Chapter 3
Davis
I stroked Sophie’s ankle, trying not to notice how delicate she was. How fragile. Contemplating her mortality made every muscle clench. My jaw ached from grinding my teeth together.
We’d come too close to losing her today. Watching her drop from the sky in slow motion didn’t make it any less potentially deadly. What if she’d hit a power line? Or the barn?
I shook off the maudlin thoughts, trying to focus on the warm skin beneath my fingers.
Silky smooth, her warmth eased some of the lingering helplessness that had gripped me when I realized exactly what she was yelling down at me.
My annoyance at her choice of landing sites had evaporated, dialing every instinct to protect her to a thousand.
I’d muttered more prayers in the three seconds it took me to sprint to her balloon than I’d ever managed in church.
Touching Sophie like this was penance for sins I hadn't even committed yet. Then again, I’d sinned plenty.
I'd barely managed to control my temper when she dropped into my lap this morning, and my hands were overflowing with a colorful bunch of her lacy panties only forty-five minutes ago.
Maybe I had sinned enough to deserve the torture of her soft skin beneath my fingers without the ability to do more about it.
She'd cooled the last traces of my anger with her insistence on staying with me until Jo returned. I didn’t blame her, but that didn’t matter to her sense of honor. If my sweet Beauty knew I was putty in her hands, there'd be no stopping her.
I was already convinced Sophie could rule the world if her ambitions leaned that direction. The way she filled any room with enthusiasm and hope, you couldn't help but go along with whatever she wanted. Ask me how I know.
I'd built my reputation as a loner the old-fashioned way – because it was fucking true. People sucked. I had an easier time controlling my bark when there was no one around to bite.
I had my corner of paradise, and I stayed in my lane. That was how I rolled, holding onto my peace. Until Sophie crash-landed in my life. I snorted at my own joke, tracing the delicate bone of her right ankle, each graceful tendon tempting me to explore further.
I hadn't lasted fifteen fucking minutes with her in my space before I'd been drawn closer. Making her a sandwich. Touching her. Pretending to care about a baking show.
Any more togetherness, and I’d be forced to surrender my loner card.
Living with her, even for a few short days, was gonna be more punishment than I could endure. Not because I didn't want her here, but because spending more time was only going to tempt me to want more.
She hummed, the sound almost a purr, and I gritted my teeth. Her deep sound of contentment arrowed straight to my groin.
I could escape to my office. There was always paperwork to do, but with my dominant hand out of commission, admin work was even less appealing than usual. I held back my snort. Right. It wasn't leaving Sophie that made paperwork unappealing, it was my injury.
Maybe it was the adrenaline deficit after her crash, maybe it was the hypnotic quality of my fingers sliding along her skin, but Sophie's eyes drifted closed, her breath coming in soft puffs. Part of me couldn't believe she'd fallen asleep.
Sophie radiated energy. She was one of the shiny people: bubbly, smiley, and always clad in bright colors like a cartoon princess come to life.
Her dark brown hair was mussed for once but still framed her round face, enhancing the impression of sweet innocence. The shoulder-length mass of waves couldn’t disguise the fatigue that shadowed her features. She’d hidden it well, but the morning’s adventure must have taken its toll on her.
Something inside me squirmed at the trust she placed in me, falling asleep while I cradled her feet in my lap.
I let my head fall back against the couch, eyes closed.
Apparently, the magic of touching Sophie worked both ways.
Now that she was out of danger, I could breathe again.
Hearing the fear in her voice as she sank lower in the sky, I'd had to focus on helping her, ignoring my own worries.
Now that the crisis had passed, they all came rushing back.
She was a grown adult, but part of me was convinced that Sophie Dunham needed a keeper.
Too trusting, too eager, she placed her life on the line every time she flew, and I shuddered thinking of what might have happened if she’d landed in a less forgiving spot.
We could have lost her. Images of her body, broken and lifeless, made nausea climb in my throat.
Sophie may have rubbed me the wrong way, pulling me from my quiet corners and into her orbit, but the thought of not having her around was unthinkable. Unbearable.
And that was what I needed to remember for the next few days. Having her with me may be torture, but the alternative was much worse. My hand clenched around her ankle, and I peeled my fingers away, noting with relief that my burst of possessiveness hadn’t awakened her.
If anything, a tiny smile curved the corners of her pink lips.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her soft mouth. Her trusting slumber was yet another reason Sophie needed a keeper.
It just couldn’t be me.
I yawned, giving in to the drugging weight of sleep. There'd be time to worry about having Sophie in my way and what to do about her later.
