Chapter 4
During Thanksgiving dinner—held a day later due to a hockey game—at Maverick Blade’s old farmhouse just outside Sweetheart Creek, Leo had been happily seated beside Violet. The guys, Maverick, Dak and Dylan, had teased him, and he’d teased them right back. He’d pushed it a bit too far with Dylan, the team’s injured center, though. At one point he’d sent his own chair crashing as he tried to escape a fake lunge, after ribbing Dylan about being an older-than-average player.
It had been a fun night. Really fun.
But dinner was over now, another home game tomorrow night. Time to turn in and get some rest.
He found he didn’t want to return to his sad, empty apartment. The atmosphere around the table had made him miss his family back in Montana. He’d be visiting next month, for the party his parents were throwing for their anniversary—something they’d never celebrated before. But at the moment he wished that date was coming sooner.
He also didn’t want to say goodbye to Violet. He’d barely seen her since she’d agreed to help him woo Christine, almost two months ago. He got it, though. Her friend Daisy-Mae was dating Maverick, by the look of things, so Violet was commuting on her own. She may have even given up on her Dragon Babes idea, seeing as she was likely now flying solo.
As he walked across Maverick’s yard, the late-November twilight having already settled in around them, he heard an engine click and struggle to start. After a moment of silence, the engine struggled again, not starting.
He turned, looking over his shoulder. An old car was parked a ways down from his, along the edge of the driveway. The dome light shed weak light over Violet and her dark curtain of hair resting against the steering wheel. As Leo walked over, she lifted her head as though sensing his arrival, and let down her window which whined and crawled.
“Car problems?”
She nodded.
“Pop the hood.”
She obeyed, calling, “It’s the battery. Clint told me I needed a new one, but I put it off.”
“Who’s Clint?” She’d already found a man and got him situated in her life? She hadn’t mentioned that at dinner. But the woman was determined, that was for certain. He was surprised at the stab of disappointment he felt at the idea that she might now be taken.
“The local mechanic.”
He smiled, tapping her car door. “I’ll grab my cables and we’ll get you going again.”
He jogged to his old Toyota, started it and then drove across the grass, stopping his car so it was nose-to-nose with Violet’s.
He popped his trunk, found his cables and waved them in the air. “Never leave home without ‘em.”
Violet got out and stood in the stream of light from his headlights, obviously uncertain how to make herself helpful.
“There we are,” he said, after connecting the two vehicles. “You can start it up.”
“Why do you drive such an old car?” she asked, not moving from his side.
“You expected a truck?”
“Yeah. You’re a cowboy turned hockey player. I thought trucks would be part of your man card.”
He laughed at how serious she sounded.
He’d sold his big truck when he’d started working toward his NHL goal. He’d needed the private coaching time the extra cash could buy him, in order to catch up with players who’d been on the ice since birth.
“Why do you drive such an old car?” he countered.
“Because I hate car shopping.”
“That’s a silly reason.”
“It’s scary and foreign. I don’t understand cars, or what salespeople are saying. I’m so afraid of getting ripped off that I just keep driving this one.”
Leo considered the problem. “What’s your budget?”
“For a car?”
“Yeah. I’m going to have to take you shopping.”
She laughed. “Um, you promised you’d find me a guy on the team and you haven’t done that yet.”
“You’ve been avoiding me!”
“Have not!” She gave a snort of disbelief.
“You promised you’d help me get somewhere with Christine.”
“So we’re both reneging.”
“Well, that ends now.”
“Okay.” She leaned over him as he adjusted a cable clip that was slipping off, holding the flashlight he’d propped on the air filter’s lid so he could see what he was doing. She smelled nice.
“How about Landon?” he suggested, referring to the team’s goalie. “He seems decent.”
“Crushing on Cassandra.”
“Really? Cassandra McTavish?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard she moved out here to be closer to her sister, Alexa. We grew up in the same town back in Montana.” He looked over his shoulder and met Violet’s dark, bright eyes in the glow of the flashlight. Her lashes were longer than he’d realized and her quiet beauty struck him. How had he never noticed that before? “How about Dylan?”
She rolled her eyes. Right. Dylan had flirt-fought with Jenny from the Blue Tumbleweed shop in town throughout dinner.
“Okay, how about…Dak? That guy working on the team’s charity efforts—he was here tonight. Great guy.”
“Totally in love with Miranda.”
“Miranda Fairchild?” The team’s owner? Interesting.
Violet nodded.
