Chance of Rain by Amber Lin Page A

rich.”
    He got that funny look again, which she was beginning to understand was embarrassment and concern. “You do okay at the diner, though...right?”
    “Oh, sure. I mean, I charge a dollar for coffee and there are only like three hundred people total in the tri-county area, so I probably won’t be able to afford Jimmy Choos anytime soon, but I get by.”
    He grunted and took a bite of chicken.
    “So, the horses?” she prodded.
    “I don’t know,” he finally said. “A horse is a big commitment.”
    It was true. A horse was a big commitment, but the way he said it was almost directed at her—defensive when he didn’t need to be. “I understand. Cattle can take a lot of work.”
    He frowned, not seeming to appreciate her attempt at peacemaking. “I don’t mind hard work. I just don’t know if I’m going to be around in a few weeks, let alone a whole year.”
    Her eyes narrowed, because they really weren’t talking about the farm anymore. “Then why are you putting all this work into the farm?”
    He put his fork down. “Maybe I like the farm. Maybe I’m having a good time, and I thought the farm was having a good time, so why does it have to be more than that?”
    “The farm is having a good time?”
    He looked strained. “What farm doesn’t like a good mucking?”
    She burst out laughing, and after a second, he did too. When she caught her breath, she said, “I really was talking about horses. It wasn’t a veiled marriage proposal, you conceited ass. I know the score.”
    He tilted his head quizzically. “Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
    “You’re a sailor. I’m a port.”
    His amusement faded. “Yeah. A sailor.”
    She didn’t like the sad light in his eyes, so she teased him. “I can’t believe you threatened to muck me.”
    “Don’t think I won’t,” he mock-growled.
    This was much better, with a playful quirk to his lips and a slightly predatory gleam in his eye. And the one thing never to do with a predator was...to run. She slipped from her chair and made it out of the room before he’d even gotten up, but he tackled her a few feet from the stairs. His back hit the floor with an oof a second before she landed on top of him.
    A breathless laugh escaped her as she struggled against his hard body and unmistakable erection. She finally broke free, almost definitely because he let her, and scrambled up the stairs as he gave chase. In the bedroom, she scooted behind the large bed, holding up a pillow as a shield.
    He strolled in after her, leaving his clothes in dark puddles behind him. It should have looked vulnerable, but on him, nakedness was impressive, powerful and a little intimidating. The sight of his lean muscles and tanned skin made her burn. His taut expression and the thick proof of his returned desire made her want to get on her knees.
    She wanted to worship him, but still slightly annoyed by his presumption, she wanted to make him work for it. “What was in that box?”
    “State secrets.”
    “Ha! I had already looked inside. They’re medals. Your medals.”
    He looked chagrined for a moment, then he snorted. “And?”
    “And why’d you take them down? Your dad was so proud of them.”
    “Surprisingly, this topic isn’t really working for me.” He glanced down pointedly at his very naked self.
    She tilted her head, the better to mentally measure him. “You do okay.”
    “I do okay? Oh, you’re in trouble now.”
    “Promises, promises.” Backed into a corner, she watched him approach with growing anticipation and arousal. Twilight cast a soft glow through the window, bathing his skin in caramel.
    He toyed with the hem of her shirt, growing suddenly sober. “I was telling the truth out there. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I can’t promise to stay.”
    She should accept that, should let him off the hook, but instead she asked, “What can you promise?”
    The shadows lent his brown eyes an amber glow. “If it were anyone, it would be you.”
    “Good