Page 81 of Ruthless Enforcer

We'll handle Turner.

Thanks.

Hendricks

Don't mention it.

63

CLARA

The next morning, Gabriel finds me in the kitchen drinking coffee and staring out at the restless gray ocean.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asks. “You’ve been cooped up for days. The air will probably do you good.”

I glance at him. He's wearing jeans, boots, and a dark sweater that makes his eyes look impossibly blue. His hair is still damp from the shower, and he looks relaxed in a way I'm not used to seeing. In his hand, he has a pair of Wellies.

"I don’t have outerwear," I point out.

"I know." He holds out the boots. “With two or three pairs of thick socks, these should work, and you can wear one of my coats."

Staring at the Wellies, my throat suddenly closes. It’s ridiculous. They’re rubber boots, probably bought at some hardware store for thirty dollars. But he thought about my well-being, and for some reason, that nearly does me in.

“Clara?”

I blink quickly and take them. “What?”

His eyes narrow. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not.” I totally am.

“Over boots?”

“Shut up.”

His mouth twitches.

I hug the Wellies to my chest like an idiot. God help me, I think I love him even more for giving me ugly rubber shoes. “They’re very nice boots.”

He pats my hip. “Get moving. It stopped raining.”

The beach is cold and gray. The wind whips my hair across my face, and the sand is wet and heavy under my boots. The ocean is the color of pewter, churning and restless, and the sky is low and threatening rain. It should be utterly unromantic.

But it's perfect. I’m bundled up in my husband’s clothing, and he walks beside me, one hand shoved into his jacket pocket, the other holding mine. Every now and then his thumb brushes over my ring, as if he needs to remind himself it’s there. My heart squeezes every time.

We don't talk for a while—just walk along the waterline, dodging the occasional wave that reaches too far up the sand.

"You're thinking too hard," I say finally.

He flashes his dimples at me. "I'm always thinking."

"What are you thinking about right now?"

He glances at me, then looks back at the ocean. "About what you said last night. About riding."

"What about it?"

"I've been looking at properties."