah. She’d been a warm body in my bed that I could tolerate most days.
Her leaving hadn’t turned me against love.
It was that I hadn’t found it with her.
Sarah had wanted the fantasy—the handsome cowboy, the romantic idea of ranch life, the Instagram-perfect version of something that was never real.
She’d loved the idea of me, not the actual man.
Not the one who came in covered in mud and manure.
Not the one who worked sixteen-hour days and fell into bed too exhausted to talk.
Not the one who chose the ranch over everything else because that was what you did.
Amber was different.
Amber saw the reality and didn’t flinch.
She’d never complained once. About the early mornings or the isolation or the fact that the nearest shopping was an hour away.
She’d made dinner without being asked. She’d learned the rhythms of the ranch without needing to be told. She fit here in a way Sarah never had.
And more than that—she saw me. Really saw me. Past the walls and the coldness and the reputation I’d built. She stood up to me. Challenged me. Refused to be intimidated.
She made me feel alive again.
“Dalton. Look at me.”
I set the mug down harder than necessary. “What do you want me to say, Cade? That I care? That watching her drive away feels like my chest is being ripped open? That I’m terrified she won’t come back?”
“Yes. That. Because at least then you’d be honest instead of pretending you don’t give a shit.”
“It doesn’t matter if I care. She’s leaving in a few weeks anyway. The job will be done. She’ll go back to her life in Billings and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Only if you keep pushing her away.” Cade moved closer, his voice gentler now. “She’s not Sarah, Dalton.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because you sure as hell treated her like she was.” He paused. “Sarah left because she didn’t want this life. Didn’t want you. Amber’s coming back because she promised she would. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” I turned to look at him. “Because it feels the same. Wondering—”
“Wondering if she’ll realize you’re not worth coming back for?” Cade’s voice was soft. Understanding. “Is that what you’re really afraid of?”
The words hit too close to home.
Because that was exactly what I was afraid of. That Amber would get back to her real life and realize she didn’t need to come back. That whatever this was between us wasn’t worth the complication. That I wasn’t worth it.
I’d spent five years believing I wasn’t worth fighting for. Sarah had made sure of that. And now here was Amber—smart, beautiful, too good for me—and I was so damn scared of losing her that I’d pushed her away before she could do it first.
“She’s better off without me anyway,” I muttered. “I’m a mess. I can’t even let her visit her sick mother without losing my mind.”
“You’re a mess because you have feelings for her. Real feelings.” Cade grabbed the coffee pot and refilled both our mugs. “Have you told her that?”
“No.”
“Have you done anything to show her?”
I thought about the kiss by the fire. The way I’d pulled her onto my lap. The sounds she’d made. The way she’d felt in my arms—perfect and right and like she belonged there.
The best damn thing to come into my life in years, and I’d told her it was a mistake.
“I kissed her.”
Cade’s eyebrows shot up. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Well. At least you’re doing something right.”
“I pulled away. Told her it was a mistake.”
The grin disappeared. “Fuck, Dalton. Why would you do that?”
“Because it was. Because getting involved with her is the stupidest thing I could do.”
“Or the smartest.” Cade studied me. “The tension between you two is enough to set this ranch on fire. I bet it was the night I stayed out late, wasn’t it?”
I growled at him.
Cade’s grin returned, wider than before. “So you just kissed her? Nothing else?”
“Cade—”
“Come on. Give me something. Was it hot? Did she kiss you back? Did you—”
“She was on my lap,” I ground out. “My hand was under her sweater. And yeah, she kissed me back. Then I stopped it because I’m an idiot who can’t handle good things when they happen.”
Cade let out a low whistle. “And then you told her it was a mistake?”
“Yeah.”
“No wonder she’s pissed at you.” He shook his head. “You can’t do that to a woman, Dalton. You can’t get her all worked up, make her think you want her, then pull away and say it was wrong.”
“I know.”
And I did know. I knew I’d hurt her. Knew I’d made her feel like she wasn’t enough when the truth was she was too much. Too perfect. Too everything I’d ever wanted and convinced myself I couldn’t have.
“Do you have feelings for her?” Cade asked point-blank.
I wanted to lie. Wanted to say no and end this conversation.
But I was tired of lying. Tired of pretending.
“Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “I do.”
“Then tell her that. When she gets back, tell her how you feel. Tell her you want her to stay. Give her a reason to.”
“And if she says no? If she leaves anyway?”
“Then at least you tried. At least you didn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what if.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “But I don’t think she will. I think she feels the same way. And I think that scares her as much as it scares you.”