Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
H olt had known Cayla had skills. She’d bootstrapped her event planning business from nothing into a venture that made enough money to support both her and her daughter. But watching her put together a last-minute wedding reception cookout in three days was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It helped that she had an in with basically all the vendors in town. Even the Reynolds sisters, who owned The Misfit Inn and Spa, had been happy to allow her to use the inn as a venue for the party—something they seldom did, he was told.
As the weather was gorgeous, they set up outside, taking advantage of the space normally utilized for the weekly summer Jam Nights the inn hosted for area musicians. Extra string lights had been hung above what constituted the dance floor. Misty had made centerpieces for the mixed assortment of picnic tables, and Cayla had done something with ribbon on chairs, porch rails, and food tables that somehow pulled the look together into a cohesive whole. It all held a relaxed, festive vibe, though most of the attendees didn’t know the true purpose of the party. They’d all RSVPed to an e-vite to a showcase for the bakery— again her idea. He figured it was a good sign for their business that nobody had turned it down.
The scent of grilling meat permeated the air. Tables groaned beneath the weight of a myriad of appetizers and desserts. In keeping with the expected theme, he and the guys had provided a big chunk of those. The rest had been subsidized by Athena Reynolds Maxwell, Eden’s Ridge’s very own award-winning chef. And on a table near the dance floor was the three-tiered chocolate wedding cake he’d slaved over for the past two days. Even though this party was a calculated move to control the story surrounding their marriage, he’d wanted to give Cayla something special from him. Cakes were his specialty, and he wanted to wow her.
What he’d done, it seemed, was cast a spell over Maddie. She was circling the table like a shark before a feeding frenzy. When he spotted her little hand reaching for one of the carefully crafted white chocolate roses, he swooped in, scooping her up. “Not so fast. It’s not time for cake yet.”
Her bottom lip rolled out, her eyes going glassy with crocodile tears. “But you promised you’d make me cake.”
“Yep. And you get to have some. Later. But everybody’s got to have a chance to see the cake first.”
“But there are so many.” She dragged the last word out by several syllables of whine. “They’ll eat it all!”
“It could be worse, kid. Why don’t you go find Mimi?” He set her down, aiming her toward Donna, where she stood across the yard in conversation with someone he hadn’t met.
After much discussion, he and Cayla had kept the guest list limited to friends and family, rather than opening the doors to the biggest gossips in town. She had reasoned the news would spread fast enough as it was. Holt was still relatively new in town. Other than his partners, Rebecca, and some of the other Rangers in the area, he didn’t have other friends here yet, so the vast majority of people circulating on the lawn were friends of Cayla’s. That was something to see all on its own.
She was so much a part of the fabric of this place. There were so many people, and she had a smile and a kind word for all of them. She was every bit as much of a bumblebee as her daughter, moving from cluster to cluster, spreading her sunshine. He couldn’t help but be a little in awe of that. That sort of connection didn’t come easy for him. It certainly wasn’t how he’d grown up.
A hand slid through the crook of his arm. “I spy, with my little eye, a man who can’t take his eyes off his woman.”
Holt glanced down at Rebecca, his surrogate mom since he’d moved to Eden’s Ridge. “You know what’s going on.” He’d given her the update himself as she’d cut his hair just before the wedding.
“That doesn’t make it any less true. You two look good together.”
Because he liked the sound of that way too much, he grunted. “We’re pulling things off.”
She squeezed his arm. “Enjoy tonight, Holt. Regardless of circumstances, it’s for the two of you.”
Before he could form a retort, she looked off toward the dance floor, where Jonah was taking a microphone from Flynn Bohannon, one of the Reynolds sisters’ husbands. “Looks like it’s about time for things to get started.”
A muffled thump came over the sound system. “Is this thing on? Oh, there it is. Hey everybody! I’m Jonah Ferguson, and on behalf of Bad Boy Bakers, I’d like to thank all y’all for coming out tonight.”
In accordance with the plan, Holt and Brax began moving toward the stage to join him as applause rippled through the crowd.
“I’d like to introduce my business partners, Brax Whitmore and Holt Steele. They’d like to say a little something.”
Brax took the mic. “I’m Brax. As Jonah said, thank you for coming out tonight. And thank you for all the early support you’ve shown our bakery. We look forward to a big turnout at our grand opening in a couple of weeks.”
