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She bit her lip as she thought, ignoring the heat that flared in his eyes at the gesture.
“I want things to make sense again.” She needed order. She needed consequences that fit the action. She needed the bad guys to be bad and the good guys to be good.
He swallowed, and her eyes tracked the movement of his throat.
“Let me make a suggestion. Invite me back to your place and put the two worlds together.” His voice was soft. “No sex. Just old friends catching up on things. We can have coffee or tea or those butter cookies you keep in the tin on top of your microwave.” As her silence drew on, he continued. “It may be a terrible idea, but it’s worth a shot. Once upon a time, we made sense.”
She laughed, and it wasn’t a comfortable one.
“No, we didn’t. We fit together, and it was fun, but sense? No.”
“We enjoyed our time online together. We felt a connection to each other. We took each other out of our lives and gave us each a reason to pretend we were different. We allowed that with each other, thrived on it. We were good together.” His words were almost pleading, as if begging her to see what he was saying.
And she did. Because he was right.
“But what about now? I can’t just go back to that. Too much has happened.” She forced a finality into her words, and he gritted his teeth together.
Remorse filled his eyes.
“I understand.”
They stood that way, on a deserted sidewalk at night, staring at each other’s feet. His wore his black leather boots, tucked into his black slacks. Her eyes roamed up his long, muscled body to his face, where he had a look of such desolation, she wanted to weep for him.
But she couldn’t fall into his arms. Not right now.
“What are you going to do now?”
He looked up at her and shrugged.
“I liked living on the ranch. Working with the larger animals. I could see myself doing that. I’d thought about rescuing horses and cattle that have been neglected or abused.”
“A sort of penance?” A wry smile lifted her lips, but he didn’t return it.
“Would it work?” His expression was open, almost innocent, as if his rescuing animals would make up for all the women he helped kidnap.
She sighed, all levity gone. “Probably not.”
“Then no, it’s not penance. Apparently, I’m damned.” His voice sounded so tortured and desolate, hoarse and scratchy, she almost threw herself into his arms to hug him.
Instead, she turned back in the direction of her hotel and started walking slowly.
“I don’t know what I want,” she began as she walked. “But I know I need more time. The feelings I have for you are so conflicted.” Therapy. She needed more therapy. This was nothing shy of Stockholm syndrome or some shit like that. She needed to get her head on straight.
Especially because the next words out of her mouth were, “I am old enough to know never say never.”
They were silent most of the way, and it was awkward. Her anger had faded into something she couldn’t name. she couldn’t even say if it was a good feeling or a bad one.
“Will you keep writing me? Your letters meant more to me than I care to say, Cariño.”
She swallowed, unable to release the bond between them. “Yes.”
In front of her hotel, he held his arms out and she walked into them, relishing the feel of his hard chest against her cheek and taking the comfort of his arms as she inhaled the spicy masculine scent of him.
She tried to say goodbye but knew she didn’t really want to.
