Page 72 of Hard Pursuit
“You’re observant, I’ll give you that.” He laughed quietly, and they moved down one final corridor where the air shifted again—this one warmed by the sun and tinged with the smell of dry soil.
Jolie inhaled sharply. “What is that smell?”
“Almost there.” He stepped into the space, and she shifted her boots on the slate tiles that lined the floor in contrast to the concrete below.
He touched her arm. “I’m going to take off your hood now. Keep your eyes closed.”
When he gently removed the hood, his stare fixed on her beautiful face. Hair messy from the hood, long lashes sweeping low over her cheeks.
“Open your eyes.”
She did, blinking at the bright sunlight that flooded the space. She recoiled, squinting, and he caught her against him.
“Easy. I’ve got you.”
She slowly turned her head, taking in the towering glass walls and a peaked ceiling latticed with old metal beams. Beyond the panes, the world blazed white with snowy fields and distant slopes.
Her focus landed on the rows of raised beds sitting dry and empty. Flowerpots were lined up in rows and dead stems curled brown in planters left untended for years.
Jolie’s lips parted. “A greenhouse,” she breathed.
He nodded, drinking in the wonder in her eyes and trying to ignore how his heart was exploding.
She stepped out of his arms and pivoted in a slow circle, drinking it in.
She moved toward a line of pots near the windows and crouched, touching brittle stems with reverent fingers. “These were tomatoes. Or peppers. Maybe some of both.”
Pushing to her feet, she continued on, trailing her hand over a table layered in dust.
“You could grow vegetables here. For the team. Fresh herbs. Lettuce in winter and berries in containers if the light’s right.”
She turned, eyes bright. Then her gaze fell on him and the light dimmed into hurt so quickly it punched straight through him.
“Why did you bring me here?” The whisper was almost a wail.
He opened his mouth, but she plowed on.
“No—don’t.” She shook her head hard. “Why show me this like it’s a gift when I’m leaving?”
“Jolie—”
Her shoulders heaved as the sadness of a moment before turned into resolve. “For the first time in my entire life, I want something formyself.” Her voice cracked with anger. “Do you understand that, Archer? I want something.”
She swept an arm around the room. “I want to bring this back to life. I want to grow things that keep everyone fed. I want to belong somewhere again.”
His lungs clamped so hard he could barely draw breath.
“And I want—” She stopped.
He stepped closer. “Say it.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes. “You know what I want.”
He did.
In two strides he crossed the distance. He framed her face in his hands, and suddenly his mouth was on hers. Hard and desperate and hungry.
With a gasp, she clutched his shirt, meeting him with equal force, all the hurt and desire between them catching fire at once.
