Page 193 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” That was almost laughable. Wanting Beau had stopped being the problem a long time ago. “I want him so much it scares me.”

Meme’s expression softened.

“I know what it’s like when a man sees me before he knows. I know the look. I know the attraction is there because I’ve seen it enough times to recognize it.” I swallowed against the pressure building in my throat. “And I know what it looks like when it changes.”

Meme didn’t interrupt.

“Sometimes they try really hard to hide it. That’s almost worse. Suddenly they’re careful. They ask if I need help getting up when they never would’ve asked before. They start looking at the prosthetic when they think I’m not paying attention, or they avoid looking at it completely because they’re so determined to prove it doesn’t bother them.”

My eyes burned.

“One guy told me it didn’t matter and then barely touched me afterward. Another said he was fine with it, but every time we were together, I could feel him thinking about it. It was like I stopped being a woman he wanted and became something he was trying very hard to prove he could accept.”

Meme’s hand covered mine, and that’s when I broke. The tears fell, hot and fast.

“I can’t watch that happen with Beau. I think it will break me.”

There it was, my truth.

Not that I was embarrassed to tell him. Not even that I was afraid he would reject me. I was afraid of watching him stop wanting me.

“I like the way he looks at me,” I admitted as I wiped my face. “I know that probably sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t.”

“He looks at me like I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Sometimes I catch him staring from across the ranch and I pretend it annoys me, but I love it. I love knowing he wants me.” My voice trembled. “What if I tell him and I never get that look again?”

Meme’s eyes filled with an emotion that made mine burn harder. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t.” Her honesty surprised me. Meme squeezed my fingers. “But I’ve been watching Beau Jones since he started coming around here, and I know a man who’s halfway in love when I see one.”

My heart stumbled. “Meme.”

“I’m not saying he knows it yet.”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine.” She waved the subject away even though we both knew she wasn’t remotely finished with it. “What I am saying is that boy notices everything about you. He notices when you’re tired. He notices when you haven’t eaten. He knows when you’re pretending to be angry because you’re embarrassed. I’ve watched him stand ten feet away while you struggled with something because he knew offering help would irritate you, and I’ve watched him step in without asking when you genuinely needed another pair of hands.” She tilted her head. “You really think he hasn’t noticed you limp?”

The question settled heavily between us, because he had. I looked down at my jeans. “I hide it.”

“You hide your leg. You don’t always hide the limp.”

“I try.”

“I know.”

My throat tightened. “What if he stays?” It came out before I realized I was going to ask it.

Meme’s smile was small. “Seems to me that’s the part frightening you most.”

I frowned.

“Why would him staying scare me?”

“Because you know how to survive people leaving.” My chest ached. “You’ve been doing that your whole life.”