AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To try and keep you in the safer space of the lobby,” he confirmed. “The robber there was much more level-headed than the big guy in the vault. Trying to convince him I’d be more help than you seemed like the best way to keep you safe. Not that it worked, but I had to try.”
“Oh,” she said, half word, half breath. “So, you really were scared? And you tried to get him to let you take my place anyway?”
Roman answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
Camila blinked. “I guess that makes us both brave, then.”
A bolt of some emotion Roman didn’t have a name for shot through his chest, lingering for just a second before he realized he should snuff it out and stick to something safer. Hockey scores. The weather.Anythingother than his feelings. But Camila had been honest with him, even when it had meant being vulnerable. He could return the favor, at least a little.
“I owe you an apology,” he said, his heart thumping first at the words, then even harder at the pure surprise on her face. “It’s far too late, and you have every reason not to accept it. But I did leave really abruptly after we spent that evening together last year. I had good reasons, but…” Roman trailed off. Christ, he never should have opened his mouth. “Anyway. I was rude to you, and I’m sorry.”
“You had good reasons,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
Her brows rose, her stare unmoving on his. “Do you want to share them?”
“No,” was what he’d fully intended to say. His defenses sent the word to his brain, which then delivered it directly to his mouth. But somehow, the memo went haywire, because what came out was, “I’m a widower. My wife, Gabrielle, died six years ago in an accident, and I’m just not very good at…I don’t know. Flirting, I guess.”
Camila’s shoulders bumped the back of her chair, her brown eyes wide and her lips parted. “Roman, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Her sympathy was genuine and kind, and funny, it let him take a much-needed breath. “It’s not something I really share. I mean, I did all the counseling. The Bureau’s pretty insistent when it comes to that. But I don’t tend to get too personal with anyone, pretty much ever. So, when you and I hit it off so well, I guess I kind of…”
“Got scared?”
She looked at him, and even though he knew she’d see the truth in his eyes, he met her gaze anyway. “Maybe a little. But it still doesn’t change the fact I acted like an ass.”
“Well, I have it on good authority that fear is a normal human response to dangerous situations. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be very fair of me not to accept your apology.”
But as she smiled at him and clinked her nearly empty glass against his still very full one, Roman couldn’t help but feel like being in Camila’s presence was still a very dangerous situation, indeed.
9
In hindsight, Camila’s second margarita had probably been a bad idea. But really, she couldn’t takeallthe blame. Yes, they’d been as big as fishbowls, and okay, fine, her body might still be figuring out what to do with the absolute excess of adrenaline she’d cooked up earlier that day. But the food had been even better than promised, the tart drink pairing perfectly with the carnitas, the mango avocado salsa, and—her personal favorite—the cumin-lime rice. She’d downed every last bite with enthusiasm. At first, she’d been tempted to feel babied at Roman’s not-exactly-subtle nudges to eat. She’d even ordered a full meal just to appease him. But then she’d realized just how badly she’d needed the sustenance, how easily Roman had realized it, too, and in that moment, Camila hadn’t felt babied at all. She’d felt cared for. On top of the delicious food, the tequila had loosened the tension she’d been carrying around like an anvil, making her feel normal for the first time since she’d walked into that bank this morning.
The way Roman had called her brave, then apologized to her for how he’d run away from her last year?
Thathad made her feel something totally different. Something warm. Something needful.
Fucking tequila.
Camila blinked her way back to the restaurant, pasting a smile over her face. She and Roman had shared a great meal and some equally great conversation, but reality beckoned. Now that the plates had been cleared and their checks settled, she really should be moving on—no matter how tempting it might be to stay here in her temporary cocoon of safety.
“Thanks for the solidarity,” she said, “and for introducing me to the best tacos in Remington.”
“I told you,” Roman said, making her laugh.
“You did, and I stand fully corrected. But I should let you go.”
His expression remained unreadable, his bronze eyes steady on hers. “Are you headed home?”
“In an Uber,” she said. She was far from drunk, but also far from stupid. “But yeah. My head is starting to hurt, and if I don’t go home and rest at some point, I think mybrother’shead will explode. Plus, I need to tell my family about the bank robbery and let them and Delia know I’m okay.”
“It would be okay if you weren’t. Being held at gunpoint is no small trauma for most people,” he said, but here, she had to argue.
“Clearly, you’ve never met my family. If you think my brother is overprotective”—
Camila paused to roll her eyes—“multiply him by five, then add three siblings-in-law, and yeah…if the Garzafamiliasmells even an ounce of fear, I’ll be babied into next year.”
