was confusion enough to go around. “I’m not trying to cross any lines that you—or anybody else—has drawn.”
“This family could be a tic-tac-toe board. There are no winning squares, just dividing lines.”
“Ouch.” He pulled off a dusty glove and sank into a kitchen chair.
She didn’t turn around as she fussed with Annette’s dress. “Are you hurt?”
“No, that was a mental pain. I hate to think of bad feelings between us. You are my niece’s mother.”
He watched for a shrug but he couldn’t read her posture. She set Annette on the counter and washed the little girl’s hands. He smiled at her conscientious mothering.
“What time is Last riding?”
“In thirty minutes. I should get back and loosen him up.” Crockett sighed. “I came to apologize, Valentine, for that mess back there. You’re right about the lines. I feel them, too. Although I may be uncomfortable, I shouldn’t take it out on you or Last.”
“Uncomfortable about?”
He shrugged. Could he be honest about exactly what he felt? Maybe at this point he wasn’t certain what that was. “Part of me admires you. Admires you more than as a part of our family.”
There. He’d admitted it. The words lingered in the air between them. His stomach tightened.
“Sometimes maybe I think of you as more, too,” she said softly. She hesitated a moment before setting a teakettle on the burner. “Saying that doesn’t make me feel any better, though. I really don’t want to think of you in any way except as one more of the Jefferson men. So I try not to.”
What had he expected her to say? Recklessly, he moved behind her, turning her to face him. He felt the warmth of the stove as it heated, sort of like his heart, which refused to grow cold. “I stayed on that bull because of you,” he said. “None of my brothers have the reason I did.” He ran his palms down her arms, enjoying the soft feel of her.
“What reason?”
Did he imagine that hitch in her breath? Why not keep talking? Maybe her response would surprise him. “There’s something about you that draws me in. I like thinking about you. And then I remember Last and I tell myself I can’t think about you. I got up on that bull, and I told myself that for those eight seconds, I wouldn’t think about you. I would think about saving my life. For eight seconds, I would be free.”
She stared up at him, her eyes huge.
He shook his head as he stroked her cheek. “I was looking for freedom from the guilt, from the worry. From knowing it was wrong to see you in any way except as a sister. Only, the crazy thing was, as Bloodthirsty left the gate, all I thought of was you. You and Annette. And it was the shortest eight seconds of my life.”
After a moment, Valentine pulled away slowly,leaving his arms cold. She didn’t say a word, and he knew he’d said too much, felt too much.
So he left. And the pain in his heart was far greater than the pain of a broken body.
And none of it could be fixed.
S TUNNED , V ALENTINE STARED at the floor as she listened to Crockett walk out the door. He’d shocked her into complete silence. The depth of his passion overwhelmed her.
Mimi had said a Jefferson in hot pursuit was unmistakable. Now she understood.
She also understood that what he spoke of could never be. Part of her wished the fantasy had not come alive between them, because now they could never go back.
She desperately wanted to make love with him. How wonderful would it be to give in, to spend time in his world—
Blinking her eyes against tears, she chose a teacup and put a fragrant tea bag into it. Bemused, she carried Annette upstairs and put her down for a nap. All the while her mind replayed the intense look on Crockett’s face when he’d revealed his feelings to her.
“I’ll make cookies,” she murmured, remembering Delilah’s offer to use the fridge. Baking, Valentine recognized, had become her comfort, her refuge in every storm. Taking a bowl of dough,