Page 92 of Lace 'em Up

Okay, not blind. I ignored them.

Because I thought that was as good as it got, as good as I deserved, and King has shown me in just a few short weeks that I deserve more.

So. Much. More.

Dumb that I couldn’t see it before, huh?

It’s just…

I’d forgotten.

“You made me see that I deserve better,” I whisper. “You didn’t have an angle, didn’t need something from me. You just…stepped in, and I need you to know I appreciate it.”

“Ror—”

“Because I had the bad, and because I know what that’s like, and?—”

Courage now.

“You’ve shown me what it’s like to have good,” I whisper. “Because I haven’t felt this settled and safe… since my dad was alive.”

“Rory,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Princess. ”

Too much.

It’s too much.

And that’s why I make the decision to pause there, to transition our conversation to something lighter.

“Don’t you mean Prickly Princess?” I tease.

He jerks. “What?”

“I’ve decided to own my Cactus Queen title.”

“Rory,” he says, slowing to a halt at a stop sign and looking at me. “Baby, I?—”

Damn. He’s not going to let me change the subject.

Probably because I’m handling it with all of the finesse of a sledgehammer.

I reach up, touch his cheek. “I just want you to know that I value you,” I say softly. “That I appreciate what you’ve done, and that you’re a good man.”

That has his eyes sliding closed, a mix of pain and pleasure sliding over his face.

“And if you ever want to talk about anything?—”

Like the reason pain and pleasure crosses his face when I say he’s a good man.

His eyes flash open and he leans back, pulling away from my touch as he proceeds through the stop sign.

“Prickle Princess,” he says after a moment.

“What?”

“Not Prickly, but Prickle.”

An odd mix of disappointment weaves through me, but I don’t push.

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