So, she wasn’t convinced either. “We’ll both go.” They restocked the pastries and then headed back to the lodge in silence. Well, save Grief’s panting and whining as he nudged the box of donuts.
Chapter
Seventeen
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
Surreal. Crazy. Wonderful. That’s what that kiss was. In Maryland, that’s how every minute with Stone had been. No wonder she’d fallen in love with him, hard and fast. No wonder she looked forward to every moment they were together.
Even when the specter of death came to call.
Is that what’d happened in town? She didn’t want to believe, but then … how could she not? She knew Ladomer would not give up. She’d serviced too many VIPs, knew too many names and places and deals.
“You okay?” he asked as they hit the main route between town and the lodge.
“Yeah.” Mostly.
“Look, neither of us believes it was about pastries.”
She swallowed.
“So, we stay alert. Eyes out.”
She nodded. This?—the business, the down-to-action?—was what he preferred. Romance, soft moments were wonderful, but he never lingered there long. It didn’t surprise her that he didn’t mention her accidental kiss in the store. She hadn’t meant to do it. Things had just been so comfortable and natural between them, so like before, that her lips were on his before she realized it. And remembered they weren’t at that stage in this refreshed relationship yet.
Since being thrown back into his life, she hadn’t seen the side of him that had been like stepping into a natural hot spring?—the warmth eased aches and the silkiness of the water calmed her. That. That was Stone Metcalfe.
Even with the beard.
Which was a nice one, granted. Nothing could make him look bad, but … “Why’d you grow a beard?”
Right arm hooked over the steering wheel as they headed back to the lodge, he glanced at her. Ran a hand over the face fur. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” she said, lifting her shoulder. “It just …”
“What?” His eyes were a darker blue beneath the rim of that black cowboy hat. He shot her a glance, the winding curves back to the lodge forcing him to keep his eyes on the road.
Another nonchalant shoulder lift. “You’re handsome either way, but it’s … scruffier, gruffer than the man I knew. Seems like you’re hiding something behind it.”
His expression shifted. Though that fuzz shielded the planes of his face, it couldn’t hide the change in demeanor. “I was.” He motioned around them. “Coming up here …” His gaze stayed on the road for several long seconds.
And she understood. Chastised herself for bringing it up.
“Had to change a few things to eke out my living up here and to not be the man everyone knew as Governor Metcalfe.”
“Including your name.” The weight of what she’d cost him once again seared the air between them. “I really am sorry”?—she forced herself to meet his eyes?—“for everything. For not figuring out some way to stop Ladomer. I should’ve stood up to him.”
The truck bounced and rocked as they hit the country road outside the city limits. “You got away,” she said around a raw throat, “rebuilt your life … and then I crash into it again. I …” She shook her head and swallowed. “I hate that he used me to ruin you.”
“I’m not ruined.”
“But your career?—”
“Needed to end.”
Surprised, she gaped. “You were governor.”
“I was full of myself. You remember how I was when we first met,” he said. “God toppled the tower I built.”
