Page 101 of Finding Denver

“From a two-minute meeting?”

“Yes.”

“And you know who is good enough for me?”

I straighten up off the counter and look down at her. The sunlight streams through the kitchen window, illuminating her hair, brightening her eyes and the fire behind them. I have an urge to reach out and touch her, to check whether the sun has warmed her skin, to move her hairaside and see if there’s that flush on her neck that sometimes appears when we talk. I don’t need to count the freckles on her cheeks because I’ve done it a dozen times, but I note some new ones that have appeared.

Going back to her hotel room that night is a memory I’ve buried beneath her grief. How I felt was the last thing on my mind, and she took the forefront. Protecting her. Helping her. Just being there.

But it’s hard to deny this pull between us.

Just like outside the restaurant, those feelings come roaring back to the surface, an overwhelming, suffocating urge to touch her, kiss her, to pick up on a moment we shouldn’t have shared all those weeks ago. My heart rate increases and the back of my neck warms, and my instinct to touch her overcomes the thousand reasons why I shouldn’t.

I cup her cheek, and her skin is warm, and her fire simmers away. Her expression softens, and she closes her hand over the one I’ve placed against her cheek, holding it in place.

The front door bangs closed, and she bumps into a kitchen stool to back away from me. Her eyes widen, and she looks like she’s grasping for words that neither of us can find.

“There you are,” Finn says. “Charlie said there was trouble.”

I clear my throat. “Easily fixed. Someone hijacked the shipment. He’s dead.”

He huffs out a breath. “Fucking amateurs. You okay, Denver?”

She nods. “Fine. Just going to shower and … shower.” She darts from the room, and Finn watches her go with a quizzical expression.

“Is she okay?” he asks. An exhale of breath is all I manage as a response. “Probably not the best time to tell her that Ranger called me.”

My skin is suddenly heated for an entirely different reason. “What did he say?”

“Exactly what I expected. Send her home or I’ll regret it if I don’t.” He folds his arms. “I reminded him who he was talking to. He reminded me whose wife I’ve taken.”

Taken. Of course, he would see it like that. Ranger has probably convinced himself that all of this is Finn’s fault.

“How did the conversation end?”

He exhales. “He said she’s either back in his house by Christmas, or he’ll come and get her.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said if he tries to do anything she doesn’t want to do, I’ll kill him. Nephew or not.”

He means it, too. I’ve seen how he’s grown to love Denver over the last few weeks. She’s one of us now whether Ranger likes it or not, and if he steps foot in this city, he won’t leave it alive unless Denver goes willingly. And she won’t.

“I’ll tell her tomorrow,” he says as he leaves the room.

More weight to add to her shoulders, but she deserves to know. It would be good, at least, for her to have something to look forward to, though. So, I’ll make that happen.

I fire off a text.

ME: If I feel like visiting the West Coast, when can I surprise him most?

I wait, and the message is read quickly. Three dots appear.

BURNER ONE: Tomorrow morning could be fun.

I grin and dial Charlie’s number. He answers, “Yep?”

“Want to piss someone off?”