He passed the mic to Holt, who had to swallow before speaking. “Hi. It’s great to see everybody here, and I hope you enjoy the sampling of our food and the party that Cayla worked so hard to put together. Cayla, why don’t you come on up here and take a well-deserved bow?”
She joined them under the cafe lights, beaming a smile as she made a curtsy and took the mic from him. “Thank you, gentlemen. And thank all of y’all for coming out tonight to support Bad Boy Bakers.” She waited for the applause to die down before continuing to speak. “Now, here’s the part where we make our confession: This party isn’t actually about the bakery, although they did absolutely supply the lion’s share of the food.”
A murmur ran through the assembly as everybody looked at each other, trying to figure out what was really going on.
“See, the thing about being an event planner is that you’re usually so busy planning everyone else’s special occasions that you don’t have time to plan your own, and you kinda squeeze things in as you can.” With a smile, she held her hand out, and Holt took it. “Like spontaneously eloping on a Tuesday. This is actually our Surprise! We’re married! reception.”
There were hoots and hollers and a few “Holy shit!”s.
Cayla laughed, and the sound was its own music, not coming off the least bit staged. “I know this comes as a tremendous surprise since we basically didn’t tell anyone we were dating. But, well, when you know, you know.”
Her eyes met his, and all Holt could think was, Yeah.
“—so we pulled the trigger.”
He knew that this speech was largely performative. She was setting the stage, getting the word out. But he couldn’t resist pulling her back against him, tucking his head over her shoulder to press a kiss to the strip of skin along her collarbone. She trembled a little, her hand rising to comb through his hair. The microphone caught her little sigh.
Somebody let out a wolf whistle.
Cayla cleared her throat. “Right, so, we wanted to invite all of you here tonight to celebrate, have some cake and some dancing, and share in our mutual joy. Thank you for coming!”
She tossed the microphone without even looking and spun into him.
A laughing Jonah apparently caught it. “Congratulations, you two! How about we have the first dance?”
Cayla’s fingers dug into his shoulder as she looked up at him with unmistakable heat. Though he’d shared her bed every night after the first, he hadn’t pushed for more. She’d been manipulated in horrible fashion by her ex, and he didn’t want to do the same, no matter how much he wanted her. But he was grateful for the excuse to hold her close now. Thrilled to have reason to keep his hands on her.
“So Cayla’s daughter Maddie helped with the playlists for tonight, and she was very particular about what the first dance song should be.”
“Did you know anything about this part?” Cayla asked.
“No.”
When the steel drums sounded over the PA, followed by the smooth high strings, they both laughed, and he nudged her into a gentle sway. “‘Kiss The Girl’. Of course.”
Cayla’s eyes sparkled. “Didn’t know you’d be doing the first dance serenaded by a Disney crab, did you?”
He grinned. “I think we’re being match-made by the five-year-old.”
“That does appear to be the case.” Her pupils sprang wide, even as much of the crowd picked up the song and began to sing along. “So, are we gonna give the people what they want?”
It was his turn to swallow. He knew the cursory cheek kisses weren’t going to sell this. But he didn’t want to sell it. He wanted to live it. He wanted his wife to want him. “I’m a whole lot more concerned with giving you what you want.”
Her cheeks flushed and her voice went husky as she whispered, “Then kiss me.”
He was giving that kid the biggest slice of chocolate cake ever.
Lowering his head, he took her mouth, intending to only have a taste. Something appropriate for the audience that wouldn’t do more than draw out an awww or raise a brow or two. But Cayla opened for him, softening and blooming against him until the flavor of her soaked into his blood and set him on fire. He was absolutely lost. But also found. She was everything he’d hoped and so much more. He needed an island with total privacy for at least a decade or so to slake this devastating need she roused.
The dim, distant sound of whooping and cheering reminded him they were most definitely not on a desert island. And the song was evidently long over. With the reluctance of waking from the best dream, he lifted his head.
Cayla’s cheeks were gorgeously flushed, her lips red and swollen from his, her eyes glazed with lust. “We have to actually stick around for the party, don’t we?”
“Probably.”
“Damn,” she whispered.
Holt grinned and held her close. “We’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her arms tightened around him. “Good.”
And as they braced themselves to face their guests, he hoped like hell that this was actually the start of something instead of more of their game of real-pretend.
Letting Maddie have two pieces of cake had been a terrible idea. Not that Holt had given her permission, nor had he actually seen it happen, but given the fact that it was a solid two hours past her bedtime and she was still doing the little girl version of zoomies around the house, he was pretty sure it was a reasonable assumption.