“Well, I’ll keep looking then.”
“Send me plenty, because I’m cursed when it comes to love. Guys always leave me.”
“Can’t be true.”
“Still single.”
“Which is a crime, I tell you.”
“Preach it, brother.”
He chuckled and wiped his hands on a rag he kept tucked under his hood. “Okay. Go start your car.”
Violet flashed a smile and slid into the driver’s seat. She grinned when the engine came to life, and leaned out the window. “Thank you!”
Leo coiled up the cables, wanting to stretch out his time with Violet, but unsure how. He turned to stare when she turned off her car and got out.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
She stopped moving. “Saying thank you?”
“Your car needs to run a bit to charge up the battery again.”
“Oh.” Her face flamed red in the stream from his headlights. She groaned and tipped back her head.
“It’s smart to turn it off when you get out. It’s a good habit. Otherwise your car could get stolen, right?”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip.
“Pop your hood and I’ll boost you again. Unless, of course, you’re just doing this as a weird way to flirt with me.” He grinned as the color in her cheeks darkened.
“That’s it. I’m buying a new car on Monday,” she grumbled, reaching in to release the hood again.
Leo laughed. “Maybe we should go together. Because apparently my car is old.”
As she retook the driver’s seat, he saw something flicker in her eyes. That devilish playful side she sometimes let out, he suspected, but she remained disappointingly quiet.
She restarted the car and Leo released the cables, closing the hood. He pointed at her. “Now don’t turn it off until you get home.”
She nodded.
He came to the window, coiling the cables. “I’m going to follow you to make sure you don’t stall again. You don’t want to be stranded out in the country somewhere. Especially in the dark.”
She eyed him for a beat, then batted her lashes and said, “Well, that’s no fun. I was planning to turn it off at every stop sign between here and home to see if I could catch myself a cowboy.”
He bit back a smile. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you left your lights and radio on earlier so you’d find yourself in this very predicament.” He tipped his cowboy hat meaningfully.
“Who said you’re still a cowboy and that I’m trying to catch you?”
He glanced down at himself. He was wearing cowboy boots. Nice jeans. Button-down shirt. Cowboy hat. You couldn’t take the cowboy out of the man. Not one who’d had to fight for the family ranch at age eighteen and had ridden bulls for a living.
It was true, though, sadly enough. She wasn’t looking for a guy like him, and he wasn’t looking for a gal like her.
He just shook his head and sighed, as if she’d broken his heart. Then returned to his car, making good on his promise to escort her home.
Leo had followed her all the way home, and as usual, Violet slowed her car as she came around the curve of her driveway. She was still in love with her house after living there for almost two years. It was an older two-story that had once been a bed-and-breakfast called Peach Blossom Hollow. She had kept the name and sign, nailing a Closed banner across where it used to say Vacancy. An ancient fixture positioned above the sign lit it up, welcoming her home.
Her driveway was lit by a yard light and the veranda lights showed off her peach-colored house with the black-and-white trim, giving it a pretty evening glow that felt almost magical.
Wild roses grew along the curving drive, highlighted by her headlights, and a few peach trees framed the house. They blossomed each spring, and by late summer, dropped peaches over the short picket fence that enclosed a small yard, carved out of the several-acre lot.
She loved everything about her little nest, and its warmth made her introverted side never want to leave it.
She parked in front of the house and got out to thank Leo, who’d followed her in.
“Are you going to be able to get it started in the morning?” he asked through his open window.
She glanced at her car, unsure.
“Do you have a charger?”
She shook her head.
She wasn’t far from town, less than a quarter of a mile, situated in a meadow between the town and the local swimming hole. She could easily call a tow truck if the car didn’t start. And then after the holiday weekend she could get it in to see Clint.
But she might need a boost again after tomorrow night’s game. Lately, Daisy-Mae had been commuting with Maverick more and more, due to her new full-time position in the team’s head office. She hadn’t been fired for telling off Nuvella; she’d been promoted to a desk job as well as still serving as Violet’s handler at home games. And that meant Violet couldn’t always rely on her for commuting to games, since she’d already be in the city.
Violet’s car-fixing procrastination had finally caught up with her. She could ask Daisy-Mae, but was certain that would mean a change of plans for her friend. Even though tomorrow was Saturday, she was fairly certain Daisy-Mae would be riding in with Maverick for the game. Those two had started dating as a publicity ruse, but things were looking pretty real to Violet these days and she didn’t want to interfere. Even if it left her stuck here in Sweetheart Creek.
