Winters Heat (Titan) (36 page)

“With who? Ben and Jerry?”

“Watch yourself, Winters. You have no right to judge.”

“Don’t call me Winters. Can I sit down?”

“No, you can leave.”

He moved closer to the couch, as if considering how to wrangle a wild beast. “Why’d you call me?”

“Well, it wasn’t to invite you over.” Why did she call him anyway? She had no purpose, no plan with her phone call. Thank God he went all alpha-bossy on her, because she had an excuse to hang up.

“I can see that.” He sat on the far end of the couch, placing the empty box of chocolates on the coffee table. She should have addressed her heavy heart before it exploded into a calorie bonanza. She should have cried it out two weeks ago and moved on. But she didn’t, and here he was. She hated him and hated herself for loving that he was within reach.

“I’m leaving.” She tried to swallow away the tears and did a valiant job at holding them at bay. Accepting that already-made decision was what started her downward spiral to the fabulous party-of-one she was throwing herself this morning. “I’m moving. I rented my house out to a newlywed couple. I’m gone in a week. New job. New state. New life.”

Winters’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do that.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Why would you?”

“I don’t want to live in a house that was ransacked by a Colombian cartel. I came home from hell and walked into a disaster.”

“Mia, doll—”

“Don’t
doll
me, Winters.”

“Please call me Colby.” He growled through closed teeth, losing all the effect of his polite request.

“No. You aren’t in a position to make requests. Deal with it.”

“I’m so sick of people telling me to deal with it.”

“You’re not going to find any sympathy from me.” Mia took a bite of her dripping ice cream instead of crawling into his lap. The substitution did zip to quell her urge to scoot closer.

He leaned over to an end table and turned on a lamp, again illuminating her movie-watching, cry-fest cocoon. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the new splash of light. His face was clean-shaven. He seemed so big on her couch. Did he always wear tight shirts that made his biceps pop and pants that molded to his muscles? Compared to her frumpy pink pajamas, she looked ridiculous, and far from attractive.

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

The
right
to be angry? Hell. Anger wasn’t in the same galaxy as how she felt. Anger was too simple. But she didn’t feel like describing the utter remorse sickening her, all because she fell in love with him.

Instead, she pulled herself off the couch. She had things to do, and they were far away from him. He could find his way out, like he found his way in.

“I’m sorry.”

Why did hearing that make it hurt worse? “Just leave.”

“Mia—”

“I can’t do this. Please leave.” She wasn’t going to beg. He had to go.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why?” She turned toward him, frustrated. He stood, imposing and ignoring her pleas. It was infuriating. “Why are you torturing me? You don’t get to say I’m sorry. You weren’t here when I walked into my ransacked house, or each sleepless or nightmare-ravaged night.”

“I—”

“And every day I stayed at the hospital, holding your hand, talking to you about the future. I was a fool. You told me to leave. No, correction, you had the nurse tell me.”

Pain twisted and shredded her soul. Everything between them was gone. It was irreversible. Actions had consequences, and his actions ruined her dreams.

She marched toward him, wrapped her fists in the fabric of his shirt, and did her best to shake him.

“I hate you.” The words were precursory to her bubbling sobs, also uninvited. She dropped her head against his chest and bawled. “I hate how bad this hurts.”

He engulfed her in a hug, rubbing her back, and smoothing her hair. Making it worse.

“Mia, doll. I know sorry doesn’t do shit. But God help me, I thought I was doing the right thing. That you were better off without me. That I was protecting you.”

If he thought that, then he was stupid. She had fallen for a moron. But she kept that secret and didn’t move from the warm, tear-dampened place against his chest. She wanted to crawl into his cradling arms. She wanted to feel him care.

“I was scared,” he said. “For so many reasons. I don’t get scared. I don’t know scared. But I was… I am scared out of my mind.”

“Why?” she whispered without moving her head. Her hands were still wrapped in his shirt.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

It was like a sledgehammer of reality, reminding her of him. She pushed away and out of his arms before he could protest. “Then that’s something you should’ve figured out before you got here.”

“Mia, you’re not moving. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Typical subject change. Resort back to orders. Classic, almost cliché.”

“I’m serious.” He looked serious, but he was always serious, and when it came to them, he was wrong.

“Your directives don’t matter anymore, Winters.”

“Stop calling me Winters, damn it.”

She ignored him, needing space for clarity, and shuffled toward the kitchen. Regaining her wits, she said, “I’ll call you whatever I want. Asshole. Jerk. Liar.”

He stalked close. “I never meant to lie to you. I don’t even know how I lied.”

“You led me on. And the whole it’s-not-you, it’s-me spiel? I expected more creativity.”

“I was protecting you.”

“For God’s sake. From what?” she screamed and threw a mug against the wall. “I survived crazed men and kidnappings. Plural!”

Standing in the middle of the shattered mug, he paused and took a breath. “None of that would’ve happened if it weren’t for me. If you didn’t know me, no one would have chased you, no one would have kidnapped you.”

Mia wanted to run away, but the ceramic shards and bare feet kept her in place. “If I didn’t know you, then I’d be dead in a cheap motel room in Louisville, Kentucky. You saved me.”

They were in a standoff, need versus emotion. Their eyes locked. Her stomach tightened, electricity buzzing around their showdown.

Crunch. He stepped closer.

“Don’t you dare kiss me, Winters.”

“Colby.” He took another step. His boot crunched more broken mug. “The name’s Colby.”

