Page 105 of His Tenth Dance

He finally arrived, and he wore a dark leather jacket with his hands tucked inside. He leaned down, and it took Kristie all of two moments before she recognized the man peering at her from underneath a midnight-black cowboy hat.

“Mission,” she breathed.

It took her another few seconds to get her body to move, as such disbelief cascaded through her, rendering her still and silent. He frowned and had just started to lift his hand to knockwhen Kristie slid her fingers across the door handle and pulled it open.

She spilled into the night, a level of franticness moving through her that she hadn’t felt since leaving Arizona.

“You’re here,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Mission looked at her, and she cataloged the slow movement as he swallowed. “I miss you, kitten,” he said.

Just like that.I miss you, kitten.

Those four words undid her completely.

God had been good to her, and kind, in sending this wonderful, attentive,forgivingcowboy.

She didn’t want to cry in front of him again, so she lunged at him and pressed her face into his chest—the familiar warmth of his body along with the scent of leather and musk and clean cotton clothing smelled like coming home.

She fit beautifully in the space in Mission’s arms, and he easily accepted her into his embrace the way he’d always accepted her into his life.

“You’re all right, Kris,” he said as he stroked one hand down her hair. “I brought dinner, and everything is going to be okay.”

thirty-five

“Boy, a man could get used to this view,” Mission said as he stepped out onto the back patio where Kristie had said she’d be.

Holding her in his arms meant the world to Mission, but he’d managed to step back and tell her that he’d come to bring her dinner. She’d said she’d provide a dessert, and he’d moved his truck so that others could get by, and they’d both come back into the cabin carrying the things they’d made for the other.

He’d immediately started unbagging the freezer meals he’d stopped at the grocery store to get, and Kristie had stood in front of him, weeping even while she smiled.

She’d picked the spaghetti and meatballs, of course, and she looked over to him now, as Mission passed her a plate with the neatly arranged pile of noodles, the triangle of meatballs, and that extra sprinkling of parmesan cheese.

“There’s no garlic bread,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what kind of place you’d have, but I figured a hotel room would have a microwave.”

She’d cleared the evidence of her crying and tears, and she beamed happily at him as she took the plate.

Mission sighed as he sank into the other chair on the patio and looked out into the night. “It’s really quiet here.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said, though she had not asked how he had learned where she was.

“If I’d known there’d be cookies,” he said, “I would have been here a couple of hours ago.” He gave her a slow smile, noticing the worry in her eyes despite her scrubbed face and smile.

She looked away from him, her nerves clearly on display. Mission didn’t want that; he’d come to calm all her fears. Fine, maybe his too.

“I’m not mad,” he said.

“You’re not?” She twirled up a small bite of noodles and put them in her mouth. “I would be.”

“Yeah.” He looked into the darkness, able to picture the majestic Rockies through the darkness. “Why?”

“Because I disappeared,” she said. “And I told you not to talk to me anymore.”

“That’s not what you said,” he said. “You said you needed some space. You didn’t say, ‘never call me again.’”

“Well, you didn’t call,” she said.

“That’s because Lennie told me where you were.” Mission didn’t want to have a rapid-fire back and forth with her, especially not if it felt like an argument.

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