“Yeah.” Her eyelids lifted, her gaze met his for a second, and then slid away.
“How’d it go?”
“Good.”
“Any problems?”
She frowned. Thunder growled through her silence. “At DeShay’s? Uh-uh. Why do you ask?”
When she tried to ease away, he slid his hands down and clasped them at the small of her back. Deciding to test her triggers, he said, “Kenny and Dobie told me some guy gave you a hard time.”
“No.” Now she did pull away and circle around to lean against the counter with her arms folded tight across her chest. The sound of the rain on the roof graduated from slow percussion to a steady backbeat. Lucky raised his head from his dwindling pile of treats and looked from West to Roxy. “Someone asked me for directions, and it irritated him to discover he was farther off track than he realized.” She shrugged. “He was late for an appointment or something.”
West walked over and braced his hands on the counter, on either side of her hips. “You gave him directions and sent him on his way?” The dog walked over, sat at their feet, and let out a little whine.
“Yes. Like I said, he was in a hurry.”
“And you didn’t know him?”
Her closed-off expression and the echo of rain all around them flashed him back to a hitchhiker he’d rescued from a summer storm. “No. He was just a random guy passing through, in a hurry to be on his way.”
West leaned in so they were eye to eye. “If he was in such a hurry, why do you suppose Dobie spotted him at the Gas ‘n Go hours later?”
She swallowed hard enough he saw her throat muscles work. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, causing his gut to tighten in anticipation of a lie even as his cock throbbed at the unintentionally suggestive move. Oblivious to both reactions, Roxy offered a very fast, very unconvincing, “I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Her palm found the center of his chest and pushed, trying to shove him away. Thunder banged an angry fist on the roof. Lucky shot to his feet and barked. “Down,” West said and held his ground.
Her eyes flashed, but not with anger so much as panic. “I don’t care what you believe, Officer Donovan. I don’t know who he is or what he wanted. And I’ve had enough of this interrogation. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Trust.” The word came out fast and bitter, but loud enough to be heard over the storm. He sank both hands into her hair and held her gaze. “I know in your mind trust is tied tight to dependence, and you don’t want to depend too much on anything or anybody. You’re afraid if you step off your own two feet, you’ll head down a slippery slope that lands you back in a place you don’t want to be. But, Roxy, you can’t stay where you are now. I want you to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”
Her chin came up. “Trust me, West.” She, too, outshouted Mother Nature. “Trust me when I say there’s nothing going on. Trust me when I say I love you.” A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. She pressed her hands to his cheeks. “I love you, West Donovan. I love your hard head and your fierce, protective heart. I love that you’re strong, and good, and have a bone deep decency that nothing can erode, even if you sometimes doubt it. I love that you care about the rules, and the law, but most of all, people.”
I love you echoed in his head. Words he’d been waiting to hear from her, even if he had convinced himself he understood her heart without them. But now that he had them, he was all the more determined to have her trust as well. “Roxy—”
“No.” She looked down and breathed deeply before meeting his eyes again. “You care about people more than you give yourself credit for, even when they’re reckless, and they’ve made some bad mistakes, and they still can’t seem to get themselves all the way together. I love you, West, and I would never do anything to hurt you. Please trust me on that.”
With those words, and that demand hanging between them, she surged up and fused her mouth to his. Thunder crashed with foundation-rattling force, but it was nothing compared to the force of nature directly in front of him. Urgent hands clung to the back of his neck. Her body pressed against his. His allegedly fierce, protective heart wanted to fight its way out of the prison of the situation. Protecting Roxy was more important than trusting her, even if that meant damaging her love and obliterating any chance they had. He knew this, absolutely, and harbored a thousand objections to her tactics, but they all burned away under the heaven, the hell, the sweet torment, and the agonizing relief of finally, finally, having her mouth on his.
He dove into the kiss, fast and desperate, like a man chasing his last chance at salvation. Her lips opened—offering, demanding, purposefully distracting—but he couldn’t find the strength to withstand that distraction once she let him in. Their hands battled a moment as he reached for her while her fingers raced over his shirt buttons. Blind with need, starving for more, he took hold of her and hauled her onto the counter. From there he wedged himself between her thighs, backstopped her head with his hands, and changed the kiss from a hot, hard melding of mouths to a longer, slower exploration of every lush contour of her lips.
The pleading noises vibrating from the back of her throat, the way she chased his lips with her own, confirmed his original
