“Yes, baby?” He turns to face me, still stirring.
“Please, could I use your shower? Maybe grab one of your T-shirts?” I tug at the hem of my bloodied top. “I can’t go home to Violet looking like I’ve been on set at a horror movie.”
I laugh. But it hurts. Everything hurts.
And the truth I’m not saying out loud is that I’m scared to go home. Reese owns that building. He has the keys. He could walk in any time he wanted.
Hunter turns off the gas and crosses his arms. Leans back against the counter and studies me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“You can shower, yeah.” He nods once. “Then you’ll be getting into my bed and sleeping there. And in the morning, you’ll be waking up in my arms. I’ll make you breakfast, and then I’ll go with you to your apartment and pack up all of yours and Violet’s stuff, and you’ll be moving here.”
I frown. My mouth opens and closes. My brain is trying to process the sheer volume of decisions this man has just made on my behalf in the space of a single breath.
“I—I can’t just expect you to house us. I’ve got a viewing for a place on Monday.”
I stop talking because he’s already moving. He crosses the kitchen in three strides and presses his finger gently against my lips. “Lola. You’re staying right here, on this ranch, with me. And Violet, she’s going to have her own place on the land in one of my guesthouses.” His voice is calm; anyone would think he’s reciting facts instead of upending my entire life. “I can’t sleep at night knowing you two are out there alone when I have all of this to keep you safe. So please. Come and live at Sterling Ranch.”
I open my mouth to argue, and he grins. He already knows what I’m going to say. “And no. Not until you find somewhereelse, firefly. I know what you’re thinking.” He motions between us. “This is not a temporary thing. Alright?”
I place my hands flat against his chest. Feel the steady thud of his heart under my palm. And I look up at him, this time really looking at him.
This is the man who was arrested yesterday. Who lost the mother of his child. Who has every reason to shut the world out and barricade himself inside his grief. And instead, he’s standing in his kitchen at midnight, making me hot chocolate and offering me a home.
“I have one question to ask you first.” My voice is quiet. “And you aren’t going to like it. But I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.”
He nods. “Shoot.”
“Did you kill your ex-girlfriend?”
His eyes close. Just briefly. A flicker of pain crosses his face that’s so raw it makes my chest ache. But then he opens them again, and he looks at me.
Not through me. Not past me. Not at the wall over my shoulder.
Directly into my soul.
“I didn’t. And I’m going to prove that I didn’t. I’d never do that to Wyatt.”
I smile and cup his cheek with my bandaged hand. “Then I believe you.”
He takes my hand and presses a kiss against my knuckles so gently it barely touches the skin. “I’d never hurt you, city girl. Never.”
“Goes both ways, cowboy,” I tell him. Because part of me believes he needs to hear that too.
He’s guarded, I know that much.
And when he leans in and kisses me, every single doubt swirling around in my head dissolves. His lips are warm andslow and impossibly careful, like he’s making a point of showing me what a man’s hands should feel like. What they should do. How they should hold instead of hurt.
“Now,” he murmurs against my mouth, “let me show you to your new room and test how you like the bath.”
I don’t get a chance to respond. He lifts me into his arms, my legs wrap around his waist, and my hands lock behind his neck.
“Hunter Sterling.” I pull back to look at him. “Do you ever let your women walk anywhere?”
His face changes. The playfulness drops away, and something serious takes its place.
“I don’t do this. Ever.” He holds my gaze. “You are my woman.”
That makes me smile. And it takes some of the pain away, not all of it, not even most of it, but enough. He makes me forget why I’m running.