She pulled the fluffy pastry, covered in icing and sweet stickiness, from the bag. “I’m not sure this is good for me, either.” She smiled.
He shrugged. “Looked good.”
“Share it with me?” she asked, standing.
He didn’t move. And the space between them grew charged, taut. “You look tired,” he said. “I’ve been pushing you too hard.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. You’re the one who looks wiped out.” Which was true. He had dark smudges under his eyes and stubble covering his jaw.
He smiled. “Didn’t get much sleep.” He cleared his throat.
“Worrying about this?” she asked, tapping the paperwork spread across her desk.
“That’s part of it,” he answered. “But mostly, I was thinking about you.”
She blinked, her heart in her throat.
“Last night shouldn’t have happened,” he said, his voice gruff. “But it did. And I can’t stop thinking about it.” He shook his head. “Whatever that was, it doesn’t change my offer. I’m serious about the job. About you and the girls starting over here.”
She frowned, confused. He hadn’t said he regretted it. But he didn’t seem happy about it, either. What did that mean? What was he thinking? Feeling? Wanting?
All of which was irrelevant until he knew the truth. She wanted him to know the truth, wanted him to know who she really was before things grew more complicated. Once he knew the truth, he might not be so eager to have her stay. Which was probably for the best. If he didn’t want her here, it would be easier to leave—to not find staying here, with him, so tempting. “Archer, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Eat first.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Meet me out front in a few minutes?”
She nodded, marveling at the smile he shot her way before backing from her office. “Okay,” she murmured.
She ate half the pastry, finished her cup of coffee and washed her hands in the sink before walking onto the front porch. A hard and heavy knot of tension rested beneath her lungs, pressing in until she felt sick to her stomach. Archer was waiting, his hands on his hips, staring out at the refuge. She saw him yawn, the slow drag of his hand over his face, and felt a pull of sympathy for him.
He worked so hard.
“Do you ever stop?” she asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.
His gaze settled on her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “I can rest when I’m dead,” he answered. “My granddad used to say that all the time. Man never sat still. If he had, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”
She tore her gaze from his, willing her heartbeat to return to normal. The sun was bright in the massive blue Texas sky, edging the rolling hills in gold.
“Need to check some fences and pens,” he said, walking down the steps. “We can talk while I drive.”
“I can wait,” she offered, her nerves getting the best of her.
“Now’s as good a time as ever.” He stopped, waving her forward.
She reluctantly followed him to the white truck labeled Boone Ranch Refuge, climbing into the passenger seat as he held the door wide. He smiled at her, those blue eyes so damn bright. She watched him walk back around the front of the truck to climb in. She didn’t know how to start. Her words seemed to evaporate before she could actually say them.
They were bouncing through a pasture when he said, “I want to know you, Eden.”
She looked at him, stunned by his straightforward admission. “You do?”
He nodded, not looking at her. “I do.”
She swallowed. “Even though I’m leaving soon?”
His blue eyes bore into hers. “Even if you leave soon.”
“Archer, my father—”
“Your dad is grumpy. Ivy’s words, not mine.” His voice lowered. “She said you cry a lot.”