Page 57 of Silos and Sabotage

As he assisted her out of the vehicle, she felt guilty for continuing to impose on his hospitality, since she could afford to spring for a hotel downtown. He’d probably be better off in the guest house.

He reached for her hand. “What are you frowning about?”

She considered dodging the question, but they’d been through too much together. He deserved nothing less than her honesty. “Your house.”

“What did it do to you?” he teased as he led her across the porch of his guest house to the door.

“It needs some paint.” She turned around and scanned it worriedly. “And maybe a new roof.”

He leaned his side against the wall, still holding her hand. “What color would you like me to paint it?”

She liked the fact that he’d asked her opinion. “I like it white. It just needs to be scraped off and repainted. I can help,” she offered.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I can afford to have my house painted, darling.”

“Oh.” She felt her face heat. “That’s good.”

He studied his home with a critical eye. “I’ve actually been meaning to call my homeowner’s insurance about the roof. Pretty sure I saw some hail damage up there. I’ve just been focused on other things.” He returned his dark gaze to her.

Awareness vibrated between them.

“Anything else, beautiful?” He reached up to draw a finger down her cheek.

“Is everything in good repair on the inside?” She’d only been in his eat-in kitchen for shared meals and the living room for a few movies. Though the house had good bones, she could only hope that the plumbing and electricity were up to standard.

He dropped his hand. “What exactly are you worried about?”

“The squatter next door to you,” she mumbled. “I’m enjoying some of the best accommodations in town, while you do without. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Squatter?” He straightened, scowling. “Why are you always putting yourself down like that?” He towered over her, filling her view with his broad shoulders.

“Because I’m a broken person with fractured memories and…” She waved a hand helplessly.

“No. You’re not.” He reached out to wrap his fingers around a strand of her hair that was blowing in the breeze. “Someone tried to break you, but you’re still here. Still standing. Yeah, you’ve got a few battle scars, but you’re still fighting for justice.”

“Spoken like a true soldier.” It was sweet of him to draw that noble of a comparison.

The intensity in his gaze made her heart race. “From the moment we met, there was something about you that appealed to me. You were wilted and bedraggled, no more than two snaps from heatstroke, with that miserable excuse of a man pawing you.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” She tipped her face up to his, anxious for him to get to the part about her that he’d found appealing.

“Then you looked up and saw me, and you came alive. There’s no other way to describe it.” There was wonder in his voice. “No one else has ever looked at me that way, Ella. And no one has ever looked at me the way you’re looking at me now.”

“You were my one constant.” It was something she’d been waiting for the right moment to tell him. “The one name and the one face I could remember when everything else was a blank. For five years straight, I’ve been trying to find you. Trapped by my own mind. And now that I’ve succeeded, my need for vengeance has become less important than my wish to be with you.”

An answering emotion flared in his gaze. “May I hold you?” His hands remained at his sides, waiting.

“Yes, please.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, knowing this moment had been inevitable. They’d been working their way up to it the whole time they’d known each other.

She tipped her face up to his. “I tried to convince myself it was nothing more than hero worship.” She splayed a hand against his plaid shirt, loving the way his heart was pounding beneath her fingers. It made her feel both powerful and humble, both weak and strong. “The way you rescued me and the way you’ve been protecting me ever since.” She moved her hand over his shoulder to brush her fingers against the back of his neck. “But I think it’s more than that.”

“Iknowit’s more.” His head dipped over hers.

“Kiss me, Gage,” she whispered.

He palmed her cheek, angling her mouth beneath his. “If you change your mind about this, about any of this, tell me to stop.” Then he seamed their mouths together. Softly. Gently. Reverently.

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