Free The Difference a Day Makes (Perfect, Indiana: Book Two) by Barbara Longley Page B

She took a swing, connecting with his biceps. “No more guns. No more suicide notes. No more suicidal thoughts. Or I’ll shoot you myself.” Another fistconnected with his shoulder. “Do you hear me, Ryan? Never. Ever. Again.”
    “You don’t understand.” His chest twisted into a tight mess, and his damn eyes filled again.
    “You’re right. I don’t. How could you possibly see suicide as an acceptable option?” She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re in, but I have news for you. Suicide leaves everyone around you with a load of shit they don’t deserve.”
    “Hey, now—”
    “Are your parents still living?” She turned to face him, her expression full of anguish. “Can you imagine for a second what it would be like to lose a child that way?” She turned back to stare at the Ohio. “A good friend of mine from high school lost her father to suicide. I understand plenty.”
    “No, you don’t.” Her words salted the open wounds in his soul. “You might think you do, but you don’t.” Anger and frustration pulsed through him. Who did she think she was to talk to him like that? Then she did something so unexpected and amazing that all the anger left him in a whoosh—along with all the air in his lungs. She snaked her arms around his waist and held him, laying her cheek against his shoulder.
    “You survived, Ryan,” she whispered. “That’s a gift. Instead of falling to your knees and thanking the powers that be, you want to put a bullet through your head?” She leaned her head back to look at him, and her eyes plumbed his with a depth that drew him under for the count.
    “It’s you who doesn’t understand, cowboy. You’re too close to the pain. Don’t you see? You’ve lost all perspective and have no objectivity.”
    The subtle musky scent of her perfume wafted up around him, mixed with her own unique smell. He could get drunk onthat alone. Oh, Lord. I’m lost. He tangled his fingers in her silken hair, tipped up her face, and let his mouth collide with hers like a heat-seeking missile. Wrapping his arms around her, he hung on for dear life. Miracle of miracles, she kissed him back.
    His chest expanded until it couldn’t contain any more of the mind-bending sensations spinning through him, making him dizzy. Hope. How long had it been since he’d opened up enough to get close to anyone, especially a woman? Fear and panic drove that fragile flicker away. Once Paige truly saw him for the wreck he was, she’d surely run the other way.
    Desire stole his breath, and all thought momentarily left his head—until fear and panic kicked his ass again. Shit. Hope, fear, desire, panic, desire…hope. Warring emotions chased around inside him, until her tongue slid along his. Then his heart hammered away at the panic and the fear until the only thing left was the soft, warm miracle of having Paige in his arms. He struggled to keep his legs under him. Long before he was ready, she ended his brief foray into heaven and stepped out of his hold.
    Scratching at her chin and cheeks, she blinked up at him. “That was like kissing my uncle’s sheepdog.”
    Despite Noah’s warning, he couldn’t walk away, not from Paige. He raked a trembling hand through his hair. “Damn if you aren’t the most confounding woman I’ve ever met.”
    “No doubt.” A grin tugged at her luscious lips.
    He wanted more. He wanted to get drunk on her taste, on the feel of her warmth against him. She’d give ol’ J.W. a run for his money—that’s for damn sure. Maybe having Paige in his arms would keep his nightmares at bay.
    “What happened to Theresa?”
    “Dammit, Paige!” His brow shot up. “You read my letter?”
    “Yes, I did, and if I had it all to do over, I’d read it again.” Her chin came up a defiant notch. “You mentioned she died, but you didn’t say how. What happened?”
    “Trust me”—he stared out at the river and growled low in his throat—“you