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“It’s my home. How could I ever leave it?”
…
Adam brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Nora asked, her brow furrowed.
He smiled, trying to put as much comfort as he could in the expression, since he wasn’t sure how much she’d continue to take from him if he tried to hug her again. He was more than a little surprised she’d allowed what she had already. His hands dropped to her shoulders, and he gave them a squeeze before settling them around her upper arms, holding her loosely enough she could pull away if she chose.
“Yes, I think I do. I’ve never had something like this,” he said, glancing around the warm kitchen and then out the door to the yard beyond. “I have nostalgic memories of the home I grew up in. But I don’t feel any strong ties to the place. More to the people there. But this place…there are little touches of the people you love in every corner, aren’t there?”
“Yes,” she said, giving him a gentle smile that stole his breath. “And I suppose I could start over somewhere else. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be possible. But I know this land. I know where I need to plant each specific herb and flower for it to flourish. I know which corner of the paddock floods every spring and which side of the barn provides the best shelter when the wind is strong. I’ve already spent my whole life building this place into a business that sustains us and would thrive if I could put more time into it. Starting from scratch somewhere else…”
“Is unthinkable,” he finished for her.
She nodded, her eyes lighting up at his understanding.
And he did understand, which made everything so much more difficult. This place was a part of her. She’d do anything for it, including marrying someone she neither knew nor loved. Her devotion to the place and his growing fondness for her—he refused to think it was anything other than that—was almost enough for him to agree to the marriage if doing so would keep it secure for her.
But all it did was make him more determined to never sign that paper. Desolation seemed like the safe haven he’d been searching for. Hopefully it remained that way. But there was still someone out there hunting him. And while the chances of Spurlock ever finding him in Desolation were slim, there was still a possibility. Marriage did nothing but put someone else in danger. Spurlock wasn’t the most scrupulous lawman. He’d once torched a barn to smoke out his quarry—without any care for who else was in there. Just the thought of something like that happening to Nora and the home she loved so much was enough to put Adam in a cold sweat.
He pulled her into his arms again and kissed the top of her head. There was much he’d do for her. But the top of that list was keeping her and everything she held dear safe. And that meant he’d continue to avoid that damn paper and whatever this was that was blossoming between them. He’d already been responsible for ruining the life of one woman he’d cared for. More than one, most likely. There was no outrunning his past. It always caught up with him. And when it did, he wasn’t the only one who got hurt.
He wouldn’t do that to her. No matter how much she hated him for it.
Chapter Twenty
Adam had been keeping his distance from Nora in the days following their kiss. A circumstance that irked her more as each day passed even though she knew it was for the best. When she could finally take it no longer, she saddled up her horse, Teddy, and went to seek him out. At least she knew where he’d been spending his time. Preacher had hired him as a handyman around the church. A truly charitable act, since no one was under any delusions that Adam was remotely handy. At anything.
Nora rode up to the church and dismounted. Following the sounds coming from behind the church, she headed around the back to where the church’s graveyard sat. Preacher stood toward the back of the yard, arms crossed as he surveyed a hole. Every few seconds a spray of dirt would come flying out to land in a haphazard pile near the edge.
She stopped beside Preacher, who glanced at her with a nod before turning back to watch the hole.
She peered down but couldn’t see much from her angle. “Adam down there?” she asked.
Preacher nodded.
“What’s he doing?”
“Digging a grave,” Preacher said, his lips pulling into a smile.
“Has someone died?”
“Yes.” His smile grew bigger.
Her lips twitched, and she glanced around at the six freshly dug graves that lay open and waiting nearby. “How many people died?”
“Just the one. Old Mrs. Johnson.”
“Ah. And the others?”
Preacher shrugged. “They’ll be needed at some point. Always good to be prepared.”
She sucked her lips in and bit down. “You mean to tell me that for the last three days you’ve had him digging graves for people who aren’t even dead yet?”
Preacher turned to her with a full-blown grin. “Yep.”
She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed as quietly as she could. She’d wondered what Preacher had had Adam doing. He’d practically crawled home every night, stayed awake just long enough to swallow some dinner, and then collapsed in his haystack without so much of a whisper of complaint. Completely took the fun out of keeping him out there.
