Page 108 of Tate
So maybe yes, she’d harbored a little hurt when she asked Sloan to accompany her, but Tate did have to work. And she’d only wanted to keep him out of the limelight so he could do his job—not torture him again.
She never thought that would entail Tate following her from one after-party to the next, watching Sloan hold her hand. Put his arm around her and…well, when he closed the door on Tate after their last event, she knew he was up to something.
She never expected a showdown. For Tate to turn to her, his voice almost desperate and definitely impulsive.I love you, Glo.
Admittedly, it shook her, right down to her core.
This man.
Loved her.
But as soon as Tate touched her, she felt like she had entered a little knock-down-drag-out and she’d been shoved between the two men.
A little like she’d been caught between her parents once upon a time.
She hadn’t wanted to make a scene. And in the back of her mind, she saw a GIF of the kiss going viral across the Twittersphere.
So, she’d frozen.
But she felt Tate’s shock when she didn’t respond. By the time she caught up, he’d let her go.
No, Sloan hadyankedhim away.
And that’s when his words registered.I told you this guy was trouble, Gloria. Do you have any idea who he used to work for?
Oh, she’d felt like a fool in that moment. Because all the lies she’d told herself about Tate simply shattered, as if she’d been punched.
He broke knees for a living.
And as Tate looked at Sloan—right before Rags dragged him away—she believed it.
It scared her a little. Because she had no doubt that if he wanted to, he could break every bone in Sloan’s body. He’d been a Ranger, after all.
Maybe she didn’t know Tate as well as she thought she did.
Or maybe she knew him just well enough to know that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be in danger.
Or put her in danger, maybe.
She’d spent far too long staring at the ceiling, thinking about his fight with Slava.
But,I love you, Glo.
Yeah, those words, his voice, seared through her, finding her bones.
She rolled over and hit her pillow, painfully aware that the sun had crested in through the blinds of the guestroom.
Daylight meant she’d have to…well, say something to Tate. The poor man had left his heart out on the street last night. It was all she could do to not launch into his arms. But that would certainly look unseemly after she’d kissed Sloan. She was enough of a politician to figure that out.
She didn’t want to look to see if he’d spent the night on a lounge chair. Probably. Maybe.
The last she’d seen of him, he’d been carrying her up the stairs, Rags holding her shoes after she’d fallen asleep in the car. And she’d simply let herself sink into his warm chest.
Maybe she shouldn’t have had so much champagne, either. But people had been glad-handing her all night, and Sloan kept plying her with champagne, and what could she do, say, No, I’m not going to toast with you?
And now her head hurt thinking about it. She pushed herself up and went in search of aspirin in the adjoining bathroom. She was working the child-slash-adult-proof top off when she heard the voice echo from the living room downstairs.
“Oh…my…Gloria!”
