Gabriel had shown up every morning.

He always looked deliciously sexy, his hair tousled from the run, a night’s worth of stubble along his jaw. He told her it took twice as long to get to the farm as it did to get home. When she’d given him a puzzled look, he’d almost blushed and said, “I don’t want to be a sweaty mess when I get here.” Then he’d kissed her for so long that she’d forgotten her name, and he’d whispered against her cheek, “But it’s okay if I’m a sweaty mess when I leave . . .”

But he never pushed her, never demanded more than she was ready to give. His hands never ventured outside of those safety zones, never even tried to get past her clothing. If her body stiffened at his touch, he backed off.

But now, after days of being good, her imagination was starting to get the worst of her. What if Gabriel felt her scars and thought she was disgusting? Talking about them in theory was a lot different from seeing red, puckered skin running up the side of her abdomen.

Thursday morning, they were lying on a grassy hill some distance behind the barn. Her horse was grazing a few yards away, a rope trailing from his halter. The air was crisp, but the sun warmed her cheeks, making her drowsy. She didn’t want to close her eyes, in case there was any chance she’d open them to find out it was still Sunday morning, that this week was just a dream.

The horse snorted at a butterfly, but then went back to grazing.

Gabriel turned his head to look at her. “Why doesn’t he run away?”

Layne gave a short laugh. “I keep asking myself the same thing about you.”

He rolled up onto one elbow to look down at her. It put the sun behind him and made his hair fall into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Someone pinch me.

“Seriously,” he said, glancing over at where her horse was yanking tufts of grass out of the ground. “Is he trained like a dog?”

Layne giggled. “No. Horses are herd animals. If he ran anywhere, he’d go back to the barn.” Though really, if the barn manager caught her lying out here with the horse running loose, the woman would probably have a word or two to say about it.

“Like that day on the trail,” said Gabriel.

Layne nodded. “The day you ran.”

He snorted. “You scared me off with that . . . that hug.”

She almost laughed at his tone, but then remembered the whole reason she’d thrown her arms around his neck in the first place. He’d looked so stricken, so sad. Even now, she could see shards of emotion in his eyes.

Despite the amount of time they’d spent together, she was still no closer to discovering his secrets.