Chapter 35 Isaac
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
isaac
Triple Creek Ranch
Paradise Valley, Montana
Elena has been quiet since we landed.
Not the guarded kind of quiet, like when she first got here. Not the kind that keeps people out.
This is different.
And confusing.
She sits on the cabin’s porch swing, wrapped in one of my old high school football hoodies, drinking the tea my mom made. Her hair’s twisted up in a messy knot, baby hairs curling at her temples.
I drop onto the swing beside her, close enough to feel the warmth rolling off her but not so close she’ll think I expect something.
Sophia the hen squawks from beneath the swing.
“Didn’t realize you had company” I say, peeking at the disgruntled chicken, who glares at me like I interrupted something.
“Thanks for flying me home,” she says, still staring out at the river.
“Anytime.”
She glances over. “You say that like you mean it.”
“I do.”
That earns me the ghost of a smile. “Even if my mom hates you?”
I shrug. “She’ll come around.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then she’ll have to deal with it.”
She goes quiet again, then, “You didn’t have to stand up for me like that. Not with Diego. Not with my mom.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
I look at her. Really look.
Her lips are pink and swollen like she’s been chewing on them. Her eyes are tired. Shoulders curled like she’s carrying too many damn things at once.
“Because you’re the most important person to me in the entire world now.”
Her breath catches. “Isaac…” she starts, a warning.
I shake my head. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to make this more complicated. I’m not asking for forever tonight. But we’re family now, spitfire. So just…sit with me awhile.”
She blinks, and I see it—something inside her softens. Not completely, but enough. When she leans into me, it’s slow. Cautious. Like a deer walking straight into the hunter’s crosshairs.
Only I’m not hunting her.
I’m just here. Like I always intend to be. Even when she might wish I wasn’t.
Her cheek presses against my chest. My arm curls around her shoulders. We rock in silence for a while, the only sounds the creak of the swing and the river running behind us.
Then she whispers, “This feels like cheating.”
I stiffen. “On who?”
“On the version of me I’ve had to be to get where I am.”
The tension in my chest eases.
“I’ve never let anyone see this part,” she continues. “The one that wants to be able to count on someone else.”
I tip her chin up. “You can want that. You don’t have to give up everything else to have it.”
Her eyes search mine like she’s trying to find the lie.
But there isn’t one.
So, I give her the truth.
“All I want is you. Just as you are. Even if our baby wasn’t part of the picture…I’d still want you.”
She stares at me like she’s solving complex equations in her head. Then her lips part, and she says, “Kiss me sweetly, cowboy.”
So I do.
It’s not desperate. It’s not fast.
It’s slow. Reverent. Like she’s breakable. Like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I get it wrong.
I’ve never been worried about much of anything or anyone other than this ranch and my family. But now there’s this woman. And this child she’s carrying. And it’s like my world has a new axis to spin on. The last thing I want to do is fuck up and throw it off.
When she moans into my mouth and curls her fingers into my shirt, I know I finally got it right.
We stay on that swing until her tea goes cold, her walls finally fall, and she lets herself curl into me.
When I carry her to my bed and I’m not thinking about sex—or at least, not only about sex—I know I’ve got a serious problem.
I’m not falling in love with her.
I’m already there.
When I wake up the next morning, my bed is empty. It’s the hotel room all over again, except last night we only slept.
Well, we made out like horny teenagers for about an hour, then we slept.
We’ve barely been back enough time for her to get a few hours of sleep before she’s back at work.
A text from Wyatt is how I find out that the production crew decided since Elena was back and feeling better, they were going to start filming early today.
I’m back at work too but I’m not growing a human being inside me. Though Miss Lottie’s barbecue burritos sometimes make it feel like I am.
I spot her from across the barn—arms crossed, chin tipped up like she’s daring someone to challenge her.
She’s in full armor: high boots, tight black jeans, some sleeveless top that makes me want to slip my hands beneath it, and that look on her face like she’d claw out the next person’s eyes if they breathe wrong.
She hasn’t eaten. I know it without asking.
She’s stubborn as hell about food, naps, and help in general. A walking contradiction. Pregnant, exhausted, snarky, and trying to pretend she’s made of iron.
I grab snacks out of my saddle bag and move in before I talk myself out of it.
“Elena.”
Her eyes flick toward me, slow and sharp. “What now, Cowboy Ken? Come to tell me I’m dismounting wrong again?”
She’s tired. I can see it in the faint tremble of her fingers and the way she’s blinking too much. Overstimulated. Over it.
Pretending she’s fine.
I hold up a protein bar, a bottle of water, and the most charming expression I’ve got. “You need to sit down, darlin’. Eat. Take five.”
She squints at me. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because—”
Her voice is low and lethal when she interrupts me. “If you say ‘because you’re pregnant,’ I swear I’ll punch you in the throat.”
“We’ve upgraded to threats of violence. Blood sugar is plummeting.” I step closer. Close enough she has to tilt her head to keep glaring at me. “This is not because you’re pregnant. It’s because you’re human. And you had an exhausting weekend and now you’re running yourself into the ground.”
Someone from the crew starts to approach us—clipboard in hand, mouth opening like they’re about to call her back to work.
I don’t even look at them when I growl, “She’s not available right now. Come back in ten.”
They freeze. And back off.
I hand her the water. She snatches it from me like I just insulted her. Glares like she wants to throw it at my head.
“I’m a grown adult and not your responsibility.”
“I get that.” Part of it anyway. “But you’re running on fumes and it’s okay to need breaks.”
She goes still. “It’s not your job to fix me, Isaac.”
I hook my fingers under her elbow, guiding her to the shady bench beneath the old oak tree, out of view of the production crew.
“Good. Because I like you the way you are. Mean and mouthy and spitting fire at me.”
She huffs out a scoffing sound but the edge in her posture melts just a little. She sits. Nibbles the protein bar begrudgingly.
“You ever hear of a cowboy nap?”
She angles her head away from me. “A what?”
I take my flannel off, set it on the tree roots, remove my hat, and lie down on my back. Then I place my hat over my face before folding my arms and crossing my ankles.
“Cowboy nap,” I say, my voice muffled from underneath my hat.
She laughs and I move my hat so I can see her smile. I sit up in front of her, forearms resting on my thighs. “You’re allowed to rest.”
She doesn’t answer. Just chews slowly, eyes trained on anything but me.
But when I move to stand, she snags my sleeve.
“Don’t go far,” she says under her breath. “I’m in a mood and might hate everyone else today.”
I grin. “I’m starting to see why you and Sophia the hen get along so well.”
Birds of a feather those two.
She throws her water bottle at me as I head to the stables. I catch it easily and her eyes go wide.
“High school quarterback, sweetheart. Throw anything at me you want to.”