Free The Cowboy Who Caught Her Eye by Lauri Robinson Page B

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    “Why?” he asked.
    Because the land certainly wouldn’t judge her like the town would, but Molly couldn’t voice that. “I don’t know.”
    “I do.”
    She snapped her head his way. There were times he made her wonder whether he knew everything there was to know about her. This was one of those moments. Her breath broke into snippets as she drew in air.
    “Because there’s nothing there,” he said. “Nothing to obscure your view. Not of where you’re going or where you’ve been. And there’s nothing to hide behind, either.”
    They entered the barn while she contemplated what he could possibly have to hide from. Not a single possibility came to mind. She, on the other hand, couldn’t hide in a forest at midnight.
    “Everyone has secrets, Molly,” he said while hanging the hoe in the corner near a few other tools, rakes and shovels and such. “If anyone ever tells you they don’t, they’re lying.”
    Her gaze was still on the long-handled tools. He’d built the rack to hang them all on yesterday. Had asked her to come stand out here so he wouldn’t hang it too high, and when she’d refused, Karleen had gone.
    Molly turned, looked up at him, too curious not to ask, “Even you?”
    His grin was a bit devilish. “Even me.” He took her hand then, rubbing the back with the pad of his thumb and her palm with his fingers.
    It wasn’t in the least intrusive. Her fingers wanted to curl, fold over his. For months she’d wished there was someone who’d take her hand, lead her through the days when she felt small and lost, assuring her everything would be all right, but it couldn’t be him. Not Carter Buchanan, a cowboy working his way to Montana. There was no hope in that.
    Yet her fingers folded around his as he lifted her hand. She watched, almost as if she was a fly on the wall, spying on people, as Carter drew her hand all the way up to his face. He kissed the back of her hand—a tiny, soft peck that penetrated into her bloodstream.
    “Thank you for letting me hoe your garden, Molly.”
    Molly nodded, but her eyes were on the hand he still held near his lips. She didn’t feel like a bystander any longer and was considering what that meant.
    Carter lowered her hand to her side before letting go.
    “I have to leave now,” he said, “or I’m going to be late.”
    A smidgen of fear twirled in her chest, relatively close to her heart. “Where are you going?”
    “I can’t tell you. But I’ll be back.”
    He’d taken several steps toward the door when she said, “I saw you that day.” There wasn’t anything significant in the statement, other than she’d wanted to say it.
    Stopping, he tilted up the brim of his hat before he turned around. A couple steps later, he was in front of her again, close enough she could once more smell the bay rum shaving soap he used each morning.
    “I saw you, too. You were hoeing your garden and watched me ride past.”
    A pinch of embarrassment stung her cheeks as he gently laid a hand against one. There was also a drawing inside her, a deep powerful one that had her heart quickening.
    “I have to go, Molly, but I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”
    She stepped back, suddenly frightened. “I’m not worried.”
    He stood there, watched her closely, as if he expected her to run. She wanted to, but didn’t. Her legs weren’t strong enough.
    Carter grinned again, and then winked. “Good.”
    This time Molly didn’t say a word as he walked away, out the door, but she did reach for something to help her stand. There wasn’t anything, so she lowered onto the floor, not caring it was the barn. Her breathing was irregular and a definite chill made her skin clammy.
    She didn’t even like Carter Buchanan, yet, all the same, the things she was feeling right now scared her to death.

Chapter Five
    C arter hadn’t turned around since he’d walked out of the barn. Walking away from an adversary, leaving them thinking, wasn’t new to him. What was new to him