Page 92 of Earning Her Trust

Before Ghost could respond, Jax clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, leaving him alone at the fence with his thoughts and the unwelcome feeling of being torn open.

Cinder materialized at his side, her black coat gleaming in the late afternoon light. She pressed against his leg, a rare public display of affection that told him she sensed his unease. He dropped his hand to her head, running his fingers through her silky fur.

“What do you think?” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. “Am I overthinking this?”

Cinder huffed, as if the answer were obvious.

River laughed as Goose rolled onto his back, paws in the air, utterly content in his uselessness. The sound carried across the paddock, genuine and unfettered. The golden retriever would never be a working dog, would never track suspects, guard property, or herd sheep. But he made River laugh, and maybe that was purpose enough.

Ghost pushed away from the fence. He had some thinking to do.

thirty

Where was he?

Naomi opened the cabin’s door and let the cold night air swirl in around her as she stared out into the darkness. Greta had left an hour ago, well after night had fallen, but Ghost still hadn’t returned.

The chill prickled her skin, but she ignored it. She should have been relieved to have the space, the quiet. Hadn’t she practically shoved him out the door this morning? Told him she needed room to breathe?

And yet.

Naomi stepped onto the porch, wrapping her arms—his arms, really, still draped in his flannel—around herself. The night was clear, stars pricking the vast Montana sky like tiny holes punched through black velvet. No sign of Ghost’s truck in the driveway. No silhouette trudging up the path.

“Where the hell are you?” she whispered.

A twinge of anxiety twisted through her belly. Maybe something had happened. Maybe he’d gotten into trouble. Maybe he’d decided she was more trouble than she was worth and just... left.

No. That last thought was unfair. Ghost wouldn’t abandon her, not after everything they’d been through. He might be emotionally stunted, but he wasn’t cruel.

She shivered, partly from the cold, partly from the memory of those hands that had pulled her from the clearing, that had held her through nightmares that still lurked at the edges of her consciousness. The man was a walking contradiction—capable of lethal violence one moment and soul-crushing tenderness the next.

Naomi’s gaze drifted to the mountains, dark and impenetrable in the moonlight. Somewhere beyond those trees and ridges was the barn where they’d held her.

A branch snapped in the darkness, and Naomi froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Her gaze darted to the tree line, searching for movement. Cinder emerged from the shadows, her sleek black form materializing like smoke. The dog paused at the bottom of the porch steps, regarding Naomi with those intelligent amber eyes.

“Where’s your person?” Naomi asked softly.

Cinder’s ears pricked forward, but she made no move to come closer. She never did. The dog maintained her distance from everyone except Ghost, as if she’d learned the same lessons he had about keeping the world at arm’s length.

Headlights swept across the yard as a truck rumbled up the drive. Naomi’s shoulders sagged with relief as Ghost’s black F-150 came to a stop. Cinder trotted over to meet him as he climbed out, his movements stiff, like a man carrying more than just physical weight.

She should go inside. Pretend she hadn’t been standing out here like some lovesick teenager waiting for her date to come home. But her feet remained rooted to the porch, her eyes tracking him as he stopped to scratch Cinder’s ear.

He spotted her and paused, hand still resting on Cinder’s head. Even in the darkness, she could feel the heat of his gaze.

“You’re late,” she said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

Ghost approached slowly, stopping at the bottom of the steps. “Thought you wanted space.”

“I did.” She swallowed. “I do. I just—” She gestured vaguely at the darkness. “You didn’t say where you were going.”

His expression was unreadable in the shadows. “You worried?”

“No.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. “Maybe. A little.”

He climbed the steps, stopping when he reached her level. This close, she could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the tension in his jaw. Something had happened today. Something beyond her pushing him away.

“I was worried,” she admitted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “You were gone so long, and after everything that happened...” She shook her head, frustrated with her own inability to articulate the fear that had gnawed at her since he’d left. “I know it’s stupid.”