The pulley lowered.
Jedediah's body came close.
Closer than usual.
Meadow reached around him to steady the belt.
His arm went around her shoulders for balance.
The sling descended.
Then stopped.
Rope jammed.
Jedediah hung partly supported, feet near the ground but useless.
Meadow stood between his knees.
Their faces inches apart.
Neither moved.
Jedediah's hand rested against her upper back.
Meadow looked at his mouth.
Mistake.
He noticed.
“You're staring.”
She swallowed.
“Checking whether you're breathing.”
“Am I?”
“Unfortunately.”
Jedediah's thumb moved lightly across her shoulder.
“Meadow.”
“What?”
“You're a strong woman.”
Her mouth curved.
“You're a heavy man.”
His smile faded.
He looked at her differently.
Not joking.
One huge hand rose.
Touched her cheek.
Meadow froze.
His thumb wiped a streak of dirt near her jaw.
The touch was so gentle it hurt.
Jedediah whispered, “Every man in that town is a fool.”
“Why?”
“They look at you and see something to joke about.”
His eyes moved across her face.
“I look at you and wonder how long I'm supposed to pretend I don't want you.”
Meadow's breath caught.
The barn disappeared.
The cold.
The horse.
The stuck pulley.
Everything.
She whispered, “Jedediah.”
His hand remained on her cheek.
“If you don't want it, say so.”
Meadow's heart hammered.
She leaned closer.
Stopped before their mouths touched.
“Maybe I enjoy making you suffer.”
Jedediah's eyes sharpened.
“You do.”
“I might.”
His arm tightened gently around her waist.
Meadow whispered, “Careful.”
“Can't feel my legs.”
“Your arms work too well.”
“Complaining?”
“No.”
That one word changed everything.
He kissed her.
Slowly.
Not desperate.
Not grateful.
A man's kiss.
Meadow had forgotten what that felt like.
Samuel's memory came unexpectedly.
Not guilt.
Tenderness.
A chapter closed without being erased.
She kissed Jedediah back.
His beard rough against her chin.
His hand broad along her waist.
When they separated, both breathed hard.
Jedediah whispered, “Been thinking about that for months.”
Meadow's cheeks burned.
“Only months?”
He laughed.
She caught his beard lightly.
“Don't get proud.”
“Too late.”
Then he reached toward his belt.
Meadow raised an eyebrow.
“If that's what I think—”
Jedediah laughed.
“Wicked woman.”
His hand opened.
An iron ring rested in his palm.
Rough.
Dark.
Hand-forged.
Meadow stopped breathing.
Jedediah looked suddenly terrified.
Not the mountain man.
Not the injured man.
Just a man asking for something he could lose.
“I started this before winter.”
Meadow stared.
“Why?”
“Because I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I wasn't fixing your farm to repay you.”
He swallowed.