Chapter 9 #2
The admission sharpened the air between them. Luke’s breathing had gone shallow. Heat crawled up his neck despite the cool air seeping through the cabin walls.
“Luke.” The word barely carried over the rain’s percussion, but he felt it in every part of his being when she stepped closer and put a hand on his chest. “You already are worthy.” Her fingers splayed over his heart, and he lost the ability to see beyond her face.
“Not because of your systems or your management skills or your efficiency. You’re worthy because you’re Wade and Ruth’s son.
You love this land and these people, and you show up every day and try to do right even when it’s hard.
That’s what makes you worthy. You are a child of God.
He helps you become who He wants you to be. ”
Luke’s vision blurred. He blinked hard, jaw clenching. “What if faithfulness isn’t enough? What if I try my best and it still falls apart?”
“Then it falls apart.” Claire’s hand found his, fingers threading together. “You pick up the pieces and try again. That’s faith. We’re not guaranteed success, but we have a promise that you’re not alone in trying.”
Her hand in his became the only real thing in this moment, in a world determined to spin out of control. His thumb moved across her knuckles, tracing the delicate bones.
She shivered and leaned closer. “I’m not trying to make this about me, but I understand where you’re coming from.”
He tightened his grip on her hand, the other settling on her shoulder where her braid rested.
Thunder crashed overhead. Claire startled with a sharp inhale.
“After the shop closed, I started helping people for free. Church families. Neighbors. Anyone who needed financial guidance. I needed to feel in control too, but it taught me that I can’t prevent pain or guarantee outcomes.
I want to be able to love through uncertainty.
” Her chin lifted, her breath whispering over his cheek.
“You can be faithful even when you’re terrified.
You can trust God with results while you steward what’s in front of you. ”
Pressure built behind his ribs. “That’s what you’ve been trying to teach me.”
“I’ve been trying to show you what took me years to learn.” She squeezed his hand. “Control is an illusion. The only thing we can really control is whether we love people well in the time we have them.”
The rain softened into a steady rhythm. Lightning flickered in the distance and the rolling thunder no longer threatened to break the walls. Tension coiled tighter in his belly.
They stood close enough for every eyelash to stand out in stark detail. He counted her breaths and matched his until they breathed as one. Claire tipped toward him, her breath catching when he rolled her braid between his fingers. “Claire.”
“Yeah?” Her pulse jumped in her throat.
“I need you to know something.” He traced her jawline with his thumb and tried very hard not to think about every reason why this was a bad idea. “I’m not good at letting people in or being vulnerable. I’m awful at trusting people won’t leave when they see all the broken pieces.”
She rested her cheek over his heart and sighed. “I’m not good at it either.”
“I want to try.” The words felt like stepping off a cliff. “With you. I want to try being the man you see when you look at me instead of the one I’ve been pretending to be.”
“Luke.” His name sounded different. Softer. More precious.
They were sitting somehow. Luke didn’t remember moving to the old sofa, but they were there, close enough to see tiny freckles spattered across her nose and to realize that when she swayed forward, her lips were right there.
He almost closed the distance. One move and he’d be there. He’d finally give in to his baser side and kiss her before he even understood what they might be to each other.
Almost.
But some last vestige of control or maybe wisdom stopped him.
“I can’t. Not like this.”
Hurt flickered across Claire’s face. She pulled back, but her hand stayed on his chest. “Okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Luke caught her hand before she could retreat further. “It’s not okay. I want to kiss you so badly I can barely think straight, but I won’t start something I can’t see all the way through. I won’t do this halfway.”
Confusion replaced the hurt. “I don’t understand.”
Luke’s stomach twisted. His palms went slick, but he forced the question out. “Do you even want to stay in Covenant Creek?”
Ripples of tension spread through Claire’s posture. “What do you mean?” A guarded look closed her off from him.
He could stop and take it all back, but now that he’d brought it up, he had to know.
“Are you staying, or are you here until your grandmother’s stable?
Until you finish this consulting project?
Until you can get back to your real life in Billings?
” Her answer might destroy him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dealt with disappointment, but this might be the one to hit him hardest.
Claire’s hand slipped from his. She stood, pacing to the window where rain trickled down glass. Her shoulders pulled forward, arms crossing over her stomach. “I don’t know.”
The solemn quiet in her tone yanked out his heart and turned his chest to ice. “You don’t know.”
“I came back to take care of Granny Mama.” Claire’s reflection in the window looked fragile. “That was always the plan. Stay until she’s stable. Make sure she’s okay. Then go back to Billings and my career. I have connections and opportunities and a life I built there.”
“Had.” He stood but kept the room between them. “You had a life there. Past tense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve built something here too.” Could he get her to see that? He shouldn’t have to convince her to choose him, but he couldn’t help giving it a try. “You fit here, Claire. Probably better than you fit in Billings.”
“You don’t know that.” Her spine straightened, defenses rising. “You don’t know what I left behind. What I sacrificed to come back here.”
He shoved his hands deep into his back pockets to keep them under control.
His feet were harder to manage, so he drove his steps behind the couch, increasing the distance.
“Then tell me. Help me understand why you’d walk away from people who care about you, a place that needs you. From—” He stopped, jaw clenching.
She stared at him from the window, no longer fiery with indignation but soft and open. “From what?”
“From me.” The vulnerability in those two words scraped his throat raw. “Why would you walk away from me?”
Silence stretched between them, filled only by rain’s diminishing patter and their ragged breathing.
“I’m not walking away from you. We barely know each other, Luke. You’re my client. This is a professional relationship that’s gotten complicated.”
The words drove him onto his heels. “That’s what you think this is? Complicated business?”
“I don’t know what this is.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me. I came here to help my grandmother, not to fall for some rancher who’s still figuring out how to trust people.”
“I’m trusting you. I’m standing here being more honest than I’ve been with anyone in years. Telling you things I don’t tell people. Showing you parts of myself I keep hidden. That’s trust, Claire. That’s me fighting for this thing between us.”
“But you’re asking me to give up everything.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “My career. My plans. My independence. You’re asking me to bet my whole future on something that might not work.”
“I’m asking you to consider staying.” He ached to reach for her, but he kept his distance. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop begging, and knowing he’d have to put an ashy taste in his mouth.
Claire wiped at her face, smearing tears. She grabbed her notebook with shaking hands and sniffled. “Can we go? Please?”
“Yeah.” He headed for the door. “Storm’s passed. Trail should be fine.”
They reached the main barn as the sun broke through thinning clouds, painting everything in golden light that mocked him.
He dismounted, then helped Claire, making sure not to touch any part of her bare skin.
He took Daisy’s reins without meeting Claire’s eyes.
“I can handle the horses. You should get home to your grandmother.”
“Luke.” She reached for him, but he stepped back.
“I’ll call you when I need your professional opinion on the guest ranch numbers.” The emphasis on ‘professional’ made him deliberate and cruel. He didn’t mean to, but his defenses kicked in, desperate to protect his heart from shattering. “Thanks for your time today.”
He turned away, leading both horses into the barn. Behind him, Claire’s sharp intake of breath cut through the evening air. He didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back without begging her to stay and he’d already humiliated himself enough for one day.
Inside the barn, he rested his forehead against Duke’s neck and fought to breathe through the ache splitting his chest wide open.