Tae smelled of the piney night air, the scent of water on her skin. She tasted right and perfect and when she sighed, and relaxed, something akin to the slow, simmering burn of a sunset spread through him.

She just might be perfect. Smart, sexy, funny, tough . . .

Oh boy, he was in trouble. Because suddenly the last thing he wanted right now was to leave.

Especially when she leaned away, smiled at him, then took his face in her hands and kissed him again, this time with some urgency, some oomph in her touch.

Mm-hmm. Maybe he’d just stop thinking about tomorrow and listen to his words sounding deep in his heart. “I’m not going anywhere. At least, not right now.”

In fact, if his heart had a say, maybe never.

And when she made a noise deep in the back of her throat, as the wind stirred around them, the morning drawing out of slumber, he felt his heart slow, his breath thicken in his chest, and all the fight inside quieted.

Everything just . . . stopped hurting.

Stopped whirring in his head.

And for the first time since he could remember, he tasted it . . .

Peace.

She had stopped shivering, and so did he as he pulled his blanket around both of them, then rolled them over, his arm under her head, her beautiful eyes fixed on him.

Nope, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then he lowered his head and kissed her again. And finally stopped thinking all together.

Ranger’s side of the bed was empty, again. Noemi rolled over and ran her hand over his side of the sheets.

Cold.

Which meant he’d been up for a while, falling prey to the lure of the sunlight that streaked past the room-darkening shades, into their cozy loft bedroom.

Or maybe he’d just been driven from his bed by whatever nightmares had plagued him—probably his most current one, of a bomb detonating in his living room, killing everyone he loved.

Yeah, that would get her up in the middle of a sunlit night too.

She rolled over, threw an arm over her eyes, tried to settle back into sleep, but now her brain was rolling over the terrifying events of only a few days ago. It landed, however, on the moment her father appeared from beyond the grave. Her thoughts trekked past his flimsy explanations all the way to the moment she said goodbye to him after dinner.

It wasn’t a goodbye, more of a standoff, really, with the cool folding of her arms across her chest, the set of her jaw—mostly to keep from crying, but he wouldn’t know that—to him shaking Ranger’s hand. Her father had met her husband’s eyes with a look, as if confirming a promise, and again, she’d felt cut out.

Now, the look sat in her brain like a spear, a fresh wound of betrayal bleeding through her thoughts, her morning.