Micki had done some bold things in her lifetime, but begging a man to kiss her might top them all. She’d chalk it up to a mad crush, loneliness, and a newfound sense of freedom. For the first time in her adult life she'd been presented with the opportunity to wander aimlessly and enjoy a man who knew her secrets. Maybe Gage didn’t know everything, but he knew enough and he'd invited her out anyway. For that alone, she would always be grateful.

Steele Ridge meant home and a place joyously lacking Phil and his paranoia. His constant watching. Between monitoring her phone bills and having the receptionist and Tomas keep tabs on where she went, Phil had kept her living in a bubble.

For ten years.

It took getting out of that bubble, for even a few days, to realize how invasive it had been. And how isolating.

A corner of Gage’s mouth lifted and he dipped his head, hovering just over her lips. “This is probably a mistake.”

Of all the mistakes she’d made, this one didn’t crack the top fifty.

“Ask me if I care.”

In response, he kissed her. Softly at first, testing, letting his warm lips glide over hers, then tentatively brushing his tongue against them. She gripped the front of his jacket, pulling herself closer. If she could crawl into that jacket with him, she’d do it. Just take shelter while she savored every bit of Mr. All-American. She'd experienced a fair number of kisses—some hot with plenty of craziness that landed her in a bed—but this? This tenderness, she’d never known. It reached right into her, casting light and warmth and peace. A perfect summer sunrise.

Gage Barber.

Who knew?

One of the milling teenagers bumped her and Gage settled his hands at her waist, holding her steady. Supporting her. From the second he’d walked into her life, he’d been shoring her up, helping her battle the chaos.

He pulled back slightly and dropped another quick kiss on her lips. His arms tightened, holding her against him, and everything inside—the heat, the want, the happy buzz—exploded.

By her own choice, she’d spent years without affection, holding people at bay, never opening up about her life or her job and now…Gage. He'd flipped her thinking in all kinds of ways. Ways that made her want to stay.

Getting lost in that idea wouldn't help her. Who knew where the battle with Phil would end and she couldn’t leave her family—and Gage—in the rubble.

For now though, she’d enjoy a connection and some simple fun with someone. She burrowed her hand under his jacket and held on while he kissed the side of her head.

“You okay? You got quiet on me.”

Tipping her head up, she nodded. “I’m…peaceful. That’s something pretty darned special. So, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It was your brilliant idea. And it wasn’t exactly hard labor.”

“Micki! Is that you?”

Micki angled back, spotted a woman pushing through the crowd, her long blond hair falling around her shoulders. Jenny Tichener. Another burst of excitement racked her and she tore away from Gage, bouncing off random strangers as she closed the distance to her childhood friend. They’d been inseparable from seventh grade, but lost touch after high school. When Micki left, she’d left. Nothing went with her. Friendships, mementos, all of it discarded. Emotionally, it had been easier than obsessing over the loss of a happy life obliterated by one night of partying.

“Jenny! Oh my gosh, how are you?”

Jenny launched herself at Micki. “I’m here visiting my parents for the weekend.”

The two of them hugged tight enough to crack a rib and Micki’s breath whooshed out. Two hugs in less than five minutes. Home.

Finally.

Simultaneously, the two women stepped back, each holding on to the other’s arms, unwilling to break the contact. “It’s so good to see you,” Micki said. “Where do you live now?”

“Charlotte. I got married a few years ago. No babies yet, but we’re working on it. How about you? Still in Vegas?”

“Yes. Well, no. I’m—wow—coming home.”

“That’s fantastic! I’m here a lot. We can get together and catch up.”

“I’d like that.”

She would. After things with Phil settled down, she’d work on getting her life together. Forming friendships. Maybe rekindling old ones while she made new ones.

Friends, like any relationship, created hazards. She’d been too fearful in Vegas. After all, friends talked about themselves, about their jobs, and what could Micki say? I help my boss threaten people with their secrets.

Jenny’s gaze went to Gage, still standing behind Micki. Along with losing her friends, she’d clearly lost her manners. Her mother would kill her.

She reached back, touched his arm. “Jenny, this is Gage Barber. He’s helping my brother with the training center.”

Hellos were exchanged and Jenny half covered her lips with one hand. “Hottie,” she mouthed.

Gage let loose on a laugh. “Uh, should I leave you two alone?”

Micki grinned up at him. “So we can talk about you? No.”

But really, she wanted that. To gossip to a friend about the hot guy who’d just kissed her in the middle of town and—oh, boy—the busybodies at the Triple B would love this one.

Someone called Jenny’s name and she gave a backward wave. “I have to go, but give me your number. I’ll call you.”

