“And less likely to crumble under the pressure. Molly will need that strength from you.”
“You’re going to lay down a trail of bread crumbs, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Without backup? You can’t.”
Garrett brushed aside the chopped hair that didn’t feel like hers. “I can’t let them use you and Molly as leverage. Not against James. Or me.” He closed in on her, his large frame looming. His presence sucked the air from the room. He took her hand in his. “You can trust Daniel, and he has connections. If I fail, they can give you a new life.”
She gripped his fingers. “Dad will kick my butt if I let you sacrifice yourself without a fight.”
“He’d understand,” Garrett said, his face certain, frozen like stone.
“Convince me,” Laurel said, placing her hand on his chest. “They could end up using you anyway.”
Garrett whirled away from her, stalked across the room and shoved his hands through his hair. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. And that’s saying a lot given the work I do. Why can’t you just agree?”
“Because I can’t let you go on a suicide mission.” She followed him, reaching up to his shoulders. Something more was going on with him. She could feel it.
She tugged at his arm, trying to see his face, look into his eyes. When he finally faced her, she gasped at the pain in his expression.
“Why are you doing this, really?” she whispered, leaning into him.
“It’s not important.” Garrett cleared his throat and then his hand trembled. He cupped her cheek. “You and Molly need to be safe. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
The air grew thick between them.
“Because of your loyalty to my father?”
His thumb stroked her skin. She closed her eyes. Something had been simmering between them since they’d met.
“Because I can’t let anyone else I care about get hurt.”
With a groan he lowered his mouth to hers. She clung to him, holding his face between her hands while he explored her lips.
He tasted of coffee, a hint of cinnamon and something uniquely Garrett. With each caress of his mouth, a tingle built low in her belly as if he had a direct line to her soul. A low rumble built within his chest and he scooped her against him, flattening her breasts against his chest.
This wasn’t like any first kiss she’d ever experienced. He took her mouth as if he owned her, and she met him more than halfway. When he tried to raise his head she tugged him back down.
“More,” she whispered. “Make me feel.”
She wanted to lose herself in his touch. She tugged his shirt from his pants and let her fingers explore the skin of his belly, then up to the hair on his chest.
“You’re playing with fire,” he muttered.
“Then let me burn.”
A squeaking door erupted between them. Laurel’s eyes grew wide.
“Molly.”
* * *
“AUNT LAUREL, I’M BORED. There aren’t any toys here.” Molly shoved into the office, her little arms crossed. Laurel sprang out of Garrett’s arms, her face flushed.
“What are you doing?”
Garrett cleared his throat and tried to order his body under control. He glanced down at Laurel. She didn’t appear any less flushed. Her cheeks went red and she pulled her hands from beneath his shirt. He regretted the loss, but in some ways Molly had saved them both. He smiled at the little girl. “So, sugar, it’s almost lunchtime. How would you like to go on a picnic?”
Laurel stepped back, her expression stunned. “I don’t think—”
“What about the big kitty?” Molly asked, her voice tentative.
“Well, I’ll be there, and cats usually stay away from people. We’ll be fine.”
“Absolutely not.” Laurel shook her head. “It’s December.”
“December in West Texas isn’t the same as anywhere else,” Garrett said. “All she needs is a jacket. And we both need to run off some energy, take in a bit of brisk air.” He sent her a pointed glance.
“Oh, please, Aunt Laurel,” Molly said, tugging on her shirt. “I wanna have lunch outside and go ’sploring with Sheriff Garrett.”
Laurel’s face softened, and Garrett could see her indecision. Laurel loved her niece. He liked her fierce protectiveness. Laurel McCallister had a lot of her dad in her. Courage that started with a spine of steel. Courage that made her way too attractive for his peace of mind.
Besides, if they stayed in this cabin, Garrett didn’t know how much longer he could resist her. James would take him to the torture chamber if Garrett put the moves on his little girl.
“I need to take a look around and set a few pieces of equipment.” Laurel sent him a meaningful gaze. So she’d decided to work with him.
One surprise after another, this woman.
“Yay!” Molly twirled around and around. “We’re going on a picnic. We’re going on a picnic,” she repeated over and over again in a singsong voice.
She skipped around the small cabin.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Do you want to try to keep her inside all day and then get her to sleep tonight?” Garrett arched a brow.
Laurel’s gaze fell to Molly’s movements, and then she sighed. “I thought she’d grieve more,” she said. “I thought she’d be sad.” She reached into the box of staples Garrett had brought and pulled out the homemade bread, then grabbed the sandwich fixings Hondo had provided out of the small refrigerator.
“She will be. She’ll have a moment when she falls, but right now, something isn’t letting her process what happened.”
Laurel spread mustard over a piece of bread, then bent over the sink, clutching the porcelain. Her shoulders sagged. For a moment or two she fought the emotion. Everything inside Garrett made him want to hold her, comfort her, but he also knew sometimes grief needed space.
When her shoulders quivered, then shook, Garrett couldn’t stay away. He crossed the small kitchen in two steps and placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent to her ear. “It’s okay,” he whispered.
Molly entertained herself across the room. He turned Laurel in his arms. Tears streamed down her face. She buried her head against his shoulder to hide them.
“I miss Ivy. I miss my family.” Her voice had thickened with grief. Garrett rubbed her back, holding her close.
After he’d woken from the coma, alone in a hospital, with a new name, he hadn’t had time to cry. God, he’d wanted to, but there was no one left to comfort him or hold him. His family was gone.
He could hold Laurel, though. His arms wrapped tighter around her. He kept his gaze locked on Molly, who’d found an afghan and a small cardboard box and was creating a fort under a beat-up end table.
“Can she see me?” Laurel whispered, her voice thick with tears.
“She’s playing,” Garrett said.
Laurel trembled against him. Then a calmness flowed through her. She stood in his arms, soft, welcoming.
Comfort shifted to something more, something else. Something simmering beneath the