She kissed Molly’s forehead and gave the girl a last, fierce hug.

 

 

 

Harley couldn’t sleep after Molly left. She was too stirred up, too full of ambivalent emotion.

She didn’t want to leave.

She had to leave.

She was already too attached to this family...

It wasn’t her family...

As the clock downstairs chimed midnight, Harley gave up on sleep and went down to the kitchen to make tea.

While the water boiled, she added a small log to the burning embers in the fireplace and then remained crouching in front of the fire, letting the red and gold flames warm her.

She felt positively sick about leaving, but that’s exactly what worried her. It’s why she couldn’t let herself stay another day. She’d come here for a job, come here to work, and instead she’d fallen in love with the family.

In nine short days this house, and this family, felt like home.

“I thought I heard you,” Brock said, yawning from the shadows of the kitchen doorway.

She rose quickly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was thinking about you.”

“You look like you were asleep.”

He shrugged as he entered the kitchen, dropping into the rocking chair near her. “I guess I was dreaming about you then.”

She moved back a couple steps, needing distance. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Dream about me. Think about me. Any of that.”

He tipped his head back. “Why not?”

“Because.” She sighed, looked away, running a hand across her forehead, aware that it wasn’t a very articulate response but her emotions were so raw. She felt so raw even now. Molly’s questions had undone her.

“Molly told me she begged you to stay,” Brock said quietly.

Harley looked at him sharply.

“She also said she made you cry,” he added.

Harley closed her eyes, holding her breath.

“I’m sorry she upset you.” Brock’s husky voice seemed to burrow deep inside of her. “She means well—”

“I cried because she made me happy,” Harley blurted, opening her eyes, tears falling again, already. “She paid me the nicest compliment and I just wish... ” Her voice faded and she shook her head. There were no words...no words at all...

“What do you wish?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything—”

“You never know. Some wishes do come true.”

The tea kettle whistled and Brock got to his feet. “I’ll make the tea,” he said, motioning for Harley to take the rocking chair. “You, sit. Relax. I’ve got this.”

“Why?”

“You’ve taken care of my ranch hands, my kids, me. Can’t I do something for you, just once?”

Harley slowly sat down in the still-warm rocking chair and curled her legs up under her, watching Brock cross the dark kitchen lit by only the firelight. He was so big and powerfully built, the kind of man who looked right in firelight with all those thick muscles and rippling biceps.

She watched him turn off the burner and set out mugs and search for the right tea. It was a pleasure watching him move, so rugged and beautiful in sweat pants and a white T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places.

Looking at him only made her want him more. He’d felt so good last night, pressed up against her. Warm, hard, strong. He’d kissed her with fire, kissed her with need, kissed her as if she were infinitely desirable.

It felt good to be desirable.

It’d made her hope. And wish. Longing for things she didn’t have, and might never have again.

A man who loved her deeply.

A man who loved her and would always love her.

A man who wouldn’t tire of her even though she’d given him three beautiful children.

A man who would fight to the end to keep his family together...

Her eyes burned and she blinked, clearing her vision to watch Brock walk back across the kitchen, two mugs of tea hooked by the fingers of one hand and a plate of Harley’s gingersnap cookies in the other.

“My lady,” he said, bowing as he handed her a mug.

She smiled unsteadily as she looked up at him. He looked so lovely in the firelight, his dark hair rumpled and his jaw shadowed, his black lashes lifting, revealing brown, gleaming eyes.

She liked him, a lot.

It was strange and disorienting and bittersweet to feel so much.

Until a few days ago, he hadn’t said more than eight words to her at any one time and she had to admit, it had been better when he’d ignored her. She’d been able to maintain her distance when he was detached.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, as he set the cookies on the side table next to the rocking chair and retrieved one of the stools from the island and carried it back to the fire, placing it in front of Harley.

He sat down on the stool facing her, and leaned back against the dark wood, long legs extended, looking very relaxed as he sipped his tea.

Harley sipped her tea, too, but felt far from relaxed.

They might look all cozy and domestic sipping herbal tea in front of the fire, but there was nothing cozy about the tension coiling inside her.

Brock was not soothing company. He didn’t calm her down. He wound her up, and ever since he’d entered the kitchen, he’d lit the room up, even though it was still dark.

She didn’t know how he did it, either. Wind her up. Turn her on. But last night she literally fell into his arms, and then fell apart for him, and she didn’t do that. Harley didn’t go through life wanting and desiring. She was far too practical for that.

But Brock was making her want the most impractical things.

Like right now. She was baffled by his energy, a potent male energy that made her aware of things she never thought about, like her body, her lips, her skin.

He was doing it to her again, right now. The tension was incredible. The kitchen was practically crackling and humming.

She was crackling and humming, too, which was baffling, since she hadn’t ever hummed for anyone before.

Flushing, she lifted her head, met his gaze. He let her look, too, his dark gaze holding hers, challenging her.

He wanted her.

He wanted to finish what they’d started last night.

Harley’s pulse quickened and the silence stretched, wrapping around them, making the spacious kitchen feel very small and private. Intimate.

It wasn’t. This was the kitchen, the heart of the house, and even though the kids were asleep, they could come downstairs at any time.

The kids...

She had to remember the twins. Had to remember facts, reality.