By noon Toni’s embarrassment had eased, but she still couldn’t bring herself to ask Lane what he’d said that had sent Justin to the mailbox and her back to the house. And she hadn’t received any information from Justin, either. When the mailbox was fixed, he’d crawled into his truck and driven away without further explanation, leaving no clue to his unusual behavior except for the telling glance he’d given Lane Monday before he’d left.
Now, with lunch out of the way and Reese and Palmer checking on the searchers who were dragging the river downstream for Rice’s body, Toni had hours before supper and plenty to do. If it rained again, the grass might green up in the lower pasture, and she could end one chore by not having to hay. But except for the thunderstorm several days earlier, the spring had been unusually dry, and hay still had to be fed to the cows.
Toni headed for the barn with work gloves in her hand, wishing instead that she were going to the creek to swim. But while the water was slowly receding, it was still unfit for any recreational dip. In any case, she had no desire to prance around on the creek bank in front of a dozen strangers.
So work it would have to be. She backed her pickup truck toward the hay bales stacked at the north end of the barn, then got out and started tossing them, one after the other, into the bed of the truck.
A half hour later, she shifted the last bale into place, then jumped down, tossing her work gloves into the driver’s seat as she walked past. Her blue jeans stuck to her legs, and her old long-sleeved shirt was thin from years of wear. Although she knew that T-shirts and shorts would have been cooler apparel, she also knew that handling hay would have been impossible against all that bare skin. She would trade hot for scratched and itchy any day.
Before she drove up to the pasture to feed the cows, she wanted to check on Lane and get herself a drink. She came out of the barn on a run, and ran face first into the second button down on Lane Monday’s shirt.
“Oh!” She grabbed her nose and staggered, seeing stars as the unexpected thump brought tears to her eyes. If it weren’t for Lane’s quick reaction, she would have fallen backward in the dust.
He caught her as she stumbled, but the grin that he’d been wearing died as she tore out of his arms and pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me,” she grumbled, still holding her nose, and then couldn’t believed what she’d said.
Her shock was nothing compared to the anger that swamped him. He cursed beneath his breath to keep from shouting.
“You can get that indignant expression off of your face right now, lady. I was only trying to keep you from falling on your butt,” he said, then started back to the house, forgetting as he did, why he’d come in search of her in the first place.
“Oh, good grief, why did I do that?” Toni moaned. She was shocked by her own behavior and by what she’d said. “Lane! Please wait.”
Her shout stopped his progress, but the touch of her hand on his arm was the magnet that turned him around.
“What?” he muttered. “And don’t tell me you left something out, because you were pretty damned clear to me.”
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to react like some stupid, fainting female. You just startled me, that’s all.”
“Females who faint aren’t necessarily stupid, Antonette,” he said shortly. “And I came to tell you that Justin called. He wants you to call him back as soon as possible.”
Choosing to ignore his assessment of womanly attributes, she frowned at the message instead. “Did he say why?”
Lane shrugged. “Just something about missing chickens and dead dogs.”
“Good Lord,” she said, more than a little startled, and looked toward the barn. The hay would have to wait. This definitely took precedence over her chores.
They started toward the house together, and Lane could tell that she was torn between trying to slow her gait to his and the need to find out what was wrong at her brother’s place.
“Don’t wait on me,” Lane said. “I'll get there when I get there.”
She went from walk to run in three seconds flat, and when her long, shapely legs went from step to stride, Lane forgot to follow. He was too lost in watching the beauty of her body as it moved. She was as graceful and lithe as a gazelle, and in spite of her aggressive, independent tendencies, about as shy. He’d already noticed that when Toni got nervous, she slipped into a bossy mode that could make a man nuts.
“What am I thinking?” he muttered. “She’s already made me nuts, and I've only been here four days.”
With that thought came the knowledge that soon he would have to leave. As easy as it would be to stay in the quiet and comfort of these green Tennessee hills, he couldn’t stay here forever. He had a job, friends, people who counted on him. And as soon as he thought it, he knew that when it came time to go, he would be leaving a part of himself behind that had nothing to do with gratitude for his life being saved. Toni Hatfield and her Smoky Mountains had insinuated themselves into his heart as quietly as a sigh in the wind.
He entered the house in time to see Toni drop into a chair, the phone pressed against her ear like the lifeline that it was to the world outside her home. And then he frowned in response to the growing expressions on her face that looked to be a mixture of dismay and despair.
