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“Okay,” he said, laughing. “Maybe not right away. I may have moped around for a good month or two. It was kinda pathetic, actually. I was the only cowboy at animal science school crying myself to sleep.”

She laughed and pretended to nudge him with her shoulder. “Mm-hmm. I’m sure you were.”

God, he was handsome standing there under the moonlight. Insects chirped their calls, custom designed to attract a mate, and every now and then a small plop announced a turtle making its way back under water. With the light breeze ruffling the new spring leaves and the moonlight dappling the creek as it splashed along its course, she could almost pretend they’d gone back in time and this was a regular Saturday night date.

Almost.

Her smile fell. “But, either way, I’m sorry. We lost so much time and trust because of my father. Oooh, if he wasn’t dead…”

“You’d kill him?” Bennett asked, drawing her in close enough that she could see the dimple in his cheek.

“What? No! But I’d have some strong words for the man. That’s what hurts so much. I could never get mad, never feel anything other than blind ambition or gratefulness for him because of what he sacrificed so I could have the life I do. I loved ranching, still do, actually. But I have this whole other appreciation for it thanks to my work with Steel Born. And I don’t think that would have been possible without him pushing me.”

“But…”

She smiled softly. God, he knew her inside and out, didn’t he?

“But, looking back, I wonder if any of it was real—his and my relationship, I mean.”

“It was, Maggie. Your father loved you more than I can put into words. Hell, I was jealous of the way he talked about you and all the cool stuff you were up to.”

“Like what?” Her dad had been monumental in shaping her dreams, but she hadn’t been a part of his life, hadn’t seen how he’d given up so much of his own future to give her one.

Talking about him with someone who saw so much of the life she’d missed was nice. Even if it hurt.

“Oh, well, you should have heard him talk about the award you won at University of Houston. The Watt-Tesla?”

“He told you about that?” Maggie started walking down the path again and Bennett followed, still grasping her hand.

“That’s an understatement. He bragged about you for a solid week to anyone who would listen. It was sweet. I think he lived his whole life so he could make you as proud as he was of you.”

An ache opened up in Maggie’s chest. “You knew him so much better than I did,” she said, her voice almost lost under the sound of the burbling creek. “I knew what he let me see when he came to San Antonio, but you saw everything.”

“Indirectly, I guess. But, Maggie, the point is he loved you. I guess that’s why—well, never mind.”

Maggie paused next to an old cottonwood tree lumbering over the water, dangling limbs splashing in the froth of a small eddy. “What? Talk to me, Bennett.”

He gazed out over the water, the moonlight reflected in his eyes. Finally, he looked back at her, but his eyes had lost their gleam. They looked sad.

“The way he talked about you let me keep you close, Maggie. It didn’t matter to me how we left things or why. I never stopped hoping we would get another chance.”

Maggie couldn’t hear the stream or the wind rustling above them anymore. Not over the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. “Bennett, I—”

But her words lodged in her throat because he was leaning in, his gaze locked on her lips and his hands somehow resting on her hips. She inhaled a sharp breath and wet her lips. She’d given into the urge to kiss him twice already, and each time it hadn’t been enough to assuage the lust that roared to life anytime this man came within a city block of her. If she gave in again, would she have the strength to walk away?

Because the only thing stronger than the desire she had for Bennett was the nagging feeling she was messing up somehow. She’d promised Jill she’d focus on work, her dad that she’d leave this small town and not look back, but what did she want for herself? She owed it to her future to ask herself that at least.

Bennett Tucker Marshall.

That answer didn’t surprise her since his lips were mere centimeters away from hers. She inhaled his scent and let the particular blend of whiskey and pine dissolve her fortitude to stay away from him.

Forgive him, a voice from behind her heart whispered, forcing her back a step.

Who, Bennett? Because she already had, even if she wasn’t sure what it meant for their future.

Dad. Forgive him for what he put you through. It was wrong but his intentions were noble.

Well, that she wasn’t expecting. She loved her father, could forgive him almost anything, but betraying her trust by lying about Bennett? That was a tough sell. But what was the alternative? Living with this kind of unquenchable frustration wasn’t any easier.