Page 81 of Beacon

“Are you about to cry or laugh at me?” Mack asks.

I make a strangled sound. “Both maybe. This looks very cozy, Mack. Thank you.”

“I told you I’m not taking any risks with your health, and I meant it. Until you’re all the way better, there’s going to be no unnecessary exertions.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh as he helps me down onto the chaise (although surely I’d be perfectly capable of sitting down myself). “And I suppose unnecessary exertion still includes sex?”

He shoots me a quick look. “Of course it does.”

I sigh again, more sincerely this time. “Okay. I really do get it. But maybe you could at least pretend that holding off is hard for you.”

I’ve leaned back, and he’s reaching over to make sure the headrest is secure and then shaking off the blanket so he can spread it over my lower body. But as my words process, his body twitches, and he turns to look at me in a jerky move.

He’s so dumbfounded I drop my eyes self-consciously. “What?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“About what?”

“About thinking it’s not hard for me not to touch you.” When I don’t answer, he reaches over to tilt up my chin. While I could keep my gaze downcast, it would be rather petty, so I meet his eyes the way he wants. “You can’t really think I’m not making moves on you because I’m not interested.”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m sure you’d want to have sex if we could. But…” I’m not sure how to finish the thought, so I don’t even bother.

“Anna, I’m dying here. Constantly.” His expression is sober. Just a little edgy. “I’d be touching you constantly if I was allowed. I’d be all over you all the time. I’ve spent years wanting to…” He swallows hard. “Wanting this. With you. And now a miracle has happened, and I finally have it, and I’m not allowed to…”

“To what?” I prompt, touched and curious both.

“To prove it to you. How much I love you. How right this is. How you’ll never regret your decision to be with me.”

Okay, so that does me in. Both his earnest expression and the raw emotion in his voice. I stifle a little sob and rub my face until I’m able to shake it off and smile. “Okay. Thank you for saying that. I’m really okay. Just grumpy.”

“You’re allowed to be grumpy. Anyone would be. Healing from a gunshot sucks to high heaven. But you’re not allowed to doubt how much I want you—all of you, your body as much as the rest of you—ever again.”

That makes me giggle, which I figure is a better response than bursting into tears. “Okay. I’ll try not to. And I’ll try not to be too grumpy.” I pull the blanket up to my shoulders even though it’s perfectly comfortable out right now, and there’s pleasant sunlight filtering in through the treetops.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. I want to lie right here for a while and get some fresh air, if that’s okay with you.” I lift my tone slightly at the end of the sentence, making a gesture at turning it into a question.

“Yes, it’s fine.” He appears to be hiding a smile as he stands up. “I’m going to fix up another chair, but I’ll be right there if you need me.” He points to an open area in front of the storage building.

“Okay. Thanks. I might actually take a little nap.”

“Good plan.”

I watch him walk toward the broken pieces of another lawn chair, which looks like it was once an Adirondack chair. There’s a damp spot in the middle of his back, even though the day is cool. His old jeans are sliding down his hips, and he gives them a yank as he walks. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are powerful, and his bald head reflects the sunlight.

I’m really not sure it’s possible to love someone any more deeply and fully than I love that man.

And he might be a tad overprotective, but he’s mine.

I don’t fall asleep immediately. I lounge for a while, watching Mack work and enjoying the sunlight.

I’ve been sleeping half the days away lately and still having no trouble going back to sleep at night. Maybe Mack is right and getting even a fairly minor gunshot takes a lot out of a person. Of maybe it’s just the aftermath of everything that’s happened to me. But every morning I wake up full of energy and convinced I won’t need to nap that day, but every afternoon I end up napping anyway.

Today is no exception. Eventually I do get sleepy and end up drifting off. It feels like I’m out for a long time, and the thing that wakes me up is the certainty that I’m being stared at.

I peek between my lashes to check. Sure enough, Mack has finished repairing the chair, has moved it beside me, and is currently leaning back in it, his eyes resting on me as I sleep.

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