Chapter Four

Gentry

I ride past the cabin on Moose River Avenue at least three times. It's to the point where I'm going to make a scene if I keep going… but I've never been a quitter.

The light is on in the living room, and though sheer curtains cover the window frame, I can clearly see the figure of a woman on a couch. She's leaned over, staring down at something in her hands.

Her hair is long and dark, and from here, she hasn't changed a bit.

Fucking hell.

I can feel my body reacting. My heart rate increases, my chest tightens, and my cock thumps at my zipper.

She's sixty feet away. The woman I've been thinking about for years, the woman I've been comparing all other women to, is less than a minute away.

Mere seconds until she's against my chest, until I'm breathing her in, until my lips are on hers. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I park the truck outside the house opposite hers and leave it in drive so I can take off if anyone comes out, guns blazing. Wouldn't put it past the folks out here to do something like that. Lotta people know me, but not many by my truck specifically.

My neck is hot and there's a fluttering in my stomach that I don't usually feel. Tingling floods my body and there's suddenly an ache that I can't control. It's the same feeling I had a decade ago, and all at once, it's flooding back.

She stands from the sofa and moves through the small cabin toward the back door. I lose track of her from here, and though it's only a second, panic streaks through me. I don't want to lose sight of her. Except when she returns, she's standing with a man.

I can't figure if he was in the house with her all along or if he came in the back door a second ago. Either way, she doesn't look happy at his presence.

She's standing near the window. Her body is tense and rigid, and though I have no right to be agitated, I am.

I clear my throat and order myself mentally to calm the fuck down. I don't own Kelly. She's a woman I talked to once. There's nothing I can do about a man who's most likely her husband standing with her.

She crosses her arms and shakes her head.

The man is clearly upset. His shoulders are wide and he's waving his arms like he's angry.

I can't figure what the fuck would be so important to be angry about three weeks after the woman's mother dies, but I remind myself that this isn't my life. She's not mine to protect. She knows this man, most likely much longer than she ever knew me. Whatever they're arguing about is none of my business.

Still, I'm on edge. I don't want her to be hollered at.

I tug at the collar of my flannel and stare toward the window unblinking as I drag my hand through my hair.

The man steps toward her, and she steps back.

Why did she step back?

I step from the truck and round to the opposite side until I'm leaning against the passenger door, watching in the light of the moon as the two argue. I don't know what this asshole is doing, but if he steps toward her again, I'm going to beat the shit out of him.

I draw in a deep breath and rub the back of my neck as my face heats in the cool night. Kelly hollers something the man doesn't like, and he charges toward her, pushing her against the wall.

He pushes her against the wall.

The last straw is pulled, and before I can fathom an appropriate response, my body is carrying me up the driveway, onto the front porch, and into the house like I own the place.

I pull my gun from my jeans and aim it at the man who doesn't deserve the mercy I'm giving him.

Everyone is shocked, including Kelly. I want to stop and stare at her, hold her against my chest, tell her not to be afraid, but I've come in like a rocket and my brain isn't catching up with my actions.

The man holds up his hands. "What do you want? I'll give you anything."

"I want you to get the fuck out."

He shakes his head. "Anything but that. I'm not leaving her."

I laugh. "You were just shoving her. You don't give a fuck about her. Get out." I step toward him and hold my gun on his temple. I've killed plenty of men at war, and while I don't like making a habit of violence, I never hesitate to take whatever means necessary.

Kelly glances up at me. " Gentry?" Her tone is soft and sweet, just like I'd remembered.

"You know this guy?" the shaking asshole retorts.

Her pretty pink lips drop open. "I do."

Our gaze sticks on one another, and though I have a gun pointed at a man I think is her husband, I can't look away from the woman I've been longing for. She's perfection. Her long dark hair is now sprinkled with strands of gray and she has fine lines that frame every gorgeous expression.

Fucking hell. I'm not sure I can leave without her.

My cock is stiff, despite the fact that I'm still holding the gun toward her husband. "You're gorgeous." The words slip from my mouth before I catch hold of them.

"This some kind of fuckin' reunion. I'm right here, Kelly," the man barks.

She glances toward me then toward the man shaking like a bitch. "That's my ex-husband, John. He was just leaving."

Ex husband . My heart swells.

Ex husband. I repeat the words over and over in my head. This man is her ex-husband.

The sliding door opens, and the asshole steps out, grumbling something under his breath about cops. I ignore the threats and lock the door before turning toward the woman I've been thinking about for years. It's probably good I don't know the details of why she and her ex divorced, or I'd want to bury him in the backyard. I get the impression this isn't the first time he's laid hands on her.

Kelly steps toward me. "You make a habit of this, busting into houses, waving around guns? Sounds like a good way to get killed."

I laugh. "First time, actually. I was driving by, and I saw the scene through the window." It's not entirely true, but it sort of is. "You okay?"

She rolls her eyes and relaxes her shoulders as though she's making the conscious effort to do so. "Yeah, I'm good. If good is seeing a man you haven't seen in ten years suddenly in your living room… then ya, I'm good."

My heart aches and my palms itch to touch her. Without thought, I reach out and pull her close. It's not a move I intend, but it's one my body craves.

Her mouth opens slightly, and her gaze drops to my lips and up again.

My cock stirs and my heart slams harder against my ribcage. What the hell is happening? Maybe it's wishful thinking, but something is happening. Time is slowing. She's breathing faster. I'm stumbling over what to say next. Energy is flowing.

I brush a strand of hair from her face. "Lord, you don't know how long I've thought about this."

She grins. "Busting down my door and pulling a gun on my ex?"

"Kind of, yeah," I laugh. "And this… you haven't changed a bit."

"Well, that's not true." A lump moves down her throat as she stares up at me. "I'm a lot older now."

I shake my head and pull her hips tight against my frame. "You're gorgeous."

Her eyes meet mine. "You said that already."

"It's true."

Dark red heat rises to the tops of her cheeks. "Thanks for everything. Marrying him was a huge mistake."

"How long were you married?"

"Five years. No kids. Just a whole lot of heartache and delusion. What about you? You ever marry?"

"No." I bite down the details of how I never married because I never stopped thinking of her. It's too soon for that.

Her gaze drops to the floor, then rises again. "I never stopped thinking about you. I always wondered where you ended up, how you were."

"Same." My breath catches on the swelling in my throat, and while I know I should be a gentleman and take my time reigniting this flame, I'm black out drunk on her touch and my patience has run out.