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It took a moment, but a slow smile gradually spread across Nick’s face. As if he were looking at someone who had finally seen what was obvious to him. “I was afraid you hadn’t realized that yet.”
“I love her,” he repeated. “And I need to tell her. In person.”
Within the hour he was on the road back to Austin, his GPS screen showing an address glowing as the target.
*
Kaitlyn stared ather phone screen, beyond puzzled. It wasn’t that Nick didn’t text her now and then, although he preferred calling because, he said, he liked to hear her voice. But he also liked sayings and quips and aphorisms, especially what he called “Texas-isms,” and he would text those. Things like his opinion on Jillian.She was raised on concrete, and it was softer than her heart.Or her favorite:She’s got horns holding up her halo.
None of which explained why he’d now texted her the words:You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.~Frank Crane
She had just typed in a string of three question marks when a knock came on her door. She’d seen Mr. Palaski, her landlord, out puttering about earlier, maybe it was him. If so, she hoped it wasn’t to raise the rent.
She nearly laughed pitifully out loud at that; she had enough to pay one more month, and then she’d be completely broke. And then what would she do when Nick’s expenses came due again? She’d been counting on the payment from theTexas Artworksjob to hold her for a while, but now…
With a heavy sigh she headed for the door, still wondering what Nick had meant. He knew perfectly well she wasn’t one to trust too much. They’d talked about it enough, so it had to be the other part…but you will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.What did he mean by that? It was too pointed to just be something he’d tossed out there, that had been aimed at her. She—
She stopped dead, her hand still clutching the knob of the door she’d just opened, forgetting the peephole entirely in her distraught state.
Ry.
Standing right there on her cracked concrete doorstep. His hair was tangled, his jaw unshaven. He looked tired. He looked worried.
He was beautiful.
Because he always was.
The pain she’d been fighting since she’d left the Last Stand Saloon swept over her in a wave. She was half convinced she was hallucinating, that she’d imagined him here because she wanted it so badly.
When she’d first gotten back, she’d gone through her routine by rote, unpacking her gear, hooking her camera up to the computer to download the last batch of images. And then she’d seen the shots she’d taken when he’d gone over the railing in his loft, only half-dressed.
Her heart had started to slam in her chest as she stared at him, at how perfect he was. She thought she must have idealized him a bit, that no man could be that beautiful. She’d had the camera between them at the time, giving her that tiny bit of distance, but with the image full screen, stealing what little breath she had left, there was no denying what she was seeing. And she knew he was everything she’d remembered.
Now the real thing was here, standing on that cracked doorstep.
She pulled back, her hand tightening on the doorknob she’d never let go of.
“Don’t, Kaitlyn.” His voice was a rough, tight whisper that sent a shiver of fire and ice down her spine. “Don’t shut me out.”
Why was he here? She could feel her fingers protesting the prolonged tight grip on the brass of the knob, but it was only a vague sort of awareness, on some other level. Some level beneath the pain and need and wanting that just the sight of him brought on in her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, especially couldn’t say his name.
“We need to talk.”
Why on earth would he want to talk to the person he hated enough to call her boss and demand she get her away from him? And how had he found her in the first place? She’d not given her new physical address to anyone except—
Nick.
“Trust me, Kaitlyn. Please.”
Her breath caught.You will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.
Was that what that text had been, a message, advice from Nick to trust Ry? It would be just like him to hide it in some quotation from someone she’d never heard of.
“It wasn’t what you think, Kate. Let me in.”
That voice. That low, rumbly, man’s voice.
You will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.
