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But the disquiet in her eyes didn’t disappear. Not completely.
Time. Trust took time.
I ran my thumb over her jaw. “We’ll be okay, baby. I promise. No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out.”
A breath.
I gave her more. I had to. “I promise to handle you with care, sweetheart.” Another brush over her skin, my lips turning up at the corners, trying for light, hoping it would erase the insecurities in her eyes. “But that would be a whole lot easier if I weren’t having to chase you down for weeks at a time.”
Eyes on mine, the uncertainty shifting to chagrin. “Right,” she whispered.
“Right,” I whispered back and held her close, held her until she, eventually—after long moments—relaxed against me.
Then she gave me some Billie Rose flair. Some of that confidence and kicking ass and taking names by looking at me with narrowed eyes and saying, “I guess we’re seeing where this goes.” A beat. “But know that just because we’re doing this, it doesn’t mean you can make trouble in my town.”
My chuckle was rough. “Reading that loud and clear.” A momentary hesitation, because normally I would have insertedharpythere. But that wouldn’t be happening. Not ever again. “Baby,” I finished.
Her face softened and I knew she knew what I’d been thinking, registered the deliberate change I’d made (and would keep making). “I need to watch out for my town,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “And I’m going to watch out for you.”
Her exhale was shaky, but after a long blip of quiet, she nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “The first step of this is that you’re going to go on a date with me.” I crouched a little to meet her eyes. “Arealdate where I pick you up and we go to dinner and a movie or somewhere where there are other people. We spend time together. In public. And then I take you back to that fucking trailer, that goddamned couch, kiss you on the doorstep, and tell you good night.”
Uncertainty creeping back into her eyes. “What if I don’t want the night to end there?”
“Too bad.” I tugged a curl. “But I won’t wait the requisite three days to text you. I’ll text you when I get home, and in the morning, to tell you I’m thinking about you.” A grin. A kiss to her nose. “Because it seems like all I do is think about you, Rosie girl.”
A sucked-in breath.
I stroked a finger along her jaw. “Then because I’ll need to see you, I’ll coax you into breakfast. And you’ll come”—I shot her a look—“because even the busy mayor of River’s Bend needs to eat.”
She nibbled at that tempting bottom lip. “I usually just eat a protein bar at my desk.”
Stubborn, beautiful,workaholicwoman.
But I didn’t comment on that. I just tugged another curl and said, “Then we’ll eat protein bars at your desk together.”
Her face smoothed out. “Really?”
Another light tug. “Really.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay,” I whispered back again. “Next Tuesday work?”
Uncertainly being beaten back. Determination creeping in. Another deep, slow breath.
I waited. Held my breath until my lungs burned.
Then she gave me the world.
And it was with a simple, “Okay.”
Thirty-Two
Billie Rose