“I don’t have my new number yet, but give me yours. I’ll text you when I get set up. Can you e-mail it to me?”

“Sure.”

Micki read off her e-mail address and Jenny sent her number through.

“I’m so glad I ran into you,” Jenny said. “I can’t wait to catch up and see what you’ve been doing. You disappeared on me! I’ve missed you.”

And that tore it. Air stalled in her chest and the fierce grip choked her. Too much, too, too much. Kissing Gage, Jenny missing her. All of it. She hugged Jenny again as the wave of emotions hammered at her.

God, she was happy.

“Me too, Jenny. Me too.”

Jenny gave her one last squeeze, disappeared into the crowd, and Gage dropped his arm over Micki’s shoulder again. “I’m hoping that was a happy hug.”

She inhaled long enough to corral her emotions. When she released the breath, the hammering in her head eased and the crazy tension broke apart.

So this was happiness?

“Absolutely.”

“Good. And look at you getting all domestic tonight. First you’re sucking face with me in the middle of town and now you're making friends.”

Feeling playful, another anomaly, she shoved him just as the music stopped. Ten o’clock. Darn it. Novemberfest was officially over. In Vegas, the night would just be starting.

“It’s late,” she said. “Thank you for an amazing night.”

“Thank you for coming with me. I had fun. I’ll take you home.”

“No.”

His head dipped forward. “I’m sorry? You don’t want me to take you?”

Don’t screw this up.

“I do, but—” She waved a hand down the block. “If Evie is still at Brynne’s shop, I’d like to ride home with her. I have a lot of lost time to catch up on with my sister.”

“Ah,” he said. “I thought I misread something there.”

“Not a chance, Captain America.”

“Good. But with everything going on, I'll follow you home. Make sure you get there okay. Please, don't argue. Humor me.”

The babysitting thing irritated her. Absolutely. This was different, though. Having a man, this man, care enough to worry about her, to want to keep her safe, couldn't be bad.

He walked her to the shop where Brynne and Evie stood by the desk. The door was locked, but Micki knocked and Evie opened the door for her.

“Hi. Hi, Gage.”

“Hey, Evie.”

“Can I hitch a ride home with you?”

Evie eyed her, then Gage. “Sure.”

“Okay, ladies, I’ll say good night then. You two be careful. And Micki?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe tomorrow you could stop by my office with that software.”

On Sunday morning Gage did his normal coffee run to the Triple B. Having just beat the church crowd, he snagged a corner table before Randi was forced to deal with overflow and open the connecting door to the bar.

If Gage had timed this right, in the next five minutes the activity level in the B would explode and he'd already have his spot.

He shifted the chairs, propping one against the wall before dropping into it. Life in Special Forces meant having a view of his surroundings, and those habits died hard. Plus, it never hurt to be cautious when some buttcrack terrorist or deranged psycho could slice and dice a man before he had time to get out of the chair.

Even in Steele Ridge.

Following his routine, he arranged his coffee and cinnamon roll to his right and spread the newspaper in front of him. As a kid, he’d watched his father read the daily newspaper. Every day. Three newspapers. For at least two hours. The man was a news junkie, but didn’t go for television. He wanted it the old-fashioned way, with the written word.

Somewhere along the way, Gage had also developed an affinity for newspapers. Or maybe it was the tradition of it, the childhood memories of waking up and finding Dad at the table.

Whatever it was, he reserved Sunday mornings for reading the newspaper. Cover to cover.

The bells on the door jangled and he glanced up to see feisty Mr. Greene, a widower older than dirt, entering the shop. The man walked into town every morning for breakfast and to catch up on the day’s gossip. If you wanted a direct pipeline to town drama, Mr. Greene was the man.

“Morning, Gage,” the old man called.

He lifted his cane in greeting, nearly whacking a customer along the way, and Gage stifled a laugh.

“Morning, sir.”

Gage eyed the cane, but had learned not to offer assistance. He’d tried that his first morning at the B and got smacked with said cane for his efforts. Mr. Greene preferred taking care of himself. Gage could relate.

“Nice day out there today,” Mr. Greene said.

“Sure is.”

“I heard tell that you and Micki Steele were carrying on last night.”

And it begins. Hell, he hadn’t even sipped his coffee yet. He’d expected it. Of course, he did. You didn’t stand in the middle of Main Street kissing a woman known for her secrecy, a Steele no less, and not anticipate questions. A Micki sighting alone got Steele Ridge buzzing. Throw in her swapping spit with her brother’s friend and it racked up to a good story.

