He raked his hand through his hair before he remembered he held pebbles. Stalking back to the right window, he tossed the pebbles up toward the frame.
Moments later, the window lifted, and she stuck her head out the window. “Just like old times, Ben?”
Her hair was streaming down like it had then, and even in the dark, he thought he could see the makings of a cute littlenightie—the kind she used to wear that drove him wild. “I waited up for you. I wanted to say good night.”
“I thought you were asleep already,” she called back in a loud whisper. “Jolene tried to make me a sucker bet about this. When I got home, I thought she’d been wrong.”
Was that disappointment in her voice? He suddenly wanted to climb the drainpipe and discover if he could see it in her face. “Nodded off working. Come out for a spell. Tell me about the rest of your day.”
Her pause had his solar plexus tightening. “Ben, it’s late.”
Indecision colored her voice, giving him hope. “Hannah, please come down. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”
She knew he didn’t often say please. The silence made him jittery. God, what could he entice her with? He’d seen cinnamon teal ducklings in Moonbeam Pond when he’d ridden past the other day. She was a sucker for them. But it was dark, and they’d be tucked away.
“Fine, but only for a moment.”
He heard the window shut and took a moment to look around Will’s place. He rushed over to the massive hydrangea near the air conditioner and plucked a couple of early white blooming heads.
When he heard the back door open, he stuck his hand behind his back.
“Ben McAllister, you’d better not plan on jumping out of the dark and scaring me like you used to.”
He stomped his feet on the grass as he walked toward her. She stood in front of the back door. Unfortunately, she wasn’t wearing her nightie anymore but a plaid shirt and jeans. A guy could hope…
“I seem to remember you liked these.” Extending the flowers, he drew himself up. “Care to sit on the porch swing with me?”
He wished he could ask the real question he wanted.
Care to give me a second chance?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
He’d given her flowers.
Forget that he’d up and picked them from Will’s overgrown Annabelle hydrangea out back. The gesture made her throat ache, moving her in the same way hearing those silly pebbles being thrown against her window did.
Jolene was right. He was working for it. Hard. When she’d stopped by to check in on the foal, there had been another sweet note in Ben’s handwriting.
Hi Hannah!
Thanks for taking such good care of me.
Your friend, Windgate
Clever old Ben. She’d always loved that side of him. Seeing him now, realizing he’d waited up for her—when he rose around four thirty every morning—she couldn’t stop herself from starting the short walk around the house to the porch swing. Looking over her shoulder, she called softly, “Well, come on, cowboy…”
He strode after her, his solid masculine presence casting ashadow as they arrived at the front of the house. He’d always been bigger, but Hannah knew his size wasn’t merely what made him so arresting. Ben had stature. He held himself well. With people as much as animals. They knew to respect him.
Even after everything between them, so did she.
After she’d gotten home and set aside her unease over seeing Owen and her worry about the lumber situation, she’d reflected on Ben. How could she not? Her mind seemed to be filled with thoughts of him. The old and the new sides of him, and the ones she still didn’t know. Like how he could have ever thought her going for the scholarship meant he wasn’t important to her.
She’d thought she’d known all his wounds, but clearly, either they’d been deeper or hidden even from him. Despite them, he’d raised a beautiful son almost all on his own, and he was running the ranch as his father stepped back. He’d never shirked from doing what he had to, but there was a new steeliness about him. Like an old, burnished saddle.
Oh, how she wished she could tell him that one. He would have laughed. Instead, he waited for her to sit, the air ripe with excitement and awkwardness. Situating himself a few inches away, she appreciated the room. Her heart pounded hard, and she was having trouble breathing with him this close. The subtle scent of the white mophead flowers as well as his own masculine one had her stroking the delicate flowers. Suddenly, the irony of the flower choice had her chuckling.
“You laughing at me already?” he drawled. “It probably seems silly. My waiting up and then throwing pebbles at your window.”
