Page 159 of The Lonely Road

“Yes.” I look into her big, dark eyes. “I came to find out what your case strategy was.”

“And I made it oh so easy for you, didn’t I?” she sneers.

I shake my head. “No, Taya, you made it all very hard. Before you, I did the job and got out. I didn’t care what happened when I left. But I couldn’t do that this time. So, no, it wasn’t easy.”

“You photographed my files.”

“Yes.”

“And gave them to Aldridge.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” There’s such a rush of agony in her voice and demeanor that it almost fells me.

“Because that’s who I was. That’s…how I used to be. I did the job, and then it was done. But you haven’t been a job ever since I laid my eyes on you at The Rusty Spur.”

Her gaze sears into me, filled with pain. “I took you to my home. To my people. I told you I loved you and….”

My chest locks up like I’ve been branded hot.

“Taya, I fucked up. No two ways about that. But I’m here because I’m in love with you.”

A shadow passes over her face, and she takes a step toward me. What’s between us simmers.

It’s loud.

I can’t stop myself.

I have missed her like I lost a limb.

I put a hand on her cheek, touch her lips with my thumb. I want to kiss her, but I don’t have that right yet.

“Sweetheart, I am so in love with you. So fucking in love that⁠—”

She knees me so squarely and with such complete intention that I go down on one knee on the porch boards and have to put a hand on the railing to stay upright.

I deserve it. I don’t say this because I’m busy holding my nuts.

She steps back inside the doorway.

“Feel better?” I manage.

“Marginally,” she says smugly. “Don’t touch me again without my permission.”

“Understood.”

“Ever.”

“Understood.”

“And you don’t get to say you love me—not when you ran away after stealing from me.”

I let out a long breath—you gotta when your balls are in your throat. “Doesn’t change how I feel. And, Taya, it doesn’t change how you feel. You’re angry. Fuck, yeah, you should be. But you still love me.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she snarls.

“Doesn’t change how you feel,” I repeat. “If you didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt like this.”