disservice by not realizing you aren’t the same woman, and if I want to be with you, then I need to—borrowing my mother’s expression—court you properly. There are no guarantees, but you wanted proof that I’m not all talk. Here it is.”
The enormity of it humbled me. “And you’ll go anywhere I want?”
“I’ve no ties anymore, Corine. You take the lead this time. I’ll follow. And I’ll do my best to open up.” Chance lifted my palms and kissed them with a tenderness that acted as the sweetest balm. “I’ll tell you about Lily. I know it
Lily had to be the lover who had died because of him. I didn’t remember him ever mentioning her name before. That had to mean something.
There was no telling how much cash he had in the Mustang. If he’d called in all his loans, it must be a lot. We could go anywhere. Seductive thought. Or I could take him to Mexico City, where we could rebuild together. Hard to say how much temptation to try again came from not wanting to be alone, how much I wanted to say yes because I’d lost so fucking much tonight. Was Chance my consolation prize?
His fingers tightened on mine, giving away his tension.
“We take it slow,” I said at last. “Dating, no promises. Not yet. You need to get to know me again—and vice versa.”
I wasn’t the same woman. Not even a little bit. This Corine might surprise him; he might not want her when he realized how deep the shift ran. He believed he loved me, but he didn’t know me, not anymore. Chance remembered the woman who gave up everything for him, followed him blindly, and let him make all the decisions; he loved that complete and selfless devotion. I couldn’t offer that again.
“Absolutely.” The relief in his voice nearly floored me.
Plus, we still had the problem of his luck, but maybe we could manage it this time. Maybe if I got regular cleansings, we could deal with it and minimize the effects. I’d be proactive and seek solutions instead of wishing for miracles. “We won’t be living together right away,” I cautioned.
“If we rebuild on your property, we could have two flats put in up top,” he offered softly. “That way I’ll be close by, but you can always send me home.”
It was a reasonable suggestion, but I hadn’t seen the extent of the damage. Maybe it would prove an impossible task, or I’d have trouble with the
As he rested his head on my knees, I put my hands in his silky hair and breathed in the smoky, sweet scent of burning wood. Somewhere, somebody was singing a Spanish love song, and it curled through me like a ribbon of light, banishing some of the darkness and desperation.
Chance couldn’t know about Chuch’s house yet; he must’ve come straight to the hospital. He didn’t know how close to dying I’d come or that I could cast spells and bind demons or had whispered kisses into a fallen angel’s skin while his tattoos glowed blue against a deep jungle night. I had my own secrets now—and not just shameful ones. At base, I no longer felt unworthy of Chance. Maybe this time we could make it work because we’d be equals.
Time would tell.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ann Aguirre is a national bestselling author. She has a degree in English literature and a spotty résumé. Before she began writing full-time, she was a clown, a clerk, a voice actress, and a savior of stray kittens, not necessarily in that order. She grew up in a yellow house across from a cornfield, but now she lives in sunny Mexico with her husband, two children, two cats, and one very lazy dog. She likes books, emo music, action movies, and
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