In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

Was she crazy to have fallen so hard and so inexplicably fast? Her brow furrowed momentarily as her perusal of Beau’s beautiful face gave way to silent contemplation of just how long, or rather how short, a time they’d even been associated.

Her only knowledge of Beau Devereaux, until just a few short days ago, was by name only. And only when, in those rare moments when her father was in a serious mood, and she’d always gotten the uneasy feeling that he was . . . afraid. Of something. Or someone. Because it was when he was in those very rare moods that he seemed to further gather his wife and daughter to him and would only separate himself from them for a few moments at most.

It was those times that he’d, out of the blue, very somberly remind Ari that if she were ever in need, ever in danger and that he wasn’t, for whatever reason, available, close or simply unable to see to his daughter’s safety and well-being, she was to immediately contact Caleb or Beau Devereaux and only in person. Not over the phone. Never to give them the opportunity to give her the brush-off, think she was nuts, or say they were booked solid.

Her father—and mother—had laughingly told her many times over the years that no one had a chance upon laying eyes on Ari’s sweet, beautiful features and that her eyes were capable of bewitching even the hardest of hearts.

She supposed that was why he’d wanted her to seek Beau out personally. Perhaps he’d been afraid that he wouldn’t help her unless she pleaded her case in person. Whatever the reason, she offered silent thanks to her father. As a result of that extracted promise, not only did she have her best chance to save her parents, but she’d also met a man who made her want to dream. A man she wanted forever with.

“What on earth are you thinking, honey?” Beau asked softly, reaching out with one finger to gently caress away the lines creasing her forehead. “Are you worried about something? Are you hurting?” he demanded, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

He was already reaching for the medicine bottle on the nightstand when she issued a hasty denial. She placed her hand on his chest to stay his motion and he reluctantly turned back to her, concern burning brightly in his eyes.

“Are you certain?” he asked in a skeptical tone. “Ari, if you hurt, you need to control the pain or risk another bleed, or God forbid, a more serious hemorrhage.”

She smiled, her heart warming to its very core over the depth of concern, both in his words and in his entire body language. She looped her arm as far around his broad chest as she was able and gave him a fierce squeeze, her attempt at a hug since they were both lying down, him on his back and her on her side nestled into the curve of his armpit.

“Hey,” he queried softly. “Not that I’m complaining at all, but what was that for? What’s going on, honey? You looked so puzzled and then worried. Your eyes were flashing as though you were processing half a dozen thoughts in that pretty head. And the very last thing you need is any kind of stress. So tell me so I can take care of it and make it better.”

She wanted to say it so badly. The words burned on her lips, begging to be set free. Instead she licked them to ease the tingling sensation. Just the thought of offering him those three little words, the most important words in the world—in her world, at least—filled her with gut-wrenching terror. And offering someone your love should never be terrifying. It should be celebrated. Embraced. A memory to savor—and hold close to your heart—forever.

But she was scared. Of rejection. Of seeing discomfort or even dismay flicker in those dark eyes. Or the worst possible reaction of all. Pity.

The very last thing she ever wanted from this man was pity. She wanted his love. His commitment. His protection. She wanted the kind of love her parents shared, and oh but she could see it so clearly with Beau. Never before had she met a man who even made her wonder if he could possibly be a man who’d measure up to her father. That she could share with him all her mother and father shared.

Wistful yearning twisted her chest and brief sadness tugged at her heart, squeezing it gently as she imagined a love like that simply . . . disappearing.

The world was a better place with people like her parents. Everyone should want more—better—should demand it. Her parents were an example to be held up in esteem, an example of the testament of absolute love, loyalty, fidelity and selflessness.

“Okay, Ari, you’re starting to worry me,” Beau said firmly, reaching up to nudge her chin so her attention was forced to him once more. “I swear you keep drifting away to God only knows where. I only know you’re not here with me.”

“But that’s exactly where I want to be,” she said softly, her palm sliding over the wall of his chest, exploring every hard contour, the ripple of his abdominal muscles. Then she pressed a kiss just above his left nipple, enjoying the brush of her lips over his firm skin and even firmer pectorals.