Page 104 of Knox

When Tate had brought her into the house, she’d also gotten a good look in the light at the words of the tattoo that ran across his chest.Surrender Is Not a Ranger Word.

Huh.

His brother Wyatt had tossed him a shirt then, and her world calmed down a little. Enough that she didn’t completely swoon when he picked her up again and brought her to a truck outside. He slid with her into the back seat and held her against the bumps as they drove down to the Marshall airfield.

The plane’s seats were against the wall. He sat with her cradled on his lap, Kelsey beside her, looking stripped and heartbroken, trying to hide it behind her worry over Glo.

Really, Glo wasn’t that hurt. Or perhaps it was the adrenaline, because it didn’t feel like a gunshot wound should.

At first. The pain curdled in as they drew closer to the hospital. Reuben must have called ahead. An ambulance waited for them on the tarmac.

They had her under blessed pain killers, then in surgery, in an hour.

Which didn’t bode well for her imagination. Every time she woke up, Tate sat by her bedside, his dark brown hair rumpled and cast up as if he’d been running his hands through it. And looking at her with those blue eyes that hung on to her as she sank back into the aftereffects of general anesthesia, as if begging her not to leave.

And then she dreamed. Saw him standing in the wings, his hands folded, his biceps thick as he listened to her sing. Felt his big hands on her when they’d danced, pulling her against him, twirling her out. Smelled his cottony shirt, the cologne he’d started wearing, something woodsy and rich. Tasted his breath, inches from her own, reeling her in, those lips millimeters from hers.

It left her breathless and hoping he’d be waiting when she came to again.

And he was, every time, all the way until morning when the sun cascaded in through the large square picture window of her hospital room. Except now, his head lay on the bed, cradled in his folded arms, his eyes sweetly closed, exhaustion winning. The whiskers had returned after yesterday’s shave, a light dusting of brown.

Oh, the man was handsome. And strong. And dependable.

And herbodyguard.

Yeah, she needed to fire him, and pronto because…

Because she wanted more. Wanted to respond to that desire she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her. Wanted to fold his fingers between hers, sway to the music without warning sirens screaming and worse, tabloid headlines ticking across her brain.

Oh, Glo, what have you done now? Don’t you know how this will look?

Thankfully, her mother was two thousand miles from here.

Probably Senator Reba Jackson hadn’t the wildest clue what her only daughter had experienced the last few weeks.

But Tate did.

And clearly, so did Kelsey, because she lay on the sofa under the window, curled up on her backpack, her only belongings. Glo noticed her pack on the floor.

So, they were on the move again. She’d wondered how long the fairy tale with Knox would last. Although, she’d hoped for a happy ending. She’d half expected Kelsey to tell her last night that she wanted to stay.

Glo wasn’t completely sure she’d argue.

Tate moved, and she touched her hand to his arm.

He lifted his head.

If she’d wondered at his feelings for her, they emerged right there in his eyes as he caught his breath, stared at her, his voice roughened. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “You tell me.”

He leaned up then and got her a drink of water, held the straw to her lips. “You didn’t break any bones, and they just stitched you up. You’re going to be fine.”

She took a drink, the water freeing her parched mouth to clear her throat. Her hand closed on his arm. “How are you doing?”

He swallowed then, something raw and torn in his gaze. “I’ve never been so scared in my life, Glo.”

Oh. Uh…

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