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“You’re right. There’s time to figure out how to make it work.” From where he touched her arm, he felt the tension still thrumming through her, and knew he needed to dig deeper. Try harder. “I can help you. There are some measures you can take with the land that require more sweat equity than cash—”
“You know what?” Avoiding his gaze, she slid off the bed, plucking her simple cotton dress off the floor before dropping it over her head. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything yet. My plans are still half-formed at best, and I’m not ready to think through things like that at this hour.”
“Fleur, I didn’t mean to discourage you—” he began, hurrying to get to his feet and drag on his boxers.
Already, he missed the warmth of her nakedness beside him.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked softly, busying her fingers with the dress’s sash at her waist.
“That definitely was not my intention.” He settled his palms on her shoulders, wishing he could draw her back to bed but understanding from her body language that their time together was done.
For tonight, he reminded himself fiercely, determined not to let this one time with her be his only taste of Fleur. They’d shared something deeper than a physical hunger for one another, and he fully intended to explore it.
When she remained quiet, he took her hands in his, trying to reclaim her attention. He needed her eyes on him.
“I’m sorry. I was only concerned for you and the obstacles you might encounter.” He lifted both her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “If I had to do it all over again, I would simply say that Crooked Elm suits you.”
Finally, her lips quirked. A hint of a smile.
Or maybe just a reprieve for the night.
“Thank you.” Her eyes searched his for a moment before she took a step away. “But since I’m wide-awake now, I think I’ll start the baking for the diner. I’ve sold out every time so far, so I’d like to make more than usual.”
He didn’t need to see the clock to know that dawn was still hours away. But he clamped his teeth around his tongue to keep from arguing with her. To prevent himself from running his hands over her curves and tucking her against him so he could kiss her thoroughly.
He wouldn’t give her cause to regret anything that happened between them. He nodded as he reached for his shirt, then pulled it over his head.
“It sounds like the rain has stopped.” He continued to dress, keeping his tone light. Easy. Maybe a retreat now was wisest. It would give him time to consider his next course of action with the sale of Crooked Elm. And with Fleur herself. “I’ll get going. But how about dinner at my place tonight? We should talk.”
About her plans. About the wedding and Colin’s impending arrival in Catamount. About what had happened between them tonight.
She nodded, but she was already heading toward the door.
“I’ll let you know.” Turning the handle, she stepped into the corridor before he’d even finished the last button on his jeans.
Drake had an uneasy feeling. He felt her pulling away, and they’d shared too much tonight to just turn their backs on each other now.
Facing her in the hallway, he didn’t know how to express himself in words. So he gave her the kiss he’d been longing to have since he’d awoken next to her in her bed.
“I’ll call you.” He headed toward the back door, where he’d left his shoes, telling himself there was still a chance they could figure this out without either one of them getting hurt.
Without hurting his brother any more than he already had.
He had no idea how to carry out his parents’ legacy with the land if she remained at Crooked Elm, let alone what kind of relationship they might have as...neighbors? More? The idea tantalized and tormented him at the same time since, no matter what tonight meant for their future, they needed a plan before Colin returned.
“Are you sure you want to handle this on your own?” Jessamyn asked Fleur from the tablet screen propped on Gran’s kitchen table. “We can hire a third party to legally serve Cranston the lease termination papers.”
Fleur paused in rolling out biscuit dough so she could look at her perfectly coiffed sister. Fleur had been working for days on the prep for Emma Alexander’s wedding, baking and freezing anything that could be made ahead of time, shopping and organizing foods that would be assembled later. She’d needed to fill her time ever since the awkward aftermath of her night with Drake.
Why had she been foolish enough to confide her plans to him? And how much more obvious could he have made it that he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of her staying in Catamount? Memories of his deer-in-the-headlights eyes after her confession had taunted her hourly since then.
“If I can cater a wedding for two hundred on my own,” Fleur replied, swiping a thumb across the tablet to remove a flour smudge that didn’t belong on Jessamyn’s face, “I think I can manage giving Josiah Cranston a few lease termination papers.”
She might have ended her night with Drake on an uncomfortable note, but she had every faith in his advice about what was going wrong on the Crooked Elm Ranch acreage. If she wanted to address the land management issues, she needed to begin by canceling the lease agreement with her grandmother’s uncooperative tenant. Her sister had provided her with appropriate forms for Fleur to initiate the process.
“How’s the wedding planning going?” Jessamyn asked, surprising Fleur with a question that wasn’t business-related. “You look exhausted.”
“I am a little tired,” she confessed, thinking about her lack of sleep in the hours before she awoke early to bake for the Cowboy Kitchen. “But aside from that,” and the recurring sadness over misreading Drake, she silently added, “I feel good about things. The wedding. Crooked Elm. Being here is filling a place inside me I hadn’t realized was empty.”
