Chapter Four #2
Her breath hitched. The world tilted. Then she was on the floor and he was settling her into a chair like she weighed nothing.
“Sit.” His low voice grated over her already zinging senses.
“Bossy,” she managed, breathless in a way that had nothing to do with exertion.
He glided to one knee in front of her and wrapped a hand around her ankle.
Her stomach gripped, and so did a place much lower, but words were impossible.
She could only stare at the man as he slid one heel off her foot.
The sensation arrowed straight up the tendon of her leg and found every nerve along the way.
He removed the second shoe with the same care and set both neatly beside the chair.
Her chest gave a heave she couldn’t control. He didn’t move a muscle to move away or stand.
They looked at each other too long.
He didn’t seem broken. Quiet, sure. Guarded. But nothing like the man who’d arrived months before, eyes hollow, his shoulders carrying more than muscle.
He was better. So much better. It was almost weird, him still being here. And she forgot—for that thundering heartbeat—that therapy was the reason.
She forgot the role she played and lines she had to keep.
The thud of footsteps in the hallway saved her from falling further into that thought…or into Decker’s earthy brown eyes.
“Delivery!” someone called from the hallway.
“I’ve got it.” Willow popped up faster than she should have without shoes. Decker stood too, as if staying with her was only natural.
Outside the doors of the dining hall, a young man from the florist held two big boxes and a long cone of paper wrapping. “Order for the baby shower?”
“That’s us.” Willow accepted the boxes—centerpieces, she hoped—and handed them to Decker, who stacked them in one arm with ease.
The delivery guy held out the long cone last. The open top revealed a single long-stemmed rose, deep crimson against the winter light spilling into the hallway.
“Thanks.” She blinked at the rose.
“Have a good day.” The delivery guy walked away in a faint echo of footsteps.
Warmth curled in Willow’s chest as she cradled the rose. “Aww. I bet this is for the expectant mother. Carson is such a doting husband. He’s going to be a great father too.”
Decker’s posture changed, just the tiniest shift, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree.
“Your name’s on it. It’s for you.” His voice was tight.
No. No, we’re not doing this today.
There was no space in her head for it, no space in her life.
Her hands weren’t just full—they were spilling over. She was the solution around here, not the problem. She wouldn’t be a person who required…handling.
“It’s probably a shower thank-you,” she said lightly, setting the rose on the closest table without opening the card tucked inside. “Or from one of the vendors. People do kind things.”
Decker looked at the long-stemmed rose like it was a tripwire. “You need to open the card.”
“Later.” She lifted the top box from the ones he still held and pretended her fingers didn’t shake.
Before he could pursue things further, she got back to work, not even seeing the beauty they’d created so far. If she ignored the gift, it would go away.
It had to.
Without glancing at Decker, who followed her to one of the long tables, she opened the box to find tissue paper cocooned around three gorgeous centerpieces—sage eucalyptus, white roses and winter berries. Perfect.
“Willow.”
“Baby shower first.”
She kept moving. After all, she was down to the wire on time. She unpacked the second box and found the wreath for the gift table, ignoring all the questions pushing into her brain.
If she didn’t ask, it wasn’t real. If she didn’t say the worry out loud, it would dissolve into the bustle of the day. It was only a rose. Only honey. People sent nice things sometimes. People meant well.
But the book bothered her more. Black Beauty was a classic. It was also her favorite book of all time.
It was only a lucky guess.
“You need to tell Carson.”
Concern threaded through her belly like a cool, thin serpent.
“Decker, please.” She set the wreath where sunlight could make the berries glow. “Let me get through Layne’s shower. Then we can loop in Carson and the others, and they can make a federal case out of floral arrangements. For the next few hours, I need to be the person who has the answers.”
He exhaled, the sound not quite surrender, not quite agreement. “Fine.”
And when the last ribbon was tied and the first guest greeted at the door, when the noise rose enough to make a single rose feel like nothing at all, Willow told herself the tightness in Decker’s voice could also wait.
Later, she promised him in her head. Later we’ll deal with it.
* * * * *
Decker had learned to admire Willow’s stubborn streak—it was part of what made her shine in this family of big personalities. She shrugged off the rose left for her as if it were nothing more than a quirky small-town mystery.
