Emma pushed back and stared up at him, her whiskey-colored eyes bright in the gloom of the cavernous barn. “No right? You have every right, Mac.” She reached up and brushed her fingertips along his scarred jaw. “I don’t care about this.”
He closed his eyes and fought the overwhelming urge to jerk away. To put a stop to the soul-stripping deprivation her assessment generated in his mind.
“It changes nothing. You’re honest and good. You protect people…and a horse, and you save lives. You’ve sacrificed more than the average person ever has and you deserve to be happy.”
He opened his eyes, reached up and locked his hand on hers. Staring into her face, he pulled her hand away, severing the intimate touch. He released her fingers, but his push back didn’t seem to faze her.
A slow smile bowed her sexy, swollen lips and she stepped back. “I’m fixing supper tonight. I’d like you to come,” she said, then left the barn.
He stared after her. How was it Emma always seemed to know what he needed, even if he didn’t?