“Do you want to know something?”
“Depends.”
“I almost left again yesterday.”
Her face went still.
“Why?”
He looked toward the sleeping Younger Sister.
Then back.
“Because staying makes everything complicated.”
The Older Sister whispered:
“Then leave.”
He watched her.
She immediately hated herself.
The Cowboy stood.
“Is that what you want?”
The Older Sister looked away.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
He moved around the table.
Stopped beside her.
The house felt impossibly quiet.
The Younger Sister slept six feet away.
The Cowboy lowered his voice.
“Say it again.”
The Older Sister looked up.
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
His hand touched the back of her chair.
Not her.
The restraint was worse than touch.
The Older Sister breathed slowly.
The Cowboy leaned closer.
“If I stay, I’m not staying for the fence.”
“I know.”
“Or the well.”
“I know.”
“Or the hearing.”
Her eyes met his.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
She whispered.
The Cowboy looked at her mouth.
“Because every time I think about riding east, I see you standing beside that fence pretending you don’t need anyone.”
Her breath caught.
“And?”
“And I want to make you admit you might.”
The Older Sister stood.
Now they were inches apart.
“You are unbearable.”
“Yes.”
“If you kiss me in this kitchen while my sister is asleep—”
“I haven’t moved.”
“Your face has.”
He smiled.
“You noticed.”
She put one hand against his chest.
Not pushing.
He looked down at it.
Then back at her.
The Older Sister whispered:
“This changes nothing.”
“Probably changes something.”
She should have stepped away.
Instead, she pulled him down.
The kiss was brief at first.
Then not.
His hand moved carefully to her waist.
Her fingers tightened in his shirt.
The Cowboy stopped before she expected him to.
The Older Sister opened her eyes.
“Why did you stop?”
He breathed against her forehead.
“Because you said this changes nothing.”
She stared.
He continued.
“And I want you to choose what changes.”
The Older Sister did not know what to do with a man who could stop.
Men in her memory always took momentum as permission.
He did not.
That made him more dangerous than any of them.
She whispered:
“Go to the barn.”
The Cowboy smiled.
“Cruel.”
“Go.”
He turned.
The Older Sister caught his sleeve.
He looked back.
“After the hearing.”
“What?”
She swallowed.
“We talk.”
The Cowboy nodded.