"You're always up to something," he says. "It's honestly terrifying to consider how much trouble you're going to cause me over the next seventy years."
"Uh, I hired you for one case, Zane. Not for life," I say, taking a left as we near the docks.
"I'm not talking about as your lawyer, Autumn. I mean as your man."
I swallow hard as an entire flock of butterflies takes flight in my stomach. He plans to be around for the next seventy years. Holy crap. I think… I think he's in love with me.
Nervous energy floods my system as I realize I feel the same way about him. I want him to be here seventy years from now, threatening to spank me for causing him trouble. I want to drive him crazy and mess up his perfect world and let him bring a little order to mine. I'm no longer falling for him. I've already landed. I'm in love with this man.
And that is utterly terrifying to me. How am I supposed to love him the way he deserves when I don't even know what love is supposed to look like? What if I mess it up or break him? What if he decides he doesn't want to wait for me to figure it out?
"Hell no," he growls from beside me.
I whip my head in his direction to see him glaring out of the windshield. He points at a sign, turning that dark scowl on me.
"We are not going to a fucking protest, little rebel. Absolutely not."
"Yes, we are. You promised."
"You've been arrested three times at protests!"
"Then I guess it's a good thing I brought the best lawyer in Texas with me to this one, huh?" I say, giving him a bright smile. It doesn't shake off the worry clinging to my heart, though.
He does that when he huffs out a curse, rakes a hand through his hair, and then laughs abruptly. "Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath. "There isn't a fucking thing on this planet I wouldn't do for you."
My fears fall silent, the walls around my heart trembling as entire sections cave in. Maybe I don't know how to love him yet, but I'm going to learn. One way or another, I'll learn.
* * *
"What do we want?" Lizette, the protest organizer, yells into a megaphone, raising one fist into the air to signal the crowd to respond.
"Clean oceans!" everyone shouts back.
"And when do we want them?" she asks.
"Now!" Zane booms from beside me, his hands cupped around his mouth.
I glance over at him, laughing when he shrugs and winks at me before reaching for my hand. He brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles as we march in circles outside the Port Authority offices.
Two dozen of their officers stand two deep in front of the gates, keeping us from stepping foot onto Port property, not that we're trying or anything.
Because the Port of Houston houses several oil complexes and other facilities deemed critical, protesting on Port property can lead to felony charges for disrupting critical infrastructure. We aren't here to cause problems or get ourselves into trouble. We're here to make a statement.
Our oceans are flooded with our trash, with chemicals, oil, and hazardous waste. Entire species are dying off because of companies like my family's and people like my father. If we don't change things, soon, there won't be any time left to fix it. Entire generations shouldn't have to suffer because of the sins of their fathers.
"What do we want?" Lizette shouts.
Zane pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips up against my ear. "You," he growls.
"And when do we want them?" Lizette asks.
"Now." Zane nips my earlobe, pressing his erection against my bottom.
I groan quietly, a frisson of desire turning into an inferno of need. My stomach muscles tremble beneath his hand, my head falling back against his shoulder.
"What do we wan—"
Sirens rip through the air, cutting Lizette off. Everyone turns to look behind us as a dozen Houston Police Department squad cars pull up, blocking us in.