“How many?” Toni asked, and missed seeing Lane’s frown deepen. “When did it happen? Is that Bobby crying?”
She bit her lip and pressed her hand to her belly in response to the shaft of sympathetic pain. She could hear the child’s sobs, even though Justin had claimed that the boy was in another room. Her heart ached for the child’s sorrow, and she wished that she were there to give him a hug.
Without thinking, Lane walked up behind her and slipped a hand across her shoulder. It was instinctive, just a comforting gesture he might have given to anyone in a similar situation. But the moment he touched her, Lane felt her tense like a skittish colt. He sighed, then moved away, wondering as he did, how this woman had ever gotten a date. And then he turned back and stared.
She was twenty-nine. He knew, because she’d announced it one morning at the table as firmly as if she’d asked him to pass the salt. Remembering, he could almost say that she’d thrown the information out like a gauntlet, as if daring him to make something of the fact that she was alone and unmarried and, to all intents and purposes, well on her way to being an old maid.
He snorted beneath his breath. Antonette Hatfield was as unlikely an old-maid prospect as the possibility of his becoming a midget. But something told him that if he was a betting man, he could make money guessing the number of times this woman had gone out with a man who was not her kin.
“Oh, Lord, Justin, I'm sorry,” Toni said. “Yes, thanks for calling. I'll be careful, but I got rid of the chickens when Daddy died, remember? And I'll keep watch on the livestock.” She sighed, then hung up the phone.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
Lane was so fixed upon seeing a smile come back into those dark chocolate eyes that he hadn’t even heard himself call her by an endearment.
But Toni heard. She saw and took note of everything concerning this man who’d washed down Chaney Creek and into her life. And she knew that if she wasn’t careful, he would take the heart out of her when he went home. She shrugged and spread her hands in a defeated gesture as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say.
“This morning, while Justin was over here, something or someone got into their chickens. He thinks it might have been the Sumters stealing food.”
Lane frowned, but thought little of it. This was, after all, mountain country. Keeping animals was bound to hold some risks, even from ne'er-do-well neighbors.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “Is Bobby one of Justin’s boys? I heard you ask why he was crying. Were some of the chickens his pets?”
Toni looked up, then quickly away. She didn’t want to see his sympathy.
“Yes, he’s Justin’s oldest. He’s just past ten. And no, they weren’t his pets.”
She frowned, then walked to the window overlooking her front yard, parting the curtains to glance out before she spoke again. Her voice trembled and her stomach kept rolling. But not in disgust. It was fear that held her thoughts. In all the years that thefts had been blamed on Sumters, not once had anything like this ever happened. She could hardly bring herself to say it.
“Something killed Bobby’s dog, too.”
She spun, and the lace curtains fell into place behind her like a bridal veil. As he stared at her, Lane caught his breath and then forget to take another, so shocked was he by the image that flashed through his mind. But it wasn’t Toni that he’d seen when she’d turned around. Just for a moment, he would have sworn that it was Sharla’s face that he saw—Sharla, silhouetted by the lace. It took everything he had to get back to the conversation and away from the vision that Toni had unwittingly inspired.
He inhaled slowly, relishing the burst of oxygen into his starving lungs, then wiped a shaky hand across his eyes. He had to get back to the matter at hand.
“Would those Sumter kids do something like that?” Lane asked.
Toni frowned, then shook her head. “Justin thinks so, but for some reason, I don’t.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Brownie was a redbone.” When she saw the puzzled expression on his face, she added, “That’s a breed of hunting dog, and the Sumters live for hunting and dogs. I don’t think they would randomly kill one like that.”
“They would have taken it with them, right?”
She nodded. “I would have guessed it was some animal that killed Brownie, but Justin said that there was hardly any blood on or around the dog, and no footprints that he could see. A wildcat would have cut a dog that big to shreds before it died, the same way a wolf would have done. There would at least have been wounds from a fight. And, the chickens were out and running all over the yard. Justin didn’t even know how many were missing until he began to put them up.”
Something within Lane started to surface. His lawman instincts had kicked in. There were some more questions he wanted to ask. “Surely the missing chickens are out there. Maybe they just flew off and are somewhere up a tree.”
“Maybe,” Toni said, “but chickens can’t fly far, usually no more than a few yards.” She shrugged and looked away.
Lane could see that she didn’t buy his theory, either, and truth be known, he didn’t think much of it himself.