“Surely, she’ll crash soon,” he murmured.
Cayla’s gaze followed her daughter’s flight. “This is one of those moments when I consider the acceptability of sedating her with Benadryl.”
“No jury of your peers would convict you.” Especially not as they’d both been desperate to get through the party to follow up on all the wants generated by that kiss.
“Probably not. But we’re going to try a few other things first. How are you with wrestling?”
Holt shot her a look. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about the naked variety?”
Her brown eyes met his, full of heat. “Not yet.”
There is a God.
“See if you can work off some of her energy while I draw a bath. She’s going to smell like a lavender farm when she’s out.”
Rolling his shoulders, he fixed his eyes on his pint-sized target. “On it.”
Holt scooped Maddie up and took her down to the floor in a smooth roll, letting her crawl all over him before tickling her ribs until she shrieked with laughter.
“Surrender, tiny human!”
“Never!” Her little fingers found their way to his own ticklish spots, digging in until he was wriggling and laughing himself.
“Bath time, children.”
At the sound of her mother’s voice, Maddie looked up and Holt took advantage, flipping her over to blow a raspberry on her belly. She flailed, narrowly missing his kidney as she giggled with hysterics.
“Say Uncle!”
“But I don’t have an uncle.”
Holt paused. “That’s a fair point.”
Cayla held out her hand. “C’mon, Munchkin.”
Maddie scrambled up and followed Cayla into the bathroom. Bath time took another twenty minutes, then the little lavender-scented schemer bartered for two more chapters of Mr. Popper’s Penguins . But apparently that was enough because her eyes drooped closed before they got halfway through the second. Cayla eyed her carefully as she read another couple of paragraphs, but Maddie didn’t move. They both eased off the bed, making their silent escape.
By tacit agreement, they began picking up the disaster left by Hurricane Maddie. In the quiet, Holt heard the patter of rain against the front windows. “Glad that held off until the party was over.”
“Yeah, moving things indoors would’ve been a pain. But I think the reception went really well.”
He finished tossing the last of Maddie’s stuffed animals into the basket and turned to watch Cayla finish tidying up the couch cushions, the shape of her backside a tantalizing curve in that pretty dress.
“Seems like it definitely did what it was supposed to do. I’ve lived here long enough to recognize that everyone in town will know we’re married by Monday morning.”
He was a whole lot more concerned with feeling very married after tonight. But he wouldn’t push her here. She was calling the shots.
Straightening, Cayla strode over to him, sliding her arms up his chest to link behind his neck. “It did a few other things, too.”
And just like that, his body was ready to go. Zero to Reporting-For-Duty-Sir in less than ten syllables. Judging by the darkening of Cayla’s eyes, his wife was very aware of it, too. With one of those secret, female smiles, she took his hand and pulled him into their bedroom. Because somehow, in the past few days, it had become theirs, not just hers.
Very deliberately, she locked the door behind them. And this wasn’t at all like that first night. There was no hesitation. No avoidance of eye contact. Her intent was clear, but he needed to hear her say it.
“Are you sure?”
Her hands stroked up his pecs. “Absolutely.”
“Thank God.” He reached for her, his hands curving around her hips, circling her into another dance.
She laughed. “What would you have done if I’d said no?”
“Backed off. And probably cried.”
She was grinning as she brought her mouth back to brush his. “No crying tonight.”
“Only the good kind,” he promised. Because he needed to hear more of those little sighs she’d let out earlier.
Cayla shuddered and moaned a little, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt as they circled toward the bed. Holt loved the feel of her hands on him as she tugged the shirt free and pushed it off his shoulders. He pulled off his undershirt himself and enjoyed the hell out of the appreciative gaze she raked over his chest. Her fingers followed, tracing each ridge of muscle. Damn, that felt good.
Because he needed more, he reached for the row of tiny buttons that ran down the front of her dress. He fumbled on the first half dozen, his fingers feeling about as adept as sausages.
“Did you pick this dress to torture me?”
Her low laugh was throaty. “No, that’s just a side benefit.”
Holt had no doubt that she could undo them faster than he could. But she didn’t offer, instead standing patiently, seeming to enjoy the anticipation as he slowly exposed each new inch of her, until the dress gaped open down to her waist, showing a flash of pink lace. On an inhale, he nudged the dress off her shoulders, watching as it slithered down to the floor, leaving her in only a matching set of bra and panties.
He let out a reverent curse. “You’re beautiful.”
