“I had to ask,” said Emerson, looking like he still wasn’t completely convinced.
“And I answered,” said Matt. “If you’ll excuse me, I could use some fresh air.”
Careful not to jostle her, Matt eased out from under Taylor and headed toward the back of her mother’s house and the screened porch.
“How do you feel about it?” asked Emerson after the door closed behind Matt. He pinned Adam with his gaze and waited, a trick he probably learned from the other man.
“It doesn’t matter how he feels about it,” said Taylor, getting in her cousin’s face. “Matt loved that painting.” He did. She knew he loved seeing himself the way she saw him, seeing the tangible expression of her love for him. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt it, including hide information.”
“Taylor, darling.”
“Don’t you Taylor darling me,” she said, her anger at what she was sure Matt must be feeling morphing into a full-blown rage. “Matt didn’t have the same kind of chances we all had. He didn’t come from the same kind of family. He had to fight and claw his way to anything good he’s ever had. That’s in his past.” She poked her finger at the paper and then at her cousin. “I won’t let you or anyone else make him feel like less than the amazing man he is.”
She stood, ignoring their murmured excuses, and went to find Matt and her future.
––––––––
MATT SHOULD BE used to it by now. His past kept rearing its ugly head. It just couldn’t seem to stay buried. He hated it.It was embarrassing and trying to convince people predisposed to think the worst of him that he was actually a nice guy got old fast. Seeing the way the Southerlands looked at him, especially Taylor’s cousins—like they wanted to trust him because they loved her but just weren’t sure—tore at his heart. With their firsthand knowledge of all the crappy things people could do to each other, he couldn’t blame them. He’d be exactly the same way in their position. Maybe. Honestly, if he had a sister or cousin like Taylor to protect, he wouldn’t let her near a guy with his kind of record. Regardless of how long ago it was or how much had changed.
He hated the way his past impacted Taylor even more. She deserved someone she could be proud of—someone her family approved of. He should have stepped aside a long time ago and let her find someone like that. Someone less complicated than him. But he loved her too much, so he held on tight, even though it was the selfish thing to do.
He paced back and forth on Mrs. Southerland’s...Emily’s—he couldn’t bring himself to call her Mom because his own mother had been such a disaster, so he was supposed to call her Emily—screened porch, too restless to settle. In three days, he was supposed to marry the woman of his dreams. She was his whole world and she’d agreed to be his. He ought to be flying. Instead, some asshole with a box cutter and a can of spray paint ripped the tarp off the nasty parts of his life that he’d been trying to move past.How’s that for a kick in the balls?
Matt felt her behind him before she opened the door. He’d gotten so used to the focus of his world shifting to orbit Taylor. He wasn’t sure when he’d become more aware of her than of him, but he didn’t have to be looking to know when she’d walked into a room. He felt it.
“Hey.” She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his back.
He wrapped his arms around hers, relishing the feeling of her curled around him for just a moment in case he managed to figure out a way to let her go. When he’d gotten on his bike and ridden away from her the first time, it shredded his newly discovered heart. He’d made a vow if he got through that, he’d never make himself do it again.
“Hey yourself.” He pushed the words past the tightness in his throat and felt her lips curve through the fabric of his shirt.
“Let’s get out of here.”
They rode in silence to Jude’s old place. The wordsare you sure you want to marry melodged against the back of Matt’s throat and wouldn’t let anything else past. Taylor’s oldest brother let them use the apartment above his doctor’s office while they were in town. Following Taylor up the steps and into the neglected room that screamedsingle guy living alone, he’d never been so grateful for the privacy. He loved Taylor’s family. It felt kind of weird to admit that, but he didn’t want to see any more Southerlands right now.
Taylor tossed her jacket on the worn-out brown recliner. The pale-blue dress she’d worn to the opening hugged her lithe body and made her look like something otherworldly in the dim glow of the moonlight streaming in through the window. Like a magical being who stepped out of time to be with him for a moment.
“Leave it,” he said when she reached for the light. His voice came out as a hoarse croak, but considering the vise around his throat, it was a miracle he could speak at all.
She turned to face him, one eyebrow arched and the curve of her lips drawing him to her like a beacon. He locked his knees and gripped the back of the faded chair so he wouldn’t reach for her. He had to say the words—had to give her an out before he touched her—or he’d never be able to say it.
“Are you sure you want to marry me? I’ll understand if you...”
Taylor was across the room and in his arms before he finished speaking. Her fingers yanked at his hair, the bite of pain sending heat to his already thickening cock. She pulled him to her and her lips crushed his in a punishing kiss. He met her, opening for her, demanding she open for him so he could pour all the need and gratitude rolling over him into the desperate kiss. She melted against him, fitting her body to his in a way that even through their clothes made it hard to tell where she began and he ended. All of his doubts and insecurities realigned around the feeling of holding Taylor in his arms. He was exactly where he needed to be and he’d stay there for as long as she’d let him. He wasn’t fool enough to ever believe he knew her mind better than she did.
“You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you, Thor?” she asked, her voice hungry and breathless.
“Not a chance.”
