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“I’m going to kill that cat one day.” Rafe hissed as he nuzzled Billie Ann’s neck.

“He did keep me company while you were gone,” Billie Ann whispered, leaning her head back against Rafe’s chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. She breathed him in—warm skin, leather, and his own special scent that made her knees weak.

“Fine,” Rafe muttered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He can live… for tonight.”

Without another word, he bent and swept her into his arms like she weighed nothing at all.

She gasped, laughing softly. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you to bed before he finds a way to interrupt again,” he growled, already heading toward the trailer. “Now, can we stop talking about Bruce?”

As if on cue, the familiar voice came from somewhere in the shadows, smug and loud as ever. “It’sThe Bruceto you, dickhead!”

Billie Ann burst out laughing, her head falling against Rafe’s shoulder as he snorted in response.

“He says he’s got nine lives,” Rafe said with a growl, pushing open the trailer door with his shoulder. “And I swear I’m using one if he shows up again tonight.”

But once the door closed behind them, and the quiet of the trailer wrapped around them like a warm blanket, neither of them gave Bruce or anyone else a second thought.

Rafe set her down gently, his eyes never leaving hers. No more goodbyes. No more danger. Just the two of them, in the place where it had all begun.

As their lips met again, Billie Ann knew this wasn’t just the end of a long, hard chapter.

It was the beginning of everything.