Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(54)

His hold tightens. “Then you pick up that family-style can of green beans and hit him in the fucking face with it.”

I laugh.

“He won’t get on the ranch. After Ruby—after last year—” Pain and guilt crease his handsome face, and I listen as he tells me about the arson attempt and how Ruby was hurt because of it.

“Our security is fucking Fort Knox,” he finishes, his voice dropping to a lethal level. “No one gets on the ranch. No one will hurt you. No one will get close enough to try. And…” His large fingers tug at the dog tag around my neck. “You have this. You have me.”

“I have you,” I breathe.

But for how long?

One time, right? That’s how it goes. One night and definitely not forever.

Davis stares grimly at me. “Be a hell of a lot easier if you told me who he was.”

Fear floods my veins and my stomach heaves. “No.”

“Dakota.” He grips my chin gently with his massive fingers. “Tell me his fucking name.”

“Not yet. I can’t.” I glare at him, hating he won’t let me have this one secret. “I have to work my way up to it, Davis.”

And also keep Davis from killing him.

The lines in his forehead deepen. “I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know the details.”

I pull out of his arms and shake my head. “Then I’ll run.” I think of my belongings upstairs, still unpacked, a car I can borrow from my father. “I won’t put you and your family in the middle of this.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Davis freezes, and anger reflects in the dark depths of his eyes.

“Help me God, Dakota, you run, you won’t get far.”

Anger crashes into me. Anger that Aiden can fuck with my mind even though he no longer has any hold on me.

“I will never go back to him,” I hiss, stepping backward. “I will die before I let him find me again.”

“Don’t say that.” His features are grave, his voice a low tone of warning. “Don’t you ever fucking say that. Nothing is more important than you. Than the life you have. He will not take it away. He will not take you away. Not from me.”

From me.

My lips part in shock. I want to ask him what he means, but before I can, Davis says, “Don’t run from me, Dakota. Because I’ll keep you here.”

“I hate him.” The words explode from my chest with a vengeance. “I hate him so much.”

“I know, baby. Let it out.”

I inhale unsteadily.

Hot tears flood my eyes. Blood thunders in my ears.

“I lost everything. My notebooks. My recipes. My investment. My arm.”

“What else?” Davis takes a step forward, reaching for me.

Pain wells inside me again, and I squeeze my eyes shut to block Aiden’s voice from my ears. “I can’t bake. My sister hates me. And I’m scared. I’m scared to be a mom.” I whisper it like the baby can hear me. Like he or she will hold it against me for the rest of my life.

“When will I feel okay? Like a human being? Like a mother? I’m sick of feeling like some broken failure. I’m sick of being strong.”

“So don’t,” he says, low and strained.

“What?”

“Be strong.” He captures my wrist and tugs me into his arms, locking me against him.

Shaking my head, I try to shove him away with the heel of my palm, but he holds me tight. Won’t let me loose.

“Scream.”

“What?” I blink and look up at him, thinking I’ve misheard.

“Scream. Let it out, Cupcake. Everything. I want this fucking lodge to shake.”

My eyes meet his.

Somehow, he always knows what I need.

And then I grab onto Davis’s shoulders, dig my nails into the meat of his muscle and scream. The piercing scream rattles my entire body, has my knees threatening to give out, and still Davis holds me upright in his arms.

He doesn’t flinch.

He takes it with me. A man giving me a safe place to land.

Tears stream down my face. Power and rage and exhaustion hum through my bones. I feel like a corpse, a shell of Dakota clawing her way out of her exoskeleton.

When the scream turns ragged—as shredded as I feel inside—I crumple in the secure clutch of Davis’s arms. I grip his shirt and inhale his scent. Man and earth and leather.

After a few seconds, I lift my face to his.

He brushes the hair off my face, studies my eyes. “Feel better?”

I take a deep breath before I answer. “I do.” Everything inside of me feels drained. Lightened. “Surprisingly, that—” I freeze and let out a small yelp. A tear slides down my cheek.

“Koty?” Davis releases me from his arms.

I press a palm over my belly and look down. “The baby,” I whisper.

“What’s wrong?”

I stare at my stomach, watching tears drip onto the dark navy fabric of Davis’s shirt.

“For Christ’s sake, Dakota.” Davis softly grips my jaw, forcing my gaze to his eyes that are dark and laced with worry.

“It moved.” I let out a tearful laugh. “The baby moved. Just like that.”

On an exhale, I fully press my hands to my stomach. Every nerve in my hands, waiting. And I feel it. Movement. A rippling pressure. Tiny surface bubbles rising.