Whatever this was.
He had means. And he had a damn good head on his shoulders. If neither worked, he had a loaded shotgun in his closet that could help seal the deal.
At the image of the gun, Ethan quickly made a mental note to purchase a gun safe. There was no way he was keeping an unlocked gun around a small child. One who would be in his house all too soon.
“Those are some heavy thoughts.”
Ethan turned at the soft words and came face-to-face with Lizzie. The afternoon sun had warmed things and she stood there in her sweatshirt and an old vest he kept hanging in his mudroom. The image of her in his things shot another arrow of need through him, and he turned toward the paddock and away from the tempting sight. “Just giving Dream a run. She needed some fresh air.”
Lizzie took a spot next to him on the rail, her booted foot propped up on the bottom rung. Color ran high on her cheeks as she pointed toward the far side of the ring. “She looks well.”
“Doc Peters is amazing.”
“He may be, but it looks like you’ve got a pretty amazing horse, too.”
Ethan felt the scrutiny—Lizzie wasn’t subtle—and marveled at the frank honesty. Even when she was a small child, she’d had that gaze. Bright green eyes that could size you up and tease you in one fell swoop.
Unwilling to keep his gaze diverted, he turned to stare into the familiar. And had to admit the wide-eyed innocence of the child had given way to the knowledge of a grown woman.
“Dream’s perfect.”
“You always wanted a barn full of horses. I remember how you used to talk of the ranch you’d have. I could see it, too.” Lizzie stepped back from the paddock rail and turned slowly, making a full circle, before she turned back toward him. “It’s just as you’d said it would be.”
“I knew what I wanted.”
“Yes, you did. And now you have it. That must be satisfying.”
Satisfying, yes. But a bit empty.
The thought caught him completely unaware, and Ethan scrambled to reorganize the odd impressions swirling through his mind.
Empty? When had that idea settled in and taken root?
Even as the confusion whirled around in his thoughts like a dust storm, Ethan knew. That weekend after he and Lizzie had shared time at the rodeo, he’d walked the land and wondered why the vastness he’d always welcomed suddenly seemed oppressive.
The ranch was his. This corner of Texas, so open and wide, had become his own. He’d put every ounce of himself into the place since he was nineteen. First as a hand, then as foreman and then—finally—as his own after his old boss wanted out of the business.
The ranch was his life. It was as much a part of him as his heart and soul.
So when had it stopped being enough?
“Ethan?”
“Sorry. Long day.”
She let his polite lie pass and turned back to the paddock. “I’ll give her credit. She certainly has more energy than I do.”
“Are you okay?” He had one hand on her back and the other covering her hand before he could even think to check his movements. “Do you need to lie down?”
Her shoulders stiffened beneath his hands before relaxing, and she moved a heartbeat closer. “I’m fine. I just tire easier, even with an afternoon spent lazing around like a cat.”
“The benefit of moving on four legs instead of two?”
Lizzie laughed at that, her smile wide and open. “Maybe that’s it.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Those delicate shoulders stiffened once more and he cursed himself for bringing such unpleasantness into their conversation.
“Yes. I have.”
“Well, one thing to take off it is me.”
Her gaze changed, shifted. The bright smile she’d worn while watching Dream was nowhere in evidence. “How so?”
“This is my child. You have my commitment that I will help you and stand by you. Both.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It’s fact. You won’t face this alone. I will be a father to my child.”
* * *
Lizzie pushed on a bright smile and ignored the pain that drummed against her heart with all the finesse of a blunt instrument.
Ethan Colton would be an amazing father to their child.
And that was all he’d be.
Shake it off, Lizzie girl. Shake it off.
The fantasy she’d warned herself against over the past six months—ever since that night at the rodeo—curled against the corners of her mind with reaching fingers. Although she knew it for the emotional foolishness it was, that small, hopeful piece of her had wondered if there could be more with Ethan.
With her gaze on the horse, she kept her voice level. “That’s a lot to take on. Especially with all the issues I’m having back at home.”
“Issues we’ll face together.” She sensed him before she felt him, the light press of his fingers against her shoulder drawing her attention. “Lizzie. I mean it. You’re not alone.”
“I’m always alone.”
The words were out before she could censor them. She hated playing the abandonment card—it suggested a weakness she refused to feel. She was proud of how hard she’d worked to overcome her childhood so she could focus on a bright future full of love and laughter.
So why was it so easy to drift back to that place?
The therapist she’d found after she started at the bank had been gentle, urging her to put voice to the feelings she’d lived with her whole life instead of keeping them locked inside. How humbling, then, to realize just how easy it was to regress.
He lifted his hand from her shoulder, but instead of breaking contact, he moved his fingers lightly over the length of her arm, coming to rest just above her wrist. Although she’d believed her sweatshirt was warm enough to battle the February afternoon chill, she’d had no idea the movement of the worn cotton over her skin could feel so sensual. So erotic.
She’d read the pregnancy books and knew her hormones were to blame for the immediate response to his touch, but deep down Lizzie wondered if it was something more.
Something that went far deeper than she’d admit, even to herself.
“I can only imagine how scared you’ve been, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Except you.
She laid her hand over his and gave in to the urge to look at him. Really look at him. Although the afternoon was comfortable, a light wind had filled his cheeks with ruddy color. The pinkish-red hue was a match for his lips, the firm, strong lines of his mouth drawing her attention.
He was a beautiful man, almost startlingly so, with thick lips and a firm jawline she itched to trace. To soften. He rarely smiled, instead facing the world with a stoic facade that tugged at something deep inside her.
It had always been that way, even when they were young. He’d seen so much—had lived with the image of finding his dead mother—and it sat heavy on his shoulders.
Lizzie knew what an impact parents had on their children—whether present or not—but Ethan’s life had been defined by his parents even more than most. Yet even with those ghosts—or demons, as a more apt description of Matthew Colton—Ethan had still made something of himself.