“You know . . . outside the lines. And my father never seemed to care.” He picked up his coat from the chair, shook off the remaining snow, and hung it on a hook near the door. “When we were about fourteen, my dad left on a run for three days—left Larke in charge of us and me in charge of the cattle. We had about thirty head at that time.” He turned, walked toward her. “There was this grizzly that was harassing the cattle. We lost a cow to it, and Colt decided to hunt it down. He left early in the morning and was gone for two days. I was worried out of my mind. Even went looking for him. My dad arrived home, and . . .” He shook his head. “I thought he was going to kill me and Larke. He was out of his mind with worry, and right about then the jerk shows up with the bear loaded onto his four-wheeler, field dressed and locked. There was no taming him after that.”

“Everybody deals with grief differently.” She could smell the woods on him, pine and fresh air. He stood close enough for her to reach out and touch. She folded her hands around herself.

“It would help if the way he lived his life didn’t hurt other people.”

She met his eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of, Dodge. There is no guarantee that we’re not going to hurt each other again, and . . . I don’t think I can bear it.” She shook her head. “We’re at peace again. Friends again, I hope. Let’s leave it there.”

His mouth tightened. “Problem is, Echo, we’re beyond that. I can’t be your friend without thinking about how you smell and taste and . . .” He took another step toward her. “Without thinking about how the color of your eyes deepens when I touch you.” He reached out, hesitated, and when she didn’t move, he touched her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Or how your breath draws in when I kiss your neck.”

She closed her eyes and he leaned down and whispered his lips across her neck. Yes, she caught her breath.

Oh boy. She put her hands on his chest. “Then maybe you should stop thinking.”

He smiled then, and it wheedled through the shadows lurking inside her. “I stopped thinking awhile back, when you started playing with this.” He tugged out her necklace. “You still have it.”

Her hand closed around his over the charm, and her throat dried.

“For all the what-ifs you’re throwing at me, for all the I’m-afraid-of-diving-ins—you still have my necklace.” His gaze darkened. “Echo, I think you should stop thinking too.”