She glanced at him, a little spark glimmering in her periwinkle blue eyes for a second. “Again with the full-name-calling? Does that mean you’re really spanking me?”
Julián didn’t bother to hide the smile of anticipation that image brought to his mind. “It’s still on the table. Angel and Joaquin filled me in on what happened. How much have you slept in the last three days?”
“Not much. I think the shock I received put me in fight-or-flight mode.”
“And you chose flight.”
Gwen nodded, rubbing her cheek against his chest, the tremor racing through her body again. “I had to get away. You can see our place from Roger’s ranch house. I couldn’t sit there and watch them disassemble my family’s ranch from his living room window.” She looked up at him with reddened eyes. “They took Zephyr before I even had a chance to say good-bye to her.” Her face flushed and her body tightened as though she was in agony.
Any thought he’d had of confronting her for risking her safety, alone, exhausted, covering way too many miles in too few days flew out the window as she cratered in his arms. The tremors grew more pronounced and he tightened his hold so she’d know she was safe and could let go.
“I didn’t even get to say good-bye,” she whispered shakily, fisting the blanket under her chin, fighting giving in to the grief until the very end.
“I’m so sorry, love.” He held her securely as he stroked her hair and kissed her temple again. “I’m so sorry.”
The first painful-sounding sob broke from her as he began rocking the chair. She hid her face against his chest as another sob followed the first. She released the blanket and wrapped her arm around his neck and clung to him as she wept.
He rocked her and let her cry until she’d soaked the layers of his denim work shirt and thermal shirt beneath it. She curled up in a little, trembling ball in his arms and expended all the negative emotions that must’ve been bottled up inside her, unreleased, for the last three days.
The fireplace crackled as he looked out of the large windows spanning one wall of the den, watching the frigid wind buffet the oak trees outside. He continued stroking her hair and her shoulders as her shakiness and her tears finally subsided.
He was on dangerous ground. Comforting her like that made him want more—with her. He liked being the one she clung to, and he wanted to be the one she ran to for comfort from then on.
If she left again, his heart would go with her.
A long sigh left her, punctuated by a brief series of stuttering sighs, and he smiled, realizing she’d given in to exhaustion. Her golden head slid into the indentation between his collarbone and his pectoral as he shifted her into a more comfortable position, and he held her, letting her take her rest. He’d hold her all day if she’d let him.
Putting his head back against the plush headrest of the chair, he watched the trees sway in the wind as her breathing settled into a smooth rhythm.
He made a mental note to do some checking into her situation on his own. He felt bad for her, that she’d trusted her father to keep the family legacy safe for her until she could take over, only to discover that he’d gambled with her future and lost it all.
Julián imagined the man must feel terrible but didn’t know enough about him to form an opinion. He admitted to feeling anger toward the man for handling the family business so poorly and stripping Gwen of the future she’d dreamed of. Maybe there was something he could do to help.
His mind wandered and he must’ve drifted off. He heard the rumble of a truck and soft voices in the distance, but then things quieted down again. He smiled when Gwen curled closer, let out a soft sigh, and fell back asleep. Some time later, a minute sound caught his attention and he cracked open his eyelids.
Chris stood a few feet away, his attention centered on Gwen. His stance was tense, his lips set in a straight line, but his emotions showed clearly in his eyes, which roamed over Gwen from head to toe. The wonder of a sculptor looking at his finest creation. The awe of a mother looking at her newborn infant. The gaze of a man in love for the first time. Conflict radiated from Chris as he closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair as though he wanted to yank most of it out.
He’d begun to turn toward the door when he realized Julián was watching him. The tangle of emotions in his eyes—desire, love, confusion and regret—created a corresponding storm in Julián and he whispered, “Fuck.”
Chris’s eyebrows drew together as he looked at Julián with apology in his eyes and whispered back, “Exactly,” and strode from the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.