Chapter 5 Anita
Anita
Dawn breaks with thin light filtering through the cabin's small window. I wake to find myself draped across Chance's chest, his arm wrapped around me, his heartbeat steady under my ear.
I lift my head carefully, not wanting to wake him yet.
In sleep, the hard lines of his face have softened.
I memorize the way his chest rises and falls, the dark stubble on his jaw and the way his hair falls across his forehead.
He’s so afraid to love, yet he trusted me enough to let me in a little.
I told him I loved him. The words came out in the heat of the moment, but I don't want to take them back, even though he didn't say them back.
Instead, he showed me in every touch, kiss, and whispered endearment. In the way he held me after, like I was precious, and the way he kept pulling me closer in his sleep, as if afraid I might disappear. He may not be ready to say the words, but his body said them for him.
His eyes open slowly, gray and clear in the morning light, unguarded happiness in their depths. Then awareness creeps in, and I watch the barrier rise.
"Please don't pull away. Not after last night."
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the battle happening behind his eyes. Fear versus hope. Protection versus connection. Then something in him softens, and he pulls me down for a kiss. It's slow and sweet and full of all the things he can't quite say yet.
"Storm's passed," he murmurs against my lips. "We should get back."
The fact that we spent the night making love in a line shack while Mel was home alone makes me feel guilty.
"She'll be worried," I say, reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.
We dress quickly in our now-dry clothes, pack up the supplies.
The whole time, we keep stealing glances at each other, our hands brushing, the air between us charged with new intimacy.
When he helps me with my coat, his fingers linger on my shoulders.
When I hand him the water bottles, our hands touch and hold for a beat too long.
Something has shifted between us. There's no going back to what we were before. We've become lovers and more, even if neither of us is quite ready to define what the more means.
The ride back is quiet but not uncomfortable. It’s a beautiful morning, with the sun bright on the snow, making everything sparkle like diamonds. The storm cleared the air, leaving everything fresh. It feels as if we've weathered something difficult and come out the other side stronger.
I watch Chance from the corner of my eye as we ride. He moves with Duke as if they're one creature. There's something about watching him working the land and caring for the animals that makes my chest tight with emotion.
When we get back to the ranch, Mel is waiting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket. She launches herself at both of us the moment we dismount, hugging us tight.
"I was so worried!" she says, her voice muffled against Chance's chest. "When you didn't come back last night, I kept checking my phone. I almost called the sheriff, but then I remembered Dad said to wait until morning if there was a storm."
"We're fine, sweetheart." Chance ruffles her hair. "Storm hit faster than expected. We had to take shelter in the line shack. Did you manage okay here?"
"I fed the horses this morning and made sure everyone had water. Checked the chickens too." She pulls back, looking proud. "I remembered everything you taught me."
"That's my girl." The pride in Chance's voice is clear.
Mel looks between us then, and I see curiosity in her eyes. She's too smart to miss the way we're looking at each other, the new ease in the way we move around each other.
"I'm glad you're both okay."
Chance insists on cooking for us. He makes surprisingly good pancakes that he claims his mother taught him. We sit around the table, and it feels natural. Mel chatters about her evening alone, about the movie she watched, about how she finished all her homework without being asked.
Watching how devoted Chance and Mel are to each other makes my heart swell. I want to be a family with them.
After Mel heads to school, Chance and I fall into our usual work routine.
But it feels different. We're checking the cattle that got moved down yesterday, making sure they're all accounted for and settling in the lower pasture.
Every time we pass each other, there's a touch.
A brush of hands. A stolen kiss when we're sure we're alone.
"You're distracting me," he says with a smile as I ride up beside him on Honey.
I lean over to kiss him. "You've been distracting me since I arrived."
He catches my hand, presses a kiss to my palm. "Tonight," he promises. "After Mel's asleep."
The promise in his voice sends heat racing through me.
By mid-afternoon, I'm organizing the tack room when he finds me. We're alone in the barn, the horses quiet in their stalls, dust motes dancing in the sunlight streaming through the windows. The smell of leather and hay fills the air, familiar and comforting.
"Anita." The way Chance says my name sends heat pooling low in my belly.
I turn to face him. "Yes?"
He crosses the space between us in three long strides and pins me against the wall. His hands bracket my head, his body caging me in while his arousal presses against my stomach.
"I can't stop thinking about how you felt under me last night. I want to taste you again and hear the sounds you make when I please you."
My breath catches. "Me too."
He cuts me off with a kiss, hard and claiming. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back, pouring all my love and desire into it. His hands slide down to cup my rear, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist. He groans into my mouth.
"God, I want you."
"Mel will be home soon."
He drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard.
I slide down his body slowly, deliberately, and watch his eyes darken further.
He adjusts himself with a wince. "You're going to be the death of me, woman."
