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This time he lets me.
His hand slides into my hair, but he keeps the kiss controlled. Too controlled. I pull back. “Stop treating me like I’m going to break.”
His jaw flexes. “You told me you’ve never done this.”
“I’ve kissed men.”
“Not what I mean.”
“I know.” His thumb moves across my cheek. The anger drains from his face. Something else replaces it. “Lila, if we cross this line, I don’t know how to pretend afterward.”
My pulse jumps. “Then don’t pretend.”
He studies me. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Say it again.”
I smile. “You’re very bossy for a man with a broken pinky.”
“Probably broken.” His mouth brushes mine.
I laugh against his lips. His good hand settles at my waist and draws me against him. I slide my arms around his neck, and his mouth connects with mine. We kiss in slow strokes before I pull away and smile against his mouth. “You’re impossible, husband. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Chapter 8
Lila
By eight Monday morning, half of Devil’s Peak thinks my husband tried to murder a man behind Wyatt’s bar.
By nine, the other half thinks I married a murderer for a hundred thousand dollars.
By ten, my first lodge reservation cancels.
By noon, I’m down almost eight thousand dollars in future reservations and I spend the afternoon refunding deposits I can’t afford to refund.
By six, eleven reservations are gone.
Dane doesn’t come home until after seven and I’m upstairs when I hear his truck. I walk downstairs and stop when I hear his voice from the office.
“No. Refund all of them.”
I freeze.
Dane speaks again. “I don’t care what it costs.”
My stomach tightens.
“No, don’t put my name anywhere. Pay Dawson Lodge directly.”
Oh, hell no.
“I said cover the cancellations, Rick. Every one.”
I walk into the office. “Hang up.”
Dane looks at me. “Call you back.”
