Page 40 of Lyon

I couldn’t stay here. It was too personal. Too intimate.

Tears burned my eyes as I whispered into his chest, “I can’t do this, Lyon. Not like this. I need to go home.”

His arms tightened around me. “Sweetheart, Iwantto do this. Iloveyou.”

“I love you too,” I admitted, voice cracking. “But this is too much. If my mom had stayed, it would be different. I don’t want to mess this up before we even have a chance. I can’t even move my arms or use my hands.”

Lyon exhaled, his breath warm against my temple. “How about I bring in a nurse? She can help with everything. I’ll just carry you around and kiss you.”

I shook my head. “I need to go home. Even though the carrying around getting kisses sounds wonderful.”

His grip loosened. “Home towhere? Your big house with all those stairs? How are you going to manage alone?” His voice was gentle, but I could hear the frustration behind it.

“I’ll have help.”

He fell silent for a moment. Then, softly, “I won’t stand in your way if this is what you want. But I’m not going anywhere.”

I looked up at him. “You better not. Because I’ll never love another man.”

His lips brushed mine. “Damn it, woman. How about I just move in with you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No.”

“Marry me, then.”

“Lyon.”

He grinned. “Worth a shot.”

I kissed him again, lingering. “We’ll figure it out.”

His arms tightened around me. “You’re damn right we will.”

19

Lyon

I was headingto Niki’s before leaving for another job. It had been three jobs now since she’d gone back home—not moved back, justgonehome. I always said shemovedback home, but that wasn’t really the case. She’d never lived with me.

This job would take a while. We had no clue where Tag Harris was. He’d gone on a solo hike through the Brazilian jungle three months ago and never returned. His sister had only just realized he was missing.

Three months, and no one had noticed?

Tag had spent two years in a wheelchair before Graham Wilson, a former Navy SEAL surgeon, performed life-changing surgery on him. The man had defied the odds and walked again. I could only pray to hell that his legs hadn’t failed him out there.

I pulledup to Niki’s home and spotted her immediately. She was lounging in a hammock, lazily rocking it with her foot, wearing a sundress that swayed with the breeze.

She turned her head, saw me, and smiled.

That was all it took.

I was out of the truck in seconds, pulling her up into my arms. Her laughter melted against my lips as I kissed her, holding her close.

“I love you,” I murmured, my lips brushing against hers.

Her face had finally healed. A couple of faint scars remained—tiny reminders of her strength. The woman had been through hell, and yet, here she was. Beautiful. Resilient. Smiling up at me.

She reached up and licked my lips teasingly.

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