Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2) by Candace Knoebel, Sonya Loveday Page B

Even though it had been a little over six hours since we’d learned of the storm, it felt like we’d been at it forever. Seeing how Hannah handled the first half of it worried me about how she’d do when the eye moved over us… and all hell broke loose again.
    “It’ll be worse, you know,” she said, sitting up and putting her arms around her knees.
    “Will it now?” Damn. I didn’t need to know that.
    “Yeah, the backside of the storm is stronger, or at least I think I remember hearing that,” she said as her head bent down to rest on her knees.
    I leaned heavily against the wall. “We’ll get through it. Together.”
    She turned her head to peer up at me. “Storms like this don’t bother you?”
    I shrugged. I’d been through heavy storms, but nothing like what we were huddled up against. At least it wasn’t blowing drifts of snow over the rooftop. I’d gone through one particular storm as a child where the fire kept getting doused out by the wind, and my parents huddled us close under a tent of blankets and several layers of clothing just to get through it.
    Being so young, I didn’t fully understand the severity of the situation we’d been in at the time, because my father had done his job at keeping us safe and warm and, in doing so, kept my mother calm. What I remembered most was how we rode the storm out under a makeshift tent that seemed sort of magical in my childhood memories.
    Maybe that would work again.
    Pushing myself from the wall, I strode out to the kitchen and grabbed two chairs, and then went back and grabbed two more.
    “What are you doing?” Hannah asked as she watched me set the chairs against the mattress before disappearing into the bathroom.
    “Ye’ll see,” I called back at her.
    A few sheets and a couple of curse words later, I stood back, smiling at my accomplishment.
    “I can’t believe you built a tent.” She lay on her back, looking up at the floral-printed sheet stretched over our heads.
    “Correction, I built us the best damn tent on the island.” The smugness of my idea made me feel somewhat cocky.
    She turned on her side to face me, her hair spilling over her shoulder. “Ed, I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help me get through this.”
    I crossed my arms behind my head, secretly pleased she was happy with what I’d done. “Think nothing of it, love,”
    “No. I mean it. Not many men, well, maybe none of them, would have put up with my fear. I’m sure most would have already bolted. Hurricane or not.” Her eyes didn’t meet mine as her finger traced an invisible pattern on the quilt.
    A heart.
    I rolled over onto my side and reached out to touch her chin when her eyes met mine. “Who hurt ye, love?”
    Her mouth quirked on one side as she answered, “No one hurt me.”
    I called her out on her lie. “Your reaction earlier tells me that’s not true. I’ve seen what violence does to a person. Ye thought I was going to knock ye ‘round.”
    Her eyes closed tight. Just that simple admittance burned holes through my stomach.
    “I can promise ye on the moon and stars above, Hannah, I’d never lay a hand ye didn’t want on ye.”
    Her lashes fluttered open as her eyes sought mine. “I know. I don’t know how I know… but something in my gut tells me that. And that in itself scares me.”
    I took her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the soft curve of her warm knuckles. “Why?”
    The innocence in her eyes struck me hard… right through the heart as she said, “Because you’re not like any guy I’ve ever met before. At least… not from what I’ve seen so far. You’re funny and kind. You’re strong, but you’re not arrogant. Well, at least not in the pig-headed kind of way that always has me running for the hills. You’re like—”
    She paused, her hands flying up in the air as if she was trying to grasp exactly what she was trying to say, and then a sort of calm smile overcame her face as the answer seemed to settle