he’d been doing a favor for the charity, but he’d been wrong. The favor had been for him.
Sierra was on her feet, following him into the hall. Light played in the multihued layers of her hair, golds, honeys and platinums glinted beneath the fluorescent lamps. She looked lighter than when he’d met her a few hours ago, so luminous it hurt to gaze at her.
“I can’t believe everything you did for Owen today.” Her fingertips landed on his forearm. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Her touch felt like the sweetest comfort he’d ever known and he did not pull away. “You promise to call? I want to know when he’s out of surgery. I’ve got a sheep to find.”
But that wasn’t what he meant and judging by the gleam of emotion pooling in her gray eyes, she knew it, too. The sheep wasn’t the problem. It was his concern for the boy.
“Promise.” Her lower lip trembled and she fell silent, as if she could not risk saying more. She firmed her chin and straightened her slender shoulders. So much strength for such a wisp of a woman, and seeing it made him admire her all the more.
“Goodbye, Sierra.” The emotion wedged between his ribs arrowed impossibly deeper. He forced his feet to carry him down the hall and away from the woman responsible. It had to be sympathy he felt for her because, as every woman he’d ever dated had told him, he wasn’t capable of more.
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