Page 47 of Colton's Last Resort

Relinquishing the scarf, she stepped to the door. He let her pass under his arm before he closed it. Once more, she hadn’t let tears fall, but she rubbed her hands over her cheeks anyway, to be sure. “I didn’t find the bracelet,” she told him. “I take it you didn’t either.”

“No dice,” he replied.

There was violence in him, she saw in his taut jaw, his electrode eyes. He barely had it restrained. She saw him as she had the first night. Only this time, the readiness and anger weren’t gunning for her.

She wasn’t sure why she did it or what compelled her. She simply thought of the way he’d kissed her at the paddock. Just that brush of his mouth at the corner of hers and the softening she felt inside herself...

Fitting her hand to the bulge of his shoulder under the jacket, she held him.

His brows came together. “What are you doing, Colton?” he asked, hoarse.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to lift herself all the way to her tiptoes to stand chin to chin with him.

Just enough, she thought, touching the hard line of his jaw. She brushed her thumb over the center of his chin. The hair there was thick and soft. Up close, he didn’t smell nearly as dangerous as he looked. He smelled like worn leather and clean sweat.

She leaned in. Even as he tensed, she closed her eyes and touched her mouth to the corner of his.

She felt his hands gather in the material of her jacket over her ribs, but he didn’t wrest her away. Nor did his body soften, even as she pulled away, lowering to her heels.

His eyes searched hers, scrambling from one to the other and back in escalating questions. “What was that for?” he asked.

She considered what was inside her—what he was fighting. “You’re not alone.”

His brows bunched closer. The skin between them wrinkled in confusion.

She licked her lips, tasting him there. “I have something to tell you.”

“What?” he asked, the line of his mouth forbidding.

“Adam’s setting up a fund in Allison’s name,” she informed him. “It’s to help pay for funeral costs.”

He shook his head automatically. “I don’t need your money.”

“Noah, please. We just want to help. Let us. You must be overwhelmed by all this—”

“I’m fine.” He moved away.

“She told me once that for the longest time you were the only person she had in this life,” she blurted. “It’s the same for you, isn’t it? She was the only person you had. And now she’s gone and a big part of you is lost. Even if you don’t want anyone to see it.”

“I think we’re done here,” he said.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. She might as well bang her head against the wall.

In the living room, he’d switched off all the lights. As he went to the front door to leave, she caught sight of the alstroemerias. The petals were so delicate, she could see the light from the window through them.

She’d take them home. She’d care for them, as Allison would have. Then she’d return the pretty crystal vase to Noah when they wilted.

As he locked up, she cradled the vase against her chest and frowned at the stiff line of his back. “What was Allison’s favorite flower?”

“How should I know?” he grumbled, checking the handle to make sure it was locked. Shoving his keys in his pocket, he stalked back to her Mercedes.

“You can’t expect me to believe that you never bought your sister flowers,” she retorted.

It wasn’t until she’d fit the base of the vase in the cup holder between the driver and passenger seats that he spoke again.

“Orchids.”

She fastened her seat belt and paused, then started the car. “What?”

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