Page 19 of Toxic Truth

“Like mine?” She slumped then shook her head and tapped her spoon against his plate. “How’d you manage to save enough dough to buy this place? Are you in debt up to your eyeballs? Will what I pay you for protection help?”

Before she offered to retire his debts, if she could, he fessed up. “I didn’t pay a cent for my land or the cabin. I inherited it.”

Her mouth fell open. “You had wealthy grandparents? What did your brothers and parents get?”

“Nothing.” Finished with his stew, he used a biscuit to sop up the juice. “I got it from a buddy’s dad. He was the one who had endless cash.”

“Which he willed to you, because…?”

Lucas didn’t often talk about himself. Somehow, it felt wrong. Considering how she stared and waited, he didn’t have much choice. “I saved his son during combat. It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same. No big deal.”

“I bet your buddy and his dad didn’t think that.” She rested her elbow on the table, her head in her hand. “I’d ask you what happened, but I sense you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Thanks. I don’t.” In the last few seconds, the air seemed to get thicker, his ability to breathe more difficult. A woman asking who he saved or lost during his military service was tantamount to her wanting to compare his dick to other guys’. An intimacy he didn’t want to get involved in.

She stroked the table near his plate. “Can I ask you something that’s not combat related?”

In his experience, any personal question might not be wise. “I won’t answer if I don’t want to.”

“Agreed. What was a rich guy’s kid doing in the service? That’s not normal.”

He barked a laugh, the sound startling Bullet. After gesturing the shepherd back to its place, Lucas sagged in his chair. “Dave’s a good guy and one of my best friends. Despite his father’s wealth, or maybe because of it, he wanted to serve those who have far less. It was either the Peace Corps or the military.”

“Is he still a Ranger?”

“He is.” Lucas grabbed another beer and brought the hot chocolate to the table to refill her cup. “Next year he gets out. I’m trying to talk him into joining our team. Enough about me.” He sat. “What’s your story?”

She blew on her drink then sipped it. “Not much to tell. My parents died in a plane crash when I was seven. Their friends were along, the husband piloting the private aircraft. They flew here from Palo Alto, where I grew up. This resort was my parents’ favorite spot to go for a mountain getaway. More so than those in California.”

The loss sounded in her voice, her lingering pain killing him. He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. If you don’t mind me asking, who raised you after that?”

“I had one aunt on my mom’s side.” She put down her cup. “Brain cancer took her when I was eighteen. At least I was an adult and at Stanford then, so I didn’t have to go into foster care.”

Maybe not, but she was alone and had been for too long, no blood relations to count on. “That’s awful.”

She waved away his concern. “I’m used to being by myself.” She regarded her unfinished meal, rather than him. “It’s okay.”

Bull. The misery on her face didn’t lie. First, she’d lost everyone who’d valued her existence then poured her love into work, which betrayed her. No one should have that much bad luck.

He stroked her fingers. “I have no doubt about your capabilities or that you like solitude. Living here, I know where you’re coming from. However, you have me now. That’s something I want you to believe in and to count on.”

She raised her face. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Hold me? I mean, if you don’t mind.”

His chest ached at how lost she looked, sorrow gripping him. “Of course, I don’t.” To deny her this moment wasn’t something he could or wanted to do.

He gathered her close, his arms wrapped around her waist.

She snuggled against him, delivering her scent and warmth. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Rubbing her back, he comforted her as best he could, wanting only the best for her always. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. You’re a good guy.”

As long as she thought so, that was the only thing that mattered.

They remained as they were, the world going unnoticed around them. At least for him, her presence a comfort he’d rarely known or sought but needed now.

She shifted slightly.