She’s right. But I can’t see past my worry to admit it. I should walk away, but my heart already has its bags packed for the Emi Marsh Express, and I can’t stop myself. Arms crossed over my chest, I dig in, ready to die on this hill if I have to.
“I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, Emmylou, but here in Texas, men don’t stand back and watch our women put themselves in danger without sayin’ a goddamn word.”
“Where I come from?” Emi’s voice takes on a thick, Texas twang. “Well, bless your little chauvinistic heart, Jasper Blade. I grew up spittin’ distance from this here lake. So I know what Texas men are like. And for your information, some of them are downright enlightened these days. Until just now, I thought you were one of them.”
I should apologize. But I’m so shocked by the change in her voice, the unmistakable drawl, and that’s all I can focus on. “What the hell just happened? A minute ago, you were all citified and now…?”
“You try makin’ it to the national news networks with a southern accent. We—women, especially—are supposed to be the girl next door. Everyone’s girl next door. In my business, standing out for anything other than your looks is frowned upon. I hired a voice coach after I graduated college. It worked, too. Got me all the way to an offer with the United Broadcasting Network in New York City.” Her words falter. She stares up at the ceiling and swallows hard. “And then my grandmother got sick. My sister lives in the UK, so I turned down the offer from UBN and moved back here. Grams died almost a year ago. But eighteen months is practically an eternity in network news, so now, I’m stuck here. I can’t even get an interview back in L.A., let alone New York.”
“Why not?” Taking a risk, I offer her my hand. After a long moment, she lets me lead her to the couch, but though she sits next to me, she holds herself stiffly, like she’s worried if she lets go, even for a minute, she’ll shatter.
“Too long working this small, local market.” She shakes her head when I open my mouth to protest. “Austin is small compared to Los Angeles. At least that’s the perception. Any big, national network wants pretty young things who’ll take pennies compared to the male reporters. I’m stuck here. Unless I cover a story so sensational, New York is forced to pay attention. Fowler? That’s one that could get me there. And I ain’t givin’ it up because some asshole crook is all hat and no cattle.”
Easing her closer, I slide my fingers into her hair and gently tip her head back. “Sweetheart, I should never have asked you to stop doing your job. I fucked this all up because I want to keep you safe. Because you’re my whole world right now, and I think we have a chance for something…long term. If you’re willing…”
Emi’s bow lips purse as she holds my gaze. “Are you sure you’re not saying that because we almost died two nights in a row?”
“Did you just try to compare us to Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock in Speed?” I shift my weight so I can pull her into my lap, and she doesn’t resist. “Because that movie had a happy ending.”
“I’m trying to be realistic.” Her eyes flutter, and before I can lean down to kiss her, she cups the back of my neck and brings her lips to mine.
Never in my life has such a tame kiss set my body on fire so fast. I want more. So much more. Hell, I want everything with this woman.
Maybe even…a lifetime.
Chapter Seventeen
Emi
Kissing Jasper was a mistake. A glorious, fireworks-inducing, hormone-revving mistake. Because now that I’m in the shower—alone—all I want is for him to join me.
Though when I reach up to rinse the shampoo from my hair, my bruises protest the movement. Maybe naked fun can wait until tonight. Assuming Jasper has some ibuprofen around here somewhere.
I escaped to the bathroom when he started reading all the emails and social media comments Channel 5 received after my story started running. Each one kicked his anger up a notch—or five. He wasn’t mad at me, but it’s a good thing Eugene Fowler isn’t anywhere around here. I’m afraid Jasper would beat the everlovin’ shit out of the corrupt wannabe-Texan.
Once I’m dressed in a pair of black leggings and a soft green sweater, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and pad back out to the main room. Maybe Jasper’s heard from his brother by now.
But the cabin is empty. Quiet. My tablet sits on the table next to a folded piece of paper.
Catching a couple of fish for lunch. You’ll be able to see me out the kitchen window. - Jas
The counter is cool against my palms as I steady myself on my toes to peer outside. My protector stands on a wooden dock with his back to me. His heavy winter coat can’t hide an ass perfectly framed by tight Wranglers.
He reels in the line with a fat, wriggling fish on the other end, and within five seconds, dumps it into a bucket at his side.
His Stetson shadows his eyes when he turns back to the cabin, but the look of peace on his face is…beautiful. There’s no other word for it. He’s beautiful. Handsome and strong and rugged…and—for today, at least—mine.
“I think we have a chance for somethin’…long term.”
Long term. How can he possibly be thinking long term when we’ve known each other for a week?
The same way you can.
Last night, when he climbed into bed with me, all I wanted was to be close to him. Some of that was probably my desperate need to keep my memories at bay. The gun pressed to my temple. The arm around my neck. My life flashing before my eyes. Turns out that actually is a thing.
But that wasn’t the only reason I wanted his arms around me. With Jasper, I feel like I’m the only woman in this world—in his world. He wouldn’t give a shit if I stopped covering the gray in my hair—or even lost my entire career tomorrow. It wouldn’t change a thing between us.
“Ready for a halfway decent meal?” he asks as he locks the door behind him. “Not much bitin’ this time of year, but the catfish are always hungry.”
