Page 92 of The Bronze Garza
“You’d have preferred me to keep it from him?”
Yes, because I don’t want Dad to stress. And no, because keeping something like this from the man who hired him would make him untrustworthy, dishonest. Considering I got snatched on his watch, omitting that little error in judgment would’ve been better for his reputation, so it says a lot about him that he didn’t.
I don’t want to answer either yes or no, so I ask, “What did you do with the men?”
“Let them go.”
“Youlet them go? After they put a gun to your sister’s head.”
“They’re gonna turn themselves in.”
That bit tugs a frown from me. “They told you that and you believe them?”
“No, they didn’t tell us that. But they will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we planted a rumor,” he explains. “Once it spreads, they’ll turn themselves in ‘cause jail will start to look a lot safer than the streets.”
“Oh.” I shrug, mostly because I’ve no clue what that means and don’t really care to know. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand all of what you do.”
“You don’t need to.”
I scoot to the edge of the island and swing my legs off, about to hop down, but Torin shifts and clamps his hand on my thigh, keeping me in place.
With one raised brow, I glance down at his hand on me, then up at him.
Casual as ever, he takes a drink of his shake, as if he isn’t keeping me bolted to his island that he normallyhatesme being on.
“You usually can’t get me out of your hair fast enough,” I remind him. “What gives?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’m just worried about what you’ll get up to when you’re not in my hair.”
“You’re so full of it,” I say with a silly grin.
“I am,” he admits, setting his shake down.
He then takes me by my waist, lifts me off the counter, and sets me lightly to my feet.
I’m flush against him, heat emanating from him in waves and seeping into me. I’m tall, but he’s taller, so my eyes are at his throat. I can see his pulse in his clavicle, thrumming under beautiful bronze skin.
My breath hitches when he slides a finger under my chin and elevates it until our eyes are connected.
“Tell me that I can,” he says, quiet, gentle.
I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until I try to speak and a rush of hot air escapes. “W-what?”
“Kiss you,” he clarifies. “Tell me I can kiss you.”
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. It’s…happening. “Yes,” I breathe, eager, willing.
“You have to say it,” he tells me. “So I know I’m not just taking.”
Oh.Oh. “You can kiss me.” I clear my throat. “Iwantyou to kiss me.”
He blinks. It’s slow, lazy, dreamy.
Anticipation thrums through me, my heart pounding in my chest.