She stepped into him again, her hands going to his belt. “And yours.”
A roll of thunder seemed to underscore the point.
Hell, yes.
Taking her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss, he wrapped around her, his fingers working at the clasp of her bra.
The bedroom door flew open, banging back against the wall. He didn’t think, just spun, automatically putting himself between Cayla and the threat, his hands raised.
Maddie rocketed across the room, taking a flying leap onto the bed as another, bigger crash of thunder sounded. She whimpered and dove under the covers.
Cayla sucked in a shuddering breath and dropped her brow to his shoulder. “She’s afraid of thunderstorms.”
“Ah.” It was all he could manage with all the blood drained out of his head.
He was still staring at the open door—the one they’d locked—when she stepped away to snag her sleep shirt off the chair. She slipped it on, doing some kind of female contortion to take the bra off from underneath.
With a look of apology, she climbed into bed to check on the shivering lump under the covers, and Holt understood that their delayed wedding night had just been put on the back burner. Again.
“Hey, Bumblebee, it’s time.”
Cayla’s hand shot out to grab the sippy cup that flew off the coffee table as Maddie scrambled up from the picture she was coloring and made a beeline for the front door.
Holt scooped her up with one arm. “Hold it. Shoes.”
Maddie kicked her feet as if running in place from where he held her off the floor. He leaned over to grab the slip-ons off the rack by the door and dropped them down, lowering her until she could slide her feet in. Then he opened the door, letting her dangle for a bit as Cayla came to join them. She could see Maddie’s quarry by the curb.
Her feet churned like the Roadrunner. “Lemme down! Lemme down!”
God, Cayla loved her kid. Unable to contain the smile, she looked over at Holt. His blue eyes sparkled, the corners of his mouth turned up in the barest of smiles. It was a potent thing, being able to share her joy in Maddie with someone else. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted that. How much pleasure she’d get seeing someone else’s appreciation for the unique little human she was raising.
On her nod, Holt let Maddie loose.
“Leno!”
Cayla smiled as Maddie raced down the front sidewalk to where Mia and Brax waited with their massive pit bull for the official evening love fest. Leno dipped low in a play bow, his entire butt wiggling as she approached. They collided with mutual joy on both sides, as they did almost every night.
Holt slid an arm around Cayla’s waist as they followed Maddie out of the house. “That kid needs a dog.”
She mirrored the gesture, enjoying the brush of his body against hers, reveling in the awareness of his warmth and the touch she certainly hadn’t gotten enough of.“That kid wants a dog. I do not have the bandwidth to add another creature to take care of to this household. Not right now. She’s happy loving on Leno.” And if the sounds of absolute delight from her daughter gave her a little pinch of guilt over that fact, well, it was a pinch she’d learned to ignore. She had to be practical.
They strolled down to the street, his big hand possessively curved around her hip in a way that had her thinking about far fewer clothes and no audience. Dragging her mind away from the honeymoon that hadn’t yet been, she called out, “Evening, y’all.”
“Guess what!” Maddie demanded.
They all dutifully chorused, “What?”
“Today at school, Mary Beth told everybody about how her dog Rocket ate her glow in the dark crayons.”
“Uh-oh. I bet that upset his tummy,” Mia observed.
“I don’t know about that, but she said he’s been having glow in the dark poops!”
Holt snickered. “Well, then I guess they know where to scoop.”
Maddie nodded soberly. “Responsibible dog owners scoop the poop.”
“They do,” Brax agreed.”
“Know what else they do?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“They make sure their puppers have other doggie friends to play with.”
“Socialization is important,” Mia said.
Maddie turned guileless eyes on Cayla. “See? Socialzition is portnant. We should get a friend to help do that for Leno.”
Always an operator, her child. “Nice try, Munchkin.”
She shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Can’t blame a girl for tryin’.”
“Bath time, Little Miss. Say goodnight to Leno and Mia and Brax.”
“Goodnight, Leno. You’re the bestest boy ever.” Maddie dropped a kiss to his enormous head.
Leno barked in agreement.
“Night Mia! Night Brax!”
“Night, Maddie. See you later.” Mia lifted her hand in a wave as the two of them moved on to continue their walk.
Cayla waved in return and began herding her offspring back toward the house. “Holt, can you check the mail?”
“Sure thing.”
It took longer than she wanted to get her chattering daughter settled in the bath, bribed with pink bubbles. There were still dinner dishes to wash, and she really ought to get a load of laundry on, so she could swap it over to the dryer before bed. Mind full of everything still to do, she wandered into the kitchen, already rolling up her sleeves.
