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The drive is quiet and comfortable, though the creamery in town is seasonal and most definitely closed this time of year. Not that showing our faces in town was really on the agenda anyway.

Truie registers the fact that we’re not headed to town and the same time I hit the turn for the thruway. “We’re not going to town.”

“No.” I take a chance and lift her fingers to my lips to soften the blow.

“It’s closed?” Disappointment laces her question.

Did I know that before promising? I totally did, but it was the perfect excuse to get her in the car without scaring the shit out of her.

No need for both of us to be shaking in our shoes.

“Mm. I’ve got a better idea,” I offer.

With a quick pulse of her hand, I glance over to check her reaction. It’s not horrible, so I drop the bomb and pray there’s no explosion.

“I have gelato at home.”

“Then why did we leave?”

I love that she’s comfortable questioning me. And I hate that the not horrible reaction might just go to shit now.

“Not at the mansion, at my home.” The rising tension is still within the parameters of not horrible so I keep going. “I had the drive fixed since last time. There’s a small area of gravel, just to maintain the anonymity of the place, but beyond that it’s been paved.”

The gravel drive was an issue last time I tried to take her to my house. It set off an avalanche of emotions that had her spiraling. And when I tried to leave her there, safely tucked away, she lost her fucking mind. I showed back up in Christophe’s office looking like I’d been through hell and back.

Twice.

Truie’s eyes dart side to side, her jaw tenses, and those luscious lips I can’t seem to stop thinking about going flat, thin. But she doesn’t pull her hand from mine, so I stroke my thumb across her knuckles and slide our hands to my thigh—not my dick. I should get a fucking award for the restraint I’m sporting.

She does her thing—pause, count, breathe, and finally says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” I could kick myself for questioning her, but I’m not going to lie, I’m a little surprised she agreed so easily.

“Yes. Okay. I”—she shifts in the passenger seat, sitting just a little bit taller—“I’ll be okay this time.”

“And if I have to leave?”

“I won’t… I won’t f-fall apart. I promise.”

My heart bottoms out at that, like she’s already apologizing for shit she has no idea about.

Chapter 12

Negative

TRUIE

I do a lot of positive self-talk, hyping myself up on the drive.

I feel a little like I got tricked into this adventure in the name of gelato. But tension has been high at the estate since I shot Alain. And I’m doing better than I was before. Kind of.

Teague stops the car in front of his gorgeous mountain home—mansion is more like it, but it’s rugged in a sleek, refined way.

I’m excited to see it again, through different eyes. Maybe we’ll stay for a while this time instead of a trauma drive along a gravel lane that went on forever and a day that was supposed to end with leaving me here alone. The resultant panic attack was exhausting. Not doing that again. No way, no how.

He steps out and rounds the SUV, opens my door, and offers his hand to help me out. But my God, the excitement rolling through me is way too much for anything so staid.

I don’t know if I fall into him, or catapult myself from the vehicle, but my senses take their leave. Hell, they do a serious disappearing act because my feet are dangling well above the ground as he clutches me to him. Silent laughter rumbles through his chest and small puffs of warm air ruffle the hair against my neck.