Chapter 7
Seven
Sierra pressed her Bible against her ribs and studied the disaster unfolding on the church lawn.
Rowan crouched beside Huck near the old oak tree, his large hands patient as he demonstrated some kind of finger game.
October sunshine filtered through the cottonwood leaves, casting dancing shadows across their matching expressions of concentration.
They already loved each other.
Her feet had almost slipped, all right. Last night, Rowan had completely undone her. I never stopped loving you, Sierra.
She certainly hadn’t been pure in heart at that moment.
Then he’d told her how he’d been betrayed by someone he trusted. His story wasn’t lost on her—or the hurt in his eyes and…
And in that moment, she’d been selfish. So selfish. Because having him in her home felt easy and right, and the minute she told him about her own betrayal…
She saw it all slipping away.
So no, not pure in heart on many fronts.
And now, Rowan and Huck were laughing like father and son, and oh, what a mess she’d brewed up.
“You okay, Sierra?” Bailey appeared at Sierra’s elbow, coffee cup steaming in the crisp air. Her floral sundress and denim jacket looked perfectly put together, her dark hair in a loose braid down her back.
“The sermon hit close to home.” Sierra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been feeling a little…well, like I’m in over my head.”
Bailey’s eyebrows shot up. “What brought this confession on?”
“Maybe I’ve been holding on too tight to things that were never mine to control anyway.”
Bailey followed her gaze to where Rowan was now teaching Huck some elaborate handshake. “Oh, I see. Mr. Incredible out there, playing with—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Huck.”
She glanced over at her.
Bailey sipped her coffee, the picture of innocence. “Look at those two.”
Sierra couldn’t look away if she tried. Huck’s tongue poked out in concentration as he tried to mirror Rowan’s movements.
When he finally got the sequence right, Rowan’s face split into a grin that transformed his entire expression from controlled to boyish.
The resemblance was becoming impossible to ignore—the same stubborn cowlick, the same way they both tilted their heads when thinking through a problem.
“They look good together,” Bailey said quietly.
Devastatingly good. Sierra’s chest tightened. “Last night he told me he still loved me.”
Bailey looked at her. “Girl—what?”
Sierra glanced at her.
“Aw, what is that face?” Bailey took another sip of coffee.
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“Sierra—”
“I know! I’ve had the conversation a thousand times in my head, but…what if…what if he’s angry? What if he walks out on us? On Huck. What if—”
“Please.” Bailey glanced again at Huck and Rowan. “The fact he hasn’t figured it out already is…well, the man must be blind.”
“I keep sort of alluding to the fact that maybe…it was someone else.”
“Why?”
Sierra sighed. “I just—”
“You’re tired of people leaving you.”
Sierra drew in a breath.
“You do know that when people die, they aren’t leaving you on purpose.”
“I know. But Rowan did die, on purpose. And didn’t tell me. On purpose.”
Bailey’s mouth made a grim line. “I get that. But he’s here now. And he still loves you. And you, Miss Do It Yourself, have loved Rowan Wallace since the fourth grade.”
Sierra’s throat tightened. “I just don’t…He was betrayed before. By a friend. And I could see the hurt in his eyes and…”
“You don’t want him to hate you.”
“I don’t want him to leave.”
“Look at that man. He’s crazy about your kid. Tell him. It’s time.”
“Sierra Blackwood?”
A dark-skinned woman in pressed khakis and a professional polo shirt approached, her graying hair pulled back in a neat bun. Cecily Simmons from Vanguard Insurance. The woman had that particular look of someone bearing news that wasn’t entirely good.
“Hi, Cecily.” Sierra forced a smile.
Cecily’s smile was warm, but her eyes held concern. “I was hoping to catch you. Save myself a trip out to the ranch.”
“Is there a problem with the claim?”
“Not exactly a problem.” Cecily glanced around, lowering her voice. “But the grapevine’s been talking, and…well, is there any hint that the barn fire could have been arson?”
Sierra frowned. “They came out last night, told us it was electrical.”
“Well, our investigator says that they marked it as still under investigation.”
“Will that slow the claim?”
“It gets tricky. And it’ll be delayed until the investigation is finished. I’ll be by tomorrow to go over some details.”
Delayed. “I need to clear the land and start rebuilding.”
“I understand.” Cecily patted Sierra’s arm. “Try not to worry too much. These things have a way of working out.”
Sierra nodded as Cecily walked away.
“What was that about?” Bailey moved closer.
“Insurance issues. The rumor is someone set the fire.”
Bailey’s coffee cup paused halfway to her lips. “Are you serious?”
Before Sierra could answer, Huck’s voice carried across the lawn. “Mom! Come see what Mr. R taught me!”
