Page 96 of Burnin' For You
You’re right, you have a lot to be proud of.
Best—
Jock
Gilly folded the letter, slipped it back into the envelope, and walked over to Reuben.
He had his forehead pressed to the soft nose of his horse.
She touched his back, and he drew in a long breath.
“You okay?”
He said nothing for a long time. Then, “I will be. Yeah.”
He turned, reached out, and touched her cheek. His eyes betrayed a hint of red, thick with emotion. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too.” She touched his hand, so much love overflowing for this man, who only weeks ago could barely speak to her. Now it seemed with everything he did—from inviting her to his family’s ranch, to taking her in his arms, to even the way he looked at her and spoke to her—old her she was strong and beautiful and cherished.
She took his hand and brought him over to a nearby haystack. Then she climbed on it, raising herself to his eye level.
He smiled at her, meeting her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Telling you I love you. That when I’m with you, I feel invincible. But also that I know I don’t have to prove it—you already see me like that.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugged her against the hard planes of his body. “Absolutely. But maybe you could let me, every once in a while, protect you anyway? Just for my male ego?”
“We’ll see,” she said and leaned down to kiss him.
A nice long, delicious, off-season kiss, the kind that stirred the slow burn into a fire that caused her pulse to rush, her knees to weaken.
Then, because every time he kissed her he made her believe she could fly, she let him lift her into his arms. Cradle her against his amazing, broad-shouldered, work-toughened body. She flung her arms around his neck, drinking in the sense of the big sky, a smoldering fire, and the open spaces of their tomorrows in his touch.
And in her heart, she swooned.
Their last jump of the season—for sure this time. Because the air already rippled with the scent of winter, and a layer of snow covered the highest, jagged peaks of the northern Rockies.
Reuben waited as Kate indicated with the spotting ribbon where they might land. “See that clearing, off to the right of the river? You have a nice put-down there.”
The wind tugged at her jumpsuit, but she was strapped in to the plane.
Jed had made sure of that. Because this trip wasn’t for Kate. Or Hannah, or Ned, or CJ, or Tuck, Riley, or even Gilly.
This was for Conner. For Pete. For Reuben.
And led by Jed, because it was only right.
Pete ducked out first, his square opening against the scope of blue, the jeweled tones of the western edge of the Kootenai Forest. Just beyond the closest rise of mountains lay Canada, Brownie and Patrick’s destination, as figured out the best the team could from Conner’s patchwork hack into their personal finances. Conner had tracked the fugitives across Montana, starting with a brazen stop for gas and a beer at the Yaak River Tavern, then gas along 508, and a motel stay for a week at Golden Nugget Cabins in southwestern Montana, where the duo had probably planned their escape into Idaho.
Pete had pulled in some favors from his brother Sam’s law enforcement buddies who raided the place. Unfortunately, the pair had escaped, probably due to a tip-off from Patrick’s portable scanner.
Reuben decided they wouldn’t make that mistake again. Next time, they’d sneak in, keep their attack on the down low.
They’d tracked the Brownings into Idaho through a short stopover at Moyie Springs, where the men had withdrawn cash.
After that, the fugitives had dropped off the grid.
Conner had set about using his techie skills and tapped into weather satellites to search forest service roads that traveled north to the border.