Page 56 of An Artful Dodge
I came near enough to feel the heat of him.
“Kit.” There was a note of warning in his voice, but I ignored it and reached for him. His hands came to my wrists, stopping my hands before they could settle around his neck. His eyes were dark and fixed on mine, though his voice was hoarse. “God knows I want this.” He gave a small shake of his head. “But not for helping you.”
It wasn’t just for helping me tonight, or for all the ways he’d looked out for me, or even the way he looked as if merely the sight of me on his threshold pleased him so. How could I explain it? A feeling stirred up under my heart, tipping it over like a wheelbarrow spilling sideways. It was for the way he threw back his head when he laughed at a story, the way he told me the truth about being afraid in prison like it wasn’t shameful, and the way, after years of me taking care of Sarah, he made me feel like I wasn’t the only one in the world who looked out for people more than they knew. I admired how he’d carved out lawful work for himself, and I liked the shape of his hands, the bulk of his shoulders, the way he could wink at me so quick no one else saw it—
But all that came out of me was, “It’s not,” in a choked voice.
Perhaps he saw some of the rest of it in my face, for his expression changed, and he let go of my hands to run his rough fingers into my hair, holding me apart, just looking. I had kissed men for badgering but never for wanting to, and it seemed he knew it, for his mouth brushed mine tentatively at first. The lightest kiss, but it tumbled joy onto my heart wide and high as the wake of a steamship. He drew back and I could look at him. I touched my fingers to his cheek and ran my thumb over his mouth, and he caught my hand, pressing the soft part of my palm to his lips. Then his mouth was hungry on mine, and as he kissed me, heat ran from the crown of my head down to my feet, razoring like lightning over my skin.
When at last we drew back from each other, I looked for some light of humor in his eyes. A glint of triumph or a spark of glee that he’d won me over.
Instead, there was a tenderness and wonder that turned my bones to water.
“Why now?” he muttered. “I’ve wanted to be with you for years.”
“But you never told me,” I protested. “You never said a word! You kept it secret as a load on a die.”
He gave that sideways tilt of his head that meant I had a point. “You think I was going to hand my heart over to you just so you could stomp on it? Benny was sweet on you forever, and he got nowhere. When Caleb tried to kiss you, you smacked him so hard you bloodied his nose. You’d have nothing to do with the lot of us. Then again, we were all young and stupid.”
“You’re old and wise now?” I teased.
The skin around his eyes crinkled, and he drew my fingers to his mouth to kiss them. It reminded me of the gloves. “Do you know, I’ve never had somethingboughtfrom a department store before you gave me those gloves.”
“Oh, I stole them,” he said, his face deadpan.
“You did not,” I said, swatting him as he laughed. “You see the way you joke!”
His smile faded, and he looked at me questioningly. “Do you mind it?”
“No,” I admitted. “I like it.”
“All right then.”
He bent and kissed me again until I pulled away to ask, “Why do you? Make a joke? Emma does the same when she’s upset.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “I suppose it began after Father died. Ma was ... just so sad.”
I remembered Emma had said her mother’s heart was broken.
“We both tried to make her laugh,” he said. “No one wants to see their mum cry like that, like she couldn’t stop.”
“I never saw mine cry,” I said.
“Never?” he asked.
I shook my head. “She’d snap and scold, but she didn’t cry.”
“I’ve never seen you cry,” he said.
“I guess I don’t much see the use of it.” I rested a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the linen of the shirt. “Sarah cries sometimes.”
He put his warm hand over mine. “Are you worried about this dodge?”
A half laugh escaped me. “I always worry. If I stop worrying, that’s when the bad things happen. So long as I’m watching and worrying, they don’t.”
“You know it’s not so. People are out there causing all sorts of trouble your worrying won’t stop.” He tipped my chin up so our gazes met. “Are you considering getting out? Of having this be the last time?” His tone was even, but the look in his eyes told me my answer mattered.
“Sarah wants me to.” The words stuck in my throat like a clump of dry bread. “And I would, but I don’t have enough to stop.”
