Page 123 of Ford

And suddenly, she got it. The thing that had made her mother hang on, believe.

Love.

The fullness of it reaching in, finding Scarlett, seeing her, and Ford still offering himself to her.

It was both power and weakness, fullness and a great pouring out of herself into something bigger. Something better.

Something whole.

“I love you, Ford.” Scarlett wasn’t sure she actually spoke the words aloud, but maybe she had because a slow smile crested over his face.

“You do?”

She nodded.

And still he didn’t pull her toward him. Didn’t kiss her.

So, “If you don’t kiss me, frogman, I’m going to start getting a complex.”

He whispered his fingers across her face, a smile breaking through. “Just so we’re clear, I do blame you for this.”

Then he kissed her, cupping her jaw, weaving his fingers into her hair.

Ford. His touch was gentle, yet a power banked in it that trembled through her as he pulled her to himself, finally, to secure her against his body. To hold her there.

He smelled rough—oil and dirt and blood—as if he’d fought his way to get to her, and it made her love him even more.

Then she tasted salt as he deepened his kiss, his whiskers rough on her chin, and she realized that he was crying.

She leaned back and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, holding on. “I’m going to get you home safely.”

He whispered in her ear, his voice soft and shivering her entire body. “I’m counting on it.”

He kissed her again as the dawn poured over them, chasing the chill from the train. She finally broke away. “Your sister sent me out here. She needs your phone.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, that was sort of an excuse, but she wants to get a message to Ham, to send an email to York and check on Coco.”

He seemed reluctant to leave her embrace but took her hand as they walked back to the compartment.

She found RJ curled up on the bench seat, her hands tucked under her cheek, eyes open. She sat up when they came in.

A smile tweaked her mouth, her gaze running over their clasped hands.

Ford glanced at her. “Are you going to throw something at me?”

“I’m fresh out of pillows, but I could find something…”

Scarlett frowned.

“Family joke,” Ford said. “My mother would throw pillows at my dad when she was angry.” He sat down next to Scarlett. “I’m sorry, RJ. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt about Coco. I’m sure she’s going to be okay.”

Her jaw tightened.

“How about I call my guy and we check on them?”

RJ nodded. She gave him the secure email address, and he dialed up Ham, stepping out into the hallway to talk.