When her soft sobs had quieted to occasional sniffle, she lifted her face to his.
He still didn't let go.
"Why are you still here?" she whispered.
He didn't know if she meant on the ranch for all these years or here with me tonight, but there was only one answer he could give.
He cupped her cheek and brushed a stray tear from beneath her eye with his thumb. "Because there's nowhere else I want to be."
He couldn't resist. He kissed her again. Deeper this time.
She responded sweetly, and joy swirled through him like the snowflakes dancing outside.
When his lungs threatened to burst, he tucked her close again, not ready to let go.
They stayed like that for a long time. Sharing kisses. Him holding her when tears once again streamed down her face.
And in the wake of it all, one realization crystallized in his heart.
He might never be ready to let her go.
8
Two days after the disastrous rescue attempt, Lila showed up at the church a bundle of nerves.
The snowstorm had continued all night, and it had been late—or early, depending on how you looked at it—when Ben had left her to get some rest and gone back to the foreman's house.
She hadn't slept, not really, not with the house all around her, taunting her with its long-ago familiar creaks and groans.
So was remembering what things had been like before she'd made the biggest mistake of her life. Before she's gotten her best friend killed.
Ben had come for her in the morning. Everything had been covered in a blanket of snow as he'd driven her back to her apartment.
If only the things she'd done back then could be covered over like that.
But she well knew that the snow would melt, leaving behind a muddy mess.
She had to tell him.
The kisses they'd shared had broken open something inside her. So had the multiple, long phone conversations they'd had in the two days since they'd seen each other last.
She was falling for the cowboy with the heart of gold.
But he didn't know about Andrea.
Mrs. Potts was in the church's makeshift dressing room, armed and ready to help Lila into the robe. After being out in the elements the other night, she'd worn two pairs of long johns beneath her jeans and three pairs of socks. Even though it had warmed considerably—to the forties—since the snowstorm, she would be standing outside for two and a half hours.
Mrs. Potts clucked as she tugged the fabric into place. "I suppose the folds of the robe will cover the extra layers you added." Although her voice rang with slight disapproval.
Two shepherd boys chased each other through the vestibule, ignoring Mrs. Potts when she called after them, threatening to phone their mothers.
And then Ben stepped through the door, cowboy hat in hand.
His gaze connected with Lila's, and her heart tripped.
She must've made an audible gasp, because Mrs. Potts patted her shoulder. "You'll do fine, dearie. We do need to take your hair down, though."
She tore her gaze away from Ben. With an effort. "What?"
"Your hair." Mrs. Potts tapped her tight french braid. "Let's have it down."
She felt more than saw Ben come near. "It's pretty when it's down."
She wasn't prepared for him to buss her cheek with a kiss or to squeeze her elbow. Neither was she prepared for Mrs. Potts to remove the band that held her hair in place or to start loosening the braid.
She was frozen in place as Ben said something and the older woman laughed, fingers still in Lila's hair.
He slid his robe over his head and adjusted it. His shoulders still looked as broad beneath the brown linen, though he looked a little self-conscious as he caught her staring.
He winked.
And the coil that had started tightening in her stomach loosened.
"Miss Velma, Miss Velma!" A little girl in white costume with a pipe cleaner halo wobbling above her head ran up to them. "Eddie put a lamb in the kindiegarten class!"
Mrs. Potts allowed herself to be dragged away, calling over her shoulder for Lila and Ben to be in place in ten minutes.
And then they were alone, Ben looked down on her. He lifted one hand to play with the curls bouncing near her chin.
"I like your hair down."
He was close, but not quite in kissing range.
And what was she thinking? There were impressionable young children—and livestock—running around. Even though none were in sight right at this moment.
"It's crazy," she admitted. "That's why I keep it up."
"Curly," he countered.
"Unmanageable."
He tugged on the curl, his knuckle inadvertently brushing her jaw. Had he stepped closer?
"It makes me wonder what else you try to manage that won't behave."
Her life.
"It also reminds me of what happened the last time it was down."
His lips brushed her jaw where his fingers had been a moment ago, and surely this was no mistake, but before she could turn her head and meet his kiss, he backed away. "We'd better get out there."
She followed him to the side of the building that faced Second Street. The men of the church had constructed a barnyard scene complete with hay spread across the lawn, a manger, and a wobbly-looking pen where several sheep stood in a huddle.
Behind two hay bales someone had rigged heaters to blow onto the actors. It wouldn't be the same as being indoors, but it was a good counter measure to the cool night temperatures.
There were already bystanders on the sidewalk watching as they took their places in the scene.
Three shepherd boys ran out and stood behind the sheep pen, laughing and horsing around.
Lila felt terribly self-conscious. Were they really supposed to stand here for hours while people just watched them? Who had thought this was a good idea?
She must have muttered the thought, because Ben's lips twitched.
"You're a hard woman to pin down," he murmured. "I won't mind standing next to you for awhile. It'll give us a chance to talk."
