“You work for me.”
“I do.”
“You live in my house.”
“Yes.”
“You have had too many men decide things for you.”
“That is also true.”
Silas stopped several feet away.
“I will not become another one.”
Maren looked at him for a long moment.
Then stepped closer herself.
“That is very honorable.”
Silas waited.
Maren’s mouth curved.
“Also very inconvenient.”
He stared.
“What?”
She came within arm’s reach.
“I am thirty-one years old, Silas.”
“I am aware.”
“I do not need you to protect me from knowing when a man wants me.”
His face changed.
“Maren.”
“Yes?”
“I do.”
“I know.”
The honesty warmed her more than the stove.
Silas lifted one hand.
Stopped.
“May I?”
Maren nodded.
His fingers touched her cheek.
Not the scars.
Her face.
Maren closed her eyes for one second.
Then looked at him.
Silas leaned closer.
Slowly.
Plenty of time to refuse.
Maren closed the distance herself.
Their first kiss was gentle.
Almost cautious.
Silas pulled back.
Maren looked at him.
“That all?”
His eyebrows rose.
She smiled.
Something in him changed.
The second kiss was deeper.
Maren’s hand gripped his vest.
Silas’s other hand settled at her waist.
She felt the strength in him.
More importantly, the restraint.
When she pulled him closer, he came.
When she slowed, he slowed.
When they finally separated, Maren’s cheeks were flushed.
Silas looked less composed than she had ever seen him.
That pleased her.
“You are nervous.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
He smiled.
“It has been a while.”
“For me too.”
Silas touched one scar near her wrist with his thumb.
Maren watched.
No disgust.
No pity.
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes in winter.”
His thumb moved away.
“Tell me when.”
“Why?”
“So I know.”
The simplicity broke something open inside her.
Maren leaned against him.
Silas held her.
Nothing more happened that night.
Neither needed more.
The next morning Wesley looked between them at breakfast.
Then narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
Silas asked.
The boy shrugged.
“Nothing.”
Maren hid a smile.
Silas glared.
Wesley continued eating.
Spring thaw opened the road to Cheyenne.
Maren had spent months deciding.
One morning she placed the tin box on the kitchen table.
“I’m ready.”
Silas looked at it.
“Cheyenne?”
“Yes.”
Wesley immediately said:
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someone has to make sure Ollie does not burn the ranch down while we are gone.”
From outside Ollie shouted:
“I heard that!”
Wesley grinned.
Silas and Maren left two days later.
The journey took nearly a week.