Page 61 of Texas Hold Em'
When he returned, he went to the pit and lit a cigarette. I joinedhim out there, standing barefoot on the paving stones, and watched the ember of his cigarette blaze in his eyes.
“Can I have one?” I asked.
“You smoke?”
“I used to when I was in my early twenties and went dancing every weekend.” It had been an easy way to impress drunk boys puffing on primetimes in the back lanes of the city. I came to enjoy them, and for a brief two-year stint before I joined the Ranger Academy, I’d have a cigarette every now and then when I was stressed.
Tex handed me one and lit it for me.
I took a couple puffs, coughed like a dying pirate, and puffed again.
He smirked. “You’re not very good at that.”
“I’m out of practice,” I croaked.
Tex leaned back against the corner of the doorframe with one hand in the pocket of his jeans while he flicked ash and smoked. He repeated the languid movements, all muscle memory, and if I hadn’t been so queasy with fear, I might have jumped his bones right then and there.
No man had ever consumed me the way he did, thoughconsumedfelt like a mild word to describe it.
Possessedseem a tad more accurate.
He’d infiltrated every crevice of my being. Every vein, every skin cell, every hair follicle, every eyelash, all of it. He was the last thing I thought of as I drifted off to sleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up. It never used to be that way for me. I was an independent, self-sufficient woman, and I never pictured myself as someone who would have so much riding on a guy.
But I did.
Maybe I only felt this way because I felt responsible for his life. Maybe if all this ended well, this obsession would become less intense and I’d be able to leave him behind and go home.
Home.
It seemed so far away now. So out of reach.
How would I ever go back there after this?
I flinched as the end of my cigarette scalded the tips of my fingers.The filter fell to the ground and went out. Tex caught my burnt hand and put my two fingertips in his mouth.
I froze like a deer in the headlights. His tongue was warm but not unpleasantly so. He sucked gently before pulling my fingers from his lips and gently blowing on them. My cheeks burned hotter than my fingers did.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Rookie move, Hart. Rookie move.”
Oh God,I thought as I gazed up at him, my wrist still clasped between his fingers,I think I love you.
“Hart?”
I pulled my wrist free. “I’m okay.”
He chuckled. “Good. Maybe you should steer clear of this shit? Leave it to the professionals.”
I wanted to return his joke and play along. Under other circumstances, I’d have been able to. But not right then. My heart hammered wildly in my chest, as if she had a mind of her own and was trying to tell me how she felt about this man.
Save him.
Save him.
Save him.
But my mind knew the truth of things, and it was simple—this was not my choice anymore. It was his. I’d said my piece. I’d begged him to change his mind. I’d pleaded and cried and screamed at him not to do this, and none of it had worked. There would be no deterring him from his task.
And if there was, would I feel the same way about him that I did? If he wasn’t so selfless, so brave, so damn reckless, would I want him as badly? Selfishly, I wanted to believe that I would.
