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“Fair enough. I’ll save my lusting thoughts for later,” Dominic said with a grin. Damned if the guy wasn’t kinda funny.
“You do that. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what you’re planning?”
“I thought you weren’t here to offer advice.”
“That sounded like a question to me.”
Dominic squinted.
“Are you asking my intentions?”
He waited for the laugh. He got a nod.
Holy crap.
“Okay, I get that you’re within your rights as a brother, but seriously? The first time you talked to her in eight years was a month ago. Do you think Lara would appreciate you sticking your nose in her business?”
“That’d be between her and me, wouldn’t it?”
“And this is between her and me.”
“No. You met her through my situation.” Banks’s pause was infinitesimal, his wince barely there. But when Dominic caught it, his fury fled. The guy had been through hell and his hell had almost caught his sister. He had every right to be angry. “You brought her here, you orchestrated a meet between us. That makes this between her and you and me.”
“Okay. So what do you want me to say?” Dominic asked. “That I’m sorry? That I made a mistake? Or that I’m crazy about your sister?”
All of which were true.
“Nope. Like I said, I’m not here to offer advice. I’m just warning you—don’t fuck with my sister. She’s got a chance to start over now. If you choose to be a part of that new beginning, you’d damned well better plan on being a long-term part. You don’t plan on sticking it out, then let it go.”
Dominic wanted to protest the ultimatum. He wanted to ask if the guy knew where Lara was, how she was doing. He wanted details on this new beginning and where she’d be making it.
But he was still stuck on the fact that uptight, upright Lieutenant Banks, code name, Sir, Yes, Sir, had just said fuck.
It was mind-boggling.
Banks didn’t wait for a response, though. Message delivered, the guy was done. With a nod, he stuck his cap back on his head, executed a smooth about-face and strode out of the room.
Leaving Dominic with one inescapable fact: he and Lara were either over for good, or he’d better man up, admit his feelings and figure out if he could handle them.
He sank back onto the bench, his shoulders sagging and his head throbbing.
He sorta wished Banks had belted him in the face instead.
13
DOMINIC STORMED UP the path to his cabin, wondering how many new levels of pissed he could reach before his head simply exploded.
He’d wasted two days of his leave on a wild-goose chase, then gotten his ass chewed out by his brother for not returning the truck sooner, then by his mother for missing so many of the wedding festivities.
That’s why he was pissed, he told himself.
He didn’t like being bitched at. When he’d told Lucas that, his brother had taken his truck keys and advised him to walk his sorry self home. The only reason Dominic hadn’t planted his fist in Lucas’s face was that their mother had been standing there, nodding.
He dug into his pocket for the remote to disarm the alarm, then stomped up the steps.
His hand on the doorknob, he stopped.
Emotions slammed into him, the images of the last time he’d been home flying through his head in mocking clarity.
Lara.
Damn.
Where the hell was she?
He’d gone back to Reno. She didn’t work at the casino, she didn’t live at the apartment, she didn’t attend the school.
He’d called Lucas a dozen times, asking him to run her, but apparently big brother was too busy.
He’d even called Banks, who’d straight up laughed.
Nobody could—or would—tell him where Lara was.
He shoved the door open, determined to pull strings and tap one of his cousins to run her when Lucas wasn’t around.
Just inside the cabin, he stopped short.
The scent hit him first, an instant turn-on with floral overtones.
Then he saw her.
Lounging on his couch, looking comfortable and happy.
And so damned good.
Lara?
What the hell?
“What are you doing here?”
She didn’t seem surprised to see him. If anything, her expression was satisfied enough to cross over into smug.
“Visiting,” Lara said, crossing one stocking-clad foot over the other. “Your mom figured I’d be more comfortable here than up at the house.”
“My mom...”
“Yeah. Your grandma sent down enough food to turn me into a beach ball, though. So I’ve been going to the gym with Celia. Matteo is going to teach me to ride horses, too, but I didn’t figure that’d compensate for homemade tortillas.”