“Let me make this clear to you. You hurt me, and you should leave.”

“I hated every single fucking second away from you.”

“Get out.”

His last step closed the distance. “Not a chance.”

He clasped his hand under her hair, leaned over, and breathed in. Her heart stilled. Her breathing stopped. His sweet lips crushed over her mouth, and the world froze before her lips swept against his. His tongue delved into her mouth and dueled with hers. A velvet stroke. Shivers raced down her spine, but she was hot to her very center.

She drew back from his kiss, starstruck.

He looked about how she felt. “You remember what I said about you and me?”

“I don’t.” She wasn’t entirely sure she could remember her full name. That kiss walloped a sizzle.

“Mia, I’ve needed you my whole life. I said it, and I meant it.” He cupped her chin and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. “But I couldn’t handle it, so I screwed up.”

“Oh.”

“You opened my eyes. I didn’t know how to need something, like I need you.”

Mia wasn’t sure she could speak.

“But if I had you, then lost you, I’d never survive.”

She found her voice, faintly. “You did have me.”

“Did.” His thumbs stilled. “But now I don’t?”

“I have to pack.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not an answer.”

“A kiss won’t change anything.” She took a step back, nudging her cheek from his hand.

“It can say I’m sorry.”

“A kiss can say anything you want it to, but what’s the point?”

He shook his head. “Oh, hell no, hon. You’re not throwing up those stupid walls just so you can kick me out and finish a pint of melted ice cream.”

“You’re sorry. I’m sorry. All’s forgiven,
Colby.
Thanks for stopping by, but you have to go.”

He stepped forward. “Bullshit.”

“Cussing at me isn’t going to change anything.”

“Christ, Mia.” He slammed his hands on a nearby wall. “I’m in love with you. Don’t you know that?”

She wanted to say no, but nothing materialized.

“There it is.” He ran a hand into his hair, then dropped his head before spearing her with a gaze as intense as the tension in the room. “All cards on the table. I love you.”

Mia needed an escape. She had to get around him, but she was blocked in the kitchen and glass covered the floor. On tiptoes, she tried to push around him, but he countered her move. Instead, her eyes closed. “Liar.”

He laughed. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me again it’s a lie. I love you, Mia Kensington. But what’s it going to be? You love me?”

She made it to the hallway without cutting her feet, but he caught her, caging her against the wall. Forearms on either side of her face served as prison bars. His impenetrable torso pressed precariously close. The rapid rise and fall of her chest couldn’t be ignored. Her racing heart screamed for attention.
Love? No. She couldn’t risk hurting even more all over again.

“Mia. What’s it going to be?”

She studied the scar under his eye, because she was too frightened to see the truth in his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want you.” He bent forward, making his lips tickled her earlobe when he whispered. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want Clara to have a mom, maybe brothers and sisters.”

Her mouth gaped open. He stepped back and held out his palm. “Take my hand. Literally, figuratively, however you’ll take it.”

“I…” She couldn’t rationalize what was happening.

“I’m praying that you love me. Do you?”

“Yes,” she said on an escaping breath. Too quiet. Too easy.

“Say it. Right now. I need you to tell me.”

Mouth agape and unsteady on her feet, she remained mum. This was a bad idea. Soon as she said it, she wouldn’t be able to stop saying it.

“You have to say something, doll. Might as well tell me whatever the truth is.”

She took a long, deep breath. The truth. She loved him more than any woman should love a man. Her mind traveled at warp speed. Words jumbled in her brain. So many things wanted to come out at once that she couldn’t get them in order.

He stiffened and turned away. “Got it. Never mind. I’ll just slide my ass out of here.”

His boots clunked hard on her floor, heading toward the front door. What was happening? Wait, no. This was all wrong.

“Colby, stop.”

He did, but didn’t turn. Instead, he leaned against the wall.

She couldn’t breathe. Her mind was swimming. There was a very plausible possibility she might pass out. It was too much to take in. “I’m not losing you again.”

He pivoted a slow turn toward her but stayed put.

“I
do
love you. I love you so much it hurts, and I can’t breathe.”

He was on her in a second, pressing her against the wall, his hot mouth possessing hers. He pulled back.

“Doll, don’t ever take that long to say I love you again.” Then he leaned into her again, brushing his lips over her neck.

“I love you, Colby.”

He smiled. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel his cheek and lips pressed against her skin. “So you do need to pack.”

“I do?”

“You do. You’re coming home with me.”

“I love you.”

“You’re answering every question like that?” Genuine adoration poured off him, making her all the more certain she would.

She nodded, smiling and laughing.

“That’ll work.” He pulled her toward the front door. “Didn’t you once say something about wanting a dog?”

Now a bigger smile. “I love you.”

“Then a dog it is.”

EPILOGUE

The sun set on the lake. Mia leaned on her elbows and dangled her feet off the dock. Their dog ran rampant, in and out of the lake water, splashing and spraying Colby and Clara. He walked in a shallow section, the water lapping at his thighs, and Clara kicked on her daddy’s shoulder. Every time he dipped her legs into the water, she flapped her arms and squealed for more.

The gold band on Mia’s left ring finger felt less and less foreign. They’d gotten married in a small ceremony, with some family and several friends, in Colby’s backyard.
Their
backyard,
their
home. He reminded her anytime she misspoke.

Family. The word once sent shudders of sick dread sweeping over her skin. But now, her family was lounging at the lake. Her
growing
family.