Page 40 of The Saint

There was no use chasing what-ifs.

Jael tugged her hand from my grip, and this time, I let her. But only because I needed my hand. I clamped it down upon her leg, gripped her other, and pulled her off the seat into my lap. I held her there, her back to my front, her body settling in exactly the wrong place.

She froze, feeling me pressed against her, the girl so shy when it came to anything about sex. But I buried my face in the side of her neck, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close. “I know,” I whispered against her salty skin. “I know you think you could have taken him. And maybe you could. But what if you didn’t? What if he took you away from me?”

My tongue traced the shell of her ear, and she shuddered against me, arching her back.

“What would I do without you?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She twisted, turning her face to me, and I was so tempted to take that pouty mouth of hers and make it mine.

“I still wish I was,” she told me.

A groan tore free from my throat, both from her words and the feel of her body in my lap. “You’re impossible.”

“Yep.”

Shaking my head, I cupped her legs and shifted her until her butt was sitting on the floor beside me. “Rolly!” she yelped, giving my good shoulder a slap. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“You’re worth it.”

At that, she ducked her head, but she didn’t remove her legs from my lap.

“Here.” I grabbed one of the containers I’d unpacked from the cooler and pushed it her way.

“Is that—” She looked up at me. “Did you have your mom make us lunch?”

My mouth dropped open, eyes widened as I stared at her. “Are you serious right now?”

She at least had the decency to look guilty. She knew I had no plans of following history or stereotypes, of living with my parents and making them take care of me until I married and moved out.

I also had no plans to follow in their path, in standing by my father’s side and running the empire he and Zio Paulo had built.

“It’s her recipe,” I confessed, pulling open the last container and passing it her way. “But I made it myself.”

With wide eyes, Jael stared down at the lobster salad in the bowl.

“The buns won’t be toasted, but I didn’t figure you’d care.”

She looked up, smiling, holding the bowl to her chest. “You made me lobster?”

Now it was my turn to duck my head. Was it my fault that every detail I knew about this girl had forever been ingrained in my head?

She didn’t follow what her family and history passed down either. She had a weak spot for shellfish, even though her religion dictated that she shouldn’t eat it.

But it wasn’t just the lobster I remembered. It was all her favorites. Fresh strawberries and aged cheddar. Frozen grapes that she dropped into her wine. Chocolate-filled crepes like the ones we always got when we were kids.

And a special surprise that I couldn’t wait to give her.

She dug into each dish, filling her plate as I poured wine into chilled crystal glasses. I couldn’t get enough of the smile on her face, of the way she nearly wiggled with sheer happiness with every bite.

“I can’t tell you how much I missed this,” she told me around a bite of strawberry and cheese. “There’s just something about the food in New York. You can’t get this kind of meal in Kansas.”

The moment she said it, she froze like stone, her face falling like an avalanche. Then her eyes darted around, seeking an out, trying to find some way to escape.

The only way out was into the ocean, with miles of water between us and the shore.

It was almost as if I’d planned it. A way to get her alone, away from distractions, from escape routes where she could run away.