Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(97)

In his stories, the boy always conquered the demons.

Jamie loved him. She’d given Chris a piece of her mind about keeping the boy’s existence from her and then promptly forgiven him. Chris had provided her with an incredible gift in her nephew. It was odd. Her real brother was long dead. But when she looked at Chris, she couldn’t feel the loss. She’d searched for the emotions, combed through old pictures, trying to remember the real Chris, but this man had been her brother for the last eighteen years. The real Chris she’d known for eight short years.

Her left leg gave a small spasm, and she glanced down at the scars from the governor’s knife. They’d fade in time. A few stitches had put her back together. Therapy sessions had done away with most of the nightmares of being kidnapped by a vicious killer and locked in a car trunk. The sudden claustrophobia at weird times was new but nothing she couldn’t deal with. She simply avoided small, enclosed spaces.

Michael had installed a top-of-the-line alarm system in her home. They’d discussed moving in together, and agreed it was too soon, but he spent every night and day at her house. When Chris moved out, they’d approached the moving-in idea again. They agreed it was still too soon, and things were going great, so why mess up a good thing?

Then Michael put his house on the market.

Jamie’s eyes had nearly popped out of her head as she’d pulled up to his home and seen the sign. “What? When did you do that? Why did you do that?”

He’d shrugged. “I’m never home.”

“But…but…”

“Why am I paying someone to clean a house and a service to take care of the yard if I’m never there?”

“Well…but, I mean…”

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ve got a nice apartment picked out not too far from you. I feel like renting for a bit.” Then he’d given her a look. A look that plainly told her he had no intention of renting. Ever.

His house hadn’t sold yet. But he’d moved half his belongings into her little home. For a man, he had an incredible amount of stuff. Maybe they should considered living in his…

“Doing okay?” Michael asked over his shoulder as he held a branch out of her way.

Jamie looked up, smiled, and nodded. And felt her heart beat a little faster. Michael made her feel good. For a man with a wild streak, he was all seriousness when it came to the two of them. He put her first, he made her try new things, he made her leave the dishes on the kitchen counter overnight, proving that life goes on even if everything isn’t in its place.

For her, he was steadfast.

She’d fallen head over heels for the man. And had no idea when it’d happened. It’d crept up on her and snuck under her heart when she wasn’t paying attention. When she’d been locked in that trunk, he’d been all she could think about and all she’d worried about. Obviously, her love for him had started before that. Maybe it’d been that steamy night at the bed-and-breakfast, or when he’d arrived to take charge after her attack. It didn’t matter.

She was in love with Michael Brody.

It was the biggest leap she’d ever taken.

He waited for her to pass him on the deer trail and took her hand, walking side-by-side as their space had widened.

“Hey, gorgeous.” His green gaze held hers.

“Hey,” she whispered back. The forest was silent except for the crush of the dirt under their feet. Jamie embraced the peace of the woods and simply smiled at her man, moving in unison with him as they hiked. She’d never felt a connection like this one.



Damn, she had eyes that didn’t let him look away. Michael took a deep breath to recalibrate his brain, which was suddenly full of images of Jamie. Some clothed, some not. The last two months had been the most intense of his life. A red-hot roller coaster that he didn’t want to end. Well, the good parts anyway. He could do without the vanishing girlfriend or gunshot parts.

His ribcage still ached if he took a deep breath or twisted a certain way. The bullet had run along a few ribs, removing a little bone and a lot of skin. No surgery needed, but it’d been an awkward place to heal, and the pain had stretched from his sternum to his spine. The stitches on his lips hadn’t been pleasant either. Hard to kiss the woman you love when your mouth hurts like hell. It didn’t help that the black stitches had looked like they’d been sewn by a five-year-old.

The stitches were gone, but he still had a weird numbness in some spots that the doctors assured him would return to normal. Then he wouldn’t be distracted when he kissed his woman.

His woman.

He didn’t dare say it out loud. She’d roll her eyes, but that didn’t matter. He knew what she meant to him, and he made certain she knew it, too. He knew exactly what he wanted in his future. Her. All of her. But she had some weird idea about going slow. Why? He knew they were fated to be together. Why did they have to dance around and learn about each other? They could do all that later. He wanted one hundred percent of her now.

Putting his house on the market might have spooked her a bit, but hey, he was living at her place. She seemed to be in denial. She had some socially acceptable idea of the path a relationship should follow, and moving in together after knowing each other for two weeks didn’t fit in her perfect world.

Screw her perfect world. He’d show her perfect.