The Rancher's Redemption

“Thank you. I’d rather you were kept out of it altogether as Miranda would be smearing your reputation as well as mine. You don’t deserve that. I’m surprised she hasn’t suggested Roman is your kid yet.”

“The DNA says differently,” Adam reminded her. “And how would she know you and I have been friends for years? She doesn’t live here.”

“But Coretta does,” Lizzie said gloomily. “And I bet she remembers all the town gossip back to the Stone Age. I suppose that seeing as I’ve only ever had sex with two people, she’d have a fifty percent chance of being right.”

Adam suddenly pulled the truck over to the side of the road and put the foot brake on.

“What happened?” Lizzie said. “Did we get a puncture?”

He turned to her and whipped off his sunglasses, his expression grim. “What did you just say?”

“Which bit?”

“About only having sex with two people.”

She blinked at him. “What about it?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “That time . . . after Louisa died . . .”

“Was my first time, yes.”

He turned away and stared out over the pasture before exhaling and dropping his head toward the steering wheel and banging it twice.

“I didn’t know.”

She shrugged. “We didn’t exactly talk much at the time.”

“But, jeez, Lizzie, I’m a big guy. I must’ve hurt you, I must’ve—” She reached out to touch his arm, and he flinched away from her. “Don’t be goddamn nice to me. I don’t fricking deserve it.”

“It wasn’t great, Adam, but if you think about it, none of that night was great. It was all about pain, and loss, and . . .” She hesitated, aware that he was no longer able to look at her. “It was still you, my best friend, and . . . I was okay about that.”

“No wonder you didn’t have sex for over ten years,” Adam muttered.

“I didn’t have sex because I didn’t meet a man who made me want to have sex,” Lizzie said patiently. “I’m not going to let you take the blame for everything that went on in my life.”

This time when she tried to take his hand, he let her. “I didn’t mention it to make it a big deal.” She paused. “I thought you knew.”

“I should’ve.” He sighed. “Just another thing I blocked out in my selfishness and grief.”

“It’s okay.” Lizzie squeezed his fingers. “It was a long time ago, and we’re both different people now.”

He framed her face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She returned his stare. “It really is.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he said roughly.

“Who does?”

With an inarticulate sound he bent to kiss her, and she wrapped one hand around his neck to keep him right where she wanted him.

“I can’t change what happened, what I did,” Adam murmured against her mouth. “But I swear that I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

He released her, and brought the truck back onto the pavement, his expression dire. He stretched out his right hand and placed it on her thigh, anchoring her against the rocking of the truck. Lizzie slowly let out her breath, aware that they’d somehow managed to find their way through yet another block in their personal road.

She hadn’t lied when she’d told him she hadn’t minded him being the first man she had sex with. That night was still something of a blur to both of them. She only remembered the urgency, the desperate need to be close, and to somehow offer him a haven to bury his pain and share their grief together.

“Lizzie?”

“Yes?” She turned toward him.

“When’s Roman coming home?”

Glad that he seemed to have moved on, she replied, “In about six days. Why?”

“I was just wondering how much time we have left.” His smile was wry.

Lizzie sighed. “Yes, I had thought about that.”

“My dad said you’re welcome to stay over at our place,” Adam said. “I’m only telling you before he drops it on you during dinner.”