“Which is how he knew I was here in Jacksonville, and where we were going that night.”
He squeezed her hands. “I believe so, yes.”
She stared up at him. “I was bound and determined to walk that path all week for my planned visit with my parents. I naively assumed I’d be okay with Zeus and my gun. But the way I froze back at the shack, and at the Brodericks’ house, we both know I wouldn’t have drawn my gun in time to protect myself. And knowing what I do now, I don’t think Zeus could have stopped him either. Thank God you were there that day.”
He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss against her lips. “That camera will hopefully lead them to the killer. And the BOLO they have with the police artist’s sketch will ensure he doesn’t get very far. But I’m not taking any chances. Pack a bag, Teagan. You’re going with me to Tennessee.”
Chapter Twenty-One
If any other man hadinformedTeagan that she was going to do something, or go somewhere, without asking her, she’d have ripped right into him. But this was Bryson. She knew his authoritarian dictate wasn’t his typical way of operating, that he wanted to keep her safe, which was incredibly sweet. Besides, flying on a private jet to his home for who knew how many days or weeks of seclusion with him wasn’t exactly a hardship. Especially since they’d worked through the tensions and self-recriminations of this past week. She was looking forward to this time alone with him.
But as she watched him snoozing in the limo seat across from her on the last leg of the trip to his house, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. Between the toll that his injuries had taken on him and the effects of the pain pills and antibiotics, he’d slept most of the way here. He needed the rest to get better. But she was so hungry for time with him, quality time. She wanted thatget to know youphase of the relationship that they’d skipped during their life and death struggles. She was greedy to learn the little things.
Like his favorite color.
His favorite food.
Was he partial to country music as so many people around here were?
Would it shock him to know that she hated country music but loved classical?
Since he hadn’t mentioned his family before, and none of them had called or visited him in the hospital, was that because he didn’t have any family? Or was he just trying to keep them from worrying? Did his boss know that he wouldn’t have wanted them told about what had happened?
She couldn’t help feeling jealous if he had siblings. She’d always wanted brothers and sisters. Well, mostly sisters. Brothers could be so mean, at least from what her dad said about her uncles. But growing up an only child, she’d always longed for more. She wanted a house full of her own children one day. Did he want children too? Would he love and cherish them and protect them from a world that could be hateful and mean when people didn’t fit into those neat little racial categories?
“Want to talk about it?”
She met his questioning gaze. “You’re awake.”
“I am.”
“How’s your pain level? Need some pills?”
“I need to know what’s bothering you.” He grimaced as he straightened in his seat, but shook his head when she reached for the bottle of pills in her purse. “Don’t. A little twinge here and there is better than sleeping my life away. Those things knock me out.” He glanced out the window. “Almost home. But we still have time for you to tell me what has you frowning as if you want to kill someone. Hopefully it’s not me,” he teased.
When she didn’t answer, his smile faded. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Random thoughts. Silly things.”
“You can be outrageous and deliciously sassy. But you’re never silly. What are these random thoughts? If you have questions about the investigation—”
“What’s your favorite color?” she blurted out, even though it was the least important question rolling around in her mind right now.
“Ah. Now I understand the frown. You’re contemplating some of life’s most vexing problems.”
“How do you feel about interracial marriages, and children?”
His eyes widened. “Well, Okay. That was unexpected. The answer is gray, by the way.”
“Gray?”
“My favorite color.”
“Gray can’t be your favorite color. Gray isn’t a color. It’s a...shade.”
He shrugged, unconcerned with her assessment. “As to interracial marriages and children, I’m against children getting married regardless of their race.”
She stared at him deadpan. “When did you develop a sense of humor?”
