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“What?” Molly’s voice rose.
“I’m only a temporary fill in—”
“Yes, until Maxine comes back, but she’s not back for another month.” Molly stared at Harley hard. “Did you and Dad have a fight?”
“No.”
“So you are upset about me being bratty.”
“No.”
“Then why go?”
Harley didn’t know how to explain any of this to Molly, not when it was so complicated. “I’m not the best fit for the ranch—”
“That’s not true. Daddy’s happy with you here. We’re happy with you here. Everybody likes having you here. Even JB. He says you’re the best thing that’s happened to Copper Mountain Ranch, and he’s been here almost ten years.” Molly approached Harley where she sat on the bed, and put her hands together, in a little prayer. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “You have to stay. We need you.”
“Oh, Molly—”
“I need you,” she interrupted. “‘Specially since they’re not going to let me go back to school in New York.”
Harley reached out to tug on a strand of Molly’s warm brown hair. “I’m sure your dad will figure something out.”
“But I don’t want to go away. I want to be here with Dad. I want to live at home. And I like being here with you here, too. It feels... better.” Molly’s eyes filled with tears. “You make it better. You make it feel... good. ‘Cause you’re not like a housekeeper. You’re like a... mom. Or at least, like what I think a mom would be.”
For a moment Harley couldn’t speak. She swallowed hard, and then again, fighting the awful lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. “Thank you,” she said huskily. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone could say to me.”
Molly sat down next to Harley on the bed, and looked at her, her small pale brow furrowing. “Don’t you want kids, Miss Harley?”
Harley nodded slowly, aching for all that was and all that wasn’t and all that could never be.
“But you want your own kids,” Molly persisted softly.
Harley bit down into her lip as tears filled her eyes. Her hand shook as she reached up to wipe beneath her eyes, needing to dry the tears before they fell. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Oh, I made you sad!” Molly leaned forward, her eyes searching Harley’s. “Don’t cry,” she crooned, wiping away a tear that had slipped free. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I always say the wrong thing. Mack says I always talk too much—”
“No, you don’t.” Harley reached out to cup the girl’s cheek. She held Molly’s gaze, her own expression fierce. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect in every way. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Molly nodded and hugged Harley, her small arms squeezing fiercely and Harley hugged the girl back.
“So stay with us,” Molly whispered. “I think you’re supposed to be with us, Miss Harley.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I can’t explain it. I just know so.”
There were no words.
There was nothing Harley could say. She kissed Molly’s forehead and gave the girl a last, fierce hug.
Harley couldn’t sleep after Molly left. She was too stirred up, too full of ambivalent emotion.
She didn’t want to leave.
She had to leave.
She was already too attached to this family...
It wasn’t her family...
As the clock downstairs chimed midnight, Harley gave up on sleep and went down to the kitchen to make tea.
While the water boiled, she added a small log to the burning embers in the fireplace and then remained crouching in front of the fire, letting the red and gold flames warm her.
She felt positively sick about leaving, but that’s exactly what worried her. It’s why she couldn’t let herself stay another day. She’d come here for a job, come here to work, and instead she’d fallen in love with the family.
In nine short days this house, and this family, felt like home.
“I thought I heard you,” Brock said, yawning from the shadows of the kitchen doorway.
She rose quickly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was thinking about you.”
“You look like you were asleep.”
He shrugged as he entered the kitchen, dropping into the rocking chair near her. “I guess I was dreaming about you then.”
She moved back a couple steps, needing distance. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Dream about me. Think about me. Any of that.”
He tipped his head back. “Why not?”
“Because.” She sighed, looked away, running a hand across her forehead, aware that it wasn’t a very articulate response but her emotions were so raw. She felt so raw even now. Molly’s questions had undone her.
“Molly told me she begged you to stay,” Brock said quietly.
Harley looked at him sharply.
“She also said she made you cry,” he added.
Harley closed her eyes, holding her breath.
“I’m sorry she upset you.” Brock’s husky voice seemed to burrow deep inside of her. “She means well—”
“I cried because she made me happy,” Harley blurted, opening her eyes, tears falling again, already. “She paid me the nicest compliment and I just wish... ” Her voice faded and she shook her head. There were no words...no words at all...
“What do you wish?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything—”
“You never know. Some wishes do come true.”
The tea kettle whistled and Brock got to his
feet. “I’ll make the tea,” he said, motioning for Harley to take the rocking chair. “You, sit. Relax. I’ve got this.”
“Why?”
“You’ve taken care of my ranch hands, my kids, me. Can’t I do something for you, just once?”
Harley slowly sat down in the still-warm rocking chair and curled her legs up under her, watching Brock cross the dark kitchen lit by only the firelight. He was so big and powerfully built, the kind of man who looked right in firelight with all those thick muscles and rippling biceps.
She watched him turn off the burner and set out mugs and search for the right tea. It was a pleasure watching him move, so rugged and beautiful in sweat pants and a white T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places.
Looking at him only made her want him more. He’d felt so good last night, pressed up against her. Warm, hard, strong. He’d kissed her with fire, kissed her with need, kissed her as if she were infinitely desirable.
It felt good to be desirable.
It’d made her hope. And wish. Longing for things she didn’t have, and might never have again.
A man who loved her deeply.
A man who loved her and would always love her.
A man who wouldn’t tire of her even though she’d given him three beautiful children.
A man who would fight to the end to keep his family together...
Her eyes burned and she blinked, clearing her vision to watch Brock walk back across the kitchen, two mugs of tea hooked by the fingers of one hand and a plate of Harley’s gingersnap cookies in the other.
“My lady,” he said, bowing as he handed her a mug.
She smiled unsteadily as she looked up at him. He looked so lovely in the firelight, his dark hair rumpled and his jaw shadowed, his black lashes lifting, revealing brown, gleaming eyes.
She liked him, a lot.
It was strange and disorienting and bittersweet to feel so much.
Until a few days ago, he hadn’t said more than eight words to her at any one time and she had to admit, it had been better when he’d ignored her. She’d been able to maintain her distance when he was detached.
