"Promising." I take a step forward, and he instinctively backs up. "One."
"Riley, come on. We can talk about this." His voice takes on a wheedling tone. "I was angry. I didn't mean those things."
"Two." Another step.
Cooper looks to Riley, desperation creeping into his expression. "What about your stuff? All your clothes, your books, they're still at my place."
"Three." My hands curl into fists.
"Fine! Keep hiding behind your guard dog. But this isn't over." Cooper's gaze hardens. "My father's already talking to the mayor. Good luck finding a job in this town after what you did."
"Four." My voice promises violence.
Cooper finally seems to realize the danger he's in. He backpedals toward his truck, still hurling words over his shoulder. "You think you're too good for me? You're nothing, Riley. Nothing!"
"Five."
Cooper scrambles into his truck, engine roaring to life. As he peels out, sending gravel flying, I turn to Riley, still vibrating with barely contained rage.
"You should have stayed inside."
"And let you handle my fight for me? Not a chance." She meets my gaze defiantly. "I'm not a child, Elias. I don't need you to protect me from him."
"Clearly you do, since he followed you here." My voice is harsh with worry. "If I hadn't been home?—"
"What? You think I can't take care of myself?" Her eyes flash with anger. "I've been handling Brad Cooper for six months. I kneed him once, I can do it again."
"This isn't a joke, Riley! Men like that don't take rejection well. They escalate."
"You don't think I know that?" The words come out sharp. "I've spent my whole life around men who hunt, who fight, who see women as trophies or possessions. I grew up in this town too, remember? I know exactly what Brad is capable of."
I run a hand through my hair, frustration burning through me. "Then you should understand why I'm concerned."
"I understand that you made a promise to my father. That you see me as some kind of obligation." She steps closer, anger and hurt making her reckless. "Is that all I am to you, Elias? A responsibility? A burden?"
The question hits me hard. How can she not know? How can she not see that she's everything?
"You know that's not true."
"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you'll do anything to keep that promise, including denying what's happening between us."
We're toe to toe now, breathing hard, the air between us charged with anger and something far more dangerous. My eyes drop to her lips, just for a second, before I force them back to meet hers.
"There's nothing happening between us," I lie, each word torn from my throat.
"Liar." She reaches up, laying her palm against my cheek, her touch like a brand against my skin. "Tell me you don't feel this."
For one heartbeat, I allow myself to lean into her touch, eyes closing briefly. It would be so easy to give in. To take what she's offering. To claim what every instinct screams is already mine.
But Bill's face flashes in my mind. His trust. His faith in me. The promise I made while he struggled for his last breaths.
I step back, breaking contact. "Dinner's burning."
I turn toward the kitchen, desperate to escape the hurt and frustration in her eyes. The fajitas are smoking on the stove, the peppers blackened beyond saving. I dump them in the sink, fitting metaphor for the mess I've made of this situation.
But as I stand there, hands braced on the counter, I can still feel her touch on my cheek. Still sense her presence behind me, unwavering, determined.
I've faced Taliban fighters, drug cartels, poachers with illegal rifles. I've stared down bears and mountain lions without flinching.