She supposed if they kept their voices low enough, people watching them from several yards away on the sidewalk would never know what they talked about.
She swallowed hard. "I guess we could talk about the ranch finances."
His eyes sparkled, as if he knew that was an easier topic for her than, say, the reason she'd broken down and sobbed all over him the other night.
Or the kisses.
She definitely wasn't ready to talk about the kisses yet.
A young woman approached, a baby on her hip.
"I'm April. And this is Wyatt."
Lila's mouth opened, but no sound came out. No. Mrs. Potts wouldn't have stuck them with a baby.
Then again, what would the nativity be without the baby Jesus?
Ben smoothed over her awkward silence with introductions.
"Wyatt is almost nine months old," April said. "So not a newborn, but it is a little cold for a newborn to be out."
She looked at Lila expectantly, but Lila held up her hands in front of her in the universal sign for no stinkin' way. She didn't know anything about babies.
Ben reached for him instead, and the little boy snuggled right into the crook of his arm.
Which left Lila to receive the diaper bag April thrust at her. "He might get hungry. He can have a snack, it's right in here. His dad and I will be watching—and probably taking pictures—from over there." She motioned to the sidewalk, then left them with her baby.
Lila stowed the bag behind a bale of hay where she hoped it would be out of sight from the sidewalk.
Wyatt gurgled as he tugged on Ben's robe, then reached up to honk Ben's nose.
Ben only chuckled, moving the tyke's hand and then ruffling his hair. "I've seen you in services before, haven't I, buddy?"
"Stand closer, Lila—I mean, Mary!" Mrs. Potts yelled from behind the growing pack of spectators on the si
dewalk.
One of the sheep baaaed.
Lila's cheeks burned, but Ben held out his arm that wasn't supporting the baby, and she stepped into him, completing the circle.
"This isn't so bad, right?"
She couldn't tell if he was speaking to her or Wyatt.
Speak for yourself.
Every moment spent close to Ben made her want things she had no business wanting.
He made more baby talk with Wyatt. Held her hand between their robes—although she didn't think they were kidding anyone watching.
Something had changed.
Between them.
Maybe in both of them.
When he looked down on the baby and looked at her, his eyes didn't burn. Not anymore.
And that coil inside her started tightening up again.
* * *
Lila was gone by the time Ben had slipped out of his costume and made a bathroom run.
He wasn't real surprised, not after the way she'd reacted when baby Wyatt had made an appearance in their scene.
But that didn't mean he was going to let her keep running away. He figured he could go to her apartment and cajole her into going ice skating. Or getting a bite at the diner. Or...anything.
But he was waylaid in the church foyer by Melody and Anna.
"If you're looking for Lila, she's already gone," he said, intending to just pass them by. He picked up his hat from where he'd left it on a high shelf, out of the reach of small shepherds.
"We're looking for you," Anna said.
That stopped him short.
"We're worried about Lila," Melody said.
Uh-oh. Was this the hurt our friend and we'll kill you speech? "Look, I like her. Really like her. I'm not going to hurt her."
Anna's eyes danced while Melody put a hand over her mouth. Laughing?
"That's good to know," Anna said.
"But we already figured that out," Melody added.
"So...?" What then? Was Lila planning something that could get her into trouble...again?
"She's still planning to leave after Christmas," Melody said.
"And we don't want her to go." Anna adjusted her scarf. "And it sounds like you don't either."
No. The very idea made his insides flip like flapjacks.
"We've got three days to figure out a way to get her to stay," Melody said. "Surely between the three of us..."
Anna nodded toward him. "I thought his vote counted double. He's the one she's falling for."
Her words sent him soaring. Was she really? Could it possibly be true?
He stopped his crazy thoughts. He'd done all that positive thinking after Mia's diagnosis, and that hadn't done him one whit of good. He'd been unprepared to lose both her and the baby, and the grief had nearly killed him.
He still held his hat against one leg, but now used the other hand to tunnel through his hair, letting out a gusty sigh. "I'm doing my best to reach her but Lila is..."
"Lila," Anna finished.
He'd been going to say stubborn. Or maybe independent. Or even hurting.
"If you push her too hard, she'll run," came Anna's sage words.
"She's been running a long time," he agreed.
Melody's brows crunched together.
Anna nodded. "Ever since she lost her best friend, back in seventh grade."
"You knew her then?" He'd been a transplant, had arrived just before she'd gone away to boarding school. Arrived just in time to get his insides rearranged on her behalf.
Anna shrugged. "She was a grade younger than me. We weren't really friends, but in Redbud Trails, everybody knows everybody, you know?"
He'd been there long enough to know what she meant.
"She went a little wild when the accident happened, and then her dad sent her away. I don't know if she's ever really gotten over it."
She'd lost a friend. A best friend.
Knowing that, her tears—her grief—from the other night made sense. If she thought it was her fault... then her running, bouncing from place to place and never really landing, that made sense too.
