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Lingering thoughts stuck in his mind while he washed and he took the empty seat at the table on the end opposite Doreena.
It was a mistake. Every time he glanced up those blue-green eyes, full of contemplation, caught his. She didn’t pull her gaze away, or blush, but simply kept staring.
Bold and beautiful, that’s how he’d describe her, and he liked that. Liked it a lot. He’d come up with a plan all right—make sure whoever was out there left her alone, and then he’d do the same. The connection he felt to her went too deep. Feelings like that caused nothing but problems.
“What do you say?”
He glanced to Tristan. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your question.”
“I said how about we do a bit of shooting practice this afternoon?” Tristan swallowed, and then added, “That pen’s almost done.”
“I found a few more boards that need to be replaced on the far side.” Clint caught the way the kid’s lips puckered. Dang if he wasn’t taking a liking to the whole family. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered. “You finish that pen today, and we’ll do some shooting this evening.”
Tristan thought for a moment, but then agreed with a nod.
The twinkle in Doreena’s eyes was worth the ammunition he’d use up.
Hours later, he remembered a time when he’d been just like Tristan, wanted to learn to shoot above and beyond everything else. It didn’t surprise him either, when Doreena joined the shooting practice with two fancy revolvers.
“You went six for six against those bottles,” he said, walking beside her when Sarah called them to supper. “Hit most every one square center.”
A healthy glow covered her cheeks. “I’ve had practice,” she said.
“Oh?”
She nodded.
He leaned closer. “Remind me to never make you mad.”
She giggled. “I will, if the need ever arises.”
When he took a chair at the table that night, it was once again opposite Doreena. This time, he caught her gaze and winked. The blush of her cheeks tickled him, and later, after he’d said good-night and walked to the bunkhouse, he wondered if she’d join him on the little porch. He sat down and waited.
It wasn’t long before she arrived, still wiping her hands on her apron. “I just wanted to say thank you, again, for finding those men.”
He stood, waiting for her to sit in the other chair before he took his seat again. “I figure we should ride out there again tomorrow, just give them something to watch.”
“Okay,” she said.
Serenaded by crickets, they sat, without really saying anything, yet Clint felt as if they conversed deeply, profoundly, and that was something he pondered most of the next day, until the sun set and the two of them were sitting on the porch outside the bunkhouse once again.
“I think we’ll replace those shingles on the barn tomorrow,” he said as she took the chair next to his.
“At the rate you’re going, Joe and Dobbs won’t have anything to do when they return.”
A cinch tightened in his chest. “Sure they will,” he said. “Most every building here could use a coat of paint, and the hay field is about ready for cutting, and—”
Her hand fell on top of his, halting his speech. “I was just teasing,” she whispered.
He rolled his hand, so his palm met hers. Their fingers entwined, and he felt something trail up his arm. It was under his skin, a gentle but strong sensation that entered his veins and filled him with a deep tranquility.
“I appreciate all you’ve done, Clint, and that includes making Tristan interested in helping out around here.”
His throat felt a touch raw. He cleared it. “He’s a good kid.”
“Yes, he is, but he needed some guidance to bring it out. You’ve done that.” Her hand tightened around his.
He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, and wondered about telling her about the Harmon brothers. Explain how he’d hated riding with the gang, but had been afraid of what they’d do to him and to his mother if he didn’t obey. The stars twinkling overhead and the grunts of sleeping pigs encouraged him to remain silent. He didn’t want to spoil the evening, spoil the peacefulness of the night. Of the world.
Doreena held her breath to completely focus on the vibrations of Clint’s thumb tracing a lazy circle on the back of her hand. It was silly how deeply such a simple caress touched her heart. The past two days had been magical. Not just because of the amount of work that had been done, but what was happening inside her. She found herself smiling all the time, and finding beauty and grace in everything. The magic really happened at night. Right now. While they sat on the porch. Together. Alone. She wished time would just stop, keep her right here, holding his hand, forever.
