Page 108 of Colton's Last Resort

Her breath rushed out. “Noah.”

He muttered a curse. “Part of me wants to chase these people off so I can have a single moment alone with you.”

A match touched the dry tinder inside her. Hope flared as the fire caught.

“What would you do with that moment?”

His tungsten-green eyes spanned her face. They landed on her mouth as he answered quietly. “Beg.”

Her breath caught. “No.”

“Yes,” he argued. “I told you I needed time. But I should’ve called. I should’ve checked on you.”

She smiled knowingly. “Adam told me you called him to check on me. Every day.”

“I should’ve grown a pair and called you,” he grumbled.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked. The distance had convinced her he didn’t want this—whatever they’d made between them. And it had hurt—more than the bruises on her throat.

“Because I’m a goddamn coward,” he said plainly. He paused, considering. Then he closed the distance to her. “You still want to know my secrets, Laura?”

She could smell the light touch of cologne he’d put on his skin. The flame popped, lighting little fires everywhere else inside her to catch and grow, too. “Yes,” she breathed.

“I’m hands down, one hundred percent, head over heels in love with you,” he said.

She closed her eyes. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he asserted. “I didn’t call. Not because I couldn’t move past what happened the night of the arrest. I didn’t call because I’ve been grappling with the fact that you are the only woman in this world that I want. You’re the only person I want next to me. And I don’t deserve you, because what kind of man walks away from Laura Colton? What kind of man runs from the chance to be yours?”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not.”

“But it is,” she said, bringing her hands up to his lapels. She traced them with her palms, caressing him as his lungs rose and fell under them. “We’re both here now. You’re saying these things. And you won’t walk out again. Will you?”

He gripped her wrist. He didn’t pull her away. Instead, he touched his brow to hers. “No.” He ground out the word. “I won’t walk out again.”

They stood together as a strong breeze swept across the cemetery, lifting flowers and hats into the air. Laura felt the skirt of her maxidress flapping around them like wings, but she didn’t move.

As the wind died down in increments, she said, “Tell me another secret.”

He made a noise. After a moment, he answered. “I used to braid her hair when she was too little to do it herself.”

She smiled at the image. “Softy.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “She was the only person who knew that side of me—until you.”

“Say more things,” she requested.

He thought about it for a second. Then he lifted his wrist, pulling back the cuff of his jacket sleeve. Here, she’d noticed he carried a solitary feather on the inside of his arm. “This was my first tattoo. It’s my favorite.”

“Youdohave a favorite,” she mused, touching it.

He nodded, his head low over hers as she traced the feather’s shaft. She heard his slow inhalation and knew he was smelling her hair. “It’s for my mother.”

“Oh, Noah,” she sighed.

“Every Christmas, I drive up to Washington and retrace my steps with her there. I go to the coast and hole up in a cabin we used to rent in the summer. I don’t have anything of hers. We didn’t have much. And everything that was hers got lost after she was killed. I only have memories. Every year, I’m afraid I lose more. I go to the cabin to remember, because if I don’t, did she really even exist?”

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