“So how did the dog actually die?” Lane asked.
Toni turned. Lane felt her fear from across the room.
“A broken neck.”
“Well, damn,” he whispered, and this time the thought bubbled again. A little harder. A little longer.
“I've got to go feed the livestock,” she said, starting out the door. “If you want to watch television or read, feel free to look through Daddy’s things. I haven’t been able to pack them away.” Her lip quivered. “At least not yet.”
“Where were you going?” Lane asked, remembering the pickup with its load of hay.
“To the back forty. I have ten, cow and calf pairs. I like to feed the mamas more when they're nursing than the cows that range. It’s been so dry this spring that the grass is short. I've been supplementing their pasture grass with hay.”
“I'm going with you.”
Toni looked startled. She knew her mouth was open, but she couldn’t seem to help it. The last time someone had followed her at work, it had been her father. And he’d simply been telling her what to do, not actually helping to get it done.
“I don’t need any help,” she said. “You can’t lift because of your stitches and bad knee, and I'm strong as an—”
“Antonette, in spite of my aches and pains, I am not the man with whom you should be arguing strength.”
She couldn’t help it, but her gaze went straight to his broad shoulders and massive chest beneath the soft plaid shirt he was wearing. Finally, she looked up and caught his cold, blue glare as he continued.
“I said, I'm going with you. You have no business roaming all over these damned mountains alone, especially after what happened at Justin’s. What if it’s a bear that’s the culprit, for God’s sake? Do you want one to walk up on you while you're babying those cows?”
She paled. She hadn’t thought of that possibility. There were still places in the mountains that were wild and unfettered. And something big had broken the dog’s neck. A swipe of a bear paw would just about fill that bill.
Determined not to show how deeply his warning had affected her, Toni shrugged. “Okay, okay. I'm sure it’s no big deal, but you can come if you promise not to be a back-seat driver. I don’t like to be told what to do.”
Lane grinned. “Now why am I not surprised?” he drawled, and pulled a piece of straw out of her ponytail as she started past him.
Toni glared, then stomped out the door, refusing to admit, even to herself, that she was darned glad he was behind her all the way.
* * *
She fed the cows without incident, and with little argument from Lane, other than his telling her she shouldn’t be lifting all that weight. She’d made fun of his concerns, but secretly cherished the thought that he believed she could actually have a fragile bone in her body. If she had one, she had yet to discover its location. But for the time being, she was perfectly willing to let Lane keep his fantasies about her. If he thought she looked weak and helpless, then God love him for being a fool. He was the first man who had ever told her she was too little to do something.
It was when they started back to the house that Lane’s perception of Toni took a sharp right into shock.
“I need to stop here a minute,” Toni said, parking beneath the trees that lined the dirt path. “I'm missing a good hammer and I think I may have lost it the night of the flood.”
Lane’s attention piqued. That would be the night she’d pulled him out of Chaney Creek. “Where are you going to look? There has got to be at least a thousand trees between here and the house.”
The pickup door slammed behind her as she started down the incline.
“Oh, I know where to look,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s either where I dumped the fencing materials when I went back for you, or where I loaded you onto the wagon.”
“I want to see.”
She paused and turned. The expression on his face made her shiver, but not with fear. Anticipation threaded through her system, reminding her that the tension between them did not run on anger, but on interest.
“So come,” she said. “But watch where you walk. It’s downhill most of the way. You don’t want to pull out your stitches.”
No, I damn sure don’t, he thought, and then sighed when he saw that she was waiting on the path for him to catch up. He should have known that she would be ready, if necessary, to offer another shoulder to lean on.
Toni girl, how am I going to manage the rest of my days without you telling me what to do? And without you to catch me if I fall?
“It’s not here,” she said after carefully searching beneath the trees where she’d parked the night she’d seen him caught in the flood. “I'm going farther downhill. You may want to wait here. It’s almost a quarter of a...” His glare ended her advice and sent her down the hill with him only steps behind.
“Tell me,” Lane said when he figured she’d cooled down enough to talk to him again.
“Tell you what?” she asked.
“About that night.”
She shrugged. “What’s to tell? You already know I’d been fixing my fence. I was on the ATV, and luckily for you, pulling a wagon.” She paused and looked back. “You know, the one that’s in the backyard near the garden.”
Lane nodded.