“I’ll think of something,” she told Leo.
“You could get a new battery tomorrow,” he suggested.
“Everything in town’s closed until Monday.”
She needed a partner. This was one of those moments when it felt overwhelming to be an adult, to be alone. Too many problems of her own doing and not enough solutions.
Leo had gotten out of his car. “Raise the hood again.” When she released the latch, he pulled out his phone, and snapped a photo of her battery. “In the morning we’ll get you a new one in the city.”
“We?”
“Well, you’re stuck here unless you have a second vehicle.” He looked around, spotted her Vespa parked near the side of the house under a light and frowned. “We have a home game tomorrow night, so you can’t wait for Clint.” Leo had his phone out again. “I’ll catch a ride into the city with Dylan tonight, if he hasn’t headed back already. You can take my car tomorrow.”
Violet cringed. While she loved how Leo was stepping in to help, she also hated it. Not because he was rescuing her, but because he was going to ask someone for help who had teased him so relentlessly throughout dinner tonight. And sure, Leo, in several cases, had definitely started it. But still. There was some weird power struggle happening there. Or maybe it was simply a guy thing. Either way, it was weird and she didn’t know whether to laugh along like everyone else or try to put a stop to it.
“It’s fine. I’ll tell Daisy-Mae she has to drive me.”
“I’ll pick up the battery in the morning.” Leo continued as though she hadn’t protested. “Then after the game we can drive out here in my car, replace your battery, and you’ll be good to go for Sunday morning if you need to be anywhere.”
“Leo!”
“What?”
“That’s a ridiculous plan.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“First of all, how are you going to get a battery tomorrow morning with no car? Second, it’s way too much driving—especially after tomorrow’s game.” They wouldn’t get out here to swap out her battery—in the dark—until midnight, at the very least.
“First of all,” he said, emulating her tone, “they have these things in the city called ride sharing, taxis, buses, limos…”
She snorted. “You’re going to take a limo to the auto parts store?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“You won’t.” She knew him. He wasn’t flashy. He was a cowboy through and through. Conservative. Careful. Considerate. The man probably had at least ten grand stuffed under his mattress “just in case.” Ten grand that would still be there after his death because he’d never spend it. And in the meantime, he’d drive that old Toyota. “A limo? Come on.”
He frowned and crossed his arms, giving her a long look. “Wanna bet?”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe I’m ridiculous.”
“That you are. And this, right here, is why we’re friends, but will never be lovers,” she said, laughing. “We’re too different. I can get a boost tomorrow, then drive into the city to find a place to get this all fixed before the game.” She dusted her hands together. “Look at that. Non-ridiculous problem solving.”
“Maybe I enjoy being ridiculous.”
“I don’t believe you can do frivolous and ridiculous. That’s actually where you’re like me—you don’t have it in you.”
“Really?”
She leaned forward. “Really.”
“Be at my place tomorrow morning at seven.”
“Seven? No way.”
“Scared to see yourself proven wrong about my ridiculousness?”
“How will I get there so early? The guy who drives the tow truck would kill me if I woke him up at 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. for a non-emergency.”
“I said seven.”
“I need boosting and driving time.”
“But you’re taking my car and I’m going to—”
“No way. He was mean to you!”
“Who? Dylan?” Leo frowned as if she was talking crazy. But at one point, even with his foot in a cast, the athlete had lunged at Leo, sending him running. They’d laughed it off, but there’d been some posturing involving a lot of testosterone going on between the two of them. It was just… No.
“You don’t have brothers, do you?” Leo asked.
She shook her head.
“That teasing was not mean. Trust me. Unrelenting, yes. But Dylan actually kind of accepts me.”
She shook her head again, this time in disbelief. “Men are weird.”
“So how do you plan to see me in the limo as I ride to the parts store if you don’t take my car and won’t call for a boost?”
“I’m coming to town tonight, and I’ll stay in a hotel.”
“You’re too cheap to change out your car’s battery, but you’ll stay in a hotel just to see me in that limo?”
She giggled. The entire conversation was becoming ridiculous. “I’m selectively cheap. I like hotels and they’re way more comfortable than dealing with car issues. Plus I’ve never ridden in a limo, so I’m curious.”
“That settles it then. You have to come to the city with me tonight, because tomorrow we ride.”
“I didn’t realize the city would be so busy this weekend,” Leo said apologetically.
