I could turn around and come back.”
He shook his head. “Then you’d be riding alone, and that would make me crazy, too. I need you and the baby to be safe so that I can concentrate on my bearings and find a way out of here. The milk’s gone, the well’s flooded and we’re running out of fresh water. We’ve still got no phone line or electricity. We need help, Jolene. I’m going to go find it. We can’t live like this forever.”
Jolene’s heart twisted into a knot. Logically she knew he was talking about their chances for survival, not any personal spin she’d put on their relationship.
Still, she didn’t want this time with Nate to end. With just the two of them to rely on, she’d found strength and wisdom she didn’t know she possessed. She’d helped him start the healing process on those invisible wounds that cut him so deeply. They were good for each other. Good together.
But the outside world might prove a tempting lure that could tear them apart. California was part of that outside world. No hurricanes to mess with there. There were prettier, more experienced, less impulsive women in that outside world. Women without babies to remind him of the child he couldn’t save. Nate’s life would be a lot more sane and safe and predictable away from her.
She’d just hoped that after last night—after yesterday—he might not be so eager to leave their haven. It had probably been a foolish dream to expect a man as responsible as Nate to sit around and wait for the outside world to come to them while he enjoyed what they had for a little while longer.
But she’d dreamed it anyway.
Nate turned the bill of his Rangers ball cap to the back of his head and narrowed his gaze in her direction. “Why are you so quiet this morning? I’m not used to keeping up the conversation all by myself.”
“I’m just tired, I guess.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “You kept me up kind of late last night.”
His eyes warmed, reminding her of the tender way he’d been watching her when she awoke in his arms that morning. “Did I ever thank you for that?”
She summoned a smile and nodded. “Twice.”
“Thanks,” he added for good measure. He righted his cap and untied Checker’s reins. “I’d better get going. I have no idea how long this will take. And keep in mind, I’m not asking you to stay because I don’t think you’re capable of helping me. But there’s still work to do here. And I will move faster on my own.”
Without her around to make a bad situation worse?
She kept the honest, if uncharitable, thought to herself. “I know you’re right. And I am worried about Dad. It’d be a huge relief to hear his voice and know he was all right.”
“I’ll make that a priority,” he promised. “And remember, you won’t be alone today. You’ve got the dogs, the horses, and hey, you’ve got Rocky. What better company could you ask for?”
Jolene laughed at his efforts to ease her concern. “Your sense of humor needs some serious work.”
“Give a man a break. I’m just now learning how to laugh again.”
She could see that he was. The grim lines that had etched his face in a perpetually watchful frown when she’d first met him back at the fire station had eased into the hint of a dimple and a lazy grin.
Maybe he’d take a piece of her with him when he went back to California. He might talk about her fondly as that one-of-a-kind pregnant virgin he’d had a brief affair with down in Texas. Hopefully, he’d laugh at some of the predicaments she’d gotten them into.
And she prayed that he’d never know how much it would break her heart to lose him. Because Mr. Responsibility would take that burden of guilt upon his shoulders and let it weigh down his soul. He’d lose his new smile and strengthen his determination never to hurt anyone the same way again.
That’s what a man like Nate Kellison did.
It was one of the reasons she loved him.
She clapped her hands together, needing to cut short the gloomy spell and send him on his way before she did something impulsive like tie him up in the house or break into tears. “You’d better mount up, California. You’re wastin’ daylight.”
California. Oh, Lord, she’d slipped.
His shoulders stiffened in suspicion at the nickname. “I’m not going to find you up on the roof or