Sunny

Holy hell. Zeke was an ex-Navy SEAL? A freaking sniper.

I grinned at him, trying to keep my racing pulse under control. The man had actually shared a part of himself with me. I was stunned, to say the least. “I had no idea, but it makes sense,” I said.

His brows rose.

“You’re kind of a badass.”

A chuckle rumbled from him.

Good lord. I’d never heard anything sexier in my life. And it was pretty obvious by the look on his face that he hadn’t just surprised me with that laugh. That kind of made me sad. When had he last felt joy? You can talk. I ignored the cynical bitch in my head and pulled my legs up, turning more toward Zeke. I wanted to hear him make that sexy chuckle again. “Wow, you can laugh?”

His lips twitched.

“Oh my God!” I cried. “That was almost a smile.”

He shook his head, eyes warm, showing me that he found me entertaining without having to say it. I relaxed back and decided to take advantage of his sudden willingness to talk.

“So that’s how you got your scars? While you were serving?” I’d seen them, felt them under my hands many times, but hadn’t wanted to ask.

He dipped his chin, eyes darting away then back. “Shrapnel.”

This man was definitely a badass. I’d known it from the moment I’d laid eyes on him, but I was picking up that he didn’t want to go into it in great depth. “So you were engaged?” I said. This probably wasn’t one of his favorite subjects, either, but I was curious as hell. What kind of woman was capable of catching a man like Zeke?

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Couldn’t she handle you being away all the time?” Being separated from the person you loved couldn’t be easy.

He made a rough sound and glanced back at the TV. “She found ways of coping.”

“Oh?” I pushed further, though I thought I had an idea of how she’d coped without him.

“I caught Diane sucking some other guy’s dick the day I got home.” He shook his head. “To think I’d almost been tied to that bitch forever . . . in a way . . .” He trailed off.

“In a way?” I knew I shouldn’t keep pushing, but this man was a mystery, and I wanted to know all I could—for reasons I chose not to think about just then.

He turned to me, eyes flat, dark. “I found out she was pregnant while I was away . . . she wasn’t when I got home. Diane decided she wasn’t ready to be a mom.”

That, I hadn’t been expecting. “I’m sorry,” I said, not sure what else to say.

He shrugged. “It was for the best. I know that now.” He took a sip of his beer. “I’m sure as fuck not father material.”

He paused, for so long I thought he’d finished talking, but then he added, “All that shit, a wife, kids, it’s not for me, not anymore.”

Not anymore.

He was looking down at his now empty beer bottle, fingers toying with the label. “I come from a tight family, folks that love each other. Just thought that was my future . . .”

“Diane put you off having a family of your own?” Stop talking, Sunny.

He rubbed one of his palms along his thigh, shoulders looking stiff, and shrugged again. “What about you?” he asked, not answering. “You been married?”

“No.” I didn’t call him out on the fact he’d changed the subject. He’d shared more than I thought he would. It was only fair I did the same. “I haven’t exactly had much luck with relationships . . . of any kind, really.”

He put his empty plate down on the coffee table.

I had his full attention. And as always, he made me want to squirm in my seat. “I spent a lot of time on my own growing up. My dad worked a lot, and when he was home, he wasn’t, you know? My stepmother and stepsister . . . well, they did their own thing. I worked out pretty early on in life to only rely on myself, that everyone lets you down or just wants you for what you can give them. I prefer to be on my own.” Okay, I hadn’t meant to say quite so much. But that look in his eyes, so freaking intense, had me babbling.

He stared at me for a few beats. “How long have you been alone, Sunny?”

“I broke up with my ex three years ago,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

His penetrating gaze did not waver. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

I sucked in a sharp breath then tried to hide my reaction. I’d had people come and go in my life, but I’d always been alone, or at least I’d felt that way. Even when I was dating Richard. And I got the feeling Zeke knew that, had worked it out, and not just from what I’d blurted about my family. He was looking at me like he still wanted an answer. I bit my lip and glanced at the TV. I wasn’t going into all the ugly details, he’d already gotten the CliffsNotes, that was more than enough.

“What about you, do you want kids?” he asked, in that low, gritty way he had that never failed to lift goose bumps on my skin.

He’d obviously picked up on my reluctance to answer and thought this was a safer subject. He couldn’t be more wrong.

As uncomfortable as this line of questioning made me, there really was no reason to hide the truth from him. “I do . . . or did. I can’t . . . well, the chances of me ever falling pregnant are extremely unlikely.” I shrugged with a carelessness I didn’t feel. “That’s why my last relationship broke up, actually. I couldn’t give Richard what he wanted, so he moved on.”

I’d gone off the pill when we’d decided to start trying for a baby. Yeah, we were young, but we knew it was what we wanted. We tried for over a year and nothing happened. Eventually I went to the doctor, and after a ton of tests, she gave me the news. It would probably never happen for me. I’d wanted a family so bad, a bunch of kids of my own one day. To finally get the family I never had. But that wasn’t in the cards. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I had. I didn’t have another choice. But then sometimes, when the question came, and I was asked if I had kids, it threw me, and it hit hard.

