I tried to pull away again and, once more, found my efforts halted before they even began. “Would you let me go?”
“No.”
“I need some space!”
That was whenhemoved — hooking me under my armpits, he hauled me up his chest so I was splayed on top of him like a human blanket. My hands had no choice but to brace against his shoulders; there was nowhere else to put them. Our eyes were locked, our faces aligned perfectly. We were both breathing hard. And, I might add, still naked as jaybirds.
“You don’t need space,” he informed me, a furrow forming between his dark brows. “You’ve had so much space for so damn long, you don’t know how to begin to let anyone in anymore.”
My mouth dropped open to refute him, but he was on a roll.
“How many towns have you blown through in the past ten years, Imogen? How many decent people have you scraped off because you were too chickenshit to drop those guards you’ve got up?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped.
“Pretty sure I do,” he countered. “You think it’s easier for you to uproot your whole life and start over than it is to actually put down roots somewhere. You think holding everyone at arm’s length means they won’t be able to hurt you. But you’ve got it all twisted in that beautiful head of yours. Keeping everyone at bay isn’t keeping you safe. It’s keeping you isolated. You aren’t just alone; you’re lonely.” His tone gentled slightly. “That doesn’t take a detective to deduce. Anyone who looks at you for longer than a moment can see it.”
I flinched in his hold, hating his words. Hating him for saying them. Hating even more that they were true.
“I knew the first time I saw you that you were running from something in your past,” Cade said, reaching up to trace a finger down my cheek. “I get that you aren’t ready to talk about that. Not yet. Not to me. But one of these days, Imogen, you’ve got to decide someone is worth the risk.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“If you want that someone to be me, I’ll be there in a heartbeat to listen.” His whole hand shifted to cup my face — it took all my strength to keep from leaning into it. “If that’s someone else, like Georgia or Florence or Gwen, they’ll be there for you, too. Like it or not, in the short time you’ve been here, you’ve surrounded yourself with some pretty great people. The kind who won’t let you shake them off or toss them away.”
My heart was thudding far too fast to be healthy. For a long moment, all I could do was breathe —in, out, in, out— trying desperately to keep from spinning into an emotional tempest.
Cade waited.
Not pushing.
Not interrogating.
That was the moment I realized he’d been right, before. He hadn’t pushed me for any information. He’dneverpushed me for any information, though I was sure he had about a million questions. If he’d looked into me on his own time, using his law enforcement resources or Gravewatch connections…
The Crawford case alone was enough to inspire a thousand inquiries. (Not to mention my rather colorful childhood on the daytime television circuit.) Regardless, he’d been remarkably patient with me. Not taking a thing, at the same time giving everything. He’d carved out a safe place for me to share on my terms, not on his.
And how did I thank him for it?
I bit his head off the first time he braved asking me anything directly.
Damn and blast.
“Not a lot,” I blurted.
Confusion flashed across his features at my random outburst. “Sorry?”
“First dates.” I swallowed hard against the emotion clogging my throat. “I don’t go on a lot, to answer your question. The last one I went on was with a guy in Atlantic City, about a year ago. He turned out to be a scumbag of the highest order — something it took me two months to learn and then six months after that to escape.”
Cade’s brows pulled in. “What do you?—”
I cut him off. “Before him, I had what amounts to a two-year dry spell. Lots of long, romantic nights with my vibrator and a series of cowboy-themed romance novels.”
“Cowboythemed?”
“Don’t judge!”
“I’m not. Just wondering if I should go out tomorrow and buy a Stetson.”