And I didn’t realize it until a pair of garnet hard eyes speared me from fifteen feet away. I paused in the middle of fixing the goat pen, my breath escaping me in a guilty gust and temporarily obscuring the vision of Spencer leaning against the fence. He had his hands in his coat pockets, his hip leaning against the wood post and his mouth twisted into wry disappointment.
“Shit,” I exhaled.
“Deep shit,” he confirmed.
I stood slowly, dusting off my pants where the snow had seeped through them. I carefully placed my staple gun into the rusted toolbox at my feet and stretched my mouth guiltily. “I’m so sorry. Maybe we can call them—”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” he reminded me, pushing off the post and taking three steps my way. “They won’t be back until after New Year.”
I closed my eyes in resignation. “Right.”
“You need to stop working yourself to death, Ara,” he reminded me.
“I know.” I started gathering up the spare hardware cloth and the toolbox. “I know, but if I didn’t do this, the goats would have had to stay cooped up in the barn.”
“Would that have killed them?”
“No,” I admitted begrudgingly. “I was going to have Jay fix the fence, but we are out of chicken feed, so I sent him to get some.”
Spencer glanced at the bright noonday sun, muttering under his breath something about “patience.” “You probably sent him on a wild goose chase. Not many stores are open on Christmas Eve.”
I cringed. “I totally forgot.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. I hadn’t forgotten what day it was. In fact, remembering that it was almost Christmas, I’d gotten presents for Spencer yesterday. It wasn’t anything special and I tried to tell myself I wouldn’t care if he never used it after moving into his fancy apartment, but that was, yet again, not entirely true.
Because I would care. And if he hated it, that would hurt.
And I hadn’t missed the appointment to sign the ranch over to him because I’d lost track of time. I’d avoided it because that signaled a sobering reality I wasn’t ready for, yet. When he signed this ranch back to my name, he would be done with it. And me.
I’d realized that yesterday when Spencer had said that he was happy to drop in and bug me from time to time, and as funny as the thought had been, it had immediately been followed by a crushing wave of dread. It had crested over me for one dramatic moment before washing me in a bitter storm of fear. He would sign the ranch over to me, and then he would move on with his life. And at that moment, I couldn’t comprehend it. I couldn’t stomach it.
So, I’d done what I always did. Deflect. Deny. Avoid.
I tried to look busy with the toolbox, but Spencer took it from me, his gloved hands reminding me that I’d forgotten to put on a pair in my haste to avoid reality this morning. “I’m going to strip you naked in this field the next time I find you without gloves,” he rumbled.
I lifted a swift look of surprise his way. I found amusement in his features but also something that had been lingering in his deep mahogany eyes for days now. Heat. Undeniable, scorching heat. I tried to remind myself to breathe. “You say that like it’s a threat.” I was playing with fire. Teasing the embers in his gaze. But I hadn’t been able to forget our kiss on the couch days ago—or the promises that had come with it. Maybe he didn’t want me to read into his actions or get attached, but I was pretty damn sure he wanted to fuck me. And that made two of us.
Spencer took a step closer, leaving just a foot of distance between us. His gaze raked over me, drinking in my red scarf and battered coat like he had found me in a sheer teddy instead. “I think the threat part is what makes it fun. Miss ‘If-You-Can-Catch-Me’ Rook.”
“Mrs.,” I corrected, still holding my breath.
“Doctor Rook,” he added with a crooked grin. “Mrs. Dr. Rook, then.”
“Spencer,” I breathed out.
“Yes?”
I shook my head, my heart tapping out a frenetic beat in my chest. “No, it’s—you made me promise on our wedding day.” Something like shock and hope crossed his features as I added, “It’s Spencer. I-I changed my name.”
“No, you didn’t.” His surprised breath fogged the air between us, and I felt my face redden.
“I was worried you would backtrack. So, I followed your terms.” And, alright, I had wanted to. And I didn’t examine why too closely. I’d frantically filled out all that paperwork andturned it in during one random, rainy March afternoon weeks after our wedding, but it was clear to me now why I’d done it.
Spencer and his name meant more to me than the Rook name ever had. He had saved me when no one else would have batted an eye at my distress. And I’d missed him, even back then. Dreamed of him. Longed for him. I hadn’t wanted to admit that—I had preferred to heap blame on him instead—but it was unmistakable now. If taking on his name had brought me a measure closer to him, then I must have done it out of sheer hope. Like inscribing his name on my official documents had been summoning him.
And it had. Clearly. But signing the ranch from his name to mine would send him back, and I wasn’t ready for it.
Spencer took another step closer, this time angling his face away in question. “Ara, you… changed your last name? To Spencer?” That summoning spell seemed to wrap around us, thickening the air with something tangible but unnamable. Something that tethered and looped us, drawing us closer together. It was a moment suspended in time, heavy with possibilities.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, suddenly more nervous than I’d been during any exams or fellowship. “I haven’t told anyone, but I just…”