“I guess a lot of people come to visit family, but don’t actually want to stay with them for the holiday,” Violet replied, rubbing one arm nervously as he unlocked his apartment door.
Leo felt he should drive her back to Sweetheart Creek, as their joking around had led her here—to San Antonio, where there wasn’t a single available hotel room close to his place. Her staying in his guest room felt like it could be construed as an elaborate setup on his part.
“I promise there are clean sheets, fresh towels, and I’m tidy. If you want a lock on your door tonight, I can switch the lockable handle from the bathroom to your bedroom.”
“That’s not necessary.” She remained in the doorway, watching him, after he swung the door open. “Unless you have some deep, dark secrets you want to tell me about?”
“I don’t.”
“You’re nervous.”
“Yeah.” Strangely so.
She gave him a coy look, and his nerves gave another jump.
He couldn’t seem to settle himself. They were friends. He was helping her out and tomorrow he’d be treating her to a limo ride. What was the big deal?
She was a woman.
In his space.
Overnight.
That didn’t happen in his world.
But she was a friend. And she’d remain a friend, which meant nothing was going to happen. Which meant he should chill out.
Violet’s tone softened. “I don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable—”
“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “You’re just very private and I don’t want you to feel as though—”
“I’m private?”
“Very.”
“I guess that’s true.” She swept through the doorway, moving with the grace of a queen. She slid the strap of her pink overnight bag from her shoulder and let it fall to the floor as she slipped off her shoes.
“You can leave them on.”
She glanced back, her eyes dropping to his boots as though questioning why he wouldn’t remove them.
Leo paused a beat. He knew it was a Japanese tradition to remove ones shoes. Was it Korean as well? He shrugged and balanced on his right foot while using both hands to wrangle a boot off the left. Switching legs, he hopped across the linoleum floor, working on the right boot. With them tossed aside, he followed her into the apartment, trying to see it from her point of view.
He realized with a glance that it was sorely lacking. Her place, from what he’d seen while she’d been packing her overnight bag, was homey and cute.
He bet she had real art and matching furniture. Meanwhile, the only things hanging on his walls were tacked-up workout and meal plans from the team’s trainer and dietician, Athena. His furniture was an uninspired collection gathered mostly from front yards, under signs that said Free. In essence, everything important to him could be packed in his car and taken with him at a moment’s notice, the rest left behind.
“You don’t have much,” she noted, poking her head into his living room.
“The habit of living lean is hard to break.”
“Yeah?” She eyed him. “Is that why you’re so stingy with yourself?”
He smoothed a hand down his pale green shirt. “I’m not stingy.”
“Uh-huh.” Her tone said she was unconvinced.
“I was on the road a lot with rodeo, sending money home. Since leaving the ranch I’ve never really stayed anywhere for a long period. Nowhere you’d really call home.”
He was building toward buying one, but he wasn’t sure where it would be, seeing as players could be traded to other teams with little notice. Buying a home may have to wait until he was out of the NHL.
Violet was peering into the guest room, and he hurried ahead of her so he could turn on the lights, close the blinds and collect the hockey equipment spread out over the black futon. He shoved it all into bags lined up against the wall.
“Sorry it’s not much.”
“Impressive.”
Leo took in the room again. He saw nothing about the architecture or decorating that could be considered impressive.
“It doesn’t smell like gear.” She waved her hand.
“I try not to stink.” He began collecting the bags, then paused. “Would you prefer to use my room? I can sleep in here if you want.”
“This is fine.”
“The futon, it’s, uh…” He dropped the bags and laid the futon flat, feeling self-conscious.
He had no idea how he’d gone from boosting her car after Thanksgiving dinner to having her as an overnight guest. It was already past midnight and tomorrow was a game day. He was normally so rigid about his diet, training and sleep patterns. But tonight he felt like it was all unreal, his energy wild and restless.
Maybe it was just nerves, which was weird because this was Violet. But currently, he was even more nervous than she seemed to be.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He wished he could cook more than the basics. Casually whip up something that would dazzle her.
“I’m good. Carol overfed me.”
Maverick’s mom had indeed overfed them all. It had been wonderful. She’d taken over Maverick’s kitchen and had been well prepared to feed a bunch of young athletes.
“How about a glass of wine? No, I don’t have wine.” He was trying to play host and failing. “No drinking during the season. Or at least limit it. I have herbal tea?” He winced. If anyone asked for his man card right now he wouldn’t argue, just hand it over.
“That would be nice, thank you.”
