He’s quiet beside me. But it’s not a scary silence. It’s not one I feel I have to fill. He’s made himself clear. But not in a threatening way. I don’t’ feel pressured or guilty. And he alleviated my fear that it might change my being here if I decide not to. But still… what if his parents recognize me?

“I’d still like time to think about it,” I say and he nods in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he says, and I feel a curious warmth pooling in my belly.

Here, under the stars with him, I feel… safe.

“There’s something else,” he says, and my heart begins to pound as I glance at him and see a new intensity behind those warm brown eyes.

“Yes?” I ask, feeling breathless. His eyes study my face as he speaks.

“I need to know you’re safe here while I’m gone. Do you know how to shoot?” he asks, and I shake my head no. My father thought a lady had no place holding a gun or doing man’s work. I was there to cook, clean, and be pretty.

“I’ll teach you tomorrow. The shotgun over the door is real, and it’s loaded. Don’t aim it at someone unless you plan to pull the trigger,” he says, his voice so serious a shiver runs down my spine.

My own demons rear up, but I push them back to ask, “Do you get much trouble out here?”

He shakes his head. “But it’s a good idea for you to be able to protect yourself and Grace.”

I nod, fully agreeing with him. It would be a good piece of mind to be able to handle a gun. Not that I think I could ever pull the trigger. Not even on…

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks, and I realize tears are beginning to fill my eyes.

“No one important,” I say, and realize I’ve slipped up. I glance at him in horror that I’ve let slip that it’s someone, not something.

But he doesn’t push it. The feeling is there, though, that I can come to him, talk to him, confide in him. And it’s an amazing sensation. I hadn’t come here with the hope that I’d be able to trust a man ever again, much less so soon after arriving.

Something about Clint… maybe it’s our past, our history. Sure he’s not who I remember, but he’s just a more grown up version of who he had been.

“You know,” he says, not looking at me. I notice his face tighten up as he looks up at the stars. His jaw flexes like he’s clenching down against something unpleasant. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. Odd, huh?” he smiles at me, but his expression is strained. My pulse begins to thump softly against my collar bone and I struggle for words to say.

But no words come.

“I’m going to head to bed,” I say after a silence takes over us.

“Have a good night,” he says. As I rise and walk toward the door, his hand once more finds mine. And like the first time, it feels like I’ve touched an electric fence. A tingle and warmth that’s unexpected travels from his touch up my arm and straight to my heart as I look down at him.

“Thank you,” he says, his expression warm and his eyes filled with genuine gratitude. “For everything.”

I can only smile at him, feeling bad for the deceit I’m guilty of.

* * *

“Miss.”

I smile at the man who’d interrupted me that first day. Now that he’s just standing in the kitchen and I’m pouring a glass of orange juice after having just seen Grace off to school, I decide to introduce myself. He seems like he’s the second in command. I’m just guessing based on how he interacts with Clint and the men.

“I’m May,” I say, offering him my hand.

He takes it and lifts it to pantomime a kiss on the back of my knuckles. “It’s my pleasure,” he says, “I’m Carson.”

“The pleasure is mine,” I say as he releases my hand.

“Boss is a good man. You’re safe here,” he says, as if reading every bit of fear I’ve been clutching since I got here. “Trust him,” he says and I jolt in surprise.

“Why would you say that?” I ask, curious.

He eyes me as I pour him a glass of juice and offer it. I’d already included his breakfast in the head count for the morning since he and Clint had been talking when I got up.

“Thank you,” he says as he takes the glass. “I say it because you can trust him. Everything he does, he does for good reason, even if it’s hard to see what that reason is.”

“Even asking me to be his fake fiancée?” I mumble, mostly joking.

But Carson doesn’t blink an eye. “What his father is doing is wrong.” He shifts a bit in his seat. “And if you don’t mind me saying, that’s a big risk on his part. He wouldn’t put Gracie through something like that without good reason.”

My heart aches as I think about Grace. Of course she’d know. She’d have to. What if it got her hopes up? What if it hurt her? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

“Has he ever screwed up?” I ask, hoping against hope for an impossible answer. Carson, though, isn’t rising to the bait.

“Boss?” he asks, as if not sure what I mean. When I nod, he lets out a snort. “Hell yes.” He seems chagrined. “Pardon my language.”

“Please speak freely around me,” I reply. “I’m not a delicate flower. I prefer honesty and candor.”

“You and me both, miss.” He smiles at me, and I realize he’s also a handsome man, but his looks take a second place to Clint.

“So what is his father doing, exactly?” I ask, wondering if Clint gave me the full story. I can’t help but feel he might have left out an important detail or two.

“Well,” Carson says around a swallow of juice, “that’s not really for me to say, miss.”

“What’s not?” Clint asks, walking into the room as if he’s been here the whole time. I glance at Carson, feeling a stab of panic that he’ll out me for being rude and nosy. But he winks at me.

“Where you went, Boss.” Carson says, and Clint looks over his shoulder quizzically at us.

“Speak freely to May. I trust her and she needs to be in the loop with the goings on here.” Clint’s eyes meet mine and I feel an unexpected heat rising in my cheeks and sinking low in my belly.