Just warmth.
The woman pressed both palms against his chest.
His coat was cold.
His mouth was not.
When the kiss deepened, she felt his restraint tighten.
He wanted more.
So did she.
That frightened her.
She pulled back.
He immediately stepped away.
Her eyes filled.
The rancher frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s becoming your favorite lie.”
She sat.
He remained standing.
The woman stared at the floor.
“Men have wanted me before.”
His expression became unreadable.
“Not many.”
“But enough.”
She swallowed.
“Some wanted a joke.”
“Some wanted secrecy.”
“One wanted a woman grateful enough to accept anything.”
The rancher’s jaw tightened.
She continued.
“I don’t know what to do with you wanting me openly.”
He crouched in front of her.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“That sounds easy.”
“It’s not.”
His hands rested on his knees.
Not touching her.
The woman looked at him.
“What if you change your mind?”
“About what?”
“Me.”
He considered.
“I could.”
The honesty hurt.
Then he continued.
“So could you.”
She stared.
“I’m not going to promise I’ll never feel differently because people change.”
“What I can promise is I won’t punish you for trusting me today.”
Her eyes filled fully.
“That is a terrible romantic speech.”
“I know.”
“It may be the best one I’ve ever heard.”
He smiled.
She leaned forward.
Kissed him gently.
The land speculator’s next move came from below Raven Creek.
Three neighboring ranchers received notices claiming their winter water usage violated historic allocation.
Each notice offered an alternative.
Sign revised shared-water agreements administered through the speculator’s company.
The agreements looked harmless.
The woman read one.
Then another.
Then turned pale.
The rancher noticed.
“What?”
“These aren’t water-sharing agreements.”
“What are they?”
“Control agreements.”
She pointed.
“Emergency allocation authority transfers to his company during shortages.”
“So?”
“So whoever declares a shortage controls downstream releases.”
The rancher understood.
“He gets your water without buying it.”
“Not all.”
“Enough.”
The woman looked toward the valley map.
“And once everyone signs, Raven Creek becomes the obstacle.”
The neighboring ranchers came to Raven Creek.
Fear made people suspicious.
One accused the mountain rancher.
“You’ve got senior rights.”
“You could cut us off.”
The rancher answered:
“I haven’t.”
“You could.”
The woman interrupted.
“He could also sell.”
The ranchers looked at her.
“He hasn’t.”
She spread the agreements across the table.
“The man offering to protect you from Raven Creek is asking you to sign control over the exact water you fear losing.”
Silence.
One rancher frowned.
“I don’t understand contracts.”
“That is what he is counting on.”
The woman spent six hours explaining.