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“He’ll be fine,” I tell myself. “He can handle it. He’s a capable man.He’ll be fine.”
After another few minutes, I open the door of the bathroom and start to head back toward the living room. But along the way, my eye catches Carter’s open office door. And then I find myself walking into his office, because it feels so much like him, and right now I need as much of him as I can get.
I sit down in the leather chair behind his desk, my heart tugging as I get a whiff of his masculine scent. His desk is covered in various papers, all of which look related to his business. There’s also an old table lamp and a cup full of pens.
And then my eyes land on it: a carved wooden box sitting on the corner of the desk.
The lid isn’t pushed down all the way, and a sliver of cream-colored paper is peeking out. I recognize that cream-colored paper immediately. It’s one of my letters to him. Curious if the box is full of what I think it is, I reach out and remove the lid.
Yep. This box is completely packed full of all the letters I’ve sent him over the years.
Emotion builds in my chest as I see the handwritten pages. I’ve saved all of the letters he’s sent me, too, but I never assumed that he had done the same. I wonder if he ever rereads them, like I do.
I’m about to put the lid back in place when a folded piece of paper falls out from the inside of the lid. Frowning, I tilt my head to look at the mysterious page.
Dear Andrea,it reads.I can’t hold this in any longer. I’m in love with you. To be honest, I’ve been madly in love with you for years. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I always end up talking myself out of it because I haven’t wanted to risk losing you…
There’s nothing after that. It’s an unfinished, unsent letter—but that doesn’t make his words feel any less real. With a thundering heart, I tuck the paper back into place, set the lid back on the box, and hurry out of the room.
8
CARTER
The thunder of hooves and clouds of dust congest the air around me as I ride my horse through the stampeding cattle. I’m trying to break up the herd, but it’s proving to be harder than it should be. Damn it, those wolves really riled up my cattle.
I look over in the direction of some of my ranch hands. They’re putting up makeshift barriers to try to contain the stampede. The men are working efficiently, doing all that they can to maintain order among the chaos. But it might not be enough.
Wait. Is that Andrea? Jesus Christ. What is she doing out here?
Alarm and protectiveness flares in my chest. I nudge my heels against my horse’s sides and lean forward, prompting Copper into a gallop. As we fly toward Andrea, she doesn’t even look up, remaining focused on the fencing she’s helping get in place.
I tighten my grip on the reins and command Copper to stop right by Andrea’s side.
“What are you doing out here?” I demand.
Andrea throws a quick glance in my direction. “Helping out.”
“It isn’t safe. You need to get back to the house.”
“I can handle it, Carter.” She grimaces as she lifts one end of another fence section.
Hoofbeats rumble nearby. My hands tense around the reins. “It isn’t safe,” I repeat. “I’m getting you out of here.”
She ignores my objection and continues to work.
“Andrea,” I bark, frustrated and impatient. But then I hear the shouts of my men over on the other side of the pasture, and I look up to see that the herd has scattered and the scene is even more chaotic now. I don’t have time to get Andrea to safety. I need to get a handle on my cattle, and I need to do it now.
Afterward, when everything is finally under control, I ride Copper back over to where Andrea is helping my men take down the fencing they had temporarily put up. Without saying a word, I jump off my horse and stride over to Andrea. She yelps when I take her by the arm, and when I grab her and hoist her up onto my horse, she shoots me a fiery look.
“What are youdoing?” she protests.
I mount my horse, brusquely pull Andrea’s arms around my waist, and prompt Copper back into a gallop. At the speed we’re going, Andrea is forced to hold on tight. I relish the feeling of her arms around me like this, but I can’t focus on that right now.
We fly over the pastures, not stopping until we’ve reached the closest building where I can speak to her in private—the winecellar, a rustic building made of stone. Andrea tries to wriggle her hand out of my grip as I pull her inside, but I don’t release her wrist until I’ve got the door shut behind us.
“You can’t do shit like that,” I say angrily. “I told you to stay in the house.”
Andrea stares at me indignantly. “You’re seriously mad at me for helping you?”
