When someone says “Don’t be anxious” and I’m miraculously cured. Not.
Halfway through the next work week, Mark was in the middle of acting as a referee at a domestic disturbance call when he felt his personal cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Since his family knew to contact him during business hours only with an emergency, he itched to reach for it, but had to ignore it because of the trouble brewing in front of him.
The wife had made the call on her husband, saying that she’d married an abusive asshole and needed help extracting him from her house. The husband had called immediately after, claiming that his soon-to-be ex-wife was threatening his manhood and life.
Mark had gotten on the scene to find the man had locked himself in the bathroom and the wife was pounding on the door with one hand, her other holding a lethal-looking spike stiletto heel.
He’d taken the “weapon” from her and made her sit on the couch in the living room in plain sight while he turned to the still-locked bathroom. Before he could say a word, the wife got in plenty.
“Come out of there, you no-good, pussy-addicted, lint-licking, soul-sucking piece of shit!” she yelled from her perch on the couch. “I’m going to stab you in the nads with your ho’s shoe! Get out here and take it like a man!”
“I called the cops on you, you crazy bitch!” the husband yelled through the door. “I’m not coming out until I’ve got an armed protector.”
The wife shook her head at Mark as if to say, Do you see what I’m dealing with? “The cop is here, you idiot,” she snapped. “I let him in.”
The bathroom door cracked open. A bleary, red-rimmed eye peeked out and focused in on Mark, taking in his uniform. “You armed?”
“Yes,” Mark said.
“Thank God.” The husband opened the door the rest of the way and pointed at his wife. “She’s completely gonzo. I want her hauled off to jail and locked away.”
The wife crossed her arms. “You’re the one who cheated, you dipshit. And there’s only one chick I know who owns these ridiculous knock-offs and that’s our crack-ho of a neighbor with the store-bought knockers. I’m going to kill you both.”
Mark grimaced. “If you don’t want to be arrested, you’re going to have to stop threatening him.”
“Well, then he’s going to have to stop being stupid, and I don’t see either of those things happening.”
In the end, Mark had the husband leave the home, which belonged to the wife’s family. The guy left for a friend’s house, his parting shot to his wife that he’d see her in court.
Fine by Mark. Better in court than in the morgue.
When he was back in his patrol Blazer, he pulled out his phone. The call he’d received earlier had come from the girls’ school. Specifically from the principal. This wasn’t a complete shock. Samantha didn’t like her teacher, and when Samantha didn’t like someone, the whole world paid the price. Twice he’d been called in when she’d gone missing—aka hidden in a tree on the playground after recess had ended—simply because she hadn’t wanted to go back to her classroom.
He hit the number for the school and got the principal’s assistant.
“She’s gone missing again,” she said immediately, not as calm as he’d have liked. “Just like the other times, but—”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Fuck. “And Sierra?”
“Sitting right here in the office with me eating a Popsicle.” She lowered her voice. “I thought it would entice her into talking because it’s clear she’s not stressed in the least, which in the past has been the signal that her sister is perfectly safe.”
Not good enough for Mark. “Check the tree in the yard. I’m on my way.” He disconnected and inhaled a deep breath, feeling the overwhelming sensation of being a single parent and not the best one at that. He had no idea what two little girls needed, none, though he gave it his all. Still, he knew damn well he fell fucking short.
The principal’s assistant called back five minutes later. “Found her. She was in the tree.”
“My ETA is twenty.”
He made it in ten. When he pulled up, he realized it was a half day for some sort of teacher thing and the bell had just rung. He called the office and told them he was in the parent pickup line and to not put the girls on their usual bus.
Her mother’s temperament was making an appearance in every line of her body as Sam trudged angrily down the sidewalk toward him, dragging her backpack behind her, scuffing a path through a blanket of leaves that had fallen in the day’s wind gusts. When the disobedient backpack declined to keep up, she jerked it angrily along with her, huffing and mumbling, sending leaves flying in her wake.
Mark watched them both approach with a mixture of deep relief and bad self-directed temper that completely destroyed his equilibrium. What was he doing wrong that one daughter couldn’t handle school and the other hadn’t spoken in a year?
He exited his vehicle. The girls had been walking single file, Sierra in front happily skipping, Samantha behind her, head down, torturing her backpack. Sierra was as put together as she had been when they’d left for school. Samantha was without her sweatshirt, her T-shirt was dirty, and her jeans were torn in one knee, revealing a bloody scratch.
