Page 30 of Halfway to Hell
As she lowered herself onto the edge, he heard her inhale, ready to apologize again, but he cut her off before the words came.
“Sunday, I want …” Texas hesitated, searching for the right words. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her again. All he’d wanted was to get her to Montreal, to keep her safe. That. Was. It. “I need you to accept my apology. Your sister pissed me off, and I … well, I lashed out at you.”
She shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “It’s fine, Texas. Monday’s good at pissing people off.”
“No. It’s not fine. I’m a grown man. I should be able to handle myself better than that.”
Was that what he’d been doing—testing her? Sunday wondered, remembering the look of abject horror on Texas’s face moments before. Maybe he wanted to see if he thought of her as anything more than a pathetic little girl.
Disappointed in herself for being foolish, Sunday settled into silence, listening as Texas spoke.
She resolved to be as little trouble as possible until he got her safely to Montreal.
“About you trying to kiss me,” Texas said, breaking the quiet. She tuned in more closely, heart tightening.
“I’m flattered you’d want to kiss me,” he admitted quietly, “but the truth is, I’m much too old for you.”
Texas hated being a hypocrite. He had no problem thinking about younger women—he just didn’t date. Hell, he barely even screwed around.
“What I mean is...”
But why was he stumbling over his words? This shouldn’t be this damn hard. It was Sunday’s big, soft blue eyes and the way she looked at him that unsettled him, made him lose his footing.
“You’re still recovering from what happened to you,” he said quietly. “The last thing you need is someone like me hurting you.”
Sunday nodded, careful not to say the wrong thing. She’d never really considered that Texas might not want to stick around after Montreal. Maybe she was caught up in some kind of hero worship—or whatever it was called—but her heart still felt heavy thinking about what tomorrow might bring. Would she ever see or hear from him again?
“Eros is grabbing us a table at the restaurant. You hungry?” Texas asked.
Clearing her throat, Sunday shook her head. “I’m really tired. Would you mind bringing me something back when you come?”
“Not at all. It’s barbecue.”
“Just a grilled cheese sandwich will be fine. If they have it.”
“Sunday.”
“Texas,” she interrupted softly, “I’m fine. You’re absolutely right. I’ve been through a traumatic event, and I’m just struggling to find my footing. That’s all. I shouldn’t have done that. It was out of line. It won’t happen again.”
“We’re good?” he asked, though something behind her eyes told him they weren’t.
He wasn’t sure how to navigate this with her. Outside of his family, the only thing he’d ever truly lived for was helping relocate battered women and children. But he’d never had one get under his skin like Sunday was doing, and he was fucking it up completely.
Even if his words were true, they weren’t how he honestly felt.
“Maybe take a hot bath and relax,” he said, rising and heading for the door.
“Don’t forget your key,” Sunday called softly. “Just in case I fall asleep. I might not be able to get to the door.”
When the door closed behind him, Texas felt the ground shift beneath his feet as if he’d lost some fragile footing with her. Glancing down, he tapped the room key against his thigh, wondering how badly his words had hurt her.
Leaning back against the door, he didn’t like the feelings stirring inside him. His gaze dropped to the faded line around his ring finger. He rubbed the spot with his thumb, still able to feel the ghost of the gold band that had rested there for eighteen years.
The memory of the dream crashed back hard. Closing his eyes, he saw the image of his wife blur, then morph into Sunday’s face.
“Shit!” he snapped, shoving away from the door.
Chapter Twelve
