find Bane watching her closely. She flashed him a smile that felt hollow and fake, then sat straight in her seat, staring out the windshield.
“We’re here.” Her unnecessary words sounded as fake and flat as her smile.
“I could do with a cup of coffee and a bite to eat.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bane gesture towards the town diner ahead of them, nestled between the furniture store and the church. The mention of food soured her stomach, and she bit back a grimace. He twisted towards her, and Myrt angled herself away. “Seemed a likely place. This okay with you, Myrt?”
“It feels smaller, somehow.” Held up against the sprawling hustle of Atlanta, even as seen from the windows of a car while passing through, this town—her hometown, which once had seemed the epitome of grace and sophistication—looked tiny and dingy. “Old.”
“It is old.” She turned to look at Bane as he spoke, catching him mid-shrug. “And it’s not large. But you shouldn’t discount your memories of it. They’re real and true, and right for when they were made. Doesn’t matter you’ve got a little different experiences underneath your belt now. How you saw this place is how it was, and how it is.”
Myrt looked behind them, then out the front windshield again. “Everything’s in the same place it’s always been. Dime store next to the shoe store, right next to the Bible bookstore. But after seeing the huge store we went into last night, I know the overalls folded on the shelf at the back of the five-and-dime aren’t the best quality.” She shook her head and glanced at the two new duffel bags lying on the floor of the passenger cabin. At Bane’s instance, they’d gone shopping for Luke and Thad, and nothing she had done seemed to derail the outing. He’d bought two of everything, sizing up one from what her guesstimates had been. His reasoning was the boys could grow into the clothes, and she’d been forced to admit he’d made a lot of sense. Her stomach growled loudly, and she glanced towards Bane, seeing him smiling widely. “The diner sounds great, Bane. I’ve only been in there once, but the cake I had was delicious.”
“You had cake but no dinner? That’s cheeky, Myrt.” He reached out the same time she did, fingers tangling around her seat belt buckle. “I got it, sweetie.” Her hand fell away.
That word. Every time he used it directed towards her, Myrt melted inside. It was caring and intimate, bearing the weight of affection she hoped he might have towards her. Not that I’d know a thing about affection. But the way he’d held her when she’d cried, when she’d told him about her fears for her brothers, when she’d confessed the challenges in her past with Sallabrook and her terror about the future—everything in his actions told her he did have affection. That he did care. About her. About me. She marveled again how a man who hadn’t known she existed two weeks ago would seem so invested. And for no return at all. He not only didn’t demand anything from her but had gone out of his way to ensure she knew there were no strings tied to accepting his help.
“Myrt? Where’d you go?”
She startled and blinked, finding his face much closer than it had been a moment ago. Except he was on the wrong side. Somehow, she’d daydreamed through him exiting the van and making his way to her door. “Oh my lands. I’m sorry, Bane.” She angled her body out of the van, sliding across the edge of the seat until her feet hit the ground.
Bane didn’t step back.
Which meant her entire front slid down his front and ended with his belt buckle pressed against her belly.
Oh my lands.
Heat bled through her clothes, and she looked down to see one of his hands resting on each hip, fingers curled possessively but not gripping hard enough to hurt. His hold on her was firm, telling her without words that she was exactly where he wanted her to stay.
“Myrt,” he said, bending closer and sliding his cheek along hers so he whispered directly into her ear. “You ready, baby?”
Her stomach dipped, but not in a bad way. Her chest hitched, stealing her air, leaving her with barely a mouthful she used to whisper back. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
His actions belied the single word, as his fingers tightened and he leaned against her a little more, the weight of his