“When I saw the storm coming, I tried to hurry. But the wagon was full of posts and wire, and the mud was too thick to get up much speed. By the time I got to the foot of the hill, it was raining pretty hard. I left the ATV because I was afraid I might get stuck going up the hill. I would rather be wet than stuck in red clay, any day.”
“And...” He urged her to continue.
“And...I heard an explosion and thought lightning had struck something and set it on fire.” She paused, then turned to look at him when she continued. “I still can’t believe that what I saw was you...falling out of the sky...and men dying. It still gives me nightmares just thinking about it.”
Lane was surprised. “I didn’t know that you saw the plane crash,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t know what I saw, either, until you told me differently. All I saw was an orange ball of fire above the trees.” She shuddered, then looked away as she resumed her walk, afraid that he’d seen too much.
“So, what did you do then?” he urged.
“I started to run. I didn’t want the lightning to strike me, too. That’s when...”
She got quiet. Lane knew what came next. But he hadn’t heard it from her. The sheriff had volunteered that information and everything else he’d learned about Toni’s part in saving his life.
Lane caught up with her, and when she wouldn’t stop, he grabbed her by the arm. She had no choice but to give in to his silent demand. She turned and looked up at him.
“Why did you go in after me?” he asked.
She swallowed around a lump in her throat. It was hard to look at the face of a man who had come to mean far too much to her for her own peace of mind.
“Because you couldn’t get out any other way,” she said. “Come on. It’s going to get dark unless we hurry. I won’t be able to look for the hammer.”
Because I couldn’t get out any other way.
The simple statement was deceiving. What she’d done had taken more than nerve. It had taken a stronger spirit and a braver heart than most men would have had.
Lane started walking, one foot in front of the other, barely noticing his sore leg. Going down was easy; coming up was going to be hell. But he wouldn’t have missed this trip with Toni Hatfield for anything.
A few minutes later, she stopped and started walking in a circle, her eyes down to the ground as she searched for the missing hammer. Lane kept walking until he came to the edge of the hill overlooking the ravine and stared down into the steadily flowing stream that was Chaney Creek.
Debris from the flood was still caught in the tree roots that sprouted from the creek bank high above the water. A watermark was still visible, and would be for several days until the heat had dried it back to its normal shade of dirty red. A couple of feet from where he was standing, a sharp overhang of rock shaded several square feet of creek beneath. Lane stared, unable to fathom what had happened here...in a storm...in the dark.
“It’s not here, either,” Toni muttered, stomping to the edge of the ravine, then absently staring over to the other side. She pointed. “Look. That side of Chaney Creek is the back edge of Justin’s place. He bought it right after—”
“My God!”
Lane took her by the shoulders and made her look at him. He couldn’t get past the thought of what she’d done. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her shoulders until he felt muscle and bone, and still she seemed too fragile to have pulled them both out of a flood.
“What’s wrong?” Toni asked. “Did you hurt your leg?” She started to kneel to see if blood had seeped through the bandage and into the denim of his jeans. “I knew this was too far for you to—”
He yanked her to her feet. “Don’t kneel at any man’s feet, Antonette. If there’s any kneeling to be done, I should be the one doing it. This has to be where it happened, but I've got to know. How in hell did you get us out?”
He turned her toward the creek, and then couldn’t make himself let her go. It was as if he was suddenly afraid she might fall. And as he held her close against him, she felt his body pressing against her backside like a wall.
She closed her eyes to see more clearly within her mind the night...and the storm.
“I think it was all due to a streak of lightning and a big streak of luck.” She leaned over and pointed to the rock below. “I knew that outcrop of rock was there, and I counted on being able to get a foothold.” She turned and laughed, remembering what had come next. “Even with that, we still almost drowned. I couldn’t get you to turn loose of that log you were holding.”
Her chuckle seemed out of place next to his shock. How could she laugh at nearly losing her life to save his?
He lifted her hands and turned them palms up, rubbing a thumb in the center of each as if testing their strength. Unable to voice his thoughts, all Lane could do was lift them reverently to his face.
He pressed one, then the other to his lips, and when he did, Toni Hatfield forgot the promises she’d made to herself about not caring for this man. She forgot that she’d all but given up thoughts of babies and motherhood. And when he wrapped his arms around her and held her clasped against his chest, Toni wanted to cry.
Why did I have to meet you when it’s too late for you to care? she thought.
One big hand cradled her head, while the other rested low around her waist. She was trapped as neatly as if she were in a vise, and yet she had never felt this cared for or this safe in her life.
