Jane loved Lars. She knew she did. But saying the words would mean he knew it too.
Instead, she threw her leg over his lap, straddling him, and watched as his eyes opened, surprised, then electrified in a liquid second. He wet his lips with his tongue, his eyes darkening, staring into hers with hunger, with certainty.
“I want you, Jane.”
And with one, swift move, he repositioned her on top of him, impaling her, sinking into her, claiming her body just as surely as he’d claimed her heart.
***
“You’re going to be late,” Jane murmured, her voice thick and drowsy against his chest.
Lars, who sat comfortably against the pillow-padded headboard, sighed. He looked at the clock radio on the bedside table. 5:52.
“I’ll be a little late, then.”
“I don’t want you to be late,” she said, moving her fingers slowly across his chest as though she were writing in cursive.
“Then come with me.”
“I really do have to pack up my cousin. At least get started.”
“It worries me,” he admitted with a sigh.
“Why?”
He took a deep breath, running his hand through her curls, realizing how delicate they were, occasionally snagging on his rough skin.
“I know you said you’d stay, but Gardiner’s no San Francisco or Boston or New York. I’m worried you’ll realize you’ve made a mistake. I know—I mean, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I don’t like what my life looks like without you in it, Jane. And I don’t want some brutal, long-distance relationship because that’ll kill this. It’s too new for that. I have to come to you, or you have to stay with me.”
Jane leaned on his chest and caught his eyes. “Lars, I already said I’d stay.”
He put his hand on her cheek, looking at her face, loving her as he had never loved anyone. “I know.”
“I want to stay.”
“After living in all those amazing places?”
“They are amazing,” she conceded. “But not one of them has Lars Lindstrom. And he’s more amazing.”
His heart contracted and he leaned forward to kiss her lips gently. “Happy.”
“Handsome.”
“Beautiful.”
“Crazy.”
“Adorable.”
“…late.”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
“Nope. But I want your family to like me. I don’t want to be the girl that blew into town and stole you away.”
“You’re stealing me either way, Minx. I’m yours.”
Jane smiled at him, running her hand through his hair. “They don’t need to know that yet.”
“Truth be told, I’m not just stalling for you, although you are worth stalling for…”
“Other distractions?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You said before…I’ve lived in one town my entire life with a big family and a job I love…”
“And…”
“And I don’t love my job. Not the way it’s gonna be, anyway.”
“What’s going to change?” She put her head back down on his chest and he went back to stroking her hair.
“I love Yellowstone. A hundred percent. I love being in there. Tracking, hiking, camping. I also love leading tours—taking regular, normal people into the park and showing them something awesome. That look they get?” He smiled. “Like you, with the bison? Man, that feels good. We get these people coming in from all over the world, and they’ve used their life savings for one big trip. And they come to me. They trust me. And I take them fishing or hiking or camping. And…they see what I see, and then, they have that. That experience. That memory. That’s what I love.”
“So, what’s the problem? That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“Sort of. Maybe not for long, though. My dad and my brother want me to start this new company called Lindstrom Elite. More jobs like your cousin, movie stars, TV crews. People willing to pay a lot for personalized service while they’re visiting. More Samara. Less average American Joe.”
“More lucrative?”
“Probably.”
“You don’t want it,” she murmured, and her smile was so tender, he wondered what it was about their conversation that had softened her face so dramatically. He tilted his head, distracted by how beautiful she was, smiling up at him.
“I don’t think so,” he finally answered, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s not true. I know I don’t. Like I said before. I just want to be a really good tour guide. Maybe help the yahoos now and then.”
“The yahoos?”
“Rangers. If they need help tracking or something.”
“Well, I don’t see the problem. You know what you want. Tell your dad and Nils you don’t want Lindstrom Elite. Tell them what you want.”
“Oh, is that all there is to it, Minx?” he asked, grinning down at her curly head, loving her, loving that she was in his life to listen to him, to talk to.
“Pretty much, Just-Lars. Unless you want to keep doing something that doesn’t make you happy.”
“So says the girl who just quit her job who’s going to go do her old job tonight.”
“I’m not going back, Lars. I can’t think of anything that would make me go back. I’m staying. I’m yours.”
Even though he was already late…
Even though he needed to get to his father’s house and she needed to get to Sara’s cottage…
Even though they’d already spent all afternoon in bed…
Even though neither of them had actually said ‘I love you’…
His heart exploded with happiness with her simple reassurance—I’m yours—and he pulled her up to kiss him again.
CHAPTER 14
Jane smiled at herself in her hotel room mirror, turning around twice to admire the way Maggie’s dress fit her body. It was a simple sheath dress of light wool plaid with a black patent-leather belt at the waist. When Jane had commented on the pretty blues and greens in the plaid, Maggie had tilted her head, giving Jane a sad smile and sharing that it was called a Campbell plaid.
“It’s my clan plaid, Jane, such that I’d wear to a weddin’ or a christenin’ like tomorrow. But, since I’ll not be goin’, you wear it for me, aye?”
Jane had tried to convince Maggie to join her, reminding her how much the Lindstroms would miss seeing her, but Maggie had declined demurely, sharing it was best, for now, if she didn’t attend. Jane wanted to press her for details, but Maggie was entitled to her secrets, so Jane let it go.
Maggie had been kind enough to loan Jane black patent-leather wedge heels with a peep toe that showed off two of her red toes, and a string of pearls to wear around her neck. When she had tried on the outfit for Maggie, her friend had sighed.
“Ye’re nae Scottish, Jeannie? Och, lass, ye could be leavin’ fer t’kirk on Sunday mairn, ye’re sae bonnie.” Jane had widened her eyes at Maggie’s thick accent and Maggie had giggled softly, which made Jane feel relieved. “Dinna ye ken what ye’re Maggie’s sayin’, ye bloody Sassenach?”