Page 86 of Truck Stop Tempest

I caught up with her halfway across the lawn.

“Hey, Bunny.”

She whipped around to face me, eyes bright, cheeks rosy. “Tito.”

Dear God, that blush.

Her gaze dropped to her Adidas. “Aida said you wouldn’t be here.”

I tapped a finger under her chin until those blue beauties lifted. “That a bad thing, me being here?”

After a long pause, she mumbled, “No. Not bad.” She took a step back, swallowed, straightened her shoulders. “You working?”

Damn, I wanted to calm the shake in her voice. Preferably with my lips. “Been here all morning.” I rubbed at that obnoxious ache in my chest.

“You look exhausted.”

Because I hadn’t slept in weeks. “I’m good.”

“How was your trip with Tucker?”

“It was good. Very good.” God, I wished I could tell her that we’d pulled two girls off the streets.

She stared long and hard, thoughts spinning. I stared right back, absorbing the attention, hoping like hell she wasn’t searching for words to send me away, but bracing for them nonetheless.

She blinked. Cleared her throat. “Listen. Um. Aida drove. But…” She tapped her heel against the overgrown grass. “Would you give me a ride home?”

She may as well have handed me the world. “Let me grab my keys.”

Pride kept me from crumbling into an emotional mess at her feet and begging her to come home with me. Instead, I jogged back around the house, locked up, sent Aida a quick text, and met Tuuli at my car where she stood staring at the lake. When I approached, she sucked in a breath. “It’s beautiful here.”

I followed her gaze to the willow tree standing alone on the shoreline.

Over her shoulder, she gave me a sad smile. “That tree needs a swing, don’t you think?”

I nodded. Opened my mouth to speak. Nothing. Fucking desert in my throat.

“I used to love swinging. We had a huge maple in our backyard when I was a girl. I begged my dad to hang a swing from the tree. He never did. One day, Jonas climbed the tree and tied a rope around the branch, then tied an old tire to the end. I had so much fun that day. The next morning, I ran outside to play on my swing. It was gone. Jonas had a black eye, and he didn’t talk to me for over a month.

She turned to face me. Even lost in her sad memories, she took my breath away. So fucking beautiful.

I cleared my throat. “A swing would be perfect. The kids will love it. I’ll talk to the contractor.”

Her entire face lit up. Holy fucking shit. That smile. Dagger to the heart.

My chest cracked wide open. Swear to Christ, I winced from the pain.

The pain was unbearable. He was so close—an arm’s length at best—yet lightyears away. I wanted to touch him. Hold him. Kiss him. I needed him to tell me everything was okay. I needed him to need me, to be so desperate for me that he would break down, tell me everything, give me all of him. I needed him to trust that I could handle his burdens.

I focused on that damn willow tree because if I looked at Tito, I would break. Under his intense heat, my resolve shriveled and dried, flaking off, layer by layer, floating away in the warm spring breeze.

“Tuuli.”

His breath blew my hair. His heat enveloped me.

Like a puppet on a string, I leaned into him.

“Can I kiss you?”

---