Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

T he afternoon sun filtered through the cabin windows as Patience sat in a chair by the fire cutting apples for after-dinner pies. Beside her, Anna was still and silent in a small armchair, her small hands clasped tightly in her lap. In one of the bed chambers, Naomi was putting her one-year-old daughter, Mary Ellen, down for a nap. This wasn't her home, she'd brought Anna and the little one over that morning so Patience could have plenty of time with Anna. This was her first full day at the ranch, and she wanted every moment she could with her niece.

Anna didn't seem to approve of the plan.

Patience'd had to practically force the girl to sit with her, and now she didn't seem inclined to talk at all. She hadn't realized a seven-year-old could be so sullen.

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing." Patience nodded toward the pink floral print of the gown that fit her niece perfectly.

"Naomi made it." Anna sent a sideways glare at her, as though Patience had refused to provide clothing.

She forced a smile. "She's a talented seamstress." Maybe if she acknowledged how wonderful Eric and Naomi—and all these people—had been to Anna, it would help break down the barrier. "I'm so glad Naomi and the others here have been so kind."

Anna shrugged, but Patience didn't miss the tremble of her lower lip. Oh, Anna . Patience's heart ached at all the pain this sweet girl had endured. All the loss.

She reached across the chasm between them and rubbed her thin shoulders. "I'm so glad you've had them. I know it was so hard when grandmother got sick." Was that what the girl thought had happened to her? From what Patience could gather, they didn't know for sure whether Mama had been ill or succumbed to the elements. Maybe it was a combination of the two.

Anna sniffed, fighting, it seemed, to keep from showing all her emotions. Patience kept rubbing her shoulders. "You know, your grandmother was my mother. I miss her." The sting of tears burned her throat, cracking her voice. She'd better find a better topic soon or they'd both be a soggy mess. She fingered the necklace she hadn't taken off since Jonah gave it to her. "These beads remind me of her."

Anna sent her a sideways glance, once again almost glaring. Hadn't Jonah said Anna treasured the necklace? Maybe she felt Patience had stolen it from her, taken the one thing she had to remember her grandmother by.

Patience unfastened the clasp. At least this she could remedy. And she could share the story behind the heirloom. "This first belonged to my grandmother—your great-grandmother."

As Patience placed the beads in Anna's small hands, the girl studied them.

Patience leaned in a little, stroking Anna's shoulders with her fingers once more. "Would you like to hear the story of how she was given them?"

Anna's head lifted slightly, curiosity flicking in her eyes .

"Before she met Grandpa Ben, Grandma was a nurse, and she traveled all over the world helping people. One time, she even went to South America to the Amazon rainforest and lived with the natives there for several months."

Anna's eyes widened, though she might not know what the Amazon was. Patience described it as best she could from what Grandma Annie had told her—the lush green jungle, the exotic animals, the kind and generous people who had welcomed her grandmother into their midst. "And when it was time for her to leave, the natives gave her this necklace as a gift, to thank her for all she had done. She treasured it always and passed it down to my mother. Grandma was so brave and loved adventure. She used her talents to help others. And do you know what?"

Patience waited and was soon rewarded with a quiet, "What?"

"Your mama named you after her. Her name was Anna Marie Masters, but I always called her Grandma Annie."

Anna's eyes shone, and for the first time since Patience arrived, she seemed truly happy in Patience's presence. A wave of love swept through her, so full it filled every part of her. Thank You, God, for giving me another chance with this sweet girl.

P atience studied the faces around the table, especially Jonah's youngest brother, Miles, who was riffling through the crate of games. They'd finished dinner, and Dinah and Naomi were slicing apple pie for dessert, but the steady patter of rain on the roof had made the group restless.

Miles straightened, a deck of cards in his hand. "I say we play poker."

Her middle tightened. Poker? Surely there was something else they could choose that wouldn't make her feel…dirty.

"Not poker." Jonah's voice rumbled strong at her side.

Thank you.

Miles looked up from the crate, his brows furrowed. "Why not poker? It's not like we're betting real money. I'm tired of chess, so it has to be some kind of cards."

Patience forced herself not to shift in her seat as unease settled in her stomach like a cold stone. She'd spent too many nights in smoky saloons, the clink of coins and the shuffle of cards the melody of her shame. This place felt so…different. So untainted. The last thing she wanted to do was mar the memories she was making here.

"Let's play Rounds." Gil nudged a pack of cards in Miles's hand.

Miles shrugged, pulling out the worn deck. "Rounds it is, then."

Soon, Dinah and Naomi brought plates full of sweet apple pie, and the cards had been dealt. A surprising number of the family had opted to watch rather than participate. If she'd known that was a choice, she would have done the same. But she'd been one of the first asked to play, so she'd committed. In the end, the players had been Miles, Gil, their niece, Lillian, and herself. From what she'd pieced together, Lillian and her brother, Sean, were Lucy's children, who'd come to the ranch after their mother passed from the illness Jonah had spoken of.

The sweet aroma of pie and the camaraderie around the table made the game nothing like an evening in the saloon. She might have even been able to play poker without it feeling like she'd gone back to that other place. These Coulters were unlike any family she'd ever seen.

