Page 131 of In These Hills

He looked down at her hand, watching her closely. “I’m glad you got it back. It obviously means a lot to you.”

“It does. More than I can say.” She quickly looked up. “I mean, not because of the marriage so much, of course. Not after what . . . he did. But because this belonged to my mother.”

He nodded as though understanding what she meant, as though believing her.

“Well . . .” She finally wiped her cheeks. “I’d better get back to the office. But truly, Dodge, thank you for this. And for the tour.”

“My pleasure.”

She started to rise, but on instinct bolstered by gut hunch, he took hold of her hand and pulled her back down beside him. Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t move away. Not an inch.

“Just one question before you go, Josephine.”

She swallowed, her breath quickening.

He looked down at the ring, then slowly back up at her. “If you’re married, as you say you are . . . why are you wearing your wedding band on the wrong hand?”

50

JOSEPHINE LOOKED DOWN at her right hand—and her throat went dry. How could she have been so careless. So thoughtless.

Struggling to see her tangled web of a life from a bird’s-eye view, she grasped for any excuse that might make her mistake seem reasonable. But the longer the silence stretched, the more she realized that any explanation she would offer would only sound like the lie it would be. And looking into Dodge’s eyes, she knew he saw it, too. She didn’t want to lie to him. Not anymore. When his hand closed firmly around hers, she didn’t pull away.

“You’re not married,” he said softly.

She slowly shook her head, and the pleasure in his eyes ignited something inside her.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve always doubted that part of your story. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.”

His gaze lowered to her mouth, and she wanted him to kiss her. Right here, right now. It was all she could do not to lean in first.

“Still, I’d like to hear you say it out loud.”

She looked at him, confused. “Say what?”

“That you’re not really married.”

Whether it was the huskiness of his voice or the faint smolder in his gaze, warmth flooded her body. “I . . . am . . . not . . . married,” she whispered. “Nor have I ever been.”

“Good to know.” He cradled her cheek, his thumb tracing her partially open lips.

She wasn’t sure who reached who first or how her hands got into his hair, she only knew that when she deepened the kiss, his response took her breath with it. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, the blue of his eyes far deeper than she remembered.

She ran a hand over his beard. “You trimmed it.”

“Just this morning. Bethie got onto me again about it.”

“It looks nice.” She smiled, taking him in. She could look at him all day long and never tire of it. And although her single suffragist sisters would tell her to run and never look back, another voice inside told her this man was different. That he could be trusted. But could that voice be trusted?

“Josephine . . .” He covered her hand on his chest. “Whoever or whatever you’re hiding from, tell me, and I’ll help you however I can.”

Her pulse still thrumming, she briefly closed her eyes, imagining the disillusionment he would feel when he learned the truth about her. Once he found out she’d killed a man, she feared, in his eyes, she would become just another fanatic suffragist—the very kind he condemned.

She gently tugged her hand from his grip, hoping that would help her to think more clearly. It didn’t. “Dodge, I—” All semblance of thought fled, leaving only dread and fear in its place.

He fingered a strand of hair at her temple. “The easiest way to say something hard is usually just to say it.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “If I did that, I think you’d run.”