Page 93 of Live for Me

When I didn’t answer her, her bottom lip began to tremble. “You killed that man when you were seventeen to protect me,” she whispered, backing out of the shade the bunkhouse provided and stepping into the late-afternoon sun. I could see the gold in her brown eyes now, and all I wanted to do was fucking kiss her.

“Know that, Wildflower,” I said on a sigh and looked towards the barn for a moment. “And we both know I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”

“Did you like it?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Abbie

A shadow fell over his face as flames behind those bright blue eyes sparked with fury.

Every single inch of him stiffened, including the muscle ticking in his cheek. “Gonna give you one more time to ask me that, Abbie,” he said, the low growl of his voice reaching across the short distance between us and piercing my heart. “Take a second to prepare for my answer before you do.”

Goosebumps appeared on my arm, spreading over my skin like a chill in the night. “Judging by that answer, I don’t need to ask again,” I whispered, my heart rate climbing by the second.

“Fine. Saves me fucking time,” he moved on darkly, taking a step towards me, but I held my ground. “Why are you coming back home asking me questions like that?”

“This isn’t my home,” I said, breathless.

Those heat-filled eyes dropped to my lips. “Yeah, baby, it is.”

I shook my head and took a step back. “You know what? I changed my mind,” I declared, anger flooding my logic, blinding me. “Do you like it?”

“You should know the fucking answer to that,” he said calmly, ice in his voice.

My chin jerked up an inch. “The Beau I knew valued human life,” I shot out, my voice getting louder and louder with each word. “The Beau I knew wouldn’t shamelessly take a life because of a hotel development in town.”

Recognition painted his features, the sight gutting me in a way I never expected. He knew exactly what I was talking about, and yet? He didn’t fucking deny it. I couldn’t believe it. I threw my hands out to the side.

“So the cowboy I left turned into a ruthless fucking monster?” I practically shouted.

He looked to the ground for a moment, and when he lifted his head again, there was a different kind of heat burning in his eyes, chasing my goosebumps away. “What else did you expect me to turn into, baby?”

Another wave of shock slammed into me.

My arms fell to my sides, chest heaving as he closed the distance between us, the deafening sound of gravel crunching under his boots. We were chest to chest now, the brim of his hat brushing the top of my head as his nostrils flared, his neck bending to get into my space.

Our gaze didn’t break when the bunkhouse door shot open and everyone inside filed out.

It didn’t break when Jigs and Denver informed Beau they were heading out to the herd, mounting their horses.

It didn’t break when the twins and some woman walked around the back of the bunkhouse and pulled back around in Lance’s shitty truck before informing us they were heading into town for a bit.

Then, minutes or hours later, who the hell knew, Beau’s hand cupped the back of my neck in a firm grip. I let out a small whimper, my mouth opening as he yanked me into his body, his other arm locking around me, crushing me. His fingers gripped the hair at the back of my scalp, forcing my head back. My hands shot up to his chest, pushing against him as my laptop clattered to the gravel.

“Let go of me,” I demanded.

“The man holding you right now is the man I had to fucking become to survive the agonizing pain of losing you,” he clipped, a rumble coming from deep in his chest. I struggled against him, trying to get away from his heat, his strength, and that look in his damn eyes. A look that threatened to obliterate my moral compass.

“Stop,” I hissed as he spun us, forcing me to walk backwards towards the bunkhouse.

“But turns out, all that pain, all the sleepless nights, all the fucking doubt, Abbie, was all just a fucking lie, wasn’t it?” he demanded through clenched teeth, kicking the bunkhouse door open so hard it rattled the horseshoes on the wall. His handsnaked around to the front of my neck, gripping it and pressing his thumb under my jaw, still forcing me to look at him. He kicked the door shut behind him, and his other hand moved to my hip, digging into my flesh.

All I could see now was him, his heated blues, and suddenly, it was all around me, burning my soul from the outside. He knew.

He fucking knew the truth.

Nothing else mattered anymore. Not the story. Not my stalker. Not the information I’d gotten this afternoon. I came here to yell at him, to scold him, to try and hate him. The entire ride back to Hallow Ranch, I convinced myself that if Beau truly was the monster Bart painted him to be, I could find a way to resent him. If I could resent him, I could eventually teach myself to hate him, and then, somewhere down the line, all the love I had in my heart for him would fade away.

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