Holt intercepted her before she could get to the sink. “Dishes can wait a minute.”
“Oh, but I really need to?—”
“They can wait,” he insisted, stabbing a few buttons on his phone, until music spilled out of the little bluetooth speaker she kept on the counter. Ed Sheeran.
“What are you up to?”
He tugged her into his arms and circled her to the beat. “Dancing with you. It’s become one of my favorite things.”
She relaxed against him, enjoying the sway of his body against hers. “Mmm. I’m pretty fond of it myself.” And of all the memories dancing evoked of that panty-melting kiss they’d shared at their reception. They still hadn’t moved beyond those kisses. Much as Maddie seemed intent on matchmaking them, she wanted to be there to encourage the connection, so there hadn’t been an opportunity for more than a handful of stolen kisses and heated glances during the days. Add to that multiple nights running of them ending up with a squirming child in their bed courtesy of a series of thunderstorms in the area, and nights had been out, too. She and her daughter needed to have a conversation about how she and Holt weren’t like her dolls, and they needed uninterrupted time to themselves. But Cayla hadn’t figured out how to brave that discussion.
As Holt’s big, broad palm pressed against her lower back, she found she was enjoying where they were, lingering in this long, drawn out seduction. Anticipation heightened each new touch and sensation. At this point, there was no questioning, no second guessing. Whatever else they felt, however long this lasted, right now they wanted each other, and that was a heady delight. No doubt, they could’ve gotten creative and carved out time for a quickie, but neither of them wanted to rush. Unfortunately, her calendar of appointments and events had been utterly packed even before they’d gotten married. Holt’s workdays were getting busier and busier, as he and the guys prepared for the official grand opening of Bad Boy Bakers. So she’d take this little slice of domestic romance and be grateful.
Resting her head against his shoulder, she sighed. “I could totally get used to dancing in the kitchen after dinner.”
“Doesn’t get much better than this,” he agreed.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Lifting her head, she rose up, finding his mouth for another of those toe-curling kisses she was getting addicted to.
Holt groaned low in his throat, his arms tightening around her. She loved feeling the flex of his muscles against her and couldn’t wait for the chance to touch and explore every bare inch of him. He was so strong and capable, beautifully made, all the way down to the scars she’d glimpsed but hadn’t asked about. She’d never wanted like this. Never craved someone else’s touch this much. And if she didn’t have his hands on every bare inch of her soon, she just might go insane.
“Mommy! I’m done!” As Maddie’s bellow echoed down the hall, Holt broke the kiss.
Cayla whimpered. “We could duct tape her to the wall, maybe. Just for an hour or two.”
“I don’t think even duct tape can hold up to her energy. Maybe she’ll stay in her own bed tonight.”
“I think you’re becoming her new favorite stuffed animal. I’m getting jealous.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Parents across the world have more than one kid, so clearly they’re figuring this out somehow.”
“Hardware store. There has to be a lock for the door that won’t just pop open on a sneeze.”
“We’ll look into it.” With another quick kiss, he let her go. “You want dishes or jammies?”
“Dishes. She argues less with you about bed. I’m riding the novelty of that as long as it lasts.”
“Okay. I’ll get her pajamafied.”
Alone again, Cayla blew out a breath. Feeling restless and needy, she threw herself into doing the dishes, loading plates and bowls into the dishwasher and scrubbing up pots and pans. From the bathroom she could hear the two of them belting out “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”. She laughed to herself, marveling at how easily Holt had slid into their everyday lives, becoming a part of long-established routines. No matter how he’d gotten here, he fit with their family. It was a backward way to build a relationship, but it did feel as if they were building one. That made this easier.
Still smiling at the impromptu concert, she picked up the stack of mail he’d brought in and riffled through it. A letter with a return address to a bank she didn’t have an account with had her pausing. Slipping a finger beneath the flap, she ripped the envelope open. All her simple pleasure in the evening evaporated she skimmed the contents.
Someone had tried to open a credit card account using her information. The application had failed because her credit reports were locked.
And so it begins.
She knew things had been oddly quiet since Arthur’s threat. Here was the confirmation that he hadn’t miraculously given up his claim. And it was a good reminder not to get too comfortable in this little Twilight Zone life she’d landed in. They were both making the best of a strange situation. But the bloom would fade, probably sooner rather than later, and then where would they be? How long would it take Holt’s regrets to fester?
