Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,61

He pressed his mouth to hers before she could follow up. "Mmmm. So sweet," he murmured when they finally parted. "I'm taking you to Gino's Trattoria when I get home Sunday. No arguing."

"I'll let you," she agreed. "Help me remember to call Tyler at the body shop. My car should have been done weeks ago, and I keep forgetting to call."

"Ah, about that." Trace turned sheepish. "I called to check on it, and-" He shook his head.

"What?" she cried out. "But that was my baby." She supposed she'd feel much more upset if it wasn't for the napkin in her pocket. She'd still have to be careful, but she could afford to buy a newer car."

"Don't worry. I already fixed it." He stood, pulling her up. "Come with me."

"Trace?"

"Shut your eyes."

"How'm I supposed to walk if I can't see?"

"Trust me?"

Reluctantly, she shut her eyes, giddy anticipation making her grin. "Don't let me fall."

"I'll always be here."

Something thick in his voice made her want to peek at him. "Trace?"

"C'mon." He wrapped an arm around her. "Thirty steps." She counted aloud. "Okay, twenty more," he said when she reached thirty.

"Okay, now what?"

"Open your eyes."

She blinked her eyes open, then blinked again. "Is that... is that?" Her brows knit together. What was he thinking? Her stomach yo-yoed in dread - right to her toes then back into her throat. She shook her head. "I can't accept this."

The hopeful look on Trace's face crumbled.

She laid a hand on his arm. "This is so sweet of you, but it's too much."

His jaw tightened. "It's not too much that I want you to be safe. Hell, you can't even put groceries on your bike. I'm headed to Oklahoma this afternoon and Dodge City next weekend. What are you going to do if there's an emergency when I'm gone?"

"Call Izzie," she answered stubbornly. "Or Jeanine."

"And what if they're not around? Then what? What if you injure yourself working on the house?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Trace. You don't understand."

"Damn right, I don't." He stalked away, scraped a hand across his beard, then paced back, taking her shoulders, a fierce light in his eyes. "It's an SUV, not a marriage proposal, Cecilia."

"A very expensive SUV," she retorted. From the looks of it, the SUV was top of the line. "And I can take care of myself."

"So that means no one else is allowed to take care of you? Do you understand how ridiculous that is?"

"It's not." How could she make him understand? She blew out a breath. "I don't want to be obligated to anyone. I can't be."

"Or what?" His mouth thinned to a straight line. "Because someone might expect something?"

"That I can't give? Yes."

"Jesus, Ceece." Trace made a face and shook his head. "No one's expecting anything from you. You know what I think? This is about you always wanting an out, always looking for a shortcoming in someone else so that you can bolt instead of facing your own shit."

"That is absolutely not true," she said hotly. How dare he? "You're the one who hasn't been entirely forthcoming. I took a chance on you."

His eyes narrowed. "Did you? Did you really? Because from where I'm standing you've had one foot out the door the whole time, ready to run the second you feel uncomfortable." His eyes hardened. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He wasn't. The truth arrowed right into the softest part of her.

"You know what I expect, Cecilia? Honesty. And a willingness to give whatever it is between us a fighting chance."

"I am," she whispered.

"Bullshit," he ground out. "Goddammit, Cecilia. I love you. God help me, but I fucking love you, and you don't exactly make it easy."

Her face flamed and she had to blink hard to keep the tears that suddenly formed from spilling over. "I don't mean to be," she whispered. Her mind raced, grabbing at strings and wild thoughts, anything to come up with a coherent explanation of the gut-wrenching fear that always drove her to end things before she got in too deep.

Strong arms pulled her into a tight embrace. There was something so incredibly calming about being pressed against his hard body surrounded by his masculine scent. "You're keeping the vehicle." His tone of voice brooked no argument. "It's not open for discussion."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, swallowing down a lump at the back of her throat. "Thank you. It's beyond generous. A-a-and, I reacted badly."

Trace sighed heavily, pressing a kiss onto her head. "There are things I want to tell you,