Page 120 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I was grateful the further he strayed away from me. Not because I wanted him away from everyone. I wasn’t some crazy hormonal girl, fighting for the hottest man in town. But every time Beau stood within ten feet of me, my attention divided itself without permission, and that was not something I could handle today.

It was a newish feeling, one I hadn’t felt in so long, not since I had been on the circuit surrounded by more attractive men than I could count.

But right now, that feeling was inconvenient. I wasn’t in the mental headspace to even entertain the idea of dating, but the thought of Beau finding out the truth about my leg caused panic to skate up my spine. I didn’t want him to stop treating me like I was normal.

Before the accident, I’d kissed enough boys behind barns and pickup trucks to understand the mechanics of desire. After the accident, desire became complicated. Not on mine part of course, I knew how to appreciate a fine-looking man, but one theirs. They always wavered the second they saw the truth hiding beneath my jeans.

Men still looked and flirted. Some occasionally asked for my number. For a while, I’d tried pretending nothing had changed. Then, eventually came the conversation. Sometimes before intimacy. Sometimes during. Sometimes because there was no possible way to hide it any longer.

I watched attraction turn into surprise too many times. Not disgust, even though that would have been easier to understand and cope with. It was the hesitation that filled their lust filled eyes, the slight pause, and the questions people tried to phrase politely. The sudden shift from wanting me to pity.

I hated that most.

Pity had a way of stripping every sexual thing out of a room.

So I stopped seeking the experience, I stopped leaving the ranch besides milk deliveries, and I stopped trying to be the girl I used to be.

Jeans made Willow Creek easy. A prosthetic designed well enough that unless someone knew what they were looking for, my gait rarely gave anything away. Most days at least, but today wasn’t one of them. I’d been on my feet since before five am. The skin around my socket had already been irritated from the storm walk last week, and days of ranch work afterward hadn’t given it enough time to heal.

By noon, the ache had become a deep pressure along my thigh. Nothing unbearable. I had learned years ago that pain and unbearable weren’t synonymous. I shifted more weight onto my right side while reviewing vendor spacing with Rosie. She didn’t notice, not that I expected her too, because nobody did.

By twelve thirty, Willow Creek had spread across Marigold Ranch like a well-intentioned infestation. Clover and June had somehow convinced three teenagers to move hay bales. Darlene was measuring the driveway for signs. Walter and Jax had dragged one of the old wagons halfway out of the equipment barn. Rosie was walking the edge of the north pasture with a measuring wheel she had apparently purchased specifically for this occasion. Meme had gone inside to make sandwiches, because twenty-three people appearing on her property triggered some primitive Southern instinct that required feeding them.

And I stood near the main barn with a clipboard against my chest, studying the electrical notes Beau had written for me.

Two outlets needed replacement. One entire exterior line needed inspection. Temporary power would be required near vendor rows…

I heard boots behind me. I recognized the sound of them.

Beau stopped at my shoulder. He smelled like sunscreen, pine, and the faint metallic scent that seemed permanently attached to him after hours spent around tools.

I moved half a step away before realizing I had.

“West side outlets are good,” he said casually.

I nodded. “What about the ones by the old milk room?”

“Wouldn’t trust them.”

“Fantastic.”

“They’re pretty old.”

“Everything here is old,” I countered, fear creeping into my tone at the mere thought of everything that had to be replaced.

“Not everything,” Beau replied.

I looked toward him, and to my surprise, he was looking straight at me. I focused my attention back on the notes. My leg throbbed and I shifted again.

This time, I was noticed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beau’s gaze drop to my hips, then lower to my leg and back up again. I told myself I imagined the slight tightening between his brows, because surely he hadn’t really noticed, no one in town knew the real truth about the accident.

Rosie called my name from the pasture and I turned too quickly, excited to get away from his puzzled gaze. My prosthetic caught half a beat behind the movement and my balance shifted, causing me to lose my footing. Before I could fall, Beau’s hand closed around my waist.

Every thought evaporated from my mind as my heart stilled at his palm settling on my side like it belonged there, and my body reacted before my brain had a chance to remember all the reasons it shouldn’t. Heat moved beneath my skin. A breath caught somewhere behind my ribs. For half a second, neither of us moved. Everything around us stilled, like even though the ranch was filled with townspeople, it was just the two of us in it.

His thumb rested inches above the place where my jeans concealed the top of my prosthetic socket.

Too close to my truth.