I smile, feeling powerful and desired.
The week before Christmas passes in a blur of work and stolen moments.
We're careful around Mel, but the air between us crackles with electricity.
Every look is charged; every accidental touch sends sparks through my body.
I catch him watching me when he thinks I'm not looking, and the hunger in his eyes makes my knees weak.
At night, after she's asleep, I slip down the hall to Chance's room, and we lose ourselves in each other. We make love quietly, desperately, trying to be silent while pleasure overwhelms us.
He's generous and creative, always making sure I find my pleasure before his own. Sometimes we're gentle, taking our time to explore. Other times we're urgent and needy, unable to get enough of each other. But he won't say the words I want to hear.
"Stay," he whispers one night as I start to leave. "Just for a little longer."
I curl back into his arms, resting my head on his chest. "I should get back to my room before Mel wakes up."
He tightens his arms around me. "Five more minutes."
Five minutes turns into an hour. We talk in the darkness, sharing stories from our childhoods, our dreams for the future. He tells me about his mother, how she used to sing while she worked. About his father, who taught him everything about ranching. About Zeke before he left, when they were close.
I tell him about growing up as an only child with parents who loved me fiercely. And the loneliness after they became missionaries, even though I knew they were doing important work. About Grumps and how losing him felt like losing a piece of my heart.
"When my mom died, it felt like all the color drained out of the world."
"But it comes back." I touch his face. "Slowly."
He kisses me softly. "You brought the color back."
It's the closest he's come to saying he loves me, and I hold those words close to my heart.
I tell myself it's enough for now. The physical intimacy and growing connection between us will eventually break down whatever is keeping him from fully committing to us.
But there's a small voice in the back of my head that whispers doubts. I shove down the small voice that asks what if he never lets himself fully love me?
During the day, I throw myself into more preparations for Christmas. I plan traditional Mexican Christmas dishes with Mel's help, teaching her to make tamales and empanadas.
"Tell me about your Christmases," she says one afternoon as we roll dough.
We go to midnight Mass, break pinatas and stay up until dawn with cousins, aunts and uncles. Our kitchen is filled with the scent of spices and chocolate.
"It sounds magical."
"We'll make our own magic here." I squeeze her hand. "New traditions for a new family."
I realize I’m already thinking of Mel as my daughter. That scares me almost as much as my feelings for Chance. Because if this doesn't work out, I'll lose both of them. And I don't know if I'll survive that.
One evening, after we've rolled dozens of tamales, Mel gets quiet. We're sitting at the kitchen table, our hands dusted with flour, and I can see something weighing on her. The way she chews her lip, the furrow between her brows are signs I've learned to read.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"I’m sorry for pretending to be Dad on the matchmaking website." Her voice is small. "I’m usually honest. I’m also good at helping with chores."
My heart breaks for her. I wash my hands and take her hand in mine. "Your mom leaving wasn't your fault. Do you hear me? Sometimes adults make choices that hurt people, but that's on them, not you."
"I found the note Mom left Dad when she skipped town." Her voice cracks. "It said having a baby ruined their marriage and that she felt suffocated on the ranch."
I stop myself from swearing. This is why Mel has been desperate to find someone for her father, to make up for what she thinks she caused.
"Having a baby is hard, but parents love their kids. Sometimes a parent finds it hard to care for their child because of illness, or they need to grow up more so can’t cope with being a mom or dad."
Mel is quiet for a moment.
"What if you and Dad get together and then you realize having a teenager around is too hard?"
I pull her into a tight hug. "Where would I find such a smart, funny and brave daughter? I liked you from the moment I saw your picture. Same with your dad and the ranch. You and your dad will find it hard to kick me out of your lives.
Mel chuckles.
I share something I've told no one. "When my parents became missionaries, part of me thought maybe if I'd been a better daughter, they wouldn't have felt the need to leave. I was twenty-two, legally an adult, yet I felt abandoned."
Mel pulls back to look at me. "I don’t think they left because of you."
"It took me a while to understand they loved me, but there was something they needed to do. Your mom knew your dad and Granny would take good care of you. See how you turned out kind and courageous? You gave your dad and me a chance to be together. I’m grateful to you."
She stares at me as if she’s trying to gauge if I’m being honest. Then she hugs me. I hold her tight and pray I said enough to ease her pain. Only time and love will erase it.
I don't hear Chance come in until I glance up and see him standing in the doorway. His face is full of gratitude, love, and something that looks like wonder.
Mel pulls herself back and spots her dad. She freezes, then walks over to him and gives him a quick hug before heading upstairs.
Chance moves into the kitchen and pulls me into his arms without a word.
"The past couple of weeks, you've brought life back to Mel and me.”
"She just needed to know she was loved and wanted." I touch his face. "Same as you."
He kisses me, slow, deep and achingly tender.