Chapter 6
I can't touch him.
God, I want to.
Leta couldn't stop thinking about the way Tor had looked, his shirt hanging open, that cleft in his chin and the hint of a dimple in his cheek outlined by the light from the setting sun.
He was beautiful—even more so, she suspected, under his clothes.
But she had known that from the moment she met him. She hadn't tried to touch him before.
So what the hell was that back there?
And more importantly, what could she do to keep it from happening again? Falling into the arms of yet another man she barely knew? That was about the stupidest move she could make.
He's a nice guy. We could be friends.
Friends. Yes. That was the way to go. Treat him like a buddy. A roommate. Nothing more.
I can do that.
She managed it, too, all the way through returning the rooster to the coop, and taking the horses to their stables to get them settled for the night. When Tor stood behind her to show her how to hold the curry comb, she pretended not to notice the heat from his chest against her back.
Instead, she kept up a light, cheerful stream of talk directed to the horse.
That worked until they got into his pickup to drive back to the bunkhouse. Inside the cab, Leta could almost feel all the unspoken words piling up around her, between them.
Was that how Tor felt all the time? Like the words he couldn't say hung in the air long after their moment had passed? Like he walked through an entire world of things unsaid?
You're getting delirious, Leta.
But she couldn't shake the image, even as she stared out the window into the country darkness, unrelieved by any lights other than their own headlights.
"Ankle?" Tor asked as they pulled into the bunkhouse drive, the first thing either of them had said since leaving the stables.
"It kind of hurts," Leta admitted. "I think maybe I'd better take it easy tomorrow."
There. Cut off any suggestions for more outings together.
She fled to her room as soon as they made it inside.
Part of her couldn't help but think she was being a coward.
Anyway, her ankle really did need a break.
* * *
By the next night, though, Leta'd had all the rest she could take.
She much preferred going for horseback rides and chasing down errant roosters to sitting on the couch—even if she had finished two novels she'd downloaded to her e-reader.
I'm not made to sit around doing nothing.
It's probably a good thing I didn't end up staying in Chet Tyler's cabin, after all. Even if it had been livable, I would have been bored out of my skull within two days.
No. It was definitely much better to have met a handsome, entertaining, almost entirely non-verbal cowboy. One who had come in from working all day and headed straight to the bathroom for a shower—and who could be drafted to entertain her right now.
"I'm getting bored with sitting on this couch so much," she called out to Tor as he passed her on his way down the hall. She drew her words out as she shouted down the hall after him. "Bo-o-o-ored!"
He paused and peeked back around the corner. "Shower. Then dinner."
"Are you cooking?" This "just friends" business was getting easier, she decided. Keep it light and entertaining, and everything will work out okay.
Then Tor offered to take her out to dinner.
"The Chargrill," he said. "In town."
Then he disappeared into his bathroom.
Friends go to dinner all the time. It doesn't mean anything.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to get a little dressed up.
Necessity was a charming town, she decided an hour later. Its main street, only a couple of blocks long, had several businesses in buildings that had clearly been there since the town's original founding. Their stone facades were carved with words like "Bank" and "Attorney," often at odds with the actual businesses housed in those buildings. One new-looking sign advertised "Aerio Oil and Gas." An actual attorney's office inhabited the original bank. A donut shop took up a tiny corner space. And at opposite ends of downtown stood Necessity's only two restaurants, as far as Leta could tell.
Tor parked his truck in one of the angled parking spots, and when she lowered herself to the ground, careful to favor her hurt ankle, he was already there to help.
She wasn't using the crutches any longer, and Tor offered his arm to steady her as they stepped up onto the sidewalk.
Leta hesitated to touch even his shirt sleeve.
Friends, she reminded herself.
Determined to ignore the simmering attraction between them, she resolutely accepted his help. Overall, things seemed to be going well.
Right up to the moment they got to the door, and Tor apparently forgot how to open it.
