wouldn’t get
Auntie Dee’s house perfect, but she wanted
to try. Even if she couldn’t be perfect, she
wanted to try.
She wanted to come home.
Anger bubbled up inside her. He
shouldn’t be so calm always. Getting truly
angry at Cabe Dawson was unfamiliar
territory, but it felt right. She was done
letting other people tell her how to feel,
what to do. Where to go and where to be.
First in L.A. as a child and then here in
Lonesome, she’d always believed there
was some impossible standard she should
be living up to. She couldn’t be perfect, but
she was also done trying to be imperfect .
“Don’t be an ass,” she snapped.
His head came up, his stare incredulous.
Cabe Dawson could be an easy man until
you pushed him too far. Then, he got as
immobile as rock. The look in his eyes
warned that he was more than halfway
there now. Too bad she didn’t give a
damn.
“Don’t stand here on my porch and tell
me what I did or didn’t feel.”
He opened his mouth. Shut it. “Rose—”
“This was my home,” she stormed.
“Here, with Auntie Dee. She was the best
thing that ever happened to me, Cabe
Dawson, and don’t you think I ever forgot
that. Sure, I left. That was what I needed to
do, then. Now, I’m back.”
“Let me write you that check, Rose.” He
watched her, his face closed off and
unreachable.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m fixing
this place up.”
He turned away from the porch railing,
watching her intently. She didn’t know
what he expected to find. “You want to
play house, come stay at the ranch house.
You can redesign and redecorate to your
heart’s content.”
“Consolation prize?”
“No.” Something she didn’t recognize
flashed across his face, and then he closed
the distance between them, his big, work-
roughened hands caging her in the swing as
they came down on either side of her.
“You know you always have a place on the
Blackhawk, Rose. You can come home
with us.”
“I’m not family,” she pointed out,
because it needed saying.
“No.” He watched her carefully. As if
he had something that needed saying but no
idea how to start. “No, you’re not, Rose.
Whatever you were to my brothers, don’t
make the mistake of thinking I ever saw
you as a sister.”
There was that familiar hurt, followed
by a flicker of hot, liquid attraction.
She didn’t need him to swoop in here
and take care of her.
“This place, this house—it’s too much,
Rose, and some of the problems are just
plain beyond fixing. You’d need a new
roof on the house, new siding, a new
porch. And those are just the outside
pieces. You get inside, and I’ll lay money
the plumbing’s shot, right along with the
electrical system. You have to see that.”
She could. She wasn’t blind, and when
she stopped looking with her heart, she
could see the never-ending list of what had
gone wrong with the place.
“I know.” Her voice sounded small and
strained, even to her own ears. The knot in
her throat had her swallowing hard.
She was alone. The woman who’d
raised her was gone. Her home was gone,
too, she realized. Maybe the house itself
could be salvaged with paint, lumber, and
some serious contractor elbow grease, but
Auntie Dee wasn’t there anymore. There
was no fixing, replacing, or filling that
absence. Tears swam in her eyes before
she could remind herself she’d sworn she
was all done crying, because crying never
helped.
“Ah, Rose,” Cabe growled, hauling her
into his arms, “don’t cry, baby.”
Nothing had ever felt more right to Cabe
than pulling Rose Jordan into his arms.
He’d touched her last night, but that had
been accidental. This was deliberate. At
first, she stiffened, and then she melted,
and that unspoken gesture of feminine trust
should have warned him. Last night, she’d
pushed his buttons. Whether she’d realized
it or not, she’d made him see her as a
woman fully grown for the
Auntie Dee’s house perfect, but she wanted
to try. Even if she couldn’t be perfect, she
wanted to try.
She wanted to come home.
Anger bubbled up inside her. He
shouldn’t be so calm always. Getting truly
angry at Cabe Dawson was unfamiliar
territory, but it felt right. She was done
letting other people tell her how to feel,
what to do. Where to go and where to be.
First in L.A. as a child and then here in
Lonesome, she’d always believed there
was some impossible standard she should
be living up to. She couldn’t be perfect, but
she was also done trying to be imperfect .
“Don’t be an ass,” she snapped.
His head came up, his stare incredulous.
Cabe Dawson could be an easy man until
you pushed him too far. Then, he got as
immobile as rock. The look in his eyes
warned that he was more than halfway
there now. Too bad she didn’t give a
damn.
“Don’t stand here on my porch and tell
me what I did or didn’t feel.”
He opened his mouth. Shut it. “Rose—”
“This was my home,” she stormed.
“Here, with Auntie Dee. She was the best
thing that ever happened to me, Cabe
Dawson, and don’t you think I ever forgot
that. Sure, I left. That was what I needed to
do, then. Now, I’m back.”
“Let me write you that check, Rose.” He
watched her, his face closed off and
unreachable.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m fixing
this place up.”
He turned away from the porch railing,
watching her intently. She didn’t know
what he expected to find. “You want to
play house, come stay at the ranch house.
You can redesign and redecorate to your
heart’s content.”
“Consolation prize?”
“No.” Something she didn’t recognize
flashed across his face, and then he closed
the distance between them, his big, work-
roughened hands caging her in the swing as
they came down on either side of her.
“You know you always have a place on the
Blackhawk, Rose. You can come home
with us.”
“I’m not family,” she pointed out,
because it needed saying.
“No.” He watched her carefully. As if
he had something that needed saying but no
idea how to start. “No, you’re not, Rose.
Whatever you were to my brothers, don’t
make the mistake of thinking I ever saw
you as a sister.”
There was that familiar hurt, followed
by a flicker of hot, liquid attraction.
She didn’t need him to swoop in here
and take care of her.
“This place, this house—it’s too much,
Rose, and some of the problems are just
plain beyond fixing. You’d need a new
roof on the house, new siding, a new
porch. And those are just the outside
pieces. You get inside, and I’ll lay money
the plumbing’s shot, right along with the
electrical system. You have to see that.”
She could. She wasn’t blind, and when
she stopped looking with her heart, she
could see the never-ending list of what had
gone wrong with the place.
“I know.” Her voice sounded small and
strained, even to her own ears. The knot in
her throat had her swallowing hard.
She was alone. The woman who’d
raised her was gone. Her home was gone,
too, she realized. Maybe the house itself
could be salvaged with paint, lumber, and
some serious contractor elbow grease, but
Auntie Dee wasn’t there anymore. There
was no fixing, replacing, or filling that
absence. Tears swam in her eyes before
she could remind herself she’d sworn she
was all done crying, because crying never
helped.
“Ah, Rose,” Cabe growled, hauling her
into his arms, “don’t cry, baby.”
Nothing had ever felt more right to Cabe
than pulling Rose Jordan into his arms.
He’d touched her last night, but that had
been accidental. This was deliberate. At
first, she stiffened, and then she melted,
and that unspoken gesture of feminine trust
should have warned him. Last night, she’d
pushed his buttons. Whether she’d realized
it or not, she’d made him see her as a
woman fully grown for the
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