Page 67 of Merry Mended Hearts

“I’m working on a fantasy novel. You know—elves, castles, magic. I like fantasy.”

“I do, too. Are you going to let me read what you’re working on?” His fingers stroked my arm.

“Um, no?”

He laughed, but I was dead serious. I couldn’t let him see that half of my descriptions were daydreams about him…and the other half called him a demon.

“Grace.” His voice was full of hesitation, and he turned his head, looking right at me.

The fading firelight glimmered in his brown eyes. They trailed over my features, stopping on my mouth.

My mouth was a desert. “Yes?”

“About my apology earlier?—”

“It’s okay.” I wanted to assure him. I wanted him to know I was okay with this turn of events. “Really. I’m not at my best all the time, either.”

One side of his mouth lifted, drawing my attention to his mouth, too. My fingers itched to touch him, to rub the soft scruff on his sharp jawline.

“You’re being extremely kind,” he said. His chest lifted, and he took a ragged breath. “But I just wanted to say I’m not myself this time of year.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He lowered his chin and sniffed, shaking his head as though he didn’t want to answer.

“That is a complicated answer.”

“We have a while,” I said, placing my hand on his arm. I fought the urge to trace my fingers along the shape of the muscle I’d noticed before. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay.”

Turning, brushing his legs against mine, he tilted his head against mine, surprising me. My breath hitched, catching in my chest.

His face was so close, now. His fingers roved over mine, threading themselves through and holding my hand in his.

His touch was electric. It zapped all the way up to my collarbone.

This was no mere effort to keep me warm. This was a connection. An inclusion. It was as if he needed the reassurance of my touch as much as I needed his. And I waited for him to tell me his story.

GRACE

“I was married once,”he said. “We lived in Deer Lodge. My wife was a nurse, and I did some custom farming for a local farmer. He hired me to run his equipment for him during harvest. I did other odd jobs here and there, and we got by.”

“What happened?” I was almost afraid to ask. “Did you get divorced?”

Was that why he was hiding up here? He’d said he lived here for a few years.

“Amy was pregnant with our first child. She got hit by a car.”

My hands flew to my mouth. I gasped and moved away from him so I could see his face.

“Boone, I’m so sorry.”

Pain lingered in his eyes. He cast his gaze to the empty rocking chair. “I lost them both that night. And I knew I couldn’t stay there in our apartment when traces of her were everywhere I turned.

“I’d grown up here in West Hills, and no one else in my family was living up at this cottage anymore. Junie’s mom owns the property. She signed the cottage over to me, no questions asked.”

I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Boone, that’s heartbreaking. I’m so very sorry. How long ago was that?”

He inhaled, long and deep. I felt his chest expand beside me.

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