Wyoming Sweethearts by Jillian Hart

bright and yet neatly hid the knot of confusion and disappointment tangled inside her.
    They said nothing more, just little necessary things, as Sean ordered two big cups of water and they took them back to Licorice and Hershey. He tried to hide it, but she noticed the tension bunched along his squarecut jaw and the crinkles etched into the corners of his eyes. The friendship between them was strained. The easy camaraderie vanished. Sean had crossed a line she hadn’t been comfortable with and she didn’t know how to repair it.
    He probably hadn’t been thinking, just like he’d said. Maybe he was lonely, too. Maybe for a moment he’d felt less so and that’s why he’d moved in to kiss her. She was convenient, she acknowledged silently as she held the cup for Licorice. Sean couldn’t possibly have actually meant that kiss.
    Sadness eked into her, and she gripped the side of the hitching post to balance her weight. Why did that make her so sad? As the horse lipped and slurped, she watched Sean out of the corner of her eye. He stood stoic in front of Hershey, holding the cup of water at an angle.
    “If you want to hand me your phone, I’ll run across the street and pick up the stuff.” His words were nearly monotonous with strain as he held out his hand, wide palm up. Apology shadowed his gaze and she looked away.
    She fished her phone from her pocket and handed itover. But as he strode away without a word, dependable shoulders straight, gait athletic, an impressive man of good character, she felt her heart tug.
    If only her gaze didn’t follow him across the street. When he strode through the door and out of her sight, it was as if the sun dimmed.
    Don’t start feeling for him, she warned. No matter what she could not start to wonder what would have happened if they had kissed. She would be foolish to start wanting what she could not have.
    Dumb. That’s how he felt, like the biggest doofus in the county. Sean dismounted swiftly as soon as they reached the shadow of the inn’s stables to fetch Eloise’s cane. It was right where she’d left it, propped against the wall in the breezeway outside Licorice’s stall. He seized the handle and hurried back just as she was dismounting.
    “Thanks.” She broke the silence, which had haunted them on the ride back.
    He didn’t know what to say after nearly kissing her. He couldn’t bring up the subject again because it would only make those unhappy lines etch into her face. He didn’t want that. Mom always said, “Less said, soonest mended,” so he decided to go with the age-old adage, but he remained troubled. He’d hurt their friendship over an almost-kiss she hadn’t wanted.
    He had.
    Clearly his feelings were bigger than he wanted to admit, even to himself. It was a lonely place to be. Disappointment crept around him like talons, digging deep. He prayed it didn’t show as he took Licorice by the bit.
    “I’ll walk them in to Rocco. He’s the one in charge of the horses?”
    “Yes. I’ll come with you. I want to see how the new additions are doing.” She kept her gaze on the uneven gravel path ahead of her, as if that required her concentration.
    He wasn’t fooled. She did very well with her impaired walk. She didn’t need to put so much concentration into it. She wanted to, and he didn’t blame her.
    He’d acted on feelings, not on thought. Maybe Uncle Frank was right. Maybe he was rebounding and he didn’t even mean to be. Rebounding was not his style. He had decided to be a loner. He wanted no connections to any woman. That was the best way to heal from a broken relationship instead of jumping feetfirst into a new one.
    Something tugged on his shirtsleeve. Sad-eyed Hershey lifted his horsy eyebrows in a show of sympathy.
    “You’re a good guy, Hersh.” He patted the horse’s nose.
    The gelding nickered low in his throat, as if in perfect agreement.
    “Eloise!” A child’s voice echoed in the rafters above, accompanied by the patter of