Chapter Eight
brONCO
What do you want, Bronco King?
Camille’s question has been circling my brain, like an eagle watching for a mouse to peek out of hiding.
Everything I told her was true. I do want what Ford and Ember found. I just never thought it was possible. Now... now I’m stuck between hope and the impossible.
Plus, it’s only been twenty-four hours. Who falls in love in such a short time?
Ford.
I take my hat off and scrub my hand through my hair, then hang it on the peg by the door. Camille follows me inside and hangs her coat up.
She was quiet on the drive back, but that’s not unusual. I’m learning that’s her nature. Another thing about her I appreciate. A boisterous woman isn’t for me. I need someone content to sit on a porch swing with me and just breathe in the country air, staying still in the moment.
I watch her as she slips off her boots and crosses the room to get a glass of water.
Would she want that kind of life? It’s nothing like she knows, but then maybe that’s a good thing. For all the money and glamour, it’s been a gilded cage around her.
If I... if we pursue these feelings, I’ll lose my job. No question. Gray doesn’t date clients and seriously frowns on any that do. Could I let that part of me go and find something different?
If it meant having Camille with me... maybe.
The possibility bubbles in me, and it’s uncomfortable as hell.
Part of me knows I don’t deserve it. Not after what happened.
I make a quick dinner for Camille and me, and we talk about family and siblings. Christmas and birthdays. The differences between our lives, and even our ages.
She’s seventeen years younger than me. It’s a hell of a gap. I’ve never thought much about ages before, but with the stark difference in our upbringing plus about a century in life experience, it feels more like a chasm.
All the more reason to keep my distance.
Except that the more we talk, the more I like Camille. Behind that quiet beauty is a deep kindness and a curiosity about the world she’s never been allowed to explore. I want to be there when she discovers the things most of us take for granted, like driving or having a snowball fight.
And I want some of those moments to be ours. Firsts we share together.
Like falling in love.
The one thing we didn’t discuss was the future, neither willing to put words to what might happen in the days to come.
I clear the table and put food away, then start on the dishes.
“Can I help?” Camille asks as she comes up beside me.
I’d be willing to bet she’s never done a dish in her life. She’s not going to start now. “No. Why don’t you go get another bath? Relax.”
She hesitates, and I sense she wants to ask me something. Instead, she nods and walks away.
I hear her run the bath and try not to picture her in it.
Needing a distraction in the worst way, I reach for my phone and send a text to Dallas. The only time we talk is when he calls me. Given the nature of his work, I dare not call him.
Bronco: Give Ford a call when you can. He has news
His response comes a minute later.
Dallas: Good or bad?
Bronco: Depends on your take. Good for him
Dallas: Okay
Dallas: You good?
I stare at the two words, not sure how to respond.
Bronco: Yeah. Difficult assignment
Dallas: Call if you need me. I’m close
He is? I want to ask where. I haven’t seen him for three years. As far as I know, I’m the only one in our family who has seen him in over a decade.
I glossed over that part when telling the story to Camille.
When Dallas went under the ice, he was the pain in the butt brother I knew and loved. The boy I pulled out a minute or two later had changed into someone I didn’t recognize at times. He explained it to me later, and though I understand, there are times I wish we could go back to the time before.
Bronco: Thanks, bro
Dallas:
I tuck the phone away. The skull and crossbones are Dallas’s form of humor. It’s his way of saying goodbye. And sometimes hello.
Pushing thoughts of my brother aside, I grab some clean clothes from the closet and an extra blanket and pillow. The couch won’t be near as comfortable as my bed, but it’s necessary.
If I get in that bed with Camille, I’m likely to take her in my arms again. This time, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.
I almost kissed her this morning, and again this afternoon. When she talked, I stared at her lips, wondering what they taste like.
When I held her in my arms after the conversation with Gray, I ached to feel her bare skin against mine.
I need her on a level I’ve never felt for another woman, and I’m not strong enough to resist her much longer.
The tub starts to drain in the next room, and a few minutes later, Camille opens the bathroom door.
A cloud of coconut-scented steam swirls around her, going straight to my head.
A growl rumbles out of my chest.
Jesus. She smells good enough to eat.
I take her in, from her damp auburn locks, to my flannel skimming her body, down to her cute painted toes. She’s a vision of beauty.
I clear my throat. “I’ll grab a fast shower. If you see or hear anything at all, come get me.”
“O-okay.”
I cup her cheek, feathering my thumb over her damp skin, then pull on every ounce of discipline I have and head into the bathroom.
The military teaches us to take fast showers. I set a speed record tonight.
When I open the bathroom door, I find Camille sitting on the floor of the hall, knees tucked up to her chest.
I drop to my knees beside her. “Princess? Talk to me.”
“I didn’t want to be alone. Until I’m free of my father and Aiden, you feel like my only safe haven. I know I shouldn’t say that.”
“Come here, sweetheart.” I gather her against my chest. “You can say whatever you want. Whatever’s in your heart.”
She leans in and her arms slowly come around my back. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes.”
She draws a breath and holds it, then lets it out slow. “Will you stay with me again tonight?”
All my reasons for keeping distance between us fade. “Yeah, princess.”
She tilts her head back to spear me with those intense eyes. “Will you hold me, Bronco? Like this morning? Like now?”
Hell. If that’s what she needs from me, I won’t deny her.
Who knows how much time we have left?
“I’ll hold you all night if that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
I gently scoop her into my arms and carry her to my bed.
It’s different than last night, when I tucked her in. That was before I held her. When the professional boundary lay between us like a canyon.
Tonight, I won’t hold her the way my body is begging to, but it’s enough.
Camille had already turned down the covers. I lay her on the bed, then turn off the lamp, shed my sweatpants, and climb in beside her.
This time, I reach for her, drawing her into the shelter of my body. Her back settles against my front, her bottom pressing against my hips, and I slide an arm under her head to cushion her.
She fits against me so perfect, so beautifully, that for a moment I don’t breathe. “Is this okay?” I manage to ask.
Camille threads her fingers over mine and holds them to her stomach, anchoring us together. “It is now.”
Lying in the dark like this, breathing in her scent, feeling the softness of her body against mine... I start to picture that forbidden future again.
One where Camille is mine.
We explore our lives during the day, make love at night, and maybe even have a couple kids if she wants. I didn’t think I did until I met her.
Perhaps I was afraid to dream of what I don’t deserve.
Camille shifts onto her back and looks up at me in the darkness. She raises a hand and touches her fingertips to my cheek, drawing them down to thread in my beard.
“Bronco?” she whispers into the darkness.
“Yeah, princess?”
“There’s one more thing I need.”
My heart skips, then picks up speed. “Anything.”
“Kiss me goodnight. The... the way a man kisses the woman he loves.”
I swallow over the sudden lump in my throat. Not because what she wants is more than I can give. But because it’s so easy, I may never stop.
I cup her cheek and trace her lower lip with my thumb, memorizing this moment. The way the moonlight spills across the bed, making her look ethereal as she waits for me. How the scent of her warm skin fills my senses, so silky soft beneath my hand.
Leaning forward, I brush my mouth over hers. So light that only our breath mingles. And when I hear her suck in a surprised breath, I cover her lips and kiss her like a man kisses the woman he loves.
Soft. Slow.
Deep.
She tastes like sugar and honey. Like promise and hope.
And when we break for air, I kiss her again. Because once wasn’t enough.
It will never be enough.