“As long as I live, I will never be able to say thank you enough,” Lane said softly, and cupped her face with his hands. “You, Toni Hatfield, are one hell of a woman.”
He leaned down.
Toni saw his intent. She could have objected. She could have moved. She did neither. Instead, she stood and waited for the world to stop, and when his mouth slid across her lips, then centered perfectly on hers, she found that it was her heart that had stopped.
Lane expected her to resist, and when she didn’t, he was not prepared for the soft, open invitation she made when their lips connected.
He felt her tremble and heard her sigh, but when she shifted slightly beneath his touch and then slipped her hands onto his waist to steady herself, he lost sight of what he’d started to do.
It was supposed to be a simple thank-you, accompanied by a light, friendly kiss. But the woman who stood within the circle of his arms was accepting more than he’d meant to give.
Lane groaned, and when Toni took one step forward, his hands slid off of her shoulders and down her back, drawing her deeper into the kiss of no return. He vaguely remembered thinking that this couldn’t go on, then Toni’s arms slid around his waist and locked behind his back.
He remembered little of what came afterward beyond a few undeniable facts. Her skin was softer than he’d expected. Her breasts fit his body contours to perfection, and he’d never wanted to be inside a woman this badly in his entire life. But that wasn’t going to happen, not if he had anything to do with it. He couldn’t repay a lady like Antonette by using her body in a fit of lust. Not even if she seemed willing.
He gave up their connection with painful regret as he tore his mouth from hers; then he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the crest of her head.
“Ah, damn,” he said softly as he rubbed his hands up and down the middle of her back in a gentling motion. “I'm sorry, Toni. I didn’t mean to let that go so far.”
Toni’s heart shattered. He was sorry? It was the last thing she’d wanted to hear him say. She ducked her head and tried to laugh as she pushed herself out of his arms. In her mind, things hadn’t gone nearly far enough.
“Forget it,” she said shortly, and hated herself for the bitterness that she heard in her voice. “It was just a kiss. And you're not the first man I've known who’s handed one out, then moved on to something better.”
“That’s not what I...”
He could have saved his excuse for Sunday morning, because Toni was already walking away. And, if he read her reaction correctly, she thought that he’d quit from lack of passion. Guilt overwhelmed him. He’d known her self-esteem was low, but this was ridiculous.
She thinks I stopped because I got bored? Lord have mercy. What does that woman see when she looks in a mirror? Doesn’t she know that she’s beautiful?
He groaned and started uphill, telling himself that he deserved every ache that came with the trip. He hadn’t gotten himself into this kind of condition with no chance of relief since high school. And, to be honest, he wasn’t sure how it had happened from just one kiss. As a rule, he had more control over his emotions than this. But that was before he’d taken the back door into Tennessee, and then been fished out of Chaney Creek like a sack of unwanted pups.
* * *
He ate supper alone, standing at the counter and chewing his sandwich while he watched her from the kitchen window as she worked. The weeds in her garden were suffering the consequences of what had transpired between them. She wielded the hoe with frightening irregularity, as if one false swipe and someone’s head might fall instead of the uprooted weed.
“My stitches will be out in two more days and then I'm gone. How do I make this right before I go?” Lane muttered to himself as he gave up pretending to eat. Toni wouldn’t even look at him, never mind talk to him. He didn’t know how to make things right between them again.
But Lane had a streak of stubbornness that was almost as big as he was. He dumped his sandwich on the counter and headed for the door. “Damn her hide, she’s going to listen to me or else.”
He stomped outside and never realized that his leg hardly hurt at all. He was healing, and at the same time, still suffering from an attack of misplaced indignity.
“Antonette!”
Toni paused and turned. From the look on Lane’s face as he came toward her, the massacre of weeds would have to wait. She’d seen mad on her brothers' faces so often that she recognized anger on sight. It had something to do with the jut of male chin, lower lip and a glower across the forehead. She sighed. As tired as she was, dealing with a wounded ego was going to play hell with her manners.
“You shouted?”
He flushed, then made an effort to lower his voice several octaves before he spoke again. “I've already said I'm sorry that I overstepped the bounds of friendship you've shown me. I wish to hell that it hadn’t happened. I like watching you smile. I like sharing a meal with you. But I don’t like feeling like Jack the damn Ripper. Can’t we please go back to square one?”