“Mr. R?” Bailey said.
“Don’t,” Sierra growled and looked up to find both males watching her.
“Coming,” she called back, pasting on a smile.
She and Bailey crossed the lawn, their heels sinking slightly into the soft grass. Huck bounced on his toes, his church shirt already half untucked and his dress pants grass-stained at the knees.
“Watch this!” Huck launched into an elaborate handshake with Rowan, his face scrunched in concentration. “It’s called the Delta Snake. Mr. R learned it in the Army.”
“Very impressive.” Sierra ruffled his hair, warmth spreading through her chest despite everything.
Rowan walked over to them. “Bailey Sinclair?”
“Rowan Wallace, as I live and breathe.”
He grinned at Bailey, who stepped back to assess him. “Still got that crazy Spock ear.”
His mouth opened. Closed. “Clearly you’re still my biggest fan.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just trying to keep my girl out of trouble.” She put an arm around Sierra. “You know what they say—Mama, don’t let your babies fall in love with a cowboy.”
“I’m not sure those are the right words.”
“Oh, they’re the right words.” But she grinned and he grinned back, and Sierra laughed. “Okay, you two. The happy reunion is over. I’m starved.”
“I could eat,” Rowan said.
Bailey finished her coffee. “And I have papers to grade. Stay out of trouble, you two. Huck, see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Miss Sinclair.” Huck took off for the truck.
Rowan fell in beside Sierra as they walked out to the parking lot. “So maybe coming back from the dead wasn’t such a big deal.”
She glanced at him and shook her head.
He frowned, but she ignored it and climbed into his truck.
Huck slid into the back seat. “Can we have roping practice today?” He leaned over the seat.
“Buckle up, Huck,” said Sierra.
“Sure,” Rowan said.
“I should check the cattle in the south pasture,” Sierra said as they pulled out into the highway. “Make sure they have enough water.”
“Want company?” Rowan asked.
The simple offer made her chest warm. “I’d like that.”
Huck spent the rest of the drive talking about the upcoming festival and the other contestants and peppering Rowan with questions about his own rodeo wins.
Rowan had the patience of…well, she supposed a guy who spent hours hidden under a bush or something, watching for bad guys through a rifle scope. And that was her extent of Delta Force knowledge.
But the fact that he’d been some kind of special-ops soldier sort of hit her, watching him drive, sitting there with so much…well, strength. He’d grown into a big, solid, strong, beautiful man.
I never stopped loving you, Sierra.
Okay, so maybe Bailey was right. Time to tell him.
The house came into view, the cedar-shingled home with its soaring gables and wraparound porch looking like something from a Mountain Living magazine. Oh, she loved this house.
Seemed like it was time it had a family again.
They pulled up and she got out, Huck sliding out of the back seat.
Rowan came around the car. “Huck! Stop!”
Huck practically skidded to a stop in front of the step.
“Sierra.” Rowan’s voice had changed, gone sharp and alert. “Is your front door usually open?”
Sierra followed his gaze. The front door stood ajar, just a few inches. She would have missed it.
“No.” Cold flooded her veins. “I locked it before we left for church.”
Rowan’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The relaxed man who’d been teaching her son fancy handshakes vanished, replaced by someone harder, more focused. “Stay here, both of you.”
His voice turned her still. She reached for Huck and pulled him against herself.
Rowan’s eyes scanned the house, the yard, the tree line beyond. “Someone’s been here.”
“What’s wrong?” Huck said.
“Probably nothing, buddy,” Rowan said, his voice softening, just a little. “Just…stay with your mom.”
The door frame showed scratches around the lock. He stepped up the porch stairs, then eased the door open with his boot.
“Stay here,” Rowan said. “Do not come inside until I say it’s clear.”
“Rowan—”
“Sierra.” He turned to face her, and she saw something she’d never seen before—the soldier he’d become, the warrior who’d survived things she couldn’t imagine. “Trust me on this. Please.”
The word trust hit her like a physical blow. She nodded, pulling Huck closer.
Rowan disappeared into the house, moving with a silence that was somehow more frightening than noise would have been. Sierra strained to hear something—footsteps, voices, anything—but only silence echoed back.
Huck fidgeted beside her, and Sierra fought the urge to follow Rowan inside.
“Clear,” Rowan’s voice finally called from inside. “But you’re not going to like what you see.”
Sierra stepped through her front door and gasped. The living room looked like a tornado had hit it—couch cushions thrown across the floor, the drawers to her grandmother’s china cabinet opened, books off the case, scattered everywhere.
“They were looking for something,” Rowan said grimly. “Question is, what?”