Page 100 of One Wild Chance

She knows I’ll do it. I’d defend her reputation at the cost of mine, even if the two of us here alone makes it hard to avoid situations like the kiss we had the other night.

“Listen, I promise to give you space here,” I say. “But I’m not leaving you alone, not after that. You can be mad about it tomorrow.”

She hesitates, gaze dropping, like she’s trying to figure out if this is a bad idea.

It probably isn’t the smartest move given where things stand right now. But letting her go home in the state she’s in isn’t an option.

“You can even have the master suite.” I stand, offering her my arm for support. “You want to shower first?”

She looks down at her clothes, still dirty from the ride and colt rescue. “That would be really nice, actually.”

I help her up the stairs, slower than usual, her hand looped through my arm, then point her toward the master bathroom.

“Dad had a big tub put in a few years back after Mom’s joints started bothering her.” I hand her a towel. “You’re welcome to use it.”

“You don’t have to wait up.” She clutches the towel to her chest. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’m used to long days.” Truth is, I won’t sleep until I know she’s tucked into bed and sleeping like a baby. “Besides, my mom would be upset if I didn’t show you some Southern hospitality.”

Her gaze drops to the floor. “I miss her so much.”

A lump rises in my throat. Sometimes I push the grief so far down, I forget it’s still there until somebody reminds me. “I miss her too. Every single day.” I take a hesitant step backward. “Well, I should probably let you go.”

I close the door behind me as I step out into the hall.

The water turns on in the bathroom as I drop my head against the wall. Offering Summer a bath and a bed for the night is the right thing to do. It’s just that the right thing to do has never made me want a cold shower so badly.

What is it about this woman?

I head downstairs and start on the dishes, mostly to give myself something to do that doesn’t involve thinking about Summer.

I’m putting the last plate away when I hear it—a small, muffled sound from somewhere above me.

I freeze, and there it is again.

I rush upstairs, hovering outside the bathroom door. There’s a sniffle, followed by a small, hiccupping sob.

Did I upset her? Say something that hurt her?

I rap the door lightly with the back of my hand. “Summer? You okay in there?”

She goes quiet. “I thought you went to bed.”

“Are you…” I suck in a breath. “Are you crying?”

She pauses so long, I start to wonder what’s wrong.

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“What’s the matter?” I lean against the door because there’s no way I’m leaving her crying in my bathtub in the middle of the night. “Did I do something that hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me, Jaxon.” She breathes out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe you’d think that.”

“What am I supposed to think? You’re crying, and I don’t know why, and all I want to do is help you.”

I hear another soft sob, and my heart twists in my chest. I wish I could see her face right now, brush her tears away. Hold her until whatever this is passes, do anything other than stand out here, helpless to fix it.

But I can’t go in there for obvious reasons. If I see her in a towel right now, I’ll forget every single thing I want to say. All I can do is press my palm flat against the door and imagine that’s closer to her than just standing here.