Page 76 of Lethal Threat

In a soft voice, she says, “The tree looks amazing.”

Pulling my eyes from our locked hands, I focus on our tree. We’re cast in the warm glow of Christmas lights that twinkle like stars in the darkened living room.

It’s romantic as all get out. And the tree looks like we are pros.

You’d have thought we’d been doing this for years if you didn’t know the real story. “It’s pretty damn good.”

“I think it gets a ten.”

I chuckle. “So does your cocoa. And the appetizers you made are a close second.”

The tree might be good—the food and drink might be amazing—but having her curled against me is even better.

If only I could bottle this moment up and save it forever.

And ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut.

I press my lips to the cusp of her ear. “Hey, I have something for you.”

“Really? What would you have for me… let me guess. Is it inside those Levis?”

I laugh more deeply. “Actually, it is.”

She groans. “I knew that’s what it was. You’re predictable.”

Reaching into my pocket, I wrap my fingers around the silver bracelet. “Am I?”

I fold the gift I gave her months ago into her hand. “You might not remember this, but I gave it to you. I saw it at your apartment when we were getting your things.”

She blinks, and a flurry of emotions crosses her face. Her eyes rise to mine, and in a soft voice, she says, “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

My throat feels too tight when I try to speak. “Let me put it on for you. I got you a new phone too.”

The tiny clasp is hard to work with my broad fingertips, but I manage to hook it, the way I did that night, long ago.

She sighs happily and leans against me again.

My gut twists into a knot. Foreboding is a bitch to swallow.

That and guilt for not being straight up with Sierra about our rocky past.

I’m a selfishbastard.

It feels like the sand is slipping out of our hourglass and the bottom’s going to drop out any minute.

Am I an ass for letting this farce go as far as it has?

Sierra rubs a hand across the fine hairs on my forearm. Traces her fingers slowly along the muscles. She always liked my forearms. I always liked her touch on my skin. “You’re thinking about leaving for the training exercise, aren’t you?”

“Acquire the skill of mind-reading when you lost your memory?”

I am thinking about the training. How I don’t want to miss a second of time with her because we’re riding the hands of a ticking clock.

She shrugs her slender shoulder against my ribs and it reminds me just how small she is. Like a little sparrow. “Maybe I’m more tuned into you than you think.”

I let a long strand of her hair slip between my fingers. It glides over my skin like fine silk. “You always had a way of seeing through me.”

She turns to sit cross-legged on the couch, looking at me.