She looked pleased with the offer and they moved from the guest room. He stacked the hockey bags in the hallway closet and continued the tour, which took approximately another thirty seconds. He pointed out the bathroom, his room—she laughed, spotting a loud-patterned Hawaiian shirt he’d bought for a party—the living room again, and then the kitchen.
“Are you a minimalist?” she asked when he pulled out two cups from a cupboard, revealing his sparse set of dishes. “Other than your belt buckle collection.”
She was smirking at him and he found he was really beginning to adore the way she teased him.
He’d been wondering how long it would take her to tease him about the rows of shiny belt buckles on display on his dresser. He’d won them at various rodeos over the years and they were his prized possessions. Each one represented courage and battle—battles he’d won.
“Nah, I just live like a minimalist.” He glanced around. “Maybe that makes me an accidental one?”
“You’re not tempted to blow your big paychecks on material possessions?”
“Oh, I am,” he said with a laugh. He had a long list of dream items. “I just don’t want to lose it all before I begin, you know? Plus, Miranda told me this story about her granddaddy and how his NHL days ended abruptly. It’s basically my biggest fear at the moment. That it could all end and I’d be caught out—financially.”
“What happened?”
“An injury early in his career, right after he’d overspent. Financially, it broke him.”
“That’s horrible.” Violet filled the kettle from the tap. “Did you do well in rodeo?”
He hitched up his belt with pride. The buckle on it was large and shiny, the equivalent of an NHL championship ring.
“What?” Violet was frowning at him as if he’d offered to take off his pants or something.
“My rodeo buckle…”
“It’s big?”
He chuckled softly. “You didn’t grow up around here, did you? It’s an award. Like a trophy you wear.” Feeling humbled, he turned to the counter and pulled down boxes of tea. “What kind do you want?”
She reached for the ginger peach. “I know it’s an award. I was making sure you hang on to your modesty badge.”
He snorted and shook his head, taking the box of tea from her. “Hot or cold? I have ice, I think.”
“Hot.”
“Again, where did you grow up? Texans like their tea iced.”
“I’m Texan.”
“I don’t hear a twang.”
“Well, I grew up in Chicago, then came out here when I was in high school. I moved to Sweetheart Creek a few years ago, y’all.”
The electric kettle clicked off a minute later, and he poured water into their cups, then led the way into the living room, relieved that he at least had a comfortable couch and coffee table.
“You know…” Violet began, after a moment of blowing the steam from her cup. “For a jock you really aren’t very smooth with women, are you? But you’re serious about me helping you with Christine?”
As they settled on the couch with their tea, Violet could see Leo starting to relax. She loved how nervous he was about her ending up at his place for the night. His efforts to do right and help her endeared him to her all the more.
“So what do you need with Christine? Has she still not noticed you?”
“Not as someone other than a friend who keeps popping up at the same parties and fundraisers. And you’re still searching for Mr. Right?”
“I’m still holding you to helping me find him.”
He turned his cup in his hands so the handle was away from him, then took a sip.
She took a sip of hers, then tapped the cup. “This is good.”
“I like peach.”
“Me, too. Did you know my place used to be a B B called Peach Blossom Hollow?”
“I saw the sign. It’s a nice spot.” He looked around his apartment with an expression of longing she understood. He wasn’t happy here. It was a holding place, nothing more.
How long could a man live like that?
Maybe that was why he was so eager to find someone, even someone who wasn’t quite the right fit.
She shifted, getting more comfy. “So, Christine Lagrée? You know what she likes and wants?”
“Jewelry, chocolate, flowers?”
“Some women enjoy traditional gifts. Does Christine?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, most people like to know that they’ve been thought about…”
“Do you like gifts?”
“The right gift, yes. But if Christine didn’t really warm up to your flowers, she might want something different. You need to pay attention to what she likes and responds to if you’re hoping to woo her. Maybe she’d like you to plan an outing for the two of you. You know, show her some attention. Or maybe she likes compliments.”
“Compliments? She’s not superficial.”
“It isn’t superficial to feel good if someone compliments you.”
“I guess not. It just seems, I don’t know... Fake? Disingenuous to start complimenting her, like a pat to her ego, especially when she works hard for an organization like the Special Olympics.”