From behind the counter, Randi, the owner of the Triple B and Britt Steele’s significant other, eyed Gage for half a second, her lips dipping into a frown before she shook her head at the old man. “Starting already, Mr. Greene?”

“I’ll call ’em like I see ’em, girlie.” He shifted back to Gage. “Well?”

Gage grinned. “Well what, sir?”

“You want to tell me what’s got everyone talking around here so early? And on the Lord’s day no less!”

“Nope,” Gage said.

He’d grown up in a small town, understood the intricacies of information flow. All he needed to do was shove a piece of dynamite somewhere to disrupt it.

In this case, the dynamite would be his absolute refusal to comment. And if Mr. Greene, the town crier, didn’t have any intel, the clamor would die down.

Gage hoped.

Because in two hours he had to face his bosses. Both of whom were Micki’s brothers. And by the way Randi had looked at him, he had no doubt Britt would be paying him a visit.

Shit. Should have thought with the proper brain last night. Done now. Wasting time stressing over it wouldn’t help.

Mr. Greene shuffled by on his way to the next empty table and swatted Gage’s chair with his cane. This town. These people. Too funny.

The bells jangled again, but if Gage wanted to get through the newspaper in his allotted two hours, he couldn’t be looking up every time someone walked into the shop.

Instead, he focused on the article in front of him about the president’s budget woes. What else was new? He scanned the article, the words blurring as he lost focus. What was that about national defense? He started over, this time not skimming. Slowly, he read each word, giving his brain the opportunity to absorb it. At this rate, he’d only get through main news, but if he could remember most of what he’d read, he’d consider it a win.

The empty chair beside him moved and he brought his gaze up. He found a dark-haired man wearing crisp jeans and a black-collared shirt dropping next to him.

What the hell?

But the guy looked familiar. Up close, his brown eyes screamed of…hardness. No warmth, no humor, no nothing.

Douchebag from the bar Friday night. Tomas. The guy whose phone Micki blew up.

Gage sat back, rested both hands on his thighs in case he needed them in a hurry.

“Good morning,” Tomas said, his voice all kinds of friendly.

His eyes told the real story. This guy had blackness inside. An empty, dark well.

“Help you?”

He set an accordion folder on top of Gage’s newspaper, blocking the article he’d been reading. For that alone he should kick his ass.

Tomas glanced over at Mr. Greene, then drew closer to Gage. “You know who I am?”

“I do. You should leave town.”

“Not without her.”

“Then we have a problem because she’s not going anywhere. Whatever Phil Flynn wants, he’s not getting.”

Tomas offered up a pitying smile. The one where people looked at you like the fool you were. “Always the hero, aren’t you?”

Bait. Dangling right there for Gage to take. Which he wouldn’t. Why let this guy see him rattled? He sat, hands on his thighs, body still, facial features frozen.

“I get it,” Tomas said. “Believe me. I saw you two last night.”

Ah, shit. That kiss was creating all sorts of issues. “You didn’t bother to say hello? How rude.”

Tomas snorted and gave the expanding crowd in the shop a swooping scan. “You were busy. What’s it like? To stick your tongue in that mouth?”

Gage didn't bother reacting.

“But hey, I don’t blame you for wanting a piece of that. She’s an attractive girl. And she’s got those long legs. Imagine those wrapped around you? I sit ten feet from her every day and I think about it. Every. Day. For me, she’s perfect. You? She’s not the apple-pie type.”

Bait. Bait. Bait. If Gage blew his stack, Tomas would win. And Gage didn’t like to lose.

He rested his elbows on the table. Made direct eye contact. “You need to leave town. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Everything all right over there?” Mr. Greene asked.

Keeping his eyes on Tomas, Gage gave Mr. Greene a backhanded wave. “Fine, sir. My friend here was just leaving.”

The old man picked up his cane, rapped it against the leg of the table. “Good. We’re not big on strangers around here.”

Which wasn’t true, but Mr. Greene hadn’t lived this long without learning a few things. Like pegging people who stank of bad news.

Tomas angled sideways, peeped around Gage to the old man. If he made a move, Gage would drop him. No question. As much as he refused to let this guy wind him up, old men were off-limits.

But Tomas only shrugged. Good thing. With the church crowd filing in, Gage wasn’t in the mood to tear the place up. Plus he’d have to answer to Randi and then Britt, and that would surely suck.

Tomas stood, plucked a piece of lint off his shirt, held it in front of his face, and dropped it on Gage’s newspaper.

This guy. Before the mess with Micki was done, Gage, TBI or not, would pummel him. Now wasn’t the time. Later, though, he’d own him.

When Gage refused to acknowledge the taunt, Tomas tapped the folder. “Go through this. There are things you’ll want to see.”