she lives with, Wilbur, have a double-wide trailer on ten acres just outside of town. I’ve never actually figured out what it is Wilbur does for a living, except he used to be a rodeo cowboy about a hundred years ago.”
“Is she happy?”
She shrugged. “She’s a wanderer, but she’s been with Wilbur for about eight years now, so maybe that means she’s happy.”
He thought that over for a while before answering. She looked sad, the way she always did when she spoke of her mother, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. And truly, he was batting a little low in the mother department himself. Kid had told him the most persistent rumor he’d ever heard about their mother was that she’d gone to Hollywood to be a porn star. Kid also said he’d never bothered to verify or disprove the information.
J.T. was with his younger brother on that one. Apparently, she was heading out for a visit when he and Jane got home, and his plan was to just let her be what she wanted to be, to let her be a mom for a couple of days. He didn’t have anything on the line with the woman.
But his girl had risk with her mother. She cared, and she’d been hurt by Leona’s lack of care, a lifetime of it, but the ties were there, and neither Jane nor her mother ever let go—and he knew that was best, to not walk away from the people in your life. They were a precious part of a person, and in his experience, they had a way of slipping away without any help from you, without warning.
Hold on—that was always his advice.
He was holding on to Jane, with every fiber of his being, for as long as he could possibly make it last, and he was hoping for a lifetime.
“We get back to Denver tomorrow,” he said. “We could go up and see good old Leona and Wilbur by the end of the week.”
“Thanks,” she said, leaning over and kissing him. “I really want her to meet you, to see that I’ve done good.”
Well, hell, he liked that.
“I love you, J.T.” She kissed him again, and his heart filled with a comfort unlike anything he’d ever known.
Love. A year ago, he wouldn’t have believed it would ever be true—that he would live long enough to see a day like today, or that there would ever be a woman who knew him well enough to love him.
He would have been wrong. The Wild Thing in her hot-pink bikini was all woman, and the love she professed was true. He knew, because it was the same love echoing in his heart.
“Do you want this?” he whispered against her lips, pressing himself against her. He was already hard. Just the smell of her was enough to arouse him, and he was breathing her in, remembering her, setting her solidly into his conscious mind. He didn’t want to forget her, not for a moment, not ever again.
She nodded, and he kissed the side of her nose, her cheek, and her temple.
“Wrap your legs around me, then,” he said, sliding his hand under her bottom and lifting her as he rose to his feet.
“How’s that?” she murmured, settling around his waist.
An intense surge of pleasure coursed through him, and he released a small groan.
“That’s good, real good. Can you keep it up all the way to the house?”
She laughed, and kissed his cheek, and bit his ear, and when he passed the bench at the end of the dock, he handed her the box of cupcakes, which was still almost full, as he’d well known, and he took the pitcher of lemonade.
It was fifty yards through the jungle to the house, but it could have been a hundred or a thousand, and it wouldn’t have mattered. He could have carried her all day long. Never, not even in his most generous moments, did he thank Dr. Souk for the strength the bastard had given him, but it had proven to be a real asset for the team, and for that, he was glad.
His tactical skills were even more of an asset, and working with SDF used every skill he had. They were elite, their missions so black as to be undetectable—and that’s the way Dylan and General Grant expected them to be.
He loved meeting that challenge.
And he loved the woman in his arms.
Her skin was so soft and warm beneath his hands, her hair