"I'm sorry I got so mad about getting lost," Naomi says, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by anyone nearby.
I glance down at her. Her performance is impeccable as always. But there's a little twinkle in her eye that only I can see.
"Don't need to," I respond, matching her tone. "I'm sorry I got us lost."
We turn onto a quiet residential street lined with modest houses. Some have lights burning in the windows, others sit dark.
"Well, you're usually pretty good about keeping us on the right track," she continues. "In fact, I couldn't have done this trip without you. Thank you."
She rests her head against my shoulder. Her free hand comes up to rub my arm affectionately. It's all for show, I know that. Or at least my mind knows it. My body and heart are begging to differ.
But she can't see my face from that angle. Can't see how my jaw tightens slightly at her touch. Can't see the momentary flash of something real in my eyes.
"You don't have to thank me for that," I say gruffly. We’ve made it to the residential section of town. Most of the houses appear empty, clearly marked by a sea of For Sale signs on dusty lawns.
Naomi looks up at me. Her eyes are open and honest, reflecting the last purple light of dusk and not any part of a performance. "I do, though. I mean it. I don't think I would have been able to handle this... trip... without you."
"I don't think that's true. You're one of the strongest people I know."
Naomi looks down, her dark hair falling forward to hide her face. "Thank you."
She’s thanked me before. I waved it off. But I see that she needs me to acknowledge it.
And I can’t deny heranything.
“You’re welcome.”
We walk in silence for a while until she asks, "Why did you decide to go on this trip?"
"I couldn't let you do this alone."
"You could have," Naomi points out, her voice soft but certain.
I shake my head, the truth spilling out before I can stop it. "No. I don't think I could. I can't say no to you."
Naomi smiles and laughs a little. She’s so natural that I can’t tell if it's part of her performance or if she’s really talking to me. "Oh yeah? Why not?"
My first instinct is to hide, to retreat behind the walls I've built around myself. But the real reason, my honest-to-God feelings about her, aligns with the story we're trying to tell anyone who might be listening.
"You’re the prettiest thing I've ever seen," I say, my voice low. "You are strong. Determined. And I love your commitment to go after what you know is right.”
We stop walking, standing beneath the shadow of a mesquite tree. Naomi turns to face me, looking up with a vulnerable expression I haven't seen since she broke down at the motel. It’s raw and almost desperate. The very last ray of daylight catches in her eyes, turning them into liquid sapphire.
"When we met, I was in a dark, broken place," I say, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper, which means it isn’t a show. It’s just for her. "You're a light, Naomi. A beacon. Who you are makes me want to be with you always. To protect you. I'd give my life for you."
Our faces are inches apart now. I can feel her breath on my skin, count every eyelash, see the pulse fluttering at her throat.
"I don't see any cameras," Naomi barely chokes out, her eyes darting back and forth between mine, her mouth parted slightly. Her voice trembles, just enough that I can hear it.
"No," I agree.
She swallows, her throat working. "But better safe than sorry. So I guess you should kiss me. Because my husband can't say something like that and not kiss me."
So I do.
I kiss her because I have to. Not because we’re being watched. But because I—Walker, the man—need to have my lips on this gorgeous creature. Every good piece of me that she’s unearthed and dusted off cries out to be near her.
Her lips are soft against mine, hesitant at first, then responding with a hunger that matches my own. My hand comes up to cradle her face, thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer.
