“Travis!” Caitlin exclaimed.
Crane smiled wolfishly and stood up. “No problem, Bennett. Nice chatting with you, pretty Caitlin.” He nodded to Travis and all three bikers sauntered away.
“That was rude,” Caitlin groused.
“For someone who’s been on the run, you’re too trusting, Cat.”
“Well excuse me if I wanted a slice of normalcy.”
Travis sighed and Caitlin felt a twinge of guilt knowing it was costing him to calm down and be more sympathetic to her.
“Sunshine, we’ll get there. I swear. I’ll eliminate all these threats to you so I can give you the life I’ve always wanted for us.”
His eyes flared with so much determination and fierce love, her breath caught.
“Oh, Travis—”
“I love you very much. You know that, right?”
“Yes.”
“Trust me?”
“I do.”
“Good,” Travis settled back on the bench and began to eathis taco. After a few minutes he asked, “What was Crane asking you?”
“Nothing. He did most of the talking.”
“About what?”
“Well, if you’re interested, we talked about garlic sausages and motorcycle clubs.”
His lips tipped up in a half-grin. “Interesting conversation. Garlic sausage?”
“It’s called a Toulouse sausage. It’s French. I didn’t want to sound like a know-it-all when Crane was explaining where it was from. But that type of sausage is used in a popular French stew called cassoulet, which happened to be one of my favorites when I lived in the south of France.”
“Trust you to know everything about food.”
“Love to eat,” Caitlin said primly as she reached for another taco. “I’m glad you got enough. I can definitely eat two or three.”
“I think I’ve gotten the hang of how much food that stomach of yours can handle,” Travis chuckled.
“Is that so?” Caitlin cast him a mock-glare, but lustily enjoyed the view of his exposed throat, seeing that he’d thrown back his head to take a swig of his beer. How she’d like to lick the length of that and nip at the edges of his firm jaw. Travis’s eyes slanted and caught her look. Tipping his head down, his free hand shot out and caught the back of her head, bringing her face close for a kiss.
“Love you, sunshine,” he whispered.
Caitlin’s eyes closed as his lips claimed hers in a gentle kiss. It was on the tip of her tongue to say it back. There was just that tiny, niggling doubt that prevented her from doing so.
Travis was fucked.No, he was more than fucked. He was more in love with her now than he’d been all those years ago.It was a sustained feeling trapped between euphoria and despair.
He pulled away from the kiss and watched her slowly open her eyes. He felt himself get lost again in those endless depths of rich golden hazel. It hurt. It physically hurt not to have it all with her right now.
This was a taste of what they could have with no threats around. Her enjoying the outdoor markets, shopping, devouring food to her heart’s content—even with a motorcycle club in residence. Travis admitted grudgingly that Nicholas Crane could be a man he’d respect. Travis wanted this freedom for her, and he would do his damnedest to give it to her.
Caitlin’s hair was like a golden halo in daylight. He remembered that the first time he saw the play of sunlight in her hair, he had started calling her sunshine. And the nickname stuck, because she was, indeed, that ray of sunshine during a dark time in his life. He met her when he was convalescing from an injury. Travis shattered his clavicle in an explosion that killed two fellow SEALs. He spent two weeks in Germany before he was sent back to Virginia Beach to recuperate. More than his physical injuries, he was plagued by survivor’s guilt. But, somehow, after meeting Caitlin that guilt turned into a renewed reason for defending the country—freedom for his girl to play in the surf under the golden sun.
“What are you thinking about, Travis?”
