Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(58)

She nods. “Yes.”

“Trust the land,” I say fiercely. “The ranch takes care of us, and I’ll take care of you.”

She bounces her hip against mine. “And I’ll take care of you.”

Something cracks in my chest. Sharp and undeserving. “You don’t have to make sure I’m okay, Koty.”

“Why not?” She turns and cups my face in her hands. “You do it for me. Let me in, Davis.”

“You’re already in,” I admit.

“Oh,” she whispers, her eyes momentarily going dreamy. “That makes me happy.”

“Good,” I tell her. “I like you happy.”

Keena bounds back to my side, and we resume walking. A charged silence stretches between us, until I say, “You know, the only time I let someone help me was when I first met you.” The cover of darkness is doing something idiotic to my brain, my mouth.

A chuckle shakes out of me. “I loved those cupcakes too damn much.”

“Today scared you.”

I nod. “It did.” The truth has bile rising in my throat.

She’s quiet for a long second. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but… I should go. He’ll destroy what you care about. He’s promised me that.”

“You’re not running.”

A sound of frustration. “You can’t protect a stranger over your family, Davis. I won’t let you.”

“You’re not a stranger.”

“Then what am I?” she asks.

“You’re a…friend.”

Her hitch of breath is like a knife to the heart.

Fuck, but I’m an asshole.

Heartless is easier. It lets me hide what she means to me.

“I’m not your hero,” I tell her and she casts me a sideways glance in the dark. “You’ve always been able to save yourself.” I pull her closer. “But I am your anchor. Because I will always be there when you need something to ground you.”

“I like that.” She squeezes my arm. “An anchor.”

As we walk, her arm in mine, my body hums. A reminder of how we’d talk to each other, how we’d touch each other. Effortlessly. Everything with Dakota is effortless.

Snow crunches beneath our feet as we make our way around the lodge. Dakota’s gaze lingers on the woods, the rambunctious approach of Keena, before she looks up at the full moon in the sky.

“My mom always told me dreams are like the moon. Because they are high and bright and brilliant. And sometimes, no matter how hard you try to touch a dream, to bring it down to you, you can’t. Sometimes they’re stuck. And that’s why we needed to rope them. So we could get those dreams come hell or high water.”

Dakota bites her lip. Glances at me. “I used to think she was so wise…but now, I think it was probably my mom that was screaming.”

I stare up at the moon, wanting nothing more than to pull it out of the sky for her. “You’ll get your dreams back, Koty.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She holds her belly, her expression pensive, but not filled with the sadness I’ve come to expect. “I think that’s part of the reason I’m so scared about being back here. I had all these big dreams. And I want them. But I’m unsure how to fit them here in my hometown. They feel scrambled.”

A shadow of doubt passes in her eyes. “All I wanted to do was make my father proud. And I don’t even know if I’ve done that.” Her voice catches, and I know it’s a long-buried fear she’s finally releasing.

“Do you remember what you told me the night before you left for San Antonio? You said the future is wide open. And it still is.”

Her lips part in surprise. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you.”

She tilts her head, and the cap slips down, making her look like some big-eyed doll. “How do you remember me?”

I chuckle at the memories. “When I remember you, I don’t see you as the woman I picked up that night at the motel. I see you at the Roughrider Parade, hurling candy into the crowd. I see you dropping off the best damn banana cake for Charlie, and then sweeping the front porch, even though no one asked you to. I see you as the girl leaping into Lake Cascade in a little string bikini and screaming your fucking head off because it was too damn cold, but smiling the entire time.”

Dakota flashes me a smile. “So, what you’re saying is I need to jump scantily clad into more lakes?”

A groan tears out of my throat. “You’re still trouble.”

Keena lurches into view, saving me and my cock from the memory of Dakota that summer. I swear as my stupid dog leaps into a pile of snow and mud. Over and over Keena rolls, her face blissed-out beyond belief.

Looks like that midnight walk is going to turn into a midnight bath.

“She gets the zoomies,” I explain to Dakota.

Her lips quirk. “The zoomies?” I clear my throat and she palms my chest. “Under all that steel, you’re just a big marshmallow.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Secret’s safe with me.” A shiver rolls through her slender frame.

“Been longer than fifteen minutes,” I tell her.

“Can’t go back now. Keena’s on a roll.” She looks over to where my idiot dog is literally rolling in the snow. “Keep me warm?”