Boisterous and joking, yet kind and considerate. They weren't afraid to confront when someone stepped out of line, yet there was always an undertone of love, as if nothing the other person did or said could ever stop them from being part of the family.

So very different from the family she'd been raised in. They made it hard to think of the people she'd grown up with—especially her father—as family at all. Not when she applied the same term to these Coulters.

Their first game became the best two out of three, then the best three out of five as Gil's competitive streak grew with each lost hand.

Patience did her best not to win every hand, but all three of her opponents were so easy to read, she couldn't seem to stop herself from responding to their cues.

Still, she did manage to lose one game to Miles, and she kept her margin of winning small on the others. More than that, she had fun. The banter between the brothers, both those playing and those watching as they licked pie from their forks, made her smile. Even Lillian joined in, showing her quick wit and charm.

It wasn't until Patience glanced at Jonah after their fourth game that she realized he wasn't smiling. Did it bother him that she'd won so much? Maybe he thought she should have allowed Lillian the chance. She should have, and Gil too. The others wanted to play another hand, but she declined as politely as she could.

Jonah was the first to stand, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. "I'll go get a load of firewood before I head to the bunkhouse."

Her heart leapt at the chance to talk with him alone. She could find out what she'd done wrong so she didn't make the mistake again. He was forthright enough to tell her without being mean. She followed him out into the misty night where the damp air clung to her skin.

She caught up to him at the corner of the house, his broad shoulders hunched against the wet chill.

"Jonah, wait." Her voice sounded small in the vastness of the night.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable in the cloudy night.

She paused in front of him. "What's wrong?"

His eyes met hers, a hint of wariness in their depths. "Nothing's wrong, Patience. Just tired is all."

"Was it the card game? Did I do something to offend you or the others by winning too much?"

He gave a humorless chuckle. "Nothin' like that. Everyone had a grand time." Yet bitterness tinged his voice.

"Then what is it? If I made some mistake, I want to know so I don't repeat it."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't realize how talented you were at cards. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cheating." He paused, shaking his head. "Though I can't think of a way to cheat at Rounds."

Patience wasn't sure if his words were meant as a compliment or an insult. "I just watch for tells. People always show what kind of hand they have, if you're watching closely enough."

His eyebrows raised. " Like what?"

She wasn't one to share her secrets, but there couldn't be harm in telling him what she'd observed. "Well, Miles's left eyebrow twitches when he has a good pair. Lillian taps her fingers on the table when she's close to going out. And Gil..." She couldn't help but chuckle. "The more he tries to conceal his hand, the easier it is to know what he's thinking."

By the time she finished, Jonah wore an expression somewhere between a smile and a smirk. "So, what's my tell then?"

The question caught her short. His? But even as she thought the word, she immediately knew her answer. In fact, he was doing it now. She met that intense gaze. "Your eyes. They twitch at the outside corners, just a little, when you're deciding whether you want to be serious or not."

He pulled back. "They do not." His words were firm, but there was a playful light in his eyes—and that unmistakable twitch.

She lifted her brows, reaching up to touch the spot, just so he'd know where she meant.

But the moment her fingers brushed his skin, heat from the contact nearly seared the pads of her fingers. Awareness sparked between them, and there was no amusement in his gaze now.

He was so close. Close enough that he could move in a little and take her lips with his.

He didn't look away. She felt frozen even before he captured her wrist in his warm hand. Even in his gentle grip, she could feel his power, though he was incredibly gentle as he lowered her hand. But instead of releasing her, he slid his fingers until their hands were palm to palm. Then he slid his hand around hers so it cradled the back of her hand, palm up. His thumb stroked her palm in a movement that stole her breath, his eyes intense as they locked with hers.

"Patsy..." His low voice sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the damp chill. "You matter to me." His eyes dipped to her mouth, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze in her belly before it lifted to meet hers again. "I'd really like to kiss you right now."

A thrill sizzled through her, but she had to stop this, to pull back. She had to protect her heart from this man who threatened to topple all her carefully constructed walls. She couldn't let herself get too close, not when she had plans to leave, to finally pursue her dreams. That peaceful cottage in the valley. Freedom from the control of any man. Even this one, as tempting as he was right now. He wouldn't always be like this. No man could be trusted.

He seemed to sense her inner turmoil. His thumb stilled, but his grip on her hand tightened, anchoring her in place.

"But I won't." His gaze never wavered in hers. "Because you matter to me, and I don't ever want you to feel like you're not safe with me. Not for any reason."

The weight in her chest eased. She'd never had a man put her feelings or her comfort above his own desires.

Jonah made her feel cherished and respected. If only it would last.

With a tenderness that made her heart ache, he lifted her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. The contact sent a tingle racing up her arm, spreading through her body like wildfire. Then he released her and walked to the stack of firewood, where he gathered an armload.

In that moment, a part of her wished he hadn't been so noble, that he'd thrown aside his caution and kissed her like she knew he wanted to. Like she wanted him to, despite her fears.

But as Jonah straightened, the logs cradled against his chest, reality crashed around her. She couldn't afford to get lost in foolish fantasies, not when she had Anna to think about. She had plans, dreams that were finally within reach. Dreams that didn't include getting tangled up with a rancher, no matter how kind and handsome he might be at first.

He would change. Right? She'd seen no sign of it yet, but surely she would.