* * *
Tor froze at the restaurant door.
Since that hellish night at the last fundraiser he'd attended, he had become almost a recluse. If not for the fact that the citizens of Necessity periodically sent out a delegation to check on him if he didn't show up sometimes, he might have never gone to town.
In fact, it would probably be okay with him if he didn't see anyone but the occasional ranch hand more than once or twice a month.
Going out in public still bothered him.
Leta turned around and peered into his face, her eyebrows drawn down in a sharp vee. "Are you okay?"
He wasn't, of course, but he couldn't very well tell her that.
Not if I want to keep my man card.
The thought made him grin, and that, combined with looking into Leta's eyes, convinced him that he could do this.
"Let's go," he said.
Her usual sunny smile broke across her face, and she pushed the door open with one hand. With her other, she grabbed his fingers in hers. A spark of electricity shot up his arm, and he couldn't help but grip her tighter.
By the time they walked through the doors of The Chargrill, they were actually holding hands. Tor wasn't entirely certain Leta was aware of it, but he wasn't about to point it out if it meant stopping. When Ava Jordan, who had worked at the restaurant since she was in high school, turned around and saw Tor, she squealed aloud and rushed over to throw her arms around him.
"Where have you been, Tor Edwards?" she demanded. "We have missed you."
Quietly, Leta untangled her fingers from Tor's and took a half-step back. But when he glanced over at her, she was smiling softly.
Of course she was glad someone had missed him, rather than irritated that someone else was taking his attention away from her. That's how she was.
He returned Ava's hug with a quick squeeze, then set her away from him a little. "Grandma Jordan?" he asked, the words coming out more smoothly than they had in years.
As usual, Ava ignored any difficulties he had asking the question. "She's good. Excited about the wedding."
Tor's quizzical look caused the effervescent woman to change direction. "Oh. You probably don't know, do you?" She held out her left hand to show off a sparkling diamond solitaire, laughing at Tor's exaggerated surprise. "It's from Grant Porter, silly."
Turning to draw Leta into the conversation, Ava said, "My fiancé Grant and Tor were in the same class in high school here in Necessity, along with my brother Seth. Of course, we don't see Tor around so much, not since—"
Tor cut off her next words. "Table?" he asked.
"Oh. Of course." Ava gathered menus and silverware and led them toward a booth near the back. "Maybe you can get him to come around more. He's turning into a real hermit."
"I'll see what I can do," Leta said, and she and Ava shared the kind of smile that, when passed between women, usually meant trouble for the man on the other end of their plotting.
"I'm Ava, by the way," said the waitress.
"Leta Delaney."
Ava leaned in conspiratorially. "It's nice to see him out with a normal woman. Those society types never were right for him." She slid their menus in front of them. "What can I get you to drink?"
As Ava left, Leta turned her quizzical gaze toward Tor. "Society types?" She glanced around the rustic restaurant, decorated with antique farm implements hanging from the walls. "I don't mean to disparage your hometown—I really like it here—and I don’t want to seem like I'm being snooty or anything, but somehow, I don't think Necessity's elite would really count as 'society types.'"
The twinkle in her eye took any sting that might have been in her words at another time. Tor grinned at her, more in relief that she hadn't made more of Ava's words than serious amusement at his choice of dates; it was fine with him if Leta misconstrued that.
Eventually, he was going to have to tell her the truth. Unless he wanted the growing attraction between them to amount to nothing, he needed to come clean with her.
For one thing, it was the only right move. But more than that, he was discovering that he really wanted to tell her who he was.
As soon as he was sure she was really and truly interested in him for himself.
Instantly, the thought was followed with a question: And exactly what will it take to convince me of that?
He wasn't being fair to Leta. He knew it. Even if the thought of coming clean with her made his heart pound in utter terror.
Tonight, he decided. I'll tell her tonight. As soon as we get home.
Maybe he could get her to tell him her story, too.