She stared at him, heart swelling, not sure she could say anything even if her voice wasn’t damaged.
Mrs. Dempsey cleared her throat. When Bree looked over at the older woman, she was grinning. “Looks like he’s made his choice.”
She nodded and then looked back at Tanner.
“I have made my choice, freckles. And it’s you.”
“I love you, too,” Bree whispered. “And yes, I’ll come with you to the ranch.”
Tanner’s hand slid up her back, pushing her down toward him. His lips pressed against hers gently, mindful of the wounds both of them were recovering from.
Just like the kiss he’d given her at her apartment in Kansas City all those weeks ago, this one was once again full of promise.
Neither of them broke away, even when Cassandra snickered. “I got all of that on camera, and I’m so posting it on YouTube.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Tanner had honestly never thought he’d wake up again. When he and Bree had fallen to the ground in that bungalow, his last thought was that at least he’d saved her before he’d died.
Nothing had made sense to him as he’d heard her soft voice whispering in his ear while he lay on the floor. No words had penetrated his consciousness, just the knowledge that Bree was there. She was alive. That was enough.
So seeing those green eyes of her staring at him when he’d woken up in the hospital had been a very pleasant surprise. His entire body felt like he’d gone a few rounds with a steamroller, but the look of relief—of love—in Bree’s eyes had been worth it.
Talking her into coming here to the ranch? His mother hadn’t raised no dummy. And she hadn’t tried to hide her approval of Bree coming here to take care of him.
Or her approval of Bree altogether.
And that was a good thing, because he planned to keep Bree around as long as he could talk her into it. Hopefully forever.
They’d been here three weeks already, and the days hadn’t been easy—physically, at least. The road torecovery had taken a lot longer than Tanner had planned. The limitations of his own body as it healed was frustrating. Bed rest was not for him.
That was, until a few days ago, when he’d finally convinced Bree that he was definitely healed enough for her to be in bed with him for more than just sleeping.
After that,bed resthadn’t exactly included muchresting.
Ended up he hadn’t needed to take Bree to some fancy resort for their first time making love to be special. The most perfect place on earth had been in his bed at the ranch they both cared so much about.
Maybe their wounds had slowed them down a bit. But that just gave them more of an opportunity to learn everything about each other’s bodies.
Not the bed rest the doctor had ordered, but definitely what they’d both needed after coming so close to losing each other.
He watched her now from the rocker on his front porch, coffee cup in hand, as she came walking from the barn. She’d been checking on Star again, as she did at least three times a day. He didn’t mind. Like he’d known from the beginning, that pup was helping fill a void in her heart the twins had left.
“Everybody okay in there?”
“Two more weeks until Corfu can start weaning her.” Her voice was still a little hoarse but had gotten much better since the attack. And thank God she was finally able to eat solid food. Neither of them wanted to see a smoothie again for the rest of their lives. “I measured Star, and she’s definitely right where she should be in terms of size and weight.”
Bree had researched enough about dogs over the past three weeks to know more than most vets. Tanner hadno doubt that if she said the puppy was developmentally sound, it was true.
Tomorrow was a big day for both of them. Tanner would be back in the office, although he’d be on desk duty for another couple of months until everything healed up more, but still back at the job he loved.
Ryan Fletcher was sitting in a cell, still awaiting indictment. The crimes were complex and closely linked. Definitely three counts of murder—Newkirk, Anders and Duquette—and two counts of attempted murder for him and Bree.
It looked like he would be charged with Glen Carrico’s murder, too. Ryan might have saved Bree’s life by shooting Glen, but now it looked more like he’d done it to make sure Carrico couldn’t tell the truth about what had happened than because of any altruistic impulse on his part to save Bree.
Fletcher had made a deal with Glen. He had agreed to help keep Darin from being transferred to maximum security if Glen took the fall for the murders if anyone came looking. Glen, dying anyway, had agreed.
Fletcher thought he was getting a desperate, witless patsy in Glen. But Glen had been smarter than Fletcher had realized. He’d left a package in a safety-deposit box a day before he died with a letter describing in detail the entire exchange between him and Fletcher. He’d provided plenty of recorded conversations to back up his claim. He’d sent a letter to his brother, explaining that the information was only to be used if Fletcher didn’t come through on his promise to keep Darin out of maximum security.
