Page 165 of Lost Trust

I picture Marina in the arena—how she sits on a horse, how she comes alive when riding, and how she and Rowdy are so in sync that they flow together like water.

Ginger looks back at me. “But I can see now that maybe this was exactly what they needed.” Her eyes shine a little. “Because it brought them here.” She pauses. “To you.”

Something squeezes hard around my ribs.

“And that great, big, wonderful family of yours,” she adds.

I swallow.

She reaches across the island and lays her hand over mine. “So, when I go back to Arizona, I can go, knowing they’re in good hands.”

I stare at her hand over mine.

Then I look toward the hallway, where Marina is probably wrangling a little cowboy into clean pajamas.

Good hands.

The words hit somewhere deep.

Because I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything more than to be worthy of them.

I turn my hand beneath hers and give her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“They are,” I say quietly. I meet her eyes, and she studies me. “They always will be.”

And I mean every damn word.

I look up to see Marina standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall, watching me.

“Mom and Ryder have been tucked in,” she says. “I think I’m going to take a shower to wash the sticky off of me now.”

She spins toward her bedroom, peeling off her shirt, and then she glances at me over her shoulder. “I could use help reaching my back.”

I don’t have to be asked twice. I kick off my boots and click off the kitchen light before following.

I find her already in the shower, and I quickly undress and drop my clothes by hers on the tiled floor.

She doesn’t turn around as I open the glass door and watch as she lathers shampoo in her hair.

“Are you coming, cowboy?”

I slip in behind her and bring my lips to her ear. “I plan to.”

She leans back into my chest and blinks up at me as the suds from her hair slides down between our bodies. “Me first,” she requests.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She closes her eyes and steps forward into the hot spray, and I follow. I brush my fingers through her hair, letting the water rinse the strands clean, and bring my lips to her neck.

My hands rest on her hips, and I pull them back so she can feel what she does to me. Then they slide around to her stomach as I nibble at her ear.

A whimper escapes her as my hands continue to explore her bare skin.

I stroke the underside of her breasts before taking their weight into my palms. Her knees give as the pad of my thumbs brush her nipples.

“Royce,” she moans.

“You like that, baby?” I ask as I roll the tender peaks between my fingers and tug.