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Mercy lifted her hand to her cheeks, surprised to find that they were wet. “I think you love me, Gray Woodson,” she whispered.
Gray smiled at her, slow and sweet, and nodded. “More than I love a nap.”
She laughed, though it came out in hiccups and giggles, and buried her face in her hands. He gently pried them off.
“I love you, Mercy Woodson. Despite the fact that you nearly burn down the house every time you cook, and always smell like apples, which I really used to hate, but I think they might be growing on me, and even though you argue with every word out of my mouth—really, you could let a few go every now and then—and you won’t stop nagging me about the list of chores you always have lined up for me that we both know I’m never going to do. And you never let me nap in peace, and worse, you keep letting Sunshine in the house even though I’ve repeatedly forbidden him to step foot—”
She held up a finger. “Gray.”
“Yes?” he asked with that lopsided grin she loved so well.
“Shut up and kiss me already.”
His grin widened. “Yes, ma’am.”
His lips captured hers and he pulled her to him, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other trailed up her neck until he cupped the back of her head. He kissed her until the room began to spin and she had to cling to him to keep on her feet. He didn’t let her up for air until someone let out a long whistle and numerous people broke out in cheers and applause.
Mercy broke the kiss and glanced at the audience she hadn’t realized had grown to more than sixty people. Their argument must have been louder than she’d thought. Either that or some of her more enterprising friends had run out and pulled people in off the streets for the show, because the tavern was about full to bursting. And every set of eyes was on them.
“Um, maybe we should go somewhere more…private,” she said, and their audience issued a near unified gasp of dismay.
“Ah, come on, you two, don’t shut us out now,” Mrs. DuVere said. “It was just getting good.”
Gray snorted and Mercy dropped her head to his chest. He kissed the top of her head and then took her face in his hands, gently turning her to look at him.
“Why did you come here?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “To tell you that you’re making a mistake, and I love you too much to let you leave.”
A collective sigh went up around them and her cheeks flamed hot again.
“Well, damn,” Gray said and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I never believed in miracles before but…now I just might.” Then he shrugged. “Either that or you haven’t the sense God gave a worm, and I’d be well advised to cut tail and run as fast as I can.”
“Gray!” she said, playfully slapping his arm.
He chuckled and pulled her in against his side.
“Come on, wife. Let’s go home.” He led her to the door, still a little wobbly on his legs as they waded through the crowd and stepped outside.
Hope flashed through her, so strong it made her knees weak, and she pulled him to a stop. “So…you’re staying then?”
His smile dimmed. “We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“Gray…”
Then a shot rang out, echoing so loudly her ears throbbed with the sound.
Gray’s arm fell away from her waist, and she stood there. Alone.
Chapter Twenty-six
Fire ripped a path across Gray’s head, and the wooden sign above him exploded into a million splinters. The screams and thundering of people’s feet as they scattered disoriented him for a second. He shook his head, hissing when the movement sent stabbing pain cascading through his skull.
Mercy!
She stood motionless a few feet away, seemingly stunned. Jason, Doc, and Preacher were nearby, ushering people out of the way, getting as many of them back inside the tavern as possible.
“Gray!” Mercy shouted, snapping out of it as she rushed toward him. But there was no time. The gunman who’d shot him sat on his horse in the middle of the road, a cold smile stretching his thin lips as he watched the scene of panic spread out before him.
