She smiles, her eyes soft. “I do. You know I love you, too?”
He nods, and she says, “Good. Go on then.”
Cypress gives me barely any time to say my own goodbye before I’m after him again, both of us spilling out into the nightwith much less care than we had a few hours ago. Fortunately, however, there also does not appear to be fifteen men waiting on horseback to kill us this time.
“You know, Aiden,” Cypress is saying as we walk down the stairs, heading for the horses. “I think this is my very favorite day.”
I glance at him, smiling. “Oh, since when?”
“Since always,” he says, as if such an admission didn’t just crack my chest in two.
“Mine, too,” I murmur, though I’m not sure he hears me, already too busy making a dash for Cerberus at the hitching post.
“Hold on,” I tell him, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him back just as he’s about to swing up. “Let’s stay on the ground for a while.”
Rather than break out of my hold, he sinks into it, his head falling against my shoulder, and he smells so fucking good. Like mint and pine and something so uniquely him that it would be so fucking easy to give in. So fucking easy to kiss him right now, but once I do, I’m not going to want to stop.
“You think I won’t stay on my horse?” he asks when I let him go, looking almost wounded as I take the whiskey from him and stash it in my saddlebag, but he rallies quickly, his expression turning suggestive again. “I’m an excellent rider.”
“Cypress,” I warn, moving around him and giving my hands something else to do other than grabbing him by collecting both horses’ reins and setting off in the direction of Dolly’s house, hoping he will follow. He does.
“Never been unseated,” he’s going on. “Not once.”
I laugh again, not sure I’ve ever done it so much in my life even if I am sure now what Dolly meant when she said just because we were going in the same direction didn’t mean we were doing it together. But I think we’re starting to…
A half hour later, Cypress is still talking away, and I don’t evenknow what all he’s talking about, only that I like the sound of it. I think I like everything about him, even the parts that make me crazy. Maybeespeciallythe parts that make me crazy.
“Cypress,” I start to say, despite the rest of the words feeling stuck. “I wanted to…”
He stops to listen, and I stop, too. Those blue eyes on mine the way they have been since the first time I really saw him. “Cypress,” I try again. “I’m…”
I want to tell him. Want to apologize for not telling him sooner. I believe I would have.
Only, that’s when we hear them.
Eleven men on horseback this time, and while it’s not the full fifteen like before, this does not feel much better.
I pull my gun, moving myself in front of Cypress as best I can when they form a circle around us. At the same time, I feel him turn behind me, his back lining up to mine as he pulls one of his own revolvers.
Before I can wonder why he kept the other hidden, one of the men dismounts, the bright moon revealing the now-familiar face of the man I should have left dead.
“Drop your weapons,” he orders, cocking his gun, his men doing the same when we hesitate. “Drop them. Both of you.”
Currently not seeing another choice, I let my gun fall, then Cypress does, too. They’re quickly collected them along with our horses, but I at least get to hear the other man yell out in pain when Helios tries to take his arm in return. Unfortunately, however, the moment of satisfaction is fleeting.
“Tom,” Cypress greets warmly, as if we’re not participants in a standoff for the second time tonight. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was actually hoping we’d seen the last of one another.”
Tom glares at both of us in turn. “Change of plans.”
“I’ll say,” Cypress mutters, and it’s a terrible time for me to laugh, but I still struggle.
“Pretty certain you were all told to get gone,” I tell Tom once I’ve put myself back in check. “Something about long, painful deaths sounding familiar?”
Tom snorts, rolling his eyes. “The old lady’s scare tactics might have worked on Jim, but they won’t work on me.”
“Ah, I think you’re going to find those tactics work just fine when you’re begging for your life,” Cypress replies, tone still conversational. “Jim can likely tell you some stories—”
“Jim is dead,” Tom says shortly. “We are under new leadership.”