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“It’s good,” he said.
She smiled at him, then sipped her own. She made a hum of pleasure.
When she looked up, Boone was looking at her mouth. Then he looked away, staring at Atlas. “I’m sorry I woke you last night.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not.”
His head turned. His eyes looked like molten gold today.
Gemma shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. And I don’t just mean since I was taken.” She looked at the trees, the beautiful riot of colors. “Thanks to my father’s success, I find it hard to trust. And I often feel like a target.” She met Boone’s gaze. “You don’t make me feel like that.” She quickly sipped again. “I’m sorry for what you went through when you were deployed. It makes me realize that my problems pale a lot in comparison.”
“You can’t compare. Everyone has something to deal with.”
“True. And Boone, I don’t want apologies for the kisses, either. They were the best kisses of my life.”
His face turned unreadable.
She’d said her piece. She’d leave him to chew on it. Turning, she wandered toward the old farmhouse. It was rundown, with its white paint faded and peeling, and several windows boarded up. But she could see the charm, with its classic peaked roof and large porch. She’d put a swing on it so she could sit and look at the trees while she sipped her hot chocolate.
There was a red barn not far from it, which looked like it was in good repair. She guessed the barn was of more use to Boone than a large farmhouse.
Atlas bounded her way, and she smiled.
“My uncle said the farmhouse needed too much work. And was too big for him.”
Boone’s voice came from right behind her.
“Makes sense. It looks like it needs a family.” She walked up the sagging porch steps and looked in one grimy window.Oh. She saw a kitchen with an old-fashioned stove and a large farmhouse sink. The room was filled with dust, but light poured into the space. With some love and attention, and probably a big budget, it could be stunning.
She turned.
Boone stood with one boot resting on a step, an unbuttoned flannel shirt now on his body, and he was coiling some rope between his hands.
She stared at the rope and a sudden memory cut across her consciousness.
Rough hands tying her up. A wave of nausea. Feeling the prick of a needle at the back of her neck.
Her mug fell from nerveless fingers. It hit the porch, hot chocolate spilling.
“Newhouse won’t be able to stop us.”
“Yes. She’ll give us exactly what the boss wants.”
“I hope she fights. I hope we get to hurt her.”
Fear was like a deluge—cold and paralyzing. It left her heart racing.
“Gemma. Gemma!”
Strong hands gripped her arms. Her skin felt so cold.
“Gemma?”
She looked up into Boone’s face.
“You’re safe.” He cupped her cheeks. “Look at me.”
She focused on him. He had a small scar on one eyebrow, and she wondered how he’d gotten it.
