The True Cowboy of Sunset Ridge (Gold Valley #14)(79)

Maybe the broken pieces in her just fit the broken pieces in him right enough. Maybe that was the point.

Because nobody made it through life without a few cracks, without scars and bruises. And maybe it wasn’t about making them go away. Because that might not be possible. Maybe it was about finding the beauty in those things. And the ways that they could heal each other.

“I don’t know what to say. That’s...” She frowned. “You burned your hand. Did you do that cooking?”

He looked down at his knuckles. “Yeah. Not a big deal. You know I’ve been hurt way worse riding bulls—pasta is not going to take me down.”

“Colt.” Then she just sighed and closed the distance between them. She didn’t kiss him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. The feeling that sparked in him was entirely unexpected. His heart felt like it was two sizes too big and he felt...

Transformed. New. He was beginning to recognize this feeling. This feeling that reached deep places in his soul, places where he usually housed creativity, creation. Yeah, that’s what it was like, but it didn’t take work or effort. It just sort of bloomed. Inside of all that he was. And it was some kind of brilliant miracle, this gift, in the middle of a broken, difficult life.

What a wondrous, amazing gift it was.

“I FEEL LIKE I should get dressed up.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he said.

“No,” she said slowly. “I want to. Hang on just a minute.”

The minute turned into twenty. She vanished into her bedroom and appeared a while after. And it was worth it.

She was wearing a tight, mustard-colored sweater dress that conformed to her curves, that made him want to peel it off slowly and deliberately. She was so beautiful. But it was more. And he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to capture what that more was so that he could hold it for a moment. So that he could look at it, put words to it.

Like trying to put light in a jar and hold on to it for a moment. So that you can examine the fractals and the glitter. So that you could try to make the ephemeral into something material. What moved through you and sustained you and showed you the lay of everything.

“I love your hair,” he said, taking a step toward her and moving his fingers through the curly mass.

“Seriously?” she asked. “It’s frizzy.”

“It’s beautiful. Just like you.”

A shadow fell over her eyes for a moment. “That’s nice of you.”

“Look, I know you said he was good to you at one time, but what did he say to you during all that other time that made you feel like you weren’t beautiful?”

“I’m over him.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re over him or not. I can see how he made you feel about yourself. About what it did to your self-esteem and how much you value yourself.”

“You don’t need to try to fix me.”

“I’m not. I’m not, but somebody has to say that you’re beautiful. More times than he ever said you weren’t. Why would anybody not need that? Living with a person who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, no matter how small or subtle the comments, that’s the kind of thing designed to break a person.”

“I’m not broken.”

“I know. You’re brave and strong is what you are. Brilliant. Beautiful. Last night you were incredible, and now that I know...everything you’ve been through, Mallory, and what you use your strength for... You deserve to be told how great you are. Always.” And I need you.

When those words echoed inside of him... He wanted her to understand it wasn’t in the same way that her ex-boyfriend had claimed to need her. That it wasn’t because he wanted to use her. He wanted to give to her. He wanted her to give to him. He wanted to share a life. A whole life. One held together by the brilliant threads of light that he couldn’t quite name.

Can’t you?

She looked uncomfortable, and he could sense her shrinking away. “Why won’t you let me tell you that? You’re beautiful. Take that from me. Let me help you. Let me drive you home from a late night like last night and cook for you. Let me hold you. Let me take some of your pain.”

“I’m trying to be independent. I’m trying to make a new life, and I don’t want to go getting dependent on you. Besides, Colt, you have enough pain of your own. I didn’t need to dump all my stuff on you.”

“It’s not dependent to have relationships. Real relationships. That bullshit that you had with him, that’s not real. And you did not dump your...stuff on me, you shared yourself. Whoever made you feel like that was too heavy—him again, I assume—that wasn’t love.”

“I know that it’s not love,” she said. “But it’s definitely the only relationship I know how to be in. And I need some distance from that. I guess I’m just... I’m wary.”

That was like a punch to the chest, because he wanted to ask her for more. He wanted to ask her for everything. He wanted her. All of her. Wanted her to be his woman.

What he’d said... Hell, yeah, that was real. His woman.

His.

Her body, her pleasure, her mind, her heart. He wanted it all. But he wanted equally to be hers. Wanted to be her fate in the same way she felt like his.

“What if I told you I wouldn’t mind if you were dependent on me?”