Free Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch by Emma Cane Page A

idea.”
    She snorted. “You remembered he’s a dentist? We broke up. Mutual thing.”
    But she frowned a moment before shaking it off. Literally shaking it off. He tried not to laugh.
    â€œShould I say I’m sorry you broke up?” he asked.
    She leaned her head against his arm and smiled up at him. “We should always tell the truth. Are you sorry?”
    And then he spoke the truth without thinking. “Nope.” Maybe he’d had too much to drink, as well.
    She started across the parking lot, and he had to take her hand again. “Wrong way.”
    This time he didn’t let her go; he just steered her through the parking lot, then north on Seventh Street. They passed beneath one of Valentine’s old-­fashioned lampposts, and it gave her skin a soft glow. There were snowflakes in her hair. He found himself wanting to draw the walk out.
    â€œYou said we’re telling the truth tonight,” he reminded her. “I think there’s something you’re holding back about your breakup with the dentist.”
    She wrinkled up her nose endearingly. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t tell anybody this, but . . . we’re telling the truth, right?”
    He nodded solemnly, hoping she didn’t change her mind.
    â€œSo . . . it wasn’t a mutual thing, like I told everybody. I’m the one who broke it off. He thought it was time for me to meet his kids.”
    Surprised, Will said, “And kids make you run screaming for the hills?”
    She burst out with a laugh. “ ‘Screaming for the hills.’ Ha! I used that exact phrase as I worried over everything. But no, it wasn’t because of the kids. I’ve got a nephew, don’t I?”
    â€œAnd you’re a teacher.”
    â€œRight. Love kids. But meeting a guy’s kids? That’s serious. A real relationship. And I realized—­I wasn’t ever going to be as serious about him as he seemed to be about me. You know?”
    â€œI know.” His words came out softly, and he thought of all the women he’d tried to let down gently, for exactly the same reason. “So why did you tell everybody it was mutual?”
    She eyed him as if debating whether he was worthy of an honest answer. “Because . . . I don’t really know why. It’s hard to tell ­people you had a guy really falling for you, but you didn’t feel the same. I want to feel the same,” she added softly, sadly. “I really do. It’s kind of pathetic.”
    â€œIt’s not pathetic.” But he didn’t truly understand it. He didn’t want to feel that way—­about any woman. It was too dangerous.
    They walked in silence for a few minutes, leaving behind Main Street, with its brighter lights, and heading into the more residential part of town, where the houses were small and cozy and close together. They turned up Mabel Street, and soon they were at her small ranch house. The front light was on, her car was parked in the driveway. He led her up to the door, where he could smell lilacs in bloom and see their ghostly shadow.
    She began to dig through her purse. “Stupid keys,” she muttered.
    â€œWant me to look?”
    â€œI got it,” she said. “Aha!” She pulled them forth with a jingle.
    It took her a ­couple minutes to get the key in the lock, but he knew better than to offer his help again.
    The door swung wide, and she stepped inside to switch on a light.
    â€œGood night, Lynds,” he called from the front stoop.
    She came back, frowning. “You’re not coming in?”
    â€œBetter not. Gotta work in the morning.”
    She sighed. “Me, too.”
    â€œGrading papers?”
    She opened her mouth, then seemed to change her mind. “Yep, papers, that’s right.”
    He wondered what she’d first intended to say. “Good night, Lynds.”
    â€œNight.”
    But she didn’t close the