Page 28 of Open Arms

“Maybe so.” Her laughter was light, easy, and it stirred something in me that I tried to tamp down. “But honestly, it’s nothing compared to the day I had with Abby.”

“Oh yeah?” I leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as a smile played on my lips. “Tell me about it.”

She dried her hands on a dish towel, turning to lean back next to me. “Well, we built a fort out of hay bales?—“

“Classic,” I interjected with a grin.

“—and then she declared herself queen of the ranch. I was appointed royal advisor,” Chloe continued, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Sounds like a promotion to me.”

“Definitely. But the best part was just talking with her. She’s so bright, Mason. And funny! You’re doing an incredible job with her.”

“Thanks, Chloe. That means a lot coming from you.” I meant it. Knowing she saw the effort I put into being a good dad to Abby filled me with a pride that swelled from deep within. “She’s my world.”

Chloe’s gaze locked onto mine, a mix of admiration and something else—a depth I couldn’t quite decipher—shining in her blue eyes. “She’s lucky to have you,” she said softly, almost sadly.

“I’m the lucky one. And hey, we’re both lucky to have you.Abigail has been so happy this week, and the weight on my shoulders feels lighter than it has in a damn long time. I appreciate you.” We shared a smile, one of those lingering ones that felt like it held more weight than either of us was willing to admit.

“It’s been helping me, too,” she replied, “and I’m really happy to be here.” There was a promise in those words. A promise of friendship, of support, and maybe, just maybe, something more. But that was a bridge to cross another time.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s leave the rest of these dishes for tomorrow. You earned yourself a break today, royal advisor.”

“Alright, cowboy, if you insist.”

The kitchen felt smaller suddenly, charged with a current that had nothing to do with the flickering bulb above us.

“Looks like you’re comin’ over again tomorrow,” I said, hoping my voice sounded neutral.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied, her fingers brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear—a nervous habit I’d come to recognize. Her blue eyes caught the dim light, shimmering like the surface of the pond out back at dawn.

“You don’t have to. It’s your day off.”

“I know, but I’d like to. I like spending time with her.”

“I like havin’ you here.” The words slipped out smoother than I intended, and I cursed myself silently for not being able to put a lid on it all—the warmth, the yearning.

Chloe smiled, but it was a cautious one. “I like being here. Your home is warm. Safe.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. I want you to know you’re welcome in it.” It was like everything we said had subtext. Or maybe that was just me.

“That means a lot to me.”

I took a step closer, drawn by some magnetic pull I couldn’tresist. I could smell her and it made me ache. “Means a lot to me too.”

We stood there, in a bubble of silence, the space between us crackling with something unspoken. I could see the pulse fluttering at the base of her neck, a telltale sign of her nerves—or was it excitement?

“Look, Mason . . .” She started, then stopped, chewing on her lower lip.

“Chlo, we—“ I began simultaneously, and we both chuckled awkwardly.

“Go ahead,” she urged.

“Okay.” I ran a hand through my hair, buying time. “I reckon you feel something here too. But I know you don’t want anything other than friendship. And Abby’s our priority anyway. So I promise, I’m gonna try to keep things . . . professional.”

“Right, professional.” She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes glanced down at my lips.

“Exactly.” I echoed, though every fiber in me protested. I wanted to tell her about the electricity I felt, that I suspected she felt it too—but I couldn’t. Not now. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to Abby.

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