“You think she’d be above compliments? Even genuine ones?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” They sipped their tea. “Your shirt looks nice. It brings out the color of your eyes.” All night she’d kept getting caught by how his dark blue eyes seemed mountain-lake-blue due to the green in his shirt. “I’m glad we’re having this cup of tea and getting to know each other more.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” He smiled, one of those warm, sweet ones where she knew he was feeling good. Interesting. Kind words filled his cup in a way Violet hadn’t expected. Maybe because he was still such a self-reliant cowboy it could easily seem that he might be above needing to hear nice things about himself.
Which was silly because, man or woman, didn’t everyone like that?
Even big-hearted women like Christine.
Violet laughed. “Those were examples of nice words. Compliments.”
“Oh.” His shoulders dropped.
She laughed again, charmed by his reaction, then reached over and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “But they were genuine.”
In fact, she was a bit in awe that her jaw hadn’t locked up, complimenting him so truthfully, so genuinely. Was it the fact they were solidly in the friend zone that she could be at ease around him even though he was such a tremendous hottie?
“They were nice. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I should compliment people more. And I get your point about Christine.”
“Cool. So you can also try doing things for her.”
“Like fixing a car?” Leo gave Violet a pointed look.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Okay, well, Christine has a new car…”
“But other things. Like if she’s at an event and carrying her coat everywhere, you could offer to take it to the coat check, or hold it for her.”
“But that’s so small.”
“It doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”
“So those men at the malls holding purses and coats are actually wooing their ladies? They’re not just whipped by their wives?”
“Well, maybe sometimes. Just a little.”
Leo laughed when she grinned. “Okay, more. This is good stuff.” He lifted his cup and looked around as though he’d misplaced something. “Should I be writing it down?”
“I’m not going anywhere. Remember, I’m your Yoda.”
“Okay, Yoda. Hit me up with more.”
“Umm...” Her cheeks heated as she thought of one other tip she could give him.
Leo noticed. “What?”
“Kisses, holding hands, touching.” She couldn’t look at him.
When she finally dared look up, his cheeks were pink, making her feel better about her own discomfort.
“So what do you think Christine would enjoy?” Violet asked. “Compliments?”
“Not sure.”
“Well, whatever she responds to, I think you can stand out just by being yourself.”
“She doesn’t want a cowboy.”
“Why’s that?”
“She’s sophisticated. I need to be a bit more urbane.”
“But cowboys are charming and solid folk. Loyal and reliable, typically.” Her ex-fiancé, a cowboy, had kind of failed on a few of those points, though. “I bet she just needs to hear you speak your heart and she’ll be won over for life.”
Leo’s lips curled. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Whatever you do, don’t change.”
“I won’t. But I need to highlight the things I can offer. Things she might want.”
The whole wooing Christine thing was starting to stink. Leo was a great guy and to see him chasing someone who might not recognize that…well, what a waste.
“What?”
Violet made sure she smoothed her expression to hide her thoughts. “Nothing.”
“You think this is dumb.”
“You think Dragon Babes is dumb.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“So we both want to change a tiny bit to attract someone who brings out the better, more interesting side of ourselves,” she said, not looking his way.
“A partnership that takes us where we want to go.”
“Makes us better people. And I want love, too.”
They were quiet for a long moment.
“Does love really matter?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Is it even real? Or is it a trick we tell ourselves? Some old instinct to keep us in the pack and increase our survival?”
“Wow. You’re jaded.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Violet sat up straighter. “Wait. Have you never fallen in love?”
“I don’t fall in love, no.”
“Have you ever had a chance to?” She thought of the woman he’d dated on the rodeo circuit. The one who’d draped herself over him at the rink when Violet had been pretending to walk away, but had secretly been watching over her shoulder.
“Sure. I guess. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“How do you not know? It’s love.”
“I love my parents and family and would do anything for them. But romantic love is different.”
“A bit.”
They were silent with their own thoughts again.
“How would you describe falling in love?” Leo finally asked.
Violet pondered that for a long moment. “Falling in love is like taking a step off a cliff and trusting that the air will catch you. That you’re not just throwing yourself onto the rocks below, where you’ll get broken. It’s the most difficult thing, the biggest act of trust.”
They sat in thoughtful silence, Leo reaching across the open space on the couch, resting his hand there, palm-up, as if waiting for her to do something. She stared at the callused skin, the hand that worked so hard for himself, for his family. She glanced up at his face, then gently laid her hand in his.
Friends.
Leo lifted their hands, then set them down with a squeeze before releasing her. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not going to do any of that.”
“Do what?”
“I’m not going to fall for Christine. I’m not going to break her heart and she’s not going to break mine.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“Because I’m not the kind of man who falls in love.”