Page 68 of Tango
“It’s survival,” he replies. “Though at twelve, I admit I thought it was a waste of my time.”
I laugh. “I can imagine that.” Tipping my face up toward the sky, I look at the stars. They’re so bright out here, with no city lights to drown them out. The air is warm around us, almost like a blanket, so I lie back in the grass. To my left, Jax continues to graze happily, his saddle and bridle left near a tree. Now he has a halter on, its lead rope tethered gently around a fence post near where we’re sitting.
“How about you?” He takes a seat beside me. In the fray of our escape, I gave up being mad about his outburst. Whatever he’s dealing with—it’s his burden to carry. And I know an awful lot about not wanting to share one’s pain with the world.
“Aside from the cabin you found me in? Nah. We never really camped. I did sleep outside a time or two when I was in between foster homes though.”
“That must have been tough.”
“It wasn’t great,” I admit. “But I learned to be resilient.”
“Positive spin on a negative situation.”
“That’s all we can do, right? Look for the light amidst the dark? I’m trying to remind myself of that.”
He shifts his gaze away from me and starts toying with a small stick he picked up off the ground in front of him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
“Tucker—”
“No,” he interrupts. “There’s no excuse; it wasn’t right. I’m just—I’m struggling, Alice. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Struggling with what?”
He takes a deep breath then turns to me, eyes so bright they almost seem to illuminate from within. “You.”
“Me?” Guilt slams into me hard and fast. I shouldn’t have involved him and his family. Now he’s out here on the run with me, and he’s going to end up just like Logan and Ramiro. “I’m sorry, Tucker. I know this is a lot. Asking you to help with this. I ripped you away from your family—” I’m silenced when he cups my face and pulls me in to press his lips to mine. I stiffen for a moment, unsure what to do, but a heartbeat later, every single muscle in my body turns liquid, and I sink into him.
As his lips move against mine, my heart hammers behind my ribs.
I grip his strong shoulders, needing something to hold onto or risk losing myself completely.
The kiss is tender, soft, a meeting of lips in a gentle whisper, but it’s so loud. I’m deafened by the beating of my own heart.
Tucker pulls away, though his hand remains on my face.
“Oh,” I whisper.
His blue gaze searches mine. Is he looking for anger? Frustration over the kiss? Because he’ll find nothing but desire to do it again.
Because I need him to know that, I grip the front of his shirt and pull him in again. He buries his hand in my hair, and the kiss-induced buzzing in my head takes away all rational thought over why this is probably a bad idea.
He pulls away again. “We need to stop. I need to breathe.” He pushes up and steps away from me, hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, I?—”
“I kissed you too, Mr. Hunt.” I push to my feet too. “So I’m what’s been bothering you? Because you’re attracted to me, but I’m a client? Do you guys have rules or something?” I think of the code Nova and Kennedy talked about. Is this part of it? But then, how did they end up with their husbands?
He’s quiet, his back turned toward me.
“Tucker?”
“I made a promise to myself a long time ago.” He turns to face me, eyes closed. It’s a few moments before he opens them.
“What kind of promise?”
Tucker crosses his muscled arms, and I can see that he’s battling with whether or not to be honest. Should he trust and tell me? Or is he unwilling to be vulnerable?
“You don’t have to tell me.”
But he’s already lost to his past. I can see it in his distant gaze.
