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He stared at the roads that were more familiar now that he’d been in Montana for a while. They were getting close to the Gracey.
In a few minutes, Livia would be in his arms where she belonged.
His insides burned, and he realized that he was jittery from nerves too. Would she accept him now that he’d failed her so badly? What if she pushed him away? He couldn’t blame her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep fighting to keep her in his life.
Around him, talk turned to how Smythe was getting people past them. Colton and Hunter hashed it all out again, while Ledger drank in what they were saying.
Carver pushed out a grunt. “I want to help out more. I do. But I can’t see how I can be in two places at once.”
“We asked you to watch over Livia,” Colton said.
“The least we can do is watch over her after she put herself on the line for Ivy.” Hunter’s quiet statement was banked with anger he still harbored after the woman he loved was attacked. Who could blame him?
Carver wanted to bash more faces in. Break all the necks. Until Livia was safe, he would never rest.
When Colton turned into the gates of the Gracey Ranch, Carver gripped the armrest, prepared to shove the door open and leap out the minute they stopped.
“This gravel road leading to the ranch is too damn long,” he growled. “How’s a man supposed to reach his woman at this rate?”
Colton glanced in the rearview mirror, probably trading a glance with one of the guys.
By the time they approached the garage, his jaw ached from gnashing his teeth. No sooner had Colton stopped the truck than he was out, long strides eating up the distance between himself and the house where he presumed Livia was.
Suddenly, the front door opened and she emerged, wrapped in a coat far too big for her. Her face was pale and her red hair was bright in the sunshine.
His heart jerked hard as if someone just kicked his chest. Slowing his steps, he searched her face for any sign of how she felt at seeing him again.
He walked up to her and stopped, afraid to touch her.
She stared down at the bandages on his wrists and then looked up at his face, a small gasp on her lips.
Just seeing that bruise on her face put there by that asshole at the bar made him want to kill. The incident seemed so long ago. It happened before the bathroom flood that kicked off the chain of events leading to them being torn apart.
Unlocking his fingers from a fist, he slowly raised his hand to stroke the crest of her cheek, near the bruise.
“Jesus, Livia. I’m so sorry—”
She surged onto tiptoe and cut off his words with a hard kiss. Her scent filled his head, and he let out a groan. Hooking an arm around her back, he pulled her tight against him.
Angling her head, she kissed him with all the passion he felt scorching through his body.
She clung to him, the groan in his throat moving up a notch to a primal growl. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him.
On instinct, he turned for the only place he could think where he could be alone with her for a reunion—the bunkhouse. He’d only spent a few hours there upon first arriving at the ranch, but they could be alone inside.
Still kissing her, drinking her in, he somehow made it to the door. She released her grip on his shoulders long enough to twist the handle, and they burst into the cool space.
Thankfully, all the guys were out working on the ranch.
When he nudged his way through a cracked door and lay Livia down on the bunk, he cursed how narrow it was for what he wanted to do to her…all…day…long.
Hovering over her, he stared deep into her eyes. “Thank god you’re all right.”
Her throat worked, and tears glistened in her eyes. “I thought you were dead.”
“Didn’t you get my call?”
“They took my phone and threw it out. Somebody found it and turned it in—that’s when I heard that a call came from a satellite phone.”
