Page 54 of Cry, Little Dove

I bark a laugh. “Jekyll and Hyde style?”

“That’s it!” She snaps her fingers. “There’s the sadistic asshole who gets off on my pain…” A coy smile tugs on her lips. “But there’s another side of you. A kind man. And I don’t mean the grand gestures, like the shopping and the concert or the gifts, though those are fun. I mean you cooking for me and making sure I get enough rest. Or that you find out about the things I enjoy and care to remember them. Also, Amanda told me you took care of her when she got sick and I think that’s wonderful.”

My skin tingles and my ribs get too tight.

“For all the brutality, you’re—I can’t believe I’m saying this…” She pauses. “Underneath the violence and the cruelty, you’re kind of sweet. No, you’rereallysweet.”

My face gets so hot, I should be on fire.

I can handle the dirty talk. I can handle her rude comments and her defiance. But stubborn, snarky Erica being all cute and sincere, talking about how she thinks I’m sweet?

I’m about to have a goddamn heart attack.

“Thank you,” I bring out.

Like she said too much, Erica coughs awkwardly. I can see her panicking, frantically searching for a different topic to talk about.

“Since you like horses and you seem to be good with animals… Why don’t you reopen the ranch?” she bursts out.

Her question nearly knocks me out of the saddle. This is an even worse fuckin’ topic.

“What?” I sputter.

“You’re not practicing as a doctor, right?”

My right shoulder lifts. “I don’t treat patients anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

“You have people working for you in the clinics, and you said you only do some administrative work. Clearly, you make more than enough money and you have lots of free time. I’m thinking whywouldn’tyou reopen the ranch? Amanda said you didn’t want to be a doctor in the first place.”

For fuck’s sake, Mandy. I make a mental note to send her a text with some choice words when I return to the house.

Worse, though, I have no clue how to answer Erica.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and draw my hat further into my face. From the corner of my eye, I see Erica staring at me. Shit, she isn’t gonna drop this, is she?

“I-I don’t know. It’s a lotta work, and a guy my age… It’s too late to start over.”

Erica shakes her head, braid swinging. “Oh my God, you’re hardly geriatric, curly! You’re in better shape than most men in their twenties.” She lets out a tinkling laugh and I can’t help but laugh along.

“So you’re saying I’m hot.”

“You already know that. Stop avoiding my question.”

“I’m not avoiding—”

“Yes, you are!” Her mouth forms a silentO. “I get it now! Hotshot Dr. Cain Morrow is afraid.”

My head jerks back. “Now what the fuck would I be afraid of?”

“Running the ranch is your dream, but you buried it in the past. And now when you have the opportunity, you’re scared reality won’t measure up to that idealized vision in your head. Maybe you’re afraid you might fail or that you spent decades glorifying and mourning a life you won’t like after all.”

I clutch my chest. Half as a joke, half because it actually hurts like fuck.

“Holy shit, darlin’, shoot me straight through the heart, will ya?”

“Sorry, someone has to say it before it’s really too late.” Erica shrugs. “You know, most folks never get to chase their dreams. No second chances. Lost dreams stay dead and buried, and regret grows heavier each wasted year until it calcifies into a tombstone sitting heavy on your chest, long before you’re even in the ground.” She favors me with a soft smile. “But here’s the deal: if you never try, you’ll never know. It might turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

You are the best thing that ever happened to me, I almost blurt out.

---