Like she had in the beginning.
"What's going on?" he asked.
She ducked her head, hiding her face from him. Shook her head.
"Molly." He didn't try to touch her again. But he wasn't letting this go. Something had scared her. Terrified her.
She stood, turning so all he could see was her profile.
But he still saw more than she probably wanted.
She'd let him in close before.
So he stepped over the tools toward her.
Danger!
He ignored the warning flares his brain was sending up and crowded her in against the side of the tractor with both arms. Careful not to touch her.
Yet.
"Cord—" She could've ducked beneath either of his arms and escaped. He wasn't trapping her, not really. But he wanted answers.
He wanted to go back three days, to the way she'd looked at him in the upstairs hallway. Now, she had her walls up high. She wouldn't even look him in the eye, just stared at his chin.
"Something happened in town. Tell me."
Her chin firmed. She didn't say a word, just kept staring at his jaw.
He wanted to shake her.
From this close, he could smell the sweet perfume of her hair. Wanted to bury his nose in her neck. Wanted closer.
She was driving him crazy.
"Molly." He’d meant her name to sound firm, but somehow his voice emerged rough with emotion.
And a silver tear slipped down her cheek.
He was helpless against her tears.
Almost in slow motion, he gathered her in close. She had plenty of time to see him coming, plenty of time to push him away.
But she didn't.
As his arms came around her, hers slipped inside his coat, around his back.
She buried her face in his chest and held on for dear life.
Until now, he hadn't embraced her. Hadn't dared.
Partly because of what she'd told him. He hadn’t wanted to scare her.
But mostly because of this. The waves of emotion crashing through him broke his willpower. He'd promised himself he wouldn’t let her get close.
And now look at him.
Her hat had fallen away and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in.
She was trembling. Crying, he realized as he moved back enough to cup one hand against her jaw.
She was fighting it, holding back her tears with sheer force of will. Her eyes were luminous with moisture, her cheeks pink.
"I think—I'm g-going crazy," she whispered.
She closed her eyes, but not before two more tears fell.
He wrapped her up in his arms, let her have the privacy of his shirt for her tears, resting his chin against the crown of her hair.
He was in over his head, choked up with the desire to help her, to find words that would comfort her. He didn't know what they were.
He'd never felt so unprepared to face something in his life.
He needed help.
It might kill him to ask for it.
He needed Iris.
12
Molly stood with her arms braced on the corral railing watching the four horses in Iris and Jilly's corral.
The animals were in awful shape. Skinny bags of bones. One had a skin condition and was missing half its coat. But they were full of life, nickering and chasing each other around the enclosure.
Apparently, Iris and Jilly ran an unofficial rescue operation for horses on top of their cattle ranch. They rehabilitated and placed horses who had been removed from their owners for mistreatment or given up by neglectful owners who didn't want the expense of a horse any longer.
Just looking at the animals made Molly tired. She hadn't found her footing again after this morning's breakdown with Cord.
He was standing on the porch with Iris right now, several yards behind her. Molly was fairly sure they were talking about her.
Poor girl. She could imagine the words from Iris. I can't believe that happened to her.
She didn't know what Cord's response would be. He'd been stoic and silent after he'd let her go, after her crying jag.
Maybe she'd scared him as badly as seeing the red Mustang in town had scared her. Because he'd insisted she abandon the tractor and come to the house. And he'd called Iris.
She was a little surprised he hadn't asked Molly to leave.
He didn't need her drama.
Especially because the more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that her mind was playing tricks on her.
Red Mustangs weren't unusual. If someone was going to buy a sports car, red was one of the more popular colors.
She'd overreacted.
But she still couldn't escape the fear dogging her steps.
She was a mess.
Why would anyone want to keep a mess around?
"I was surprised to get your call this morning," Iris said.
Cord knocked back his Resistol and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, well, I was surprised to make it."
"Desperate, you mean?"
She pulled a laugh out of him. Iris had never pulled punches, even when they were kids. She'd been a good friend when he'd needed one.
He let his eyes stray to where Molly stood near the corral fence. Even after she'd cried a wet patch onto his shirt, she hadn't opened up about what was wrong. Hadn't expounded on what her statement—I think I'm going crazy—meant.
Which had left him no choice but to phone his old friend. Former friend.
He didn't know what they were.
"You care about her," Iris said.
And a pain jabbed behind his right eye.
"We're friends," he admitted grudgingly. He hadn't intended to give Molly that much. Friendship came with too many strings. "She doesn't exactly take no for an answer."
A sideways glance at Iris revealed the twitch of her lips.
"That must bug you, since no is your favorite word."
For one-tenth of a second, the old joke shimmered in the air between them, waiting for him to smile, to join in the fun.
But then it fell flat, because he hadn't said no the only night it had counted.
Iris's smile faded.
Cord forced his eyes back to Molly. Better to leave the past in the past.
Except the pulsing pain behind his eye got worse.
"She's had... some trauma in the recent past," he said. He didn't know how much Molly
