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Yet time didn’t stop, and Doreena found herself happy about that, for each day she found life to be more enchanting. Clint encouraged Tristan to help with every chore, and her heart swelled at how her brother flourished beneath Clint’s tutelage. She found time to complete things she’d set aside the past year, but was never so busy she couldn’t take refreshments to the men, or ride across the plains with Clint. The evenings, though, remained her favorite time, when they’d sit on the porch.
Tonight as they sat side by side, holding hands, thick clouds hid the stars and lightning flashed on the horizon. Her insides held a storm of their own. She let out a pent-up sigh. “Joe and Dobbs should arrive home tomorrow.”
“If they don’t drown in the storm that’s rolling in,” Clint said.
She should at least smile, for he was teasing, but her heart hung too heavy in her chest.
With his free hand, he lifted her chin and tilted his head, gazing deeply at her. “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet all day.”
His hold didn’t allow her to look away. She shrugged. “You said you’d stay until Joe and Dobbs returned.”
His hand slid along the side of her face, until her cheek rested in his warm palm. “I also said I’d stay until we find out who’s camped in the hills and why.” He nodded toward the plains. “They’re still there, and I’m still here. Will be until they’re gone.”
She lowered her lashes, afraid to become too joyous. “So you won’t leave?”
He leaned closer until their noses almost touched. “I won’t leave,” he murmured.
Her gaze stuck on his lips, and she wondered yet again, as she did most every minute of every day, what it would be like to be kissed by him. Could she ask him to kiss her? Or maybe if she tilted her head, brought her lips up to meet his…
Clint stood, bringing her out of her chair with him, and caught her when she would have tumbled. “Wha—”
“I’ll walk you to the house.”
“T-that’s not necessary,” she protested.
“It’s raining. I don’t want you to slip in the mud.”
“It’s raining?”
“Yes, it’s raining.” He pulled her forward.
As she stepped off the porch, large drops splattered her. Clint plopped his hat on her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, sheltering her with his body as he ushered her across the yard. Touched by his behavior, and growing giddy, Doreena giggled. He wasn’t leaving. Wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
They arrived at the house and he quickly led her up the stairs, to where the awning blocked the rain. “You find running through the rain fun?”
She nodded. “With you, I do.”
He reached up with both hands, lifting his hat off her head. She stood absolutely still, meeting his thoughtful gaze. Her heart stopped beating and her lips parted. He was going to kiss her. Thrilled, excited and enthralled that the moment had finally arrived, she closed her eyes.
“Good night, Doreena.”
Her eyes flew open. He’d already turned around, was about to step off the porch. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
He put his hat on and patted her fingers. “Go to bed, Doreena. Morning comes early.” Before she could speak, he was sprinting across the yard.
Clint burst into the bunkhouse, shaking the water from his hat as he shut the door. His hat landed on the bed as he paced past it. What had he done? He’d let her get under his skin, that’s what. Trouble was, it wasn’t like a tiny sliver of wood that festered, but like a torch that had been set ablaze by a match and filled his insides with light.
Plopping on the bed, crushing his hat in the process, he propped his elbows on his knees. Not kissing those pert lips had taken every ounce of discipline he had, but he didn’t want to hurt her—ever. Didn’t ever want to see anything but delight and enjoyment gracing her lovely face, and kissing her, then leaving, would hurt her.
He lifted his head, blankly gazed around the room and contemplated when he could put down roots. The thoughts hung with him the next few days, like apples waiting for the first signs of autumn before dropping to the ground, and made him feel distant in a poignant way. Ironically, it helped, made him make sure they weren’t alone in the evenings anymore. Joe Edwards and Thomas Dobbs had returned, and all the men sat on the porch, discussing which chores to do the next day.
This morning, a runner from a bank in Lincoln brought notice of a deposit made by the rendering plant in Iowa. Clint had to hand it to Doreena. Her investment in hogs was certainly paying off faster than cattle would have.
“Why don’t you bank in Plum Creek?” he asked that afternoon as they rode side by side across the prairie.
