Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(33)

“I know,” she whispers, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Her lower lip trembles. “That’s what scared me.”

Her hand’s back in mine. Touching her is my kryptonite.

Dakota’s face pokers up. She exhales a long breath and shakes her dark head. “No more questions, Davis. I have to focus on moving forward. Not back.”

I grip my water glass with white-knuckled hands.

Back. Something we can never do.





Bras. Boobs. Babies.

Jesus fucking Christ. Is this my life now?

For the last two hours, I’ve parked myself at my desk in the Bullshit Box, adding strange sounding items like binkies and Boppies to my Amazon cart. I’ve got a glass of whiskey to my right, and Keena’s curled up in her bed near the space heater. Across the ranch, a light is on in Dakota’s room in the lodge.

The restraint it’s taking me not to go up to her room right now and check on her is crippling.

She didn’t have dinner. After we got home from town, she barricaded herself in her room. Has been there ever since. The hunch of her shoulders and the shadows under her eyes tell me today was hard. Harder than either of us expected. The sad cringe when she talks about her baby, the refusal to touch her stomach. I see it all.

Fighting a yawn, I reach down to rub Keena’s cool nose. She whines and uncurls for a belly rub.

Dakota’s as skittish as the dogs I train. She’s a ball of nerves, struggling with trauma. The process with my PTSD dogs takes time. Love and care.

Dakota deserves the same.

I refuse to let her break.

I’ve reached for the darkness. I know what it looks like when it reaches back. I don’t want Dakota anywhere near that.

She healed me that summer. Which is why I’m determined to help her.

I won’t fail her. Not again.

That fiery, stubborn woman’s still in there. I have to find her. If she can’t take care of herself right now, it’s my job to do it.

So, I click through the links. Prenatal vitamins. Body pillow. Bras.

Shit.

One thought of Dakota’s full breasts and I’m hard again.

Fuck.

I take a sip of whiskey, letting the sting drown out all thoughts of Dakota. Except it doesn’t. All it does is push everything to the forefront of my mind.

I wish I had paid more attention to my mom and dad when they brought another baby home. The memory of changing diapers on Emmy Lou and Grady pops into my mind. Then another of me chasing them around the ranch. One minute threatening them if they didn’t listen, another laughing as I hauled them over my shoulders and spun them around.

They’re great memories. My family is outstanding. Like all my siblings, I’ve always wanted a big family, but being in the Marines, I figured it was never in my cards.

Home felt far away from me when I was overseas. Sometimes it still does.

My hand goes to my chest, rubbing at the building ache.

Christ. What the hell am I thinking? Getting too close. Too in this?

“Goddamn it,” I mutter as I accidentally add two pregnancy journals to my cart.

“Sitting in the dark drinking?”

I glance up at the sound of Ford’s voice. “Got nothing else to do.”

“I set those wolf traps along the road and back near the woods.”

“Good,” I mumble. “Hope we scare him off and that’s that.”

“Yeah.” Ford drops into a chair, kicks his boot up and raps the desk, causing Keena to bark. “How’s Dakota doing?”

I press my lips together. “She’s struggling. She’s sad.”

Ford hitches a broad shoulder. “Girls cry a lot when they’re pregnant. Remember Emmy Lou?”

I rub my brow. “Not that kind of sad.”

Ford cocks his head while evaluating me. “You sure you shouldn’t be in the gym right now? Because you look like you need to beat the hell out of something.”

“I’m fine,” I growl.

I go to close the tab on the window, but not before my nosy fucking brother catches a glance of the screen.

Ford gives me a doubtful look. “She’s having another guy’s baby, man.”

My teeth grate in irritation at the reminder. Especially since Ford’s the town crier when it comes to relationships. “And your point?”

“My point is how do you feel about that?”

My breath is a harsh exhale. I can feel my skin. On edge. Itchy. “How do you think I fucking feel?”

The knee-jerk snap of anger hits Ford hard, and he arches a brow.

He leans forward, smearing his long fingers over his jaw. “It ain’t your kid.”

But it should be.

The thought pierces like a dagger.

Dakota having another man’s child doesn’t stop me from wanting her. I’ve loved her this long and I won’t stop now.

“I don’t have time for a relationship,” I grunt.

“Good,” Ford says and I bristle. “Because you shouldn’t get involved with Dakota.”

Our gazes clash. “Mind your own fucking business.”

There’s silence for a second.

Curiosity and worry war in the depths of Ford’s amber eyes. “Why are you doin’ this, D? Kindness of your heart?” He gives me a crooked grin. “We’re gentlemen, but we’re cowboys, too.”