Page 20 of Wait for You

Her arms were trapped at her sides while Mat hugged her as if . . . as if he’d almost lost her. His hands caressed her back, then traveled up to her hair before reaching her face. He tilted her chin, and she sunk into the churning pools of his hazel eyes. “I’m sorry, Gen.”

Her body and brain were a jumble of mixed signals. She’d never stopped loving this man, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Being in his arms this way felt right and wrong all at the same time. Somehow, she managed to ask, “For what?”

“For putting you through that.” The regret he felt tightened his features. “You were so scared you fainted.”

Indignation spread through her like creeping frost. His phrasing made her sound weak, and she didn’t like it. “I put myself in that situation, remember?”

She’d gained access to the lieutenant’s house on her own, braved the cartel at that party; she’d even planned to questionEl Jaguarbefore Mat stepped in. Fear had followed her, but she’d shoved it aside. She refused to let all that be eclipsed by a childhood phobia.

She started to wriggle out of his hold, but Mat leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “I know how strong you are,querida.” He brushed a wave of hair behind her ear, punctuating the endearment. “But trauma doesn’t care ’bout that. If I’d known—” He cut himself off with a barely discernible head shake. His drawl dropped an octave, wrapping around her like a comfy blanket. “Tell me what happened to you, Gen.”

She fought against his pull. It was much too easy to forget how he’d wronged her when he held her like this. “Why do you care?”

His gaze heated. “I never stopped carin’.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and her knees wobbled. But she had to be strong. “You have a funny way of showing it, then.” If he’d really cared for her, how could he just disappear?

Pain lanced his features; his lids lowered, and his jaw muscles tensed. While a wave of sympathy washed over her, she ignored it. She was hurting, too. Had been for the last five years.

When he opened his eyes, resignation filled them. Instead of denying it, he said, “You knew I didn’t fit in your world.”

His comment placed a puzzled frown on her lips. “What world was that?”

“The upper crust of Texas society.”

At the realization of how little he thought of her, sadness barreled through her veins, weighing her down with dead weight from the past. She shook her head. “That wasn’tmyworld, Mat.Youwere my world.”

???

Mateo

The sadness lurking in Imogen’s eyes made him want to believe her, but he’d heard her say those exact words to her father. ‘Mat doesn’t fit in this world.’

He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it up. Imogen collapsing had scared ten years off his life. He’d been relieved beyond measure to see her awake and alert. When he’d turned from the window and seen her standing, all he could think about was how much he needed to hold her . . . and to apologize. Anger at himself still simmered under his skin at the fact he’d put her in that situation. If he’d known how afraid she’d been, he’d have found another way out of the lieutenant’s house.

After she fainted on him, he carried her through the servant’s quarters and out the tunnel a gardener had made years before. The lieutenant’s help shared a tiny rec room with a fireplace, dining table, and kitchenette. Behind the tallest cabinet was a false front that hid a door leading down to a tunnel under the gardens. It came out at the edge of the property.

Traversing it had taken only ten minutes, and because Imogen was so petite, carrying her didn’t slow him down. As soon as he’d made it out, he’d called his boss at the Rangers. Major Swanson had arranged transport for them back to Mat’s house, but he’d started to worry when Imogen still hadn’t come to. He’d been about ready to take her to the hospital before she woke up.

His throat constricted, reliving that fear. He took a step back to give them both some space as he pushed those thoughts away. “How are you feelin’?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, he realized how dumb it sounded. She arched a brow at him, and he stumbled over his words. “I meant, uh, not lightheaded or dizzy?” Mat rubbed at the back of his neck, waiting for Imogen to smooth over his sudden awkwardness.

“No. I’m fine.” She crossed her arms with a pointed stare. “But you still haven’t told me what happened.”

“Sit.” He waved a hand at the couch and sunk onto it.

Imogen didn’t move. When he caught her coffee-tinted gaze, ice had grown there.

Mat sighed and corrected himself, “Please sit, Gen.”

She gave him a sweetly fake smile, “Since you asked nicely,” then sat facing him on the sofa, pulling her legs up and tucking them under her.

Where to start?

Mat scrubbed both hands down his face and wished for a shot of whiskey. When he looked at Imogen, she was chewing on her lip.

“Who was the man? The one they were going to . . .”

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