Page 2 of Saint

“What?” he whispered.

Marilisa stood from her porch swing, the skin-tight jeans hugging every damn curve that girl owned, her scuffed cowboy boots looking sexy as shit for some reason. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and her white blouse hugged her perfectly formed breasts. She took two steps toward him, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she bent forward.

“If you’d just open your damn eyes, you’d see that I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions in life. I work with our weapons engineering team. I drive. I drink. And I’m more than ready for an adult relationship with the right man.”

She gripped his neck and slammed her lips against his, her tongue diving for his own. Saint couldn’t help but respond, pulling her off the step and into his arms, taking all that she was giving. When he realized he had her dangling off her feet, he set her back on the step and took one step backwards, landing him on his ass, missing the steps behind him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, starting toward him. He held up his hand.

“You stay right there. Don’t move.”

“Patrick…”

“Nope. Do not get any closer.” He stood breathing so heavily she thought he was injured. “Don’t come closer, Marilisa. Please. Go inside.”

“But…”

“Please. Go inside.”

“Alright. But whether you felt that or not, I did. I’m not a child, Patrick. Stop treating me like one before someone else figures it out.”

He stood on the path, waiting until she’d disappeared inside the cottage and all her lights were out. When he turned, he bent at the waist, sucking in deep breaths.

“Fuck!”

CHAPTER TWO

Marilisa’s life was a series of puzzle pieces that didn’t fit. No matter how hard she tried, no matter what she did, nothing made sense.

As a child, she seemed to devour books and understand complex mathematical problems, solving things using engineering skills that a child shouldn’t possess. Her parents seemed incapable of managing her and her exceptional skills and, more often than not, ignored her. Or at least that’s what she remembered.

She seemed to have a memory of being a child and dropped off at a ‘special’ school that turned out to be an agency training and farm school for highly intelligent children. It never made sense that her parents had been average people. Her mother worked at a grocery store. Her father was a carpenter. Or at least that’s what she remembered. How could she end up with a superior IQ?

She probably would never know the answer to that question. Like the others, her head was filled with formulas, numbers, scientific equations, and other things she couldn’t explain. But it was her head. Her gift. Her blessing. Her curse. And no matter what, she was attempting to make the best of it with the help of those around her.

Sometimes, late at night, she would wake up with things racing through her head, and she’d immediately write them down.

Now, at twenty-two, she was already a PhD in weapons engineering, with a master’s in weapons chemistry. Working at G.R.I.P. was the greatest achievement of her life and one of the great joys of her life. Montana and the others were all geniuses in their own right and took her beneath their wings, giving her advice, direction, and parental guidance that she’d missed until she came to Belle Fleur.

Shy and withdrawn when she’d arrived at Belle Fleur, the team and family made her feel welcomed almost immediately. More than that, they made her feel normal. She wasn’t Marilisa the genius, strange child. She was just Marilisa, the beautiful teenage girl, shy but happy.

Adopted by Trevor and Ashley Banks, she learned that her new father was a former Navy SEAL, and her mother was a psychologist specializing in trauma. Her calm, sweet personality helped Marilisa to find her voice and know what she wanted to become in this world.

Everyone made sure she knew that she was special.

Everyone except the man who mattered most to her. It seemed he couldn’t fathom the idea of a relationship with a woman ten years his junior. Marilisa found it ridiculous, considering her special abilities and considering that there were dozens of couples who were at least ten years apart in age.

It also seemed ridiculous considering the life experiences that she’d been exposed to, maturing her beyond her years.

“Why won’t he even look at me?” she whispered, sitting at lunch one day.

“Because he’s scared, honey,” said Ashley.

“I agree,” said Alice. “He’s like his father. He’s hard-headed and terrified of what could happen if he allows himself to truly feel something.”

“That doesn’t really help me,” she frowned, pushing her salad around on the plate. “I kissed him a few nights ago, and he ran like a little schoolboy.”

Ashley and Alice laughed, shaking their heads.

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