A fierceness stole his features, so intense I shivered. Finally, he said, “Your ex, your family, they didn’t deserve you, Sunny . . . None of us do.” Then he stood, scooped up our plates, and carried them to the kitchen.

I stared at his back as he cleaned up, pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. He’d included himself in that comment. I wanted to ask more, but kept my mouth shut this time. We’d both just sat there and said we preferred to be on our own. He didn’t want more from me and I’d just said the same thing to him.

“You want some ice cream?” he said from the kitchen. He’d obviously come to the same conclusion.

“Sure.”

He dished up then handed it over, and we went back to watching TV, only a different channel. Zeke may not want a wife, but I got the feeling the show rubbed his alpha male heart the wrong way. If Zeke ever decided to be with someone permanently, he’d be all in. There was no doubt in my mind about that. A twinge of jealousy curled behind my ribs. Over a woman who didn’t exist, may never exist. I was obviously losing my mind.

We sat and hung out for a few hours, just watching TV and chatting about random things. He asked about my shop, the pieces I made. It was nice. When I went on the occasional date and talked about my shop, or my jewelry, their eyes seemed to glaze over. I knew a lot of guys assumed I was some ditsy blond and when it turned out that wasn’t the case, they acted like I’d somehow duped them.

“You have a pretty face, don’t mess that up by talking.” One guy had actually said that to me . . . out loud.

Zeke seemed genuinely interested, though. He even asked questions about my processes for the different kinds of pieces I made, my soldering work.

I could have sat there talking all night, but Zeke excused himself to go work out. I tried not to dwell on my disappointment over that and went up to grab a shower. It was silly after all the nights we’d spent together, but it felt weird just climbing into his bed on my own. I grabbed a nightie out if my bag and tugged it on, then slid between the sheets. The bed smelled like Zeke. Masculine. Raw. There was no other way to describe it. I started to heat up, a deep need growing low in my belly. Like just a whiff of the man was my own personal aphrodisiac.

I forced myself to think unsexy thoughts and closed my eyes.

When I woke again, I was surrounded by warmth. Zeke was behind me, close. His arm was over my waist . . .

He groaned and thrashed suddenly. I knew instantly why I’d woken up. The covers were thrown off and the sheet was tangled around us both. He groaned again, the sound that come from him was tormented, ripping from him in a way that sounded almost painful. His arm tightened around me, so hard I yelped. He didn’t let up, his grip getting unbearably tight.

“Zeke . . . wake up,” I gasped, pushing against his arm.

He carried on thrashing about. I dug my fingernails into his arm to try and wake him up before he cracked one of my ribs.

I felt him jolt awake, his body turning to stone behind me.

“You were dreaming,” I gasped into the dark room, even while trying, and failing, to keep my voice light. “I didn’t want to wake you, but your ah, your hold on me, it was a little tight.”

His arm loosened immediately. “Shit . . . shit, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” He jerked back. “Fuck. Fuck.”

I quickly dragged myself into a sitting position, still trying to catch my breath, and reached out for him. He pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking his head, saying he was sorry over and over again.

“Zeke,” I slid closer, trying to make contact with him. Whatever just happened, whatever tormented him in his sleep, I knew in my gut he needed someone to comfort him. He’d never admit it. Zeke was a warrior, and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that he preferred to carry everything on his own shoulders. He wouldn’t accept help, but I wanted to do something to ease him just the same. I reached out again and this time managed to curl my fingers around his wrist.

“I’m okay,” I said. He was staring into space; maybe still lost in the nightmare he’d just had. I slid closer and climbed up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.”

He scrubbed his face with his hands and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again then stood, pulling away from me.

I had no choice but to let him go. He didn’t want comfort from me. I wasn’t his, and he wasn’t mine. And I got the feeling I just witnessed an intimate moment, a part of Zeke he didn’t share freely or at all. He was a SEAL. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through while he served. Was that what was haunting him in his sleep?

I realized in that moment, I wanted to be there for him, that I wanted to be the one to comfort him when he was in pain. That I wanted to help him heal, help him work through whatever had torn that agonized sound from him. I stared across the room to the stairs, where he’d disappeared a few minutes ago, and something rose up in me—the impact of it devastating. I refused to name it, to put voice to it, because I didn’t want it to be true.

But it was there, hovering in my mind, refusing to go away.

I’m in love with Zeke.

* * *

He didn’t come back to bed, and I didn’t go back to sleep.

Instead, I spent the whole night fighting with myself. My head yelling at me to keep my butt in this bed. My heart yelling even louder for me to go to him. I’d been in a stalemate with myself until the sun finally came up.

A clang came from downstairs. Zeke was down there. I blinked up at the sky through that big window and gave myself a pep talk, or tried to. He hadn’t come back, which meant he didn’t want to talk about what happened and I needed to respect that, no matter how much I wanted to know more about what was bothering him.

“Not your place,” my head said.

“I want it to be,” my heart fired back.

