Page 62 of My Hotshot

Because despite everything—despite the fear, the anger, the confusion—being in his arms felt likehome.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the crazy people trying to kill you?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. And I thought the threat was gone.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve got people watching them. I thought it was handled. But tonight… when you called, I thought it was them. And I panicked. I realized I can’t pretend they’re not a threat. They go after what we care about.”

“And you care about me?” I asked softly.

“And Lottie,” he said.

“You hadn’t evenmetLottie.”

“I know. But you care about her. That’s enough for me.”

My throat tightened.

“What if tonight hadn’t happened? Would you have told me?”

“When it was over,” he admitted.

His lips pressed gently against my skin—my neck, behind my ear. Light, comforting. A reminder he was real.

“We’re not having sex tonight,” I whispered.

“Okay,” he murmured.

“Then why are you kissing me?”

“Because I was scared tonight,” he said against my skin. “And I just want to be close to you.”

His arms around me tightened, and I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady.

“She’s okay, Duane.”

“I know. But for a moment, I thought she wasn’t.”

We stood like that, breathing in sync.

“Promise me,” I whispered, “no more secrets.”

“Never again,” he promised. “You know everything now.”

I relaxed into him. “We’re still not having sex tonight.”

“I know, babe.”

I looked up at him. “Can we move this to the bed so I can pass out?”

His eyes shimmered with laughter. “You got it.”

“I need to get my bag,” I muttered.

“It’s in the bathroom,” he said.

I smiled, a little surprised. “Thank you.”

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