He trotted in, a giggling Maddie on his back in her Paw Patrol pajamas. He took one look at her face and sobered. “What is it?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until after bed. I believe we owe someone another chapter of Mr. Popper’s Penguins.”
“Yeah!”
Somehow, Cayla put the letter out of her head for the duration of the bedtime routine, losing herself in the story and snuggles from her little girl. She finished the chapter, and Maddie begged for one more song from Holt. Then they kissed her goodnight and left her guarded by her menagerie.
Holt said nothing until they reached the kitchen. “Raynor’s done something.”
“He’s tried.” She poured herself a half glass of wine and sat at the table, nudging the letter toward him. “I should have expected he’d pull something like this. It makes sense that he’d strike out in habitual ways. I expected it when I left him, so I locked down my credit reports and Maddie’s. I should have thought of this before. If yours aren’t locked, they need to be, immediately.”
“How would he have gotten my information? He doesn’t even have my name.”
“I have no idea. But identity theft is what he does, remember? And as far as he’s concerned, you’re now enemy number one, so I promise he can find it out. We shouldn’t take the risk.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” He pulled her into his lap, rubbing at the knots that had formed in her shoulders. “We knew he’d do something. As an opening volley, this isn’t that bad. No harm actually done. And nothing to do with custody of Maddie.”
She slid her arms around his shoulders, soaking in his solid, steady strength. “That’s what worries me. He won’t be satisfied with this. It’s too small. Too simple. This is… like kicking tires. Like he’s trying to find the chink in our defenses. Or distract us from seeing something else.”
“You’re smart. Careful. We’ll find any holes and shore them up. It’s gonna be okay. If and when he takes legal action, we’ll be ready for him.”
She bit her lip, wondering if that was actually true. “It’s so hard to predict what he’ll do. In some senses, I know him. But I don’t understand him. I don’t understand people like him, who would rather profit off others than put in the work to build something real. How he thinks doesn’t make sense to me, and I don’t want to end up blindsided because of it.”
“Could you reach out to your FBI contact? The one you dealt with to put him away in the first place?”
“I should. I don’t know if there’s anything he can tell me about the retrial, but it’s worth letting him know that there’s a strong possibility that Arthur is up to his old tricks again.”
“Even if he can’t tell you, he might be able to tell Xander as sheriff. We should update him on the situation. There still may be nothing that’s grounds for a restraining order, but keeping local law enforcement in the loop isn’t a bad idea. It’s one more person on your side.”
Threading her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, she searched his face. “I’m glad you’re on my side. That you’re in my life.” As he leaned into the touch, his eyes falling to half mast, she decided to be honest. “I admit, I’m a little afraid of you.”
His eyes snapped open, his hands going still. “You are?”
“Not like that.” It was her turn to rub at the new knots in his shoulders. “It’s just… you’ve integrated so thoroughly into our lives in less than two weeks. It’s been so easy with you, and I learned a long time ago not to trust easy. I think you’d have done whatever was necessary to smooth that transition because that’s the mission, and I have no doubt that you were very, very good at what you did before. Don’t get me wrong. I’m enjoying this bizarre backwards dating thing we’ve been doing. But I can’t help but wonder what happens when the mission is over? When—God willing—Arthur goes back to prison.”
She could see him weighing his words, and her gut tightened with anxiety over what they might be.
“You’re not wrong. I lived a mission-centered life for a long, long time. And maybe there’s some of that in how I’ve approached things because it’s just how I’ve been trained. But you’re more than a mission for me. I’m not going through all of this with some eye toward the exit date. Maybe I wouldn’t have pursued things with you without some external push, but that was only because I think you deserve better.”
Cayla frowned. “Better than what?”
“Me.”
Horrified and furious in equal measure, she cupped his face between her palms. “Why would you say that? I don’t care what you may have come from growing up. I don’t care what you may have done as part of your service. I don’t care that it took a piece of you—not beyond the fact that it had to have hurt you tremendously. You’re kind and generous, fiercely loyal, with the biggest heart you don’t seem to want anyone to know about. Those are the measure of a man, and you’re the best one I know. So don’t you dare insult the man I married by somehow suggesting he’s less.”
His throat worked.
Cayla couldn’t stop herself from skimming her thumbs along his cheeks. She softened her voice. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She lowered her mouth to his for a soft, quiet kiss that soothed them both. Whatever other issues they had to face, she was determined that him feeling worthy wouldn’t be one of them.