Anna and Melody watched him expectantly, but what Anna had told him just gave him more questions—and no answers.
He and Lila had been butting heads since she'd returned home. And now he knew why.
What was he missing here? What hadn't she told him?
9
Lila stood just outside the pregnant mare's stall. She was alone in the barn.
It was Christmas Eve.
Somehow she'd made it through two more nights standing next to Ben in the nativity scene, but where two nights ago, she'd experienced a ray of hope, now she just wanted it to be over.
And now it was.
Many of the folks in town had stayed to watch the shops on Main Street light trees they'd decorated over the last week. She'd seen Ben there, even seen him scouring the crowd for her, but she'd slunk away like a thief.
It hurt too much, standing next to his perfection.
She knew he would come back to the Circle A eventually, and she planned to be gone before then, but the mare's restless agitation had given her pause.
She'd seen enough live births before she'd left home to know something was wrong. The mare had been up and down too many times. The hay was stained with blood.
And Lila's thumb hovered over the CALL button on her phone.
She pressed it.
Ben's name lit the screen first, and then the call connected. "Hey," came his easy greeting.
"The mare is foaling and something's wrong."
"All right." He said the words without even a pause, as if she'd been talking about the weather. His calm manner seeped through the phone and into her, allowing her to take the first deep breath in what felt like hours.
"I'm coming home. I'm almost there. Will you be all right if I click off and phone the vet?"
He hadn't questioned her. He'd just trusted her diagnosis.
That in itself sent tears to her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.
"I'm okay." Because of him.
He ended the call, and her mind began to whirl. There was running water, hot and cold, in a small washroom off the main barn. The vet would wash up there.
But she dragged several buckets of hot water and lined them up outside the stall anyway.
By the time she'd done that, Ben was striding into the barn, his gait sure and loose. His cell phone was still at his ear. He must still be on with the vet.
"She's gained a few pounds from where she was before. I can send you some pictures."
Send some pictures?
He clicked off and joined her outside the stall. His sharp eyes swept the pen, taking in the horse that had lain down again and the straw that had been stirred up by her movements.
"She's not coming?" Lila asked.
His arm came around her waist as if it belonged there. He pulled her close to his side and kissed her temple.
"She had an emergency call halfway to Weatherford. It's you and me." He squeezed her gently. "I'm glad you called me. Thank you."
She didn't know what to do with his gratefulness, so she didn't say anything.
He let her go and raised his phone to snap several pictures of the mare, then his fingers worked the screen as he must've sent them to the vet. In minutes, his phone rang, and he raised it to his ear.
"Uh-huh. Lila's with me. Will do."
He held the phone out to her. "She wants you to stay on the line. She's going to walk us through performing an exam and see if we can't help this mama out."
* * *
Ben left his phone with Lila and rushed off to the small washroom in the barn, shucking his coat as he went.
He soaped up and rinsed off with hot water.
Then he stood for a long moment, just as he had in the big house kitchen days ago. This time, praying.
He and Lila had both suffered through more than their share of grief. She was on the cusp of running again, and somehow he knew that if that mama horse died, he'
d lose her.
And yet, he had no control of the situation. So many things could go wrong.
And how much worse could it get that this situation mirrored his own loss? Both mama and baby could die.
He had to find a way to get through this, for the horses and for himself. But mostly, for Lila.
When he returned to the stall, she was inside with the horse. She spoke softly into the phone, running one hand along the horse's neck. She must've been giving the vet more details than he could with his pictures outside the stall.
He'd pulled many a calf during his years on the ranch. This couldn't be much different, only so much more was riding on it.
"Um, she wants you to do an internal examination," Lila said softly from her place near the horse's head.
He nodded. The vet had gone over it in detail on the phone before he'd handed it over to Lila. He shucked his shirt, the cool air teasing the skin of his torso.
Lila's eyes flicked to him and away.
He approached the horse from the side. Its head rolled to the side, but she appeared to lack the energy to get up. Not good.
He touched her hip first, then slowly moved to where he needed to be.
His first thought was it's hot.
Lila relayed his concern that the mare might be feverish, but he lost concentration on her one-sided conversation as his hand slipped into the birth canal.
The mare's skin shivered just before everything clamped down on his hand and wrist painfully.
"Contraction," he gritted out. He had only a split-second glance to see her wide-eyed stare.
He relayed to Lila when the contraction eased. Then the tips of his fingers brushed against something soft.
Was that a breath against his hand?
He was out of room, more than elbow-deep inside the mare, stretching for just another inch.
"I think the cord is wrapped around one hoof." He grunted as another contraction took the mare, and he lost feeling in his arm.
"Can you get it unwrapped?" Lila asked, the phone dropped and forgotten in the hay as she moved to his side. Her hand brushed his shoulder.
"Don't know."
The vise released just a minuscule amount. He could barely feel his fingers, could only hope his brain was sending the right message to his muscles as he stretched... and his fingers curled around...
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