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too.

Maybe more. If she could figure out her way forward with Hannah. If there was a way forward with Hannah—

Anna.

“How do you feel about baking a large cake?” Sam asked, blinking at her through the screen.

“Sam!” Lucia hissed.

Behind her, Ben began to jump up and down. “Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate!”

Honor thought about her profound lack of culinary skills. Still, it was cake. How hard could it be?

“It comes in a box, right?”

The town of Silver Bend, Washington, was nestled into the eastern edge of the Cascade Mountain Range. It was a small town, its main street lined with brick-faced buildings and shaped by undeniably western architecture. Broad wooden boardwalks had replaced sidewalks, and bronze statues of cowboys and bucking broncos dotted the town square, where a Veteran’s memorial sat beside a round, blue-green fountain.

Barbara’s Blooms sat just off the town square in a small, squat wooden building with bright blue shutters and a flat roof. The red Jeep Cherokee Honor had rented two days ago sat parked out front, and currently Cian stood leaning against it.

Waiting.

The letter Hannah—Anna—had given to him was in his right hand pocket. He hadn’t read it, although he was tempted. When Anna had come looking for Honor, she’d been more than a little disappointed to discover Honor had so quickly disappeared—she had, in fact, glowered at Cian as if it was his fault—and the letter she’d scrawled and handed to him before leaving was something he’d promised to deliver, seal intact.

Which he would do. Come hell or high water.

He had no idea what awaited him. He’d considered—briefly—calling or texting Honor, to tell her he was coming, but he hadn’t wanted to be told, “don’t,” so he simply hadn’t given her the opportunity.

Besides, this should be done in person.

He wished they had a more private venue to conduct their reunion, but he knew it was better than having it happen at the home of Sam Steele, who would likely try to kick his ass, which would just end badly for everyone. But his nerves were vibrating, and tension made his muscles as hard and tight as steel wire. In his chest, his heart was a heavy, painful thud.

Christ, he hadn’t been this nervous since he’d landed in Ireland all those years ago, hoping desperately for a future and terrified that only death waited.

“You survived that, boyo,” he told himself. “You’ll survive this, too.”

But at what expense?

Still, no matter what he’d told Akachi, or what he’d told himself for that matter, he’d known since Honor walked away from him that he would end up here. It simply wasn’t in him to let her go, not without trying. He’d lost too much in his life not to hold on with both hands. And no matter Honor’s fury or fears, her obstinacy or her not inconsequential will, Cian continued to believe they were meant to be.

Kindred spirits. No matter how ludicrous it sounded.

The door to Barbara’s Blooms opened, and the small cowbell wrapped around the front handle clanged. Honor stepped out a moment later, her arms overflowing with Stargazer lilies and bright pink carnations wrapped in deep green paper. She wore black yoga pants and a United States Marshal Service sweatshirt; her hair was a wild, untamed cloud around her head.

The sight of her made Cian’s heart stop. When she saw him leaning against the Jeep, she faltered.

And everything within him went tight.

Then she continued toward him, and when she stepped out of the shadow cast by the building, the sun turned her hair to fire. Her cheeks were flushed as she halted before him, her eyes dark and mysterious.

“You found me,” she said.

“Aye,” Cian replied. “It wasn’t hard.”

He pulled open the back passenger door of the Jeep, which she’d left unlocked, and watched as she set the flowers gently on the seat.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He closed the door. They stared at one another. “I’ve something for you.” He reached into his pocket, grabbed the letter, and thrust it at her. “Here. From Anna.”

Honor stared at the envelope, unmoving. “Really?”

“I’d not lie about that,” he said mildly.

“I know,” she said, her voice hushed, her gaze unreadable from beneath the thick web of her lashes.

“Take it,” he said.

But she didn’t move. Instead, she stared up at him. “Is that why you came?”

“Nay,” he said. “But it was a good excuse.”

She searched his face, but Cian only stared back, uncertain what it was she sought. When she took a step closer, then another, until the scent of her filled his head and she was close enough to touch, he had to clench his hands into fists to stop from reaching for her.

So close. And yet…

“I’m sorry,” she burst. “I was angry that you were right. That nothing had turned out the way I’d imagined. I didn’t mean to…to ruin it. To ruin us. And I’m sorry I ran. I don’t want to run. Not anymore, and not from you. But I can’t…I can’t be the person I was. I have to change now, and I…I want you to be part of that change.”

Cian could only blink at her, his heart like a drum in his throat. He remembered her taste and her cries and the soft weight of her breasts filling his hands. The sharpness of her tongue and the intelligence gleaming in her eyes; that sweet, beguiling smile she’d given him in his bed.

“Say something,” she demanded.

“Not yet,” he rasped and unable to help himself, he reached out and tucked a strand of her wild, wayward hair behind her ear. “I’m liking this apology too much.”

Color rushed into her cheeks. “I was going to call you after the wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“Sam and Lucia are getting married today.” She watched him uncertainly. “Do you…would you like to come with me?”

Cian stared down at her. “Aye, I would.”

“Okay.” She smiled, and his heart kicked into overdrive. “You want to follow me?”

He caught her arm as she turned away. “Wait.”

She stilled; her smile faded. “What?”

“I need to know you’re all-in, lass.” Cian’s hand tightened—wait, just wait—but then he felt her pulse kick beneath his touch, and he hauled her into his arms, pulling her tight against him, until her thighs met his and her beautiful breasts pooled against his chest. So round and warm and perfect. She fit him perfectly, like a fucking glove. “That no matter the argument, or how badly I screw up, you’ll be there beside me. Fighting or no. I want it all, the good and the bad, because there’ll be plenty of both in this life, and if you can’t give me that…this won’t work. No matter how much we want it.”

Honor stared up at him. Her hands clenched in his shirt. “All or nothing?”

“Aye,” he told her roughly.

For a long, painful moment, she didn’t speak. And then, “Okay.”

Cian blinked at her. “That’s it, then? Okay?”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, her brows arching, her hand flattening to smooth out the wrinkles she’d made in his shirt. But a smile flirted with her mouth, and her weight leaned into him, and Cian suddenly knew if he kissed her, she’d kiss him back.

“Yes,” he told her and leaned down to nip at her luscious mouth. “I want you to tell me yes.”

“If I do, will you kiss me properly?” she asked, her breath feathering against him, her eyes gleaming like emeralds in the sunlight.

“Aye,” he murmured, his tongue flickering out to tease the corner of her mouth. “I’m easy that way.”

A soft laugh broke from her.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Yes,” she replied simply. “Or should I say aye?”

Cian wanted to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth and ravage her; to draw from her the same vicious, piercing need she stirred within him. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her softly, a sweet, tender rasp of his mouth against hers; an apology of his own. Honor made that same soft moan that had been haunting him since they’d parted and lifted her body against his. Her arms slid around his neck; her hands thrust into his hair.

“More,” she demanded, pressing against him, and Cian clamped down on her, painfully aware of their public location.

“Easy,” he murmured, but unable to deny her, rubbed his mouth wetly over hers, his tongue stroking her upper lip. “We’ve all the time

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