“How did you know where I was?” I ask.
He swallows the lump in his throat. “Gabe and I might’ve put an enhanced tracker on your phone. You know…” He shrugs a shoulder. “Just in case.”
Now it clicks. The upgrade he casually mentioned.
Harrison Evans has been watching me all along, keeping tabs from the other side of the country.
So why has he been avoiding me for weeks?
I shake my head, teasing to cover the flutter in my chest. “If you wanted to know where I was, you could’ve called.”
His chest rises, then falls, as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s nervous.
“If I talked to you,” he says, low, “you might’ve asked for a divorce.” He hesitates, those piercing blue eyes locking on mine. “And I would’ve had to give it to you.”
My pulse stutters.
It’s been weeks.
And my lumberjack doesn’t want a divorce.
I’m two seconds from kissing him when the door opens.
“We appreciate you coming down, Miss Alvarez.”
The officer isn’t in uniform. He’s in a suit. Plainclothes.
The kind I used to play early on, back when my credits read Plainclothes Cop #2 and no one bothered to learn my name.
He runs a hand over his salt-and-pepper hair. “He said he’d only talk to you.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Harrison murmurs, his frown cutting deep.
When he gives me that look, the one that asks are you sure without saying a word, I lean up and kiss his lips.
“It’ll be fine.” I nod toward the two-way mirror. “Nothing’s going to happen to me in there. Not with a big, brawny lumberjack watching.”
His jaw tightens. “A lumberjack that will pound that man into oblivion if he so much as breathes wrong.”
He takes both my hands, his thumbs brushing over the silly little ring still warm on my finger. His is still on, too.
I’m pretty sure, short of dynamite, they’re not coming off.
“Remember the questions?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
I might’ve gotten the church wrong, but I can definitely remember a few lines to put Pierce Maddox behind bars.
His mouth twitches. Just barely.
“Then make that asshole squirm. I’ll be right here.” He kisses me again, and it feels like we’re making up for lost time. Like we’re stealing it back.
When we finally come up for air, he glares over my shoulder at Pierce. “If that fucker tries anything?—”
“He’s handcuffed to a table and has been sobbing for the past half hour,” I say dryly. “I don’t think he’s going to try anything.”
That doesn’t stop the look on Harrison’s face.
