Cross (The Gibson Boys 2.5)

His hair is wild, his shirt soaked with sweat. “You okay?”

My feet on the asphalt, I stand and breathe him in. “I was coming to look for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head.

“Dammit, Kal—”

I take the words out of his mouth with my own, pressing my lips against his so quickly it shocks him. My hands go to his damp hair, urging him to kiss me harder. I need this. I need…him.

He finally pulls away, dragging in a lungful of air. “Kallie?”

“I am sorry,” I say, resting my forehead on his.

“It was me that had her in my truck.”

“And it was my insecurities that let that matter. I mean, yeah, don’t do it again”—I laugh—“but you didn’t exactly do something wrong.”

“It was wrong if it makes you feel anything but great.” He wraps me up in his arms, pulling me to his chest. “I was at the gym, working out, and all I could see was you standing there mad at me.”

“I was sitting on my bed and kept thinking about how last night I was in yours, how many nights I wished to be there, and how tonight I wasn’t because I was mad, like a child.”

He squeezes me tighter. “I was also wrong when I said I couldn’t make you love me. I damn sure am going to try for the rest of my life.”

My hand stills on his back, his heartbeat picking up against my cheek. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that being with you, at least trying it again, isn’t settling for anything other than the possibility of … everything I’ve ever wanted.”

My words cause his heart to rapid-fire and I pull away. “Cross?”

“I want to marry you,” he whispers under the lights of the parking lot. “But I want to ask your mother before I ask you, and I want to find the perfect ring and the perfect spot first. You deserve that.”

“I don’t need any of that,” I say, choking back a sob. I’m so desperate for him, my chest coming undone and overflowing. “I just need you. I’m never letting you go again.”

“Damn right you’re not.” His body shakes with his chuckle. “Do you want to ride with me back to my house or have me follow you?”

Grinning through my tears, I pull away and look into his spectacular green eyes. “Follow me.”

“The view of your behind is one of my favorites.”

I swat at his arm, but he pulls me in for a quick kiss instead.

“Hey, Cross?”

“Yeah?”

I grab his hand and lace our fingers together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Epilogue

Cross

A few weeks later

“Why does golf always end up with fucking? Not that I’m complaining.” He grins, looking at me over his shoulder.

The streetlights create shadows in the cab of his truck as we make our way back to his house after a night of fun. We watched a chick flick that he hated, ate seafood that I hated, then capped it off with four holes of putt-putt before we turned our sticks in and parked on the first desolate back road we found so we could have sex.

“I guess you like the way I handle balls,” I suggest, making him laugh. “Really? I don’t know. It’s weird though.”

“I guess it’s not that different from anything else we do. Dinner?”

“Fucking.”

“Laundry?”

“Oh, I love when we do it on spin cycle,” I note.

“Painting the back porch?”

“Yeah, but sex in public isn’t my thing. You caught me on a bad day.” I giggle.

“First of all, it’s not public. Second, I was thinking it was a really, really good day.”

Grinning, I blow out a breath and settle into the seat.

Being in Linton has changed everything for me—finding Cross again, reconnecting with my mother, finding a career in a firm that’s a lot quieter, but more fulfilling.

When I was younger, all I wanted was to get out of my hometown. Everything here was full of drama and complications and distractions. Even now, it’s not without its faults. That’s for sure. I still deal with the whispers of women who want Cross, still hear murmurings at the soda fountain at Goodman’s while I get my daily drink, but now that I’m older and maybe a little wiser, none of that matters. All that matters is the way he looks at me.

“Crave is up ahead. Want to go in for a while?” Cross asks. “Machlan wanted to talk to me about expanding his business. I thought it might be a good investment.”

“Sure, but do you think you can talk to him on a Friday night? Crave is always so busy.”

“If not, at least we’ll be entertained. I’m sure something is going on in there. Peck will be there. That’s promising enough.”

I laugh.

He pulls the truck over to the side of the street. We climb out and he grabs my hand like he always does but stops and starts digging around in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he furrows his brow and drops my hand.