Page 70 of Montana Groom of Convenience
She propped up on one elbow to look at him. “How do you know all this?”
“My pa taught me. Wherever we went, he would go outside and find the stars. He said, ‘The stars don’t change. Just like God.’ He’d take a big sigh. ‘I guess it’s me that’s changed.’”
“What did he mean by that?”
Sawyer could not make out her expression, so hung on to the gentle tone of her voice. “He changed when Ma and Johnny died. Seemed like a stranger to me.”He lay back and looked at the sky. “Except when he took me to look at the stars. Then I felt like he was my father, and he cared about me.”
“Thank you for showing them to me.” She lay down against his side. “It’s nice you have this good memory of him.”
“And now I have another good memory of looking at the stars.” He took her hand.
She stiffened. But she didn’t shift away. “Me, too.” Her voice was as soft as the evening breeze.
Neither of them moved. He wished he knew what she thought.
“I could look at the stars all night,” she said. And even though he’d just talked himself into settling for their pretend marriage, he hoped she meant she enjoyed more than the stars, and she enjoyed his company, too.
“We have lots of riding to do tomorrow, so I’m going to bed down.” She rose and went to her bedroll.
“Yeah, me, too.” He crawled into his bedroll and lay staring at the stars as his mind struggled with wishes.
He wished he had the courage to speak of his growing feelings toward her, but he couldn’t take the risk that she would say he hadn’t lived up to their agreement, so it was null and void.
Better to accept things the way they are.
Better to harbor a secret fondness than to end up with nothing.
Jill had a home now. That made any risk even more unappealing.
He only wished it was enough for him.
Chapter 14
Carly stared at the night sky. She’d enjoyed seeing the constellations and having them explained to her. Never again would she view the stars the same way...but not because she now knew the names and locations of several groups of stars. No, what she’d remember would be the eager note in Sawyer’s voice, the way his arm brushed hers as he pointed upward, the longing that threatened to choke her as they lay side by side, touching but with an invisible wall between them.
She tried unsuccessfully to push away the thoughts, to dismiss the yearnings. They had a long two days ahead of them. She must sleep. But her thoughts went round and round, churning up more and more frustration.
Across the embers of the fire, she watched Sawyer’s bulk to see if he was as restless as she, but the blankets didn’t move, and she shifted to her side, her back to him. If only he felt as she did. If only they could mutually decide to change their agreement.
Fatigue overtook her, and she slept, wakening to the smell of wood smoke and coffee.
“Good morning,” Sawyer said as she sat up. “Did you sleep well?”
“Reasonably.” She yawned and then sprang from the covers. “You?”
“Fine, thanks. Coffee’s about ready.” He poured two cups as she rolled up her bedding.
She hunkered down by the fire. “We could make breakfast here or, if we hurry, we could eat at the Bar None.” A hot breakfast served at a table appealed.
He drained his coffee cup. “Let’s do it.” Seems he shared her opinion.
The fire was quenched, the horses saddled, and the pair on the trail in minutes. Their destination lay over the next hill.
Sawyer laughed when he saw how close it was. “They must have seen the smoke from our campfire.”
“I saw someone ride out to check on us last evening.” The cowboy had recognized her and turned back to the ranch. She led the way to the main house.
Mike Day, owner, stepped from the house. “Howdy, I’ve been expecting you. Come right in.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Ma, put two more places on the table.”