A rush of pleasure came and went so fast that she almost forgot it had ever happened. It was what he’d said after “sorry” that had hurt the most. And it was because he would soon be gone that she had the nerve to say what was in her heart.
“That’s just fine, Mr. Monday. I'm glad I give good service. I'm glad you find my manners pleasing to your taste. And while I don’t feel threatened by your presence in any way, shape or form like I might with Jack the damn Ripper, I do resent the hell out of hearing that you wished you hadn’t kissed me.”
Unintentionally, she leaned closer. Lane was stunned by the depth of anger in her eyes.
“I, personally, was enjoying it when you got an attack of conscience, or guilt or whatever men call it when they don’t want to leave any strings behind.”
“I didn’t mean that I didn’t—”
“Didn’t you just say you wished it hadn’t happened?”
He swallowed and nodded. At this point, answering her was impossible. He might be bigger, but she could outbalk a mule.
“And you want to go back to square one?” she asked.
He sighed and nodded again. Finally they were getting somewhere.
She smirked. “I hope that doesn’t include the handcuffs. I would hate like hell to spend another night on the floor tied to you.” She handed him the hoe. “Oh, and I don’t think my table is up to another parting of the ways, so let’s just agree to disagree on this, and drop the subject altogether. What do you say?”
“I give up.”
“What?”
Lane sighed and shrugged, then used the hoe for a cane as he started trudging up the row toward the house.
“I can’t outtalk you, Antonette. And half the time, I don’t know what you're thinking, so I give up. I hurt your feelings and didn’t mean to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she said softly, and anxiously awaited his reaction.
He hadn’t expected an answer, so when it came, he wasn’t ready for the flash of relief that settled in the pit of his stomach. He stopped, looked down at the dirt beneath his feet and grinned wryly before wiping the smile off of his face. He turned to face her.
“You're a hard woman, Antonette Hatfield.”
She nodded. “It’s a hard life, Mr. Monday.”
“That it is, lady. That it is.”
He held out a hand. Moments later, Toni’s fingers slid across his palm and threaded through his. She looked up, gauging his reaction to their reluctant connection.
“It’s getting dark,” she said.
He lifted his head and smelled the air, then squinted toward the blaze of colors on the horizon. “Want to sit on the porch for a while and watch the sunset?”
Toni was thankful for the shades of dusk that hid her sudden tears. She would give a year of her life to be able to spend the rest of it with this man...on some porch...watching life and sunsets pass them by. But she was going to have to settle for a couple of days' worth instead.
“I suppose,” she said. “At least we don’t have to shell any more peas. Justin’s wife, Judy, and my brother David’s wife, Laura, will be over tomorrow to pick the patch.”
Lane rolled his eyes and pulled her gently out of the garden. “More family?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “Reese and Palmer won’t be back until late tonight, so let’s get dibs on the swing before company comes.”
His smile was easy, his tone of voice gentle. The lines on either side of his cheeks deepened from the smile. It made him seem younger, more innocent. At that moment, Toni forgot everything ugly that had happened during the day, including the harsh words that had come between them.
Toni’s steps were lighter as she followed in his wake, their hands still connected in a way that their bodies could not.
“You don’t have to hurry,” she told him. “The porch swing isn’t going anywhere. Besides, it’s a long time until morning.”
The blue in his eyes turned black with emotion. Her warning put thoughts in his mind that had no business being there. He could think of several good ways to get through a night, and all of them needed a woman like Toni to make them work. But they weren’t going to happen. Toni kept herself and her emotions as distant as the state in which he lived, and considering all of the facts, that was as it should be.
“Don’t remind me,” Lane said, pulling her up the steps and into the swing. Before Toni had time to make something more out of what he’d said, he added, “My stitches come out the day after tomorrow.”
“It will be all right,” she assured him. “I'll go with you.” Absently, she reached over and patted his uninjured thigh, before closing her eyes and letting the swing take her places her thoughts dared not go.
Lane couldn’t look at her. And he damn sure wouldn’t touch her. If he did, he would ruin everything that he’d spent the afternoon trying to fix. But he couldn’t get over her easy, gentle assurance that he would not suffer alone.
Dear God, if only I dared hope that might be true, I would never leave this woman.
But old wounds and painful losses kept Lane’s thoughts and wants to himself, just as Toni cherished her dreams to herself. And because of those reasons, the two of them watched the sunset in silence, wishing for things that couldn’t be.