Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Her quiet sobs leave me feeling helpless, so I lift her to my lap and curl around her, holding her in my arms, and try to make up for all the time I wasn’t here. I kiss her head and rub her leg. “I’m sorry.”
This isn’t how I saw our reunion going, but it means more.
Lifting her head, she then shakes it. “You don’t owe me an apology. You’re here now, and it’s the first time I don’t feel like I’m carrying the weight of what happened all alone.” She exhales a long breath, then takes a deeper one before repeating. “You made me feel better.” She kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
It’s then I realize being here, being with her, and close to her mom frees me from the guilt and shame I’ve carried for years. We found healing together.
She sits up, her shoulders rising and her smile blooming again. “You’re here.”
“I came for you.”
Straddling me, she wraps her arms around my neck, her pretty eyes staring into mine. God, I’ve missed this. I missed her. She asks, “How did you know I needed you here?”
I rub her back, and confess, “I took a chance.”
She leans back, resting in my arms, her energy seeming lighter by that spark in her eyes. Damn, I missed that spark. “I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who left anything to chance.”
“My whole life and career were built on taking chances. Most have paid off. I can’t wait to see how this one turns out.”
“Careful, cowboy, or I might just think you’re trying to charm me.”
Pulling her close, her chest against mine, our mouths just inches apart, I whisper, “I am.”
“Right here at my mother’s grave?”
Oh shit. I glance next to her, feeling like the asshole I am. “I wasn’t think—”
I’m playfully whacked on the shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time. She’d totally approve of this.”
“What about me?” I always have to fucking push it . . . Pris and I are the same that way. Is it ego? For me, probably. For her, she’s just holding her own.
Her grin softens again. “She adored you, Tagger.”
When she caresses my cheek, I ask, “What about you, babe?”
“I adore you, too.” There was no pause or question in her eyes. She spoke from the heart straight to mine.
Maybe I’m a terrible person, but I kiss her . . . next to her mother’s gravesite. And she kisses me. Her fingers weaving into the hair at the back of my head, the tilt of her hips giving me an erection on contact, and the caress of her tongue against mine, and I have not one regret for showing up uninvited and unannounced.
I got up at three o’clock to get to the airport on time for a flight that took four and a half hours. Almost two hours after landing, I got to my parents’. A change of clothes into jeans, a tee, and boots, and I was fifteen minutes from her house. Add in the horse ride to finally see her again, and it was all fucking worth it.
But I will not let this go further until we find a new location. I pull back, which takes some effort. “Hey, we should go somewhere else. What do you say?”
“Probably.” We’re shadowed under a large rain cloud, and the sky rumbles, drawing us to both look up. “We’re a long way from the house.” She looks back at me. “Should we ride it out in the equipment barn?”
I’m onto her these days. The dirty little bird loves to tease. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Her eyeing me like I’m ridiculous wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but that’s what I got. “Okay.” She crawls off my lap and offers me a hand up. We both know she can’t stabilize my weight, much less lift me like a dead weight. She acts tough, but she’s still got that small frame.
I let her try by taking her offered hand.
Damn. It would not be too bad if I used my core to stand while pretending she was successful in her mission.
When thunder rolls across the sky, we need to get to shelter. Texas storms are not something to mess with. With no other option, we take off running. The first drops pelt us just before we reach the building. The warehouse garage doors are closed, and when I try the main door to enter, frustration sets in. “It’s locked.”
“We must have just missed Davey and the others.” The rain falls harder, so we huddle under the small metal awning. “We’re going to be soaked,” she says, looking up at me from under my arm. Panic rises in her eyes. “I can call my dad, but I don’t want him out in this mess. The sudden weather changes cause pain in his leg.”