Page 131 of The Bronze Garza

Eloise yammersand cackles loudly on her phone all the way home.

“I’m too old for this,” I mumble to myself when I get out of the car.

Dinner with my father and his fiancée every night? Yeah, it’s getting to me. Eloise can be a littletoo muchwhen she gets a bit of alcohol in her.

As soon as I get the all clear that it’s safe for me to move about without an escort, I’ll be getting my own place. Better yet, if she’ll let me, I’ll join Mom on her voyages. Get away for a while. Wandering and writing.

Away fromhiseyes.

Though I never see them, Iknowhis men are around. On our tail every time we leave the house. Watching, protecting, safeguarding.

We’re over, but he’s not left me. Not yet, at least. And as he liked to remind me, I’m a job. And the job isn’t done.

As Dad and Eloise head upstairs, I go to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Leaned back against the counter, I lurk around in several online writers groups, absorbing useful information that’ll help so much with my writing, until the kettle starts to boil.

After pouring hot water into a teacup on a saucer, I dunk in a peppermint teabag and head up to my room with it.

I’ve just set the tea down on my chest-of-drawers and am about to turn for the bathroom when a calloused hand covers my mouth from behind. A hard, broad chest at my back.

This is the part where I’m supposed to scream, but I don’t.

People scream when they’re scared or in danger, and I’m neither right now.

As the familiar scent of freshly sanded wood, rain, and broodiness wraps around me like a warm hug, I sag against him. “I miss you,” I say into his rough palm, but it comes out as nothing but a stifled muffle.

Somehow, though, he understands it, because he dips his mouth to my ear, nips at my flesh, and whispers, “Miss you, too.”

White-hot heat courses through me, and I wriggle, trying to turn around in his arms.

“Quiet. You’ve gotta be quiet,” he tells me, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. “Henderson will probably shoot me if he finds me here with you.”

Once freed, I spin in his arms, throw mine around his neck and try to climb him, but my maxi skirt hinders my progress. A grunt of frustration trebles in my throat.

With a low chuckle, his strong arms tighten around me and lifts me off the ground, carrying me to the bed.

Clinging tightly to him, I press my face to his neck and inhale deeply. He smells and feels likehome.

So safe. I feel so safe in these arms.

As he lays me down on the bed, I notice a fading bruise on his cheekbone. I reach up and brush my fingers over it. “What happened?”

“Henderson.”

“My fatherhit you?” Color me shocked. Dad could sometimes get a mean temper when he’s mad, but never, in my entire life, have I ever seen that man raise a hand at another human being.

“It’s deserved.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I’ve had worse.” He dips down and claims my mouth. And I kiss him back like the world is about to end. With fire and madness and desperation. Beneath him, I writhe with purpose until my maxi skirt shifts up my legs, giving me room to lock them around him.

God…God…I missed him,this, so damn much.

Just as erotic electricity starts to sizzle under my skin, he breaks the kiss and shifts so we’re both on our sides, then cups his hand to the side of my face. “Not why I’m here.”

“No?”

“No.”