And he let her do it because he understood what she wasn’t saying out loud.
She didn’t want to add one more thing to her brothers’ plates. Didn’t want to tarnish the joy of Layne’s baby shower with a single shadow.
He got that. He’d been doing the same damn thing with his own family since leaving the military—keeping his scars, nightmares and failures tucked away, pretending distance was easier for everyone than the weight of his broken pieces.
That was how he’d ended up here on the ranch, trying to work his way back into some kind of whole.
But this wasn’t the same as battling ghosts in your own head. The honey he could pass off as an innocent gift, but the book had been a subject she loved.
And a long-stemmed red rose came with a different kind of weight.
The fact that Willow’s secret admirer wanted to keep their identity hidden felt like a threat to Decker.
Worse, Willow seemed determined to shrug it all off. And that chilled him.
Because while he respected her choice not to stir up panic, he couldn’t ignore the knot tightening in his gut.
The baby shower was in full swing, the chatter and laughter filling the hall that sometimes felt too heavy from the shadows that clung to the veterans who frequented it.
Layne was the center of it all, radiant and pretty, always smiling as she moved between the small group of guests. But it was Willow he tracked carefully.
She hurried around, organizing everything from the food placement on the buffet to a streamer that came loose from the gift table. And goddamn if he could get the feel of that sweater dress she wore out of his mind.
He curled his fingers, trapping in the sensation he felt when he grabbed her waist and lifted her off the ladder before she broke her neck teetering on the rungs in high heels.
And the deep blue of her dress set off her gray eyes, making them warmer, brighter.
At one point, he felt as though she delved into his soul when their gazes locked.
He told himself he was imagining something that wasn’t there. His mind played tricks because his feelings—which he stuffed down deep inside—refused to stay buried.
As she moved toward the drink table, he saw that the punchbowl was empty. In quick steps, he pushed off the wall where he stood out of the way and intercepted her.
“I got it.”
She looked up into his eyes. Awareness gripped his gut as he drank in her face, the dainty point of her chin, those full, ripe lips she nibbled on whenever she was worried.
“The sherbet is in the freezer and the soda—”
“I got it.” His voice came out as a gentle rumble.
Her lips spread into a small smile. “Thanks, Decker.”
After he fetched the sherbet and emerged from the kitchen, he swept a look around the room. When he didn’t immediately see Willow anywhere, his lungs felt too small.
Then two ladies moved, and he saw her. His lungs inflated once again.
When Aspen announced that it was time to open the gifts, Willow jumped into action, pushing chairs away from the tables to form a semicircle around the expectant mother.
Decker edged in to help. As he grabbed two before Willow could reach them, she gave him a nod and that small smile she gave him before.
Even after she took her seat near Layne so she could pass her gifts to open, Decker couldn’t stop analyzing that smile.
It wasn’t her usual bright, cheery smile she bestowed on every man, woman and beast on the ranch.
Nor was it the open, welcoming variety she reserved for store clerks or gas station attendants.
It was almost…shy. Private.
As if she created that smile just for him.
He really was losing his mind. If he thought he’d ever have a shot with Willow Malone, he needed more therapy.
He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice Rhae had sidled up next to him until she issued a small noise.
He glanced at her, saw her knowing look, and almost wished he had a foxhole to hide in.
“We can’t wait forever to discuss your release from the program.”
Every cell in his body froze. The blood seemed to ice over in his veins. The very prospect of him leaving the Black Heart felt like a knife twist in his heart.
Rhae sipped her cup of punch. “You’re doing great, Decker. And you know it. We’re going to have to talk about your release soon.”
Anxiety crawled over his senses like spiders. His palms started to sweat as panic clamped down on his nervous system.
He couldn’t leave Willow. Not now.
Especially not now that some threat could be tailing her.
“Later,” he managed to grate out. “Baby shower.”
At that moment, Layne pulled a stuffed penguin out of a giant gift bag, and all the ladies erupted with oohs and ahhs for the cute toy that stood as tall as Navy.
A squawk sounded from one of the seats, followed by the tip-tap of tiny feet on the floor as Navy rushed toward the penguin.
“Oh no. She’s probably got sticky hands from that cookie she ate!” Rhae thrust her cup at Decker before racing forward to scoop her daughter up in a flurry of hair bows and ruffles.