Page 44 of Wild Spirit Revival

“Sure you don’t.” She bumped her shoulder against his.

The casual touch sent a jolt through him, and he found himself wrestling with a surge of longing. He wanted to pull her close, to tell her how she’d upended his carefully ordered world. Instead, he gripped the railing tighter, his knuckles white.

“Molly,” he began, his voice rough with emotion, “what you said at supper… about staying…”

She turned to face him, her expression serious. “I meant it. I know I came here just to take photographs, but…” She paused, searching his face. “There’s something about this place. About the people.”

His heart thundered in his chest. “The people, huh?”

Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Some more than others.”

They stood there, the air between them charged with unspoken possibilities. He found himself leaning in, drawn by an irresistible force. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath catching.

“Eli!” The screen door banged open. “Ma needs help with the—” Annalee’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Elijah straightened, clearing his throat. “You didn’t,” he answered, even as his pulse raced. He glanced at Molly, saw the flush on her cheeks, the slight tremble of her hand as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I should go help your mother,” Molly murmured.

As she brushed past him, her fingers grazed his arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Elijah watched her go, a mix of frustration and hope surging through him. He turned back to the darkening land, his future suddenly seeming as vast and full of possibility as the Montana sky.

Elijah’s gaze lingered on the horizon, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The ranch stretched before him, a reminder of his responsibilities and the life he’d always known. Yet Molly’s presence had awakened something in him, a yearning for more than the familiar rhythms of ranch life.

He turned back to the house, his steps carrying him inside. Laughter drifted from the kitchen, Molly’s melodious voice blending with his mother’s and Annalee’s. The sound tugged at something deep within him.

He paused in the doorway, drinking in the scene. Molly stood at the sink, her sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in soapy water. She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye, and a smile bloomed on her face.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Naomi chided. “Come make yourself useful, Elijah.”

He moved to Molly’s side, reaching for a dishtowel. “Yes, ma’am.”

As they worked side by side, Elijah found himself hyper-aware of Molly’s every movement. The brush of her arm against his sent sparks through his body. He struggled to keep his focus on the task at hand.

“Your mother’s cooking puts even the finest Chicago restaurants to shame,” Molly said, putting a few inches of distance between her and Elijah.

“Ma has always had a way with a skillet. Though I reckon you’ve eaten at fancier establishments than our humble ranch kitchen.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve eaten at all kinds of places during my life.”

His lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. He found himself oddly at ease in Molly’s presence, despite his usual aversion to talkative folk. There was something refreshing about her candor, her ability to fill the silence without making it feel forced.

As he reached for another dish, he couldn’t help noticing the way Molly’s hands moved with practiced efficiency. For all her big city upbringing, she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work. It was admirable.

“You handle those dishes like a pro,” he observed.

“I’ll have you know, even Chicago debutantes can roll up their sleeves when the occasion calls for it.”

Before he could respond, the kitchen door swung open, and Naomi Beckett strode in. “Elijah.” Her voice carried the no-nonsense tone that had kept the Beckett clan in line for decades. “I’ve made up the guest room. Molly will be staying the night.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction, but he kept his surprise in check. “That so?” he asked, glancing at Molly.

She nodded, a hint of color rising to her cheeks. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Beckett. I’d hate to impose.”

“Nonsense,” Naomi replied, waving away the concern. “It’s too late for a lady to be riding back to town alone.”

Elijah dried his hands on a nearby towel, his mind working through this unexpected development. Something in his chest tightened at the thought.

“Well then, how about we take a walk before turning in, Molly? If you’re amenable.”

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