Santiago lowers himself to his knees and captures my mouth with his, tasting himself on my tongue. Our kiss is lazy and messy, but no less perfect.
Santiago pulls back, wiping the mess from my face with the first piece of clothing he swipes from the floor. “You’re ours, Blake Jennings.”
“Yours,” I agree contentedly.
Working together, Santiago and Levi clean me with tissues and dress me in my clothes. I’m half asleep through the entire process.
Then Santiago sweeps me up in his arms and carries me out to his truck and I rest my head on his chest
He drives us back to Falling Sky, and my eyes barely stay open for half of the trip. When we pull up, Levi arrives, parking behind us. He takes his turn carrying me, taking me inside the house and up the stairs and into Santiago’s bathroom, where they remove the clothes they just dressed me in and guide me into the shower.
I lean back into Levi’s hard body as he and Santiago wash my hair and my body, massaging my scalp and my muscles.
When the water shuts off, I frown, causing Levi and Santiago to chuckle.
They wrap me in a soft, warm towel and dry me off then themselves.
Scooping me into his arms once more, Santiago carries me to the gigantic bed. He sets me in the middle as he and Levi climb in and surround me from either side.
“Sleep, Butterfly,” Levi whispers into my damp hair.
As I drift off, I hold onto the feeling in my chest that tells me this is where I’m supposed to be–this is where I’m supposed to stay.
CHAPTER 42
BLAKE
The bell above the diner door jingles as I step inside, and warmth immediately chases away the late winter chill clinging to my coat.
The crackle of bacon floats under the hum of customers chatting among themselves. Fresh coffee perfumes the air. Somewhere in the back, dishes clatter together while country music plays softly somewhere through the speakers.
No matter what time of day it is, Main Street Diner always smells like breakfast.
Walker opted to stay outside in his truck to make a few phone calls, promising he’d only be a minute. Considering his minute usually means fifteen, I meander toward the counter and take a seat on a stool rather than heading for the usual booth.
“Well,” a familiar voice drawls behind me. “Evergreen Falls really can’t seem to get rid of you.”
I suppress a sigh before turning around.
Bridger Reynolds sits a few stools away, expensive wool coat draped over one arm, looking more like he belongs in a boardroom than a diner. His polished boots are spotless despite the slushy parking lot outside.
“Mayor Reynolds,” I acknowledge.
He smiles. “Just Bridger.”
“I’ll stick with Mayor.”
His smile thins. “I heard you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with the sheriff.”
Small towns really are allergic to minding their own business.
“I’ve been helping with a few things.”
“Helping.” He rolls the word around like he doesn’t believe it. “Be careful.”
I raise a brow. “About?”
His eyes flick toward the window where Walker’s truck sits outside. “Not everyone in this town deserves your trust.”
