Page 18 of Alaskan Blackout

“Plenty of people have fears they never recover from,” Quinton observed, propping his feet on the stones of the hearth. He’d left his boots by her front door when they’d entered, so by now he only wore a pair of black socks with his jeans.

“Not you,” she shot back, tugging the wool closer to her chin as she peered over at the man seated beside her.

His eyes were dark in the dim light of the living room. A fathomless brown. “I’ve got one of the worst possible fears for a man born into a ranching family.”

His expression had blanked. His gaze faraway.

An uncomfortable feeling pinched her belly, signaling to her she’d trod into awkward new terrain with him. And yet she couldn’tnotask him for more, curiosity about this man outweighing her better instincts.

“You do?”

His jaw flexed as he peered into the flames. Then he began to speak quietly. “The fear started the day I wandered into the pasture of an unbroken stallion when I was a kid. I was playing some kind of game with my older brother, Levi. Hiding from him, maybe.”

Something cool and detached in his tone made her regret asking for the story, as everything about his body language told her this wasn’t easy for him.

McKenna reached to touch his arm where it rested on top of the red wool blanket. She squeezed his wrist, offering silent comfort until he continued to speak.

“I think I had it in my head that Levi would be impressed if I rode the horse. I must have known even before the accident that the animal had a reputation for being temperamental.” He gave a stiff shrug before shaking his head. “I just remember becoming aware that I was ticking him off because he was snorting and prancing away from me. Kicking a little bit to warn me—”

McKenna moved closer to him, sensing something terrible was coming. She could hear it in his voice, which was growing less detached with each sentence. See it in the clenching and unclenching of his hand. Unsure how else to offer comfort, she tipped her head to his shoulder and took his hand in hers.

“Did he kick you?” she asked softly, tracing circles on the back of his strong hand, her own fears forgotten for the moment.

“No. I must have started shouting because Levi heard me and so did our mom.” Quinton’s shoulder went tense beneath the place where her forehead lay. “My mother ran into the pasture to get me out of there, but she was kicked in the temple in the process. She died in my arms.”

The words were stark, the cool detachment returning to his voice at the horrific end of his story.

“I’m so sorry—” she began, lifting her head from his shoulder to face him.

But Quinton pivoted in his seat to place one gentle finger over her lips. “Thank you. But I only shared the story with you to tell you that I’ve fought a fear of horses every day of my life since then. Every. Effing. Day.”

The pain of that—managing a fear that he had to deal with constantly—revealed a layer that she would have never suspected lurked inside this self-contained and capable man.

The howling wind faded while the realization of what he’d just shared—and why—touched her heart. He’d wanted to comfort her. To assure her that a fear didn’t make her weak.

“My fear is a small thing by comparison,” she acknowledged, half wishing she hadn’t spoken about her anxiety at all so that he hadn’t felt compelled to share something that must have caused him some residual pain.

And yet, she was also grateful to understand him better. To know that he’d trusted her with an important part of himself.

“Is there such a thing as a small fear?” Quinton asked, lifting a hand to smooth her hair from her face. “I know in my head that horse bore no blame for something that was my fault entirely, but it didn’t make me any less scared that it could happen again. Not to me, but to someone else I cared about.”

She felt herself being pulled into that honey-colored gaze of his. Felt the full force of her attraction to him. With every heartbeat she seemed to lean closer to him, as if that throbbing pulse pushed her in his direction.

In the warm glow of the fire, she realized she wasn’t the only one moving closer, however. Quinton had shifted nearer to her.

His hands cupped her face. Tilting her where he wanted her.

And when he kissed her, she didn’t have a thought in the world of denying what they both needed.

Six

McKenna was a fever in his blood.

Quinton couldn’t escape the heat that had been building inside him from the day he’d first walked into the Cyclone Shack and laid eyes on the sultry redhead. He’d tried to outrun the attraction. But telling himself to avoid her hadn’t worked. Breaking off that last kiss hadn’t helped him to stop thinking about her. And then, he’d gone and dredged up a story from his past he never shared with anyone.

Any. One.

Yet hearing McKenna’s struggle to take a breath had torn open a wound he’d thought had been scarred over enough that it was protected. Sharing that piece of himself had left him raw.