I ignored them both, shoved back the covers, and dragged my tired body to the shower. Nausea hit as soon as I’d taken a couple of steps. Thankfully, this time I didn’t throw up. Must just be one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. At least I hoped it only lasted that long. I forced myself to get ready. Putting in effort was hard when you felt like crap, but I went the whole hog, hair, makeup, the works. I wanted to cover my scar as best I could. Zeke felt responsible for me, and seeing that scar wouldn’t help. I didn’t want him to see me as a victim and I didn’t want him blaming himself for not finding my attacker. Especially after last night.

I rummaged around in the bag Zeke had packed for me. He hadn’t done too bad. Though, the thought of him looking through my drawers and selecting my clothes and underwear gave me a weird feeling in my belly. Nope, not going there. I pulled on pale pink panties and a matching bra. He’d obviously taken the time to put sets together. Yep, another belly squirm, this one nothing to do with feeling sick. I found some jeans, one of my favorite pairs, and a long-sleeved blue top. It was soft, fitted, and a little worn. Not something I’d wear unless I planned on staying in. It was kind of perfect for a Sunday at home. Which this was, only it was Zeke’s home, and despite his assurances, I still wasn’t sure this was where he wanted me. The sooner I could go home, the better.

I took the stairs down to the lower level. Zeke was at the kitchen counter, holding a cup of coffee, and the mug paused just below his mouth when I walked down. Those dark eyes slid over me, taking in my hair, my face, my body from head to toe. I watched him reach for the counter, fingers curling around the edge as his eyes heated.

“I could get used to that,” my heart whispered.

“And then he’d leave,” my head snapped back.

My heart shut up.

“Morning,” I said when I reached the floor.

“Coffee?”

I thought about it, but my stomach protested instantly. “Do you have any tea?”

He shook his head.

“Water’s fine.”

“Still not well?” he asked, giving me another head to toe, but this one assessing.

I shrugged. “Just a little off. Better than yesterday.”

He dipped his chin, but didn’t say more.

An urge to walk to him, wrap my arms around his waist, and just hold him, be held in return, was so strong I actually took a step in his direction. I needed to go home. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “Have you heard from Cage?”

“No. Why?”

His voice had gone deeper, had a little growl to it. I turned to him, and paused at the unhappy look on his face. Was he . . . was he actually jealous?

My heart, the ever-hopeful idiot, jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

My head rolled her eyes and pushed her over.

I was losing it!

“I was wondering if my place as all set for me to go back. You said Cage had someone fixing my door?”

His shoulders relaxed instantly, and his expression lost some of the hardness. “Yeah, it’s done.”

Oh my God, he was. He was freaking jealous. I made myself ignore that fact, which was not easy, because so what? It didn’t mean anything. Not many guys would want their friends going out with a woman they’d been seeing . . . or in my case, sleeping with. That reaction had nothing to do with me. It was some kind of man code, or something, right? “So does that mean I can go home?”

He watched me carefully. “I’ve got him installing sensors on the upper level and a couple more cameras today, should be good tomorrow.”

Okay, wow. That seemed excessive. “You really think that’s necessary? How would anyone even get to the second floor?”

He lifted his mug, finished off what was left and put it in the sink. “Not taking any chances.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said, “Thanks.” Which didn’t really seem adequate.

His body turned toward me more fully, and his eyes dropped to my chest and back up. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “I, ah—” He stopped talking suddenly.

“What is it?” I asked. Now what? I didn’t think I could handle much more.

He swallowed again and motioned to my top. “Knew that color would look good on you.”

I stared down at myself in surprise. God. How did he do that? Knock the wind from my lungs and make my knees weak with just a few words? If anyone else said that to me, I’d thank them and move on. Coming from Zeke, it meant so much more. This man barely talked, didn’t like to get personal, which meant when he paid you a compliment, he meant it. Those weren’t just throwaway words. I was trying to work out what to say when his phone started ringing.

He pulled it from his pocket and answered. “Yeah.” He listened to whoever was talking. “No one else can do it?” He cursed, then, “Fine.”

“Problem?” I asked when he ended the call.

“Need to go to work. Surveillance job.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t stand the idea of being here on my own another day. “So you’ll just be watching from a distance? Reporting what you see?”

“Pretty much.”

I put down my bottle of water. “Can I come?”

He jerked back a little. “It’ll more than likely be boring as hell.”

He was frowning again.

“I promise I won’t get in the way. I just . . . I don’t really want to be on my own.”

That assessing gaze took me in, and I realized the way that sounded, that he might assume I didn’t want to be alone for a different reason. But I wasn’t scared. I wanted to be . . . near him, which was why I should let him go without me. Instead, I let him come to whatever conclusion he came to. What are you doing, Sunny?

Finally, he said, “Get your jacket, we need to get going.”

I rushed upstairs to get my things. I should have felt bad for letting him think I was freaked when I wasn’t, but this was more than likely our last day together, and I just . . . I wanted to be with him. Shoving on my jacket, I grabbed my bag and followed him out to his truck.