would easily catch up with her. But every time he caught a glimpse of white and quickened his pace, she seemed to disappear. When he finally reached the caretaker’s cottage, she had already gone inside. He should turn around and leave. Instead, he moved toward the soft glow of the window and peeked in like some deviant stalker.
Reba must’ve been in a hurry to get to bed. She was already tucked in with plump pillows stacked behind her back and her hair falling around her face and shoulders in a wild disarray of burnished curls that made his fingers twitch to touch it. In her hands was a book. Not just any book, but his book. He would recognize the cold, empty smile on the back cover anywhere.
A mixture of happiness and intense fear gripped him. Happiness that it was his book she was reading and intense fear because it was his book she was reading . . . . and possibly hating. He must’ve made some kind of sound because she glanced toward the window. He ducked back in the shadows. When a few minutes passed and her face didn’t appear in the window, he released his breath and moved away.
“What are you doing?”
He froze and slowly turned to find her standing in the doorway of the cottage. She wore pink print pajamas with alarm clocks and coffee cups all over them and he wondered how she had changed so quickly from the white gown he’d caught glimpses of earlier. She looked absolutely adorable. And he felt absolutely ridiculous.
He lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey.” When she only stared at him quizzically, he let his hand fall and tried to explain. “I was just taking a walk in the garden and I saw your light on . . . so I thought I would see if you were still up. And you are.” He mentally rolled his eyes at his stammered speech.
“I was reading.”
He cleared his throat. “I noticed. Please tell me that it’s not my most recent book.” She held up the book and he cringed. “Damn. I want you to know that I can write better than that. It’s awful, isn’t it?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer. I already know it is.”
“My book club didn’t think so. Almost everyone gave you a five star review.”
“Who didn’t give me five stars?”
She laughed. “Are all authors as insecure about their work as you are?”
Her laughter made him realize what an egotistical jerk he was being and he grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Most artists are insecure. We see our work as a reflection of ourselves and it’s hard to take criticism about yourself.”
She hugged the book to her chest and the sight of his picture cuddled to her full breasts made him feel a little lightheaded. “Or about other people, it seems. Why did you hit Mr. Peterman? Him calling me fat wasn’t that big a deal.”
He lifted his gaze to her face. “It was to me.”
“Why?”
He paused for only a second before he told her the truth. “Because people used to call me fat and I know what it feels like.”
“You were overweight?” She gave him a onceover before she shook her head. “Now who’s lying?”
“It’s the truth. You can ask any of the Double Diamond boys. I was a chubby, sugar-addicted, nerdy kid when I came to the ranch. That’s why I was bullied and why punching Mr. Peterman felt so damn good.”
A smile broke over her face. “I’m glad you finally got your revenge. How’s your hand?”
“A little sore, but I’ll live.”
She motioned for him to follow her. “Come on inside and I’ll get you some ice. You need to take care of those talented fingers.” He should make his excuses and go back to his room. But his curiosity about Reba’s little cottage won out.
He was right that she had decorated the garden room. The inside of the cottage had similar décor. The sofa was floral with numerous throw pillows, the furniture antique, and the vibe homey and lived in. There were magazines scattered on the coffee table along with a half-full cup of tea and a notepad and pencil. On the fireplace mantel were a dozen framed family pictures. And draped over one chair was a huge billowing bluish gray dress that belonged in a civil war movie.
“That’s my Halloween costume,” she said when she noticed where he was looking. “Aunt Gertie started the tradition. She’s a big Gone with the Wind fan.”
“And I