Page 45 of The Cold Ride

And then James stared, awe etched upon his face. “You’re her, aren’t you? You’re the one.”

My bottom lip quivered. Because he was the one for me too. But the reality of what I had just done slammed into me like a category-five hurricane.

Oh god! What had I done?

Panic gripped me by the throat. I shoved at his chest, trying to get him to move. I had to get out of here. If anyone saw us? Fuck, I didn’t even want to consider the fallout. But I had to leave. Right now. Before things were said.

“Babe, what is it? What’s wrong?” He withdrew, shifting his body beside me. A concerned frown marred his brow.

I bottled up the urge to cry. I couldn’t let my tears fall. He would keep me here. I knew it as well as I knew my own name. Because there were things I hadn’t told him. Things he would surely hate me for. How could I be this careless?

“Nothing. I just have to get out of here,” I said, yanking my panties back on. We hadn’t used protection. I’d been so twisted up inside over what he made me feel that I didn’t even consider it.

We dressed. Me more hurriedly than he. “I’ve got to go.”

He was adjusting his pants when I started walking away. He held out a hand, trying to stop me. “Wait. Talk to me, Rory. What’s going on? Did I hurt you? Please come with me, and we can talk about this. I know it’s a lot, but I know you feel it too. Please don’t leave.”

Tears filled my eyes. He was everything I’d ever wanted. And he couldn’t be mine. I shook my head, and with my bottom lip trembling, I said, “I can’t, James. I just... can’t. I’m so sorry.”

Hurt and confusion painted his face. And it slashed through my heart, tearing it to pieces.

Feeling as if I was bleeding out, with his semen staining my thighs, I raced away. I ran through the sand like my life depended upon it. But I was leaving my heart behind. It no longer belonged to me. In the short time we were together, he’d unknowingly taken ownership of it.

The unfairness of it struck me. I wanted to rage at fate and curse them.

Because I’d touched heaven only to be reminded that girls like me didn’t get the happily ever afters.

18

Present Day

Ienjoyed the hell out of our pizza and movie night. Rory was an amazing cook. I admit I was skeptical about homemade pizza. But it was one of the best pizzas I’d ever eaten. We demolished that pizza.

We ate pizza and popcorn that night and watched movies. It was a perfect night filled with laughter. And I couldn’t get over how easily I slid into life with them here. The longer I was here, the more this felt like it was my real life.

By the time Friday morning rolled around, I was more settled and at peace than I had been for an age. And for a man like me, who had been consumed by war for eighteen years, the peace, the comfort, and hell, the sex, were addicting.

“This is a good color.”

Rory and I were in the basement mid-morning, painting the new walls. The plumbing and HVAC didn’t take as long as we thought. Rory was over the moon. A lot of the tension that had been present when I first arrived was now absent. I know she had been worried about getting the inn fixed up in time for spring. We had done a ton of work on the place this week, getting the new walls installed on both floors. Before we installed new flooring, we had to paint the walls.

Rory had chosen a warm, rustic blue that would look exceptional once the new Pergo floor was installed and the ivory crown molding added. Rory had a good eye for décor. The blue was soothing. Combining it with a light gray stained Pergo and the ivory crown molding, this place would look exceptional.

“Yeah, I think it’ll look great.” She nodded, wielding a paint roller.

We were both working in our section with paint rollers. She looked damn cute in her coveralls, with her hair in pigtails and covered by a bandana. She wore paint goggles too. And fuck, but just looking at her gave me all sorts of naughty ideas. There hadn’t been a night or a day, for that matter, that I hadn’t taken her in her bed or mine or up against the kitchen counter or in the shower or anywhere else in the house.

Rory had infused my life with a spark that hadn’t been present in so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be alive.

And while I still struggled with the events ten years ago and that she kept Amelia a secret, some of my anger had softened. Don’t get me wrong, it was present. But the further entangled I became with my girls, the less those things mattered.

My girls.

That’s what it felt like they were—or what they could be. Rory and Amelia had accepted me into their lives as if I had always been in it. And it was up to me to decide to make it permanent. I could see how it would be between us. I saw myself coming here time and again, imagining the welcome home I’d receive.

But I sat on the fence, telling myself I didn’t need to make any decisions today. That there would be time for that later.

I joined her over at the paint station we erected in the middle of the basement. Rory was adding paint to her tray. And because I felt the devil on my shoulder and any time she was within arm’s distance, I wanted her, I picked up a small sponge and dipped it in the paint.

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