Page 12 of The Rancher’s Bride

By night, every muscle aches.

The tension between us doesn’t improve. We argue about coffee, towels, tools, and why the back door should simply be repaired instead of lifted every time it’s locked. Damian says I’m stubborn. I tell him he treats every suggestion like an insult.

None of it stops me from noticing him.

Working beside him only makes that worse. His shirts cling to his back in the heat. His forearms flex when he handles tools. He pushes his hat up with one finger when he’s thinking, and every arrogant half-smile makes my body react before my judgment can intervene.

I sleep poorly every night.

On the fifth evening, Damian pulls a deck of cards from a kitchen drawer. We sit across from each other beneath the lamplight and speak only about the game.

“You’re cheating,” he says after I win the third hand.

“I’m better than you.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Why?”

“It just…isn’t,” he huffs.

I shake my head and deal again. We play in silence until he sets down a card and says, “Maybe the agency screwed up. Maybe we were supposed to be paired with other people.”

“It’s possible.”

He leans back, folding his arms across his chest. “What did you tell them you wanted?”

“What?”

“In a husband.”

The question catches me off guard. I set my cards down. “Someone I can trust. Someone who keeps his word and treats me like we’re on the same side. I want a husband who’s also my best friend, not just a man who lives in the same house.”

Damian watches me, saying nothing.

“I want someone dependable,” I continue. “Someone who wants a family and understands that building a life takes effort from both people.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, a little romance would be nice.”

His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“You don’t know what romance means?”

“I know the word. Jesus. Give me examples.”

“Opening doors. Making me coffee sometimes. Bringing home flowers because he thought of me.”

“That stuff matters?”

“Sure. It’s nice.”

“What else?”

“Helping with something heavy instead of standing there commenting on what I packed.”

His gaze shifts away. “You got the bags into the truck.”