Page 38 of More Than This Land

Claire wiped at her face, smearing tears. She grabbed her notebook with shaking hands and sniffled. “Can we go? Please?”

“Yeah.” He headed for the door. “Storm’s passed. Trail should be fine.”

They reached the main barn as the sun broke through thinning clouds, painting everything in golden light that mocked him. He dismounted, then helped Claire, making sure not to touch any part of her bare skin. He took Daisy’s reins without meeting Claire’s eyes. “I can handle the horses. You should get home to your grandmother.”

“Luke.” She reached for him, but he stepped back.

“I’ll call you when I need your professional opinion on the guest ranch numbers.” The emphasis on ‘professional’ made him deliberate and cruel. He didn’t mean to, but his defenses kicked in, desperate to protect his heart from shattering. “Thanks for your time today.”

He turned away, leading both horses into the barn. Behind him, Claire’s sharp intake of breath cut through the evening air. He didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back without begging her to stay and he’d already humiliated himself enough for one day.

Inside the barn, he rested his forehead against Duke’s neck and fought to breathe through the ache splitting his chest wide open.

Chapter Ten

The financial restructuring report should have taken two days. After six hours on the same paragraph, Claire very nearly gave up. What was the point? Luke didn’t really want her advice.

She pressed her pen hard into the margin, leaving a dark indentation impossible to remove. She’d been staring too long, trying to figure out how to convince Luke the numbers were solid and her recommendations were for his own good.

There was no reason to keep circling back to page seven except that page held the line: “Cabin expansion projections”, and every time she read those words, she felt Luke’s thumb trace her jaw and heard his question rumble in the recesses of her mind. Somehow, she’d memorized the sound of his voice.

Do you even want to stay in Covenant Creek?

Claire flipped the page facedown and stared at her coffee.

Avoiding it wouldn’t help.

She flipped it back over and focused.

She’d spent Tuesday evening telling herself the line-cabin conversation had been a mistake. They’d experienced a moment of vulnerability while caught in a storm, nothing more.

Granny Mama moved quietly through the kitchen behind her, a hymn whispering across the space. Something about peace and love everlasting.

That would be nice, but what she really needed was the professional distance she had maintained with every other client. That was the answer. She was a consultant with a job to finish and a life in Billings.

“You have deliveries this morning.” Granny Mama set a fresh mug beside Claire’s elbow without comment on the cold one already there. “Cassidy Holbrook had her baby Tuesday. You signed up to bring lunch.”

“I remember.” Claire closed the report. Some conversations could wait. “And Mrs. Walsh’s knee replacement?”

“This afternoon.” Granny Mama settled into her chair with a crossword puzzle. “And Agnes Pruitt on your way back. She’s been asking about you.”

“I haven’t met Agnes Pruitt.”

“She knows who you are.” Granny Mama filled in a word without looking up.

Claire stood and gathered up the insulated bags Rachael had shown her how to organize her first week in Covenant Creek. Ruth’s precise method ensured the labeled containers held meals suited to the recipient’s dietary needs. She’d asked Rachael at the start of the week what everyone preferred and wrote copious notes so she didn’t leave anything out.

Prepping meals and ignoring her feelings about Luke had steadied her nerves, even if it did nothing to help her heart.

Half an hour later, she parked outside the Holbrook house on a quiet street three blocks from the library. A stork yard sign stood near the mailbox, the bright pink announcing their new arrival. Claire gathered her insulated bag and knocked softly.

The door opened and Cassidy Holbrook blinked sleepily at her with hair twisted in a lopsided knot. Spit-up decorated her shoulder and dark half-moons curved under her eyes.

She let out a gasping sort of sob and dragged Claire inside with a firm grip on her elbow. “You came. I told Drew no one would.” She hiccupped. “Sorry. I’m just so tired.”

“Of course I came.” Claire held up the bag. “Would you like me to unpack this for you?”

The house had the particular chaos of new parenthood layered over what had probably been an organized home. Burp cloths draped every surface. A bouncer occupied the center of the living room. Baby swing, nursing pillow, and a pile of clothes competed for space on the coffee table.