***
"Davis. Davis."
The insistent whisper, at once familiar and strange, woke me.
I blinked, taking inventory. I'd slid down the couch on my uninjured side, wrapping myself around Sophie's softness as we napped.
Guilt washed through me, and I worried I'd overstepped, until I realized how thoroughly we were entwined.
Sophie had thrown one soft thigh over my hip and snuggled into my arms, using my biceps as a pillow.
In return, my palm grasped her flank possessively, keeping her from rolling off the couch, aware, even in my sleep, that she was too precious to lose.
"I need to use the bathroom," she continued, sounding apologetic.
"Sorry," I grunted, releasing her.
Slowly, she slithered from the couch, wincing when her left ankle made contact with the wood floor.
"Do you need help?" I asked.
Sophie's eyes rounded. "In the bathroom? I think not."
"No." I scowled. "Getting to the bathroom."
She bit her lip, pushing to her feet with another wince. She took one tentative step before shaking her head. "Nah, I'm good."
She limped toward the hall, and I clenched my hands into fists to keep from going after her, remembering only afterward why that was a terrible idea. Slowly, I rotated my left shoulder and flexed my aching wrist.
By the time Sophie shambled back to the couch, I'd managed a pep talk about keeping my hands to myself and resumed a seated position.
She dropped down next to me with a sigh, her soft thigh brushing mine.
The immediate flash of heat that rocketed through me made it difficult to focus on her words.
Something about another show. Ruthlessly, I cut her off and scrambled upright, standing awkwardly next to the couch, unable to look her in the eye.
"I have work to do. Text if you need something."
Jo would never forgive me for being a lousy host, but I couldn't handle one more minute with her hip pressed against mine.
"Do you need help?" Sophie glanced ruefully at her ankle. "I know I'm not moving great, but I'll do whatever I can if you need an extra hand."
I scowled at the reminder that everything was going to take twice as long thanks to our mishap.
"No. It's paperwork. You’d just be in the way."
Abruptly, I pivoted, striding for the back door and freedom. I slowed as I drew nearer to the large barn that housed my foster kittens and office, spotting a familiar towheaded boy.
"Hey, Taylor. You come to keep the kittens company?" I asked. The solemn boy nodded. "Does your dad know where you are?" He nodded again, and I pressed the combination on my number pad, granting both of us access to the barn. "Okay, then."
Taylor made a beeline for his favorite of my rescues, a black kitten I'd named Shadow, settling down immediately to pet the ball of fur.
My nearest neighbor, Dallas Lachman, and I had struck a deal. His son Taylor was allowed to come socialize with the cats so long as Taylor's chores were done, and he let his dad know where he was. In return, Taylor helped me feed and water my young charges.
I checked on my oldest cat, Princess Buttercup, stroking her ginger fur idly before sitting down at my desk to work.
My kitten rescue was a poor cover for what I’d really become – owner of a herd of cats.
True, I fostered and adopted out some of my brood, but Princess Buttercup was looking likely to be a Pruitt Farm lifer.
The kittens took the open door as the invitation it was, until all five of my current fosters, with the exception of Shadow, made their way in to join me.
Princess Buttercup jumped into my lap. Frick and Frack chased toys in the corner, and Picard settled his chin on my keyboard while Dorito circled my ankles.
"Mr. Davis?"
I looked up, blinking. I'd lost track of time.
Taylor stood in the door, Shadow clutched in his arms. "I've refilled the food bowls and cleaned the litter box. I'm going to go home now."
"Thanks, Taylor. Tell your dad I said hi."
Taylor pivoted, and I watched as he detached Shadow, placing him gently on the ground before sliding through the barn door, careful not to let the kitten out.
The boy reminded me of me. Quiet. Hurting. Taylor’s parents had gone through a nasty divorce in the last year, culminating with his mom moving away from Campfire.
I remembered the days after my parents’ divorce and our mother’s abandonment. I’d felt lost. My dad hadn’t coped well at first, but I’d had Jo. We’d clung to each other, trying to fill in the gaps our mother had left. But some things were impossible to replace.
Letting Taylor play with the kittens was no bother. It wasn’t his fault his folks split, but he’d still been caught in the middle of the whole mess.
Not everyone was compatible with farm life.
It was a painful lesson, but one best learned early.
I’d seen it time and time again, up close and personal.
Social butterflies didn’t last in isolation, and farm life could be lonely.
It was better to keep my distance than to invite pain for someone I cared about.