took up a slow pace, along the edge of a narrow brook, in the general direction of a purple lighted pond, leaving the music and laughter behind them. “If you resign, what will happen in Chicago?”
“You mean, what will happen to Active Equipment?”
“And your other clients.”
“They’ll be assigned to other lawyers.”
“Does that worry you?”
“I’d feel guilty,” she admitted, switching her sandals to the other hand. “But I’m not the only lawyer in the world. My firm has many other people who are perfectly capable of servicing my clients.”
“So, there’s nothing unique about you?”
She smiled at that. “I’d like to think there was. I’d like to think I was irreplaceable. But that would be a little conceited, right?”
His voice was low, sounding almost annoyed. “Some people do have to stay where they’re needed.”
“Do you think I’m letting Caleb down?”
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
She paused, tilting her head to peer up at him. “Who?”
He stopped walking, seeming to hesitate for a long moment, as the babble of the brook rose around them, the scent of the flowers sweetened the air. “I was talking about me.”
“You’re leaving Lyndon Valley?” She could hardly believe it.
In her mind, Travis was Lyndon Valley. While the Terrells and the other Jacobs siblings might come and go from the ranches, Travis was the stalwart, always there, always available, always taking care of anything and everything.
He shook his head. “My point was, I can’t leave Lyndon Valley. The ranch needs me.”
“And you need the ranch.” She thought she understood.
“Something like that.” There was an edge to his voice.
“You think I’m abandoning the people who count on me.”
It was hardly the same situation. Just because she’d gone to law school and started in a particular job, didn’t mean she had to stay there forever.
“If you were abandoning them. If they told you, you were abandoning them. If you knew it would hurt them, would you stay?”
“That’s a hypothetical situation.” She’d like to think she’d done some good work for Caleb and the others over the years. But she’d hardly cripple anyone’s business if she moved on.
“Hypothetically speaking, and I’m not going to hold you to it, if you knew it would hurt them, would you leave anyway?”
She searched his expression. “What are you getting at, Travis?”
He gazed at the lighted trees. “Responsibility, I guess—the kind of responsibility that paints a man into a corner and limits his choices.”
She stepped forward, still not pinning down where he was going with this. “You’re getting very philosophical on me, cowboy.”
He gave a self-conscious smile. “Just trying to help you make a decision.”
“You want me to stay in Chicago.”
“I want you to understand the true details of your options.”
A door banged shut on the pavilion, and several voices rose in the garden.
“He wouldn’t come looking for me,” Danielle said, more to herself than to Travis.
“Oh, yes, he would.” Travis snagged her hand, striding across the sloped grass, tugging her toward a dark corner where they’d be screened from the path.
She had to trot to keep up.
They made their way behind a hedge, beyond the orange glow of the walkway lanterns, to a secluded corner where blue light filtered weakly through the maple leaves. Her mind went back over his words. He’d said it limited a man’s choices, not a woman’s choices, not a person’s choices.
He abruptly stopped, and she nearly ran into him.
“Your feet okay?” he asked, turning.
“Travis, do you want to leave the ranch?”
“No.”
She pondered a second longer. “But you resent that you can’t. Or, wait a minute, you resent that you don’t have the choice.”
This time he hesitated before answering.
“You should tell them,” she said.
“Tell them what?”
“That you—”
“That Katrina can’t be a ballerina?” Travis spoke right over her, annoyance in his tone. “That Seth should give up being mayor? That Mandy can’t be in Chicago with Caleb? Or that Abigail should force Zach to sell his brewery?”
Danielle definitely saw his point. It didn’t make it fair, but she understood how he must feel.
“We’re the fifth generation,” he told her.
“That’s a lot on your shoulders.”
“They’re broad shoulders.”
Her gaze strayed. “Yes, they are.”
“You won’t say anything to Caleb.”
“And mess with your self-righteous sense of nobility?”
“I’m not self-righteous.”
She gazed up into his eyes. He was taller when her feet were bare. Taller, stronger, magnificent.
“You are noble,” she whispered, finding herself shifting closer to him.
“I’m practical.”
“You operate on instinct,” she reminded him, tilting her chin, moistening her lips, wondering if she could possibly be more obvious.
“I do,” he breathed.
“So, instinctively...”
His hands bracketed her hips, easing her against him. “Instinctively, I want to kiss you.”
She smiled.
“But I’ve had that particular instinct for a long time now, and I’m not sure I should trust it.”
“You should trust it.”
His hands moved to her face, cradling it gently in his palms. “What about my other instincts?”
“You
