Moved away from him.
“I just wish you—”
“Avalon.” The word was startling. Flat and cold. A warning. “Enough.”
She did not like that one bit.
He looked into her eyes then.
And she hated the fact that she was carefully holding her expression still. She didn’t want him to know what she was thinking, or, God help her, feeling.
But when their eyes met it was still almost a physical thing. Every time she could not believe how lovely his eyes were, but she was smart enough to know that the true impact came from the person looking out of them. And his went softer, and his chest went up, came down in a sigh.
She couldn’t smack down that little jolt.
His smile was kind of wistful. But his eyes were darker. Not sad, but thoughtful.
“I remember counting your freckles that day at Whiskey Creek because in that second before you opened your eyes I thought... what if I never see her again? I never wanted to forget. She had eyes the color of mahogany and big as lakes, I would have said. And thirteen freckles.”
Her heart gave a huge thump. As if it were turning belly-up in supplication, like Chick Pea.
There was a suspicious burning sensation behind her eyes.
It might have been the most romantic thing anyone had said to her. From a man who was studiedlynotromantic.
And yet she wondered... that it might actually be his way of saying good-bye. Memorizing her yet again.
She couldn’t keep slamming her entire being up against the metaphorical wall that was Mac Coltrane. Didn’t he understand that cutting everything out that could potentially hurt or inconvenience him meant essentially cutting out his heart?
Because what is a heart if not inconvenient? A potential source of grave pain, right?
Maybe he knew. And didn’t care.
Hedidcare about things—his goats, his cat. She was positive he cared about her. But she knew in her soul that she wouldn’t be immune from the kind of ruthless exile to which Mac consigned people who hurt him. He’d do it before she had a chance to hurt him, if he thought there was a possibility of that.
And just like that her heart suddenly started beating swiftly as if it knew it was once again in actual and present danger.
She sat up suddenly.
“I should get going. Eden’s going to be here in a few minutes and I wanted to get a few things done before she gets here.”
Her tone was bright and friendly. It was her presentation voice. Her put-her-best-foot-forward-everything-is-dandy voice. It had always glossed over what she was thinking or feeling and it had always been persuasive.
Mac noticed. He frowned faintly at her. Puzzled. But probably uncertain as to what question he should ask.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Okay. I’ll meet you all later out by the goats.”
Avalon got dressed.
And she left.
And in the five minutes in between those two events neither of them said a word.