Page 107 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

Because the problem isn't that Helen likes me. The problem is that I'm starting to care far too much about whether her daughter does. And last night changed something. Not because Maddy saw me at my best. Because she didn't. She saw the part I work hardest to keep contained.

Waking this morning to Atlas beside me and Maddy sitting on the floor beside me. Her hand against me. I don't know how long she stayed there. Long enough.

This morning, she could have asked questions. She didn't. She made coffee. When I tried to explain, she looked at me and said: I know. And then: When you're ready. No pity. No fear. No careful look that says someone is recalculating what being close to me might cost.

Then she took my hand and kissed me.

That kiss should have made things easier. Instead, for the first time since Maddy Hart walked back into Oakridge, I know exactly how dangerous this is becoming. Because I don't want her to stop. And I know what it costs when someone does.

By nine, the farm is awake. The storm left branches across the south pasture and enough mud near the lower field to swallow a boot, but nothing important is damaged. Cole and Aaron are clearing debris near the equipment shed. A section of fencing needs attention, and the drainage ditch by the west field is clogged with leaves.

Work helps. It always has.

I spend the next hour moving from one problem to another, Atlas never far from me. By the time I find Jack near the barn, he's loading cut branches into the utility trailer.

"Need a hand?"

He looks over. "Always."

I grab the other end of a heavy limb. We lift it into the trailer. For the next ten minutes, neither of us says much. That's one of the things I like about Jack. He understands silence doesn't always need fixing.

We clear the last of the larger branches before he grabs two bottles of water from the back of the truck and tosses one to me. I catch it.

"Thanks."

Jack sits on the lowered tailgate. I stay standing for a minute, then sit beside him. Across the yard, Cole is arguing with a wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow appears to be winning. Normally I'd go help. I don't.

Jack takes a drink. "Maddy make it home all right?"

"Yeah. Helen and Noah are fine too."

"Good."

I turn the bottle between my hands. "She stayed at my place last night."

Jack glances at me. "Road flooded?"

"Yeah."

He nods.

"She hates storms."

"I found that out."

"Lily told Emma once."

That makes sense. I look toward the fields.

"She was scared when the power went out."

"Bad?"

"Enough."

Jack waits.

"I stayed with her until we got some candles lit."