Sierra beamed at the sight of him. He scooped her up for a hug and she put her hands to his cheeks, patting lightly. An unspoken signal for “go easy on her.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead and deposited her into the backseat before turning back for Samantha.
“Sam,” he said and she jerked her head up, her bad temper gone in a blink, replaced by sheer joy. “Daddy!” She leapt at him and he caught her, holding her tightly to him. She smelled like oak tree and maple syrup and a little bit like him, and he held on tight, thankful when she squeezed him right back. She laid her icy cheek against his and he turned them, shielding her from the wind.
“Daddy,” she murmured again.
Her moods were pure and mercurial, but she loved with a fierceness that pushed everything else aside. And like always in these uncomfortable, unfamiliar moments with the girls that were his entire life, he was forcibly reminded that he was indeed grateful to Brittney for something after all.
“You’re cold,” he said. “When you take off like that, you need to plan ahead.”
She looked away, avoiding eye contact. Another throwback from her mother, which meant she was thinking and thinking hard about how to get away with not telling him something he needed to know. “Talk to me, Sam.”
At this, she leveled her big, dark, soulful eyes on him and gave him the full pitch. “I gave my sweatshirt to Julio. He doesn’t have a sweatshirt and he’s always cold. Don’t tell Grandma.”
“Grandma would be proud of you,” he said.
“Maybe for the sweatshirt, but Sierra and I also gave him half our lunches. We always do.”
“Baby.”
Her eyes swiveled his way, her outrage clear. “He’s hungry, Daddy. And he was the only one who made Trevor stop being mean to us on the playground.”
Sometimes Mark was certain his heart no longer worked, and then at other times, like right now, the organ swelled so that it felt too big for his rib cage. “We’ll double the size of your lunches.”
She beamed at him and he felt a burst of pride that he’d been able to soothe some of the always-just-at-bay guilt that gnawed at him for not being the best parent at times. He’d never intended to raise sweet yet savvy little hellions, but somewhere along the way they’d adapted to his life and become his Mini-Mes. “Now tell me about this Trevor,” he said.
“He teased Sierra about not talking and he told me I’m a loser who chased off my mommy. But I didn’t chase Mommy off, she left all on her own.”
Jesus. He wasn’t going to survive parenthood. He pulled her a little closer and brushed a kiss to her temple, wondering just how much jail time he’d do for killing a juvenile punkass kid. “I’m sorry he said those things to you,” he managed evenly. “But I’m glad you know that nothing of what happened with your mom was your fault.”
“I know, Daddy.”
But God, could she really? Praying that his sins weren’t going to come back to haunt his girls, he dumped her into the backseat, making her giggle. She crawled over Sierra and he leaned in to make sure they were buckled properly, tickling Sierra until she laughed out loud. He stroked a thumb lightly below the scrape on Samantha’s knee. “From your tree-climbing expedition?”
“Yes. Don’t tell Grandma that either, okay? She says climbing trees isn’t becoming.”
He snorted and got behind the wheel. Five minutes later, he pulled up to the winery. He helped the girls out and watched them run up the path, waving wildly at everyone just sitting down to lunch on the other side of the fence.
Everyone waved back and the twins vanished inside, appearing in the yard two seconds later. He strode up the path, smelling the food even from this distance. He felt some of the tension he had been holding off since getting the call about Samantha ease away.
Lanie was there. Both tables were completely full, and as he could’ve predicted, she was sitting on the very end, looking inside a brown bag.
She’d brought her own lunch again, even as she looked at the growing food spread with longing. She still tended to hold herself back even after all these weeks, but she did smile easier at whoever approached her.
Pretty much the story of his life with her as well. She held back, but when he approached and pushed just a little to get past her barriers, she welcomed him in with that devastating smile.
And that one memorable night under the stars last week, she’d also welcomed him in with open arms.
“She’s special,” Mia said.
Mia had come up at his side. His baby sister smiled at him. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
He pleaded the fifth.
“I know, I know,” she said. “Mom’s on a mission to mend your broken heart and you’re on a mission that’s counterproductive to that, to never be happy again—”
“Mia, don’t.”
She lifted her hands. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m the one who wants to find someone.”
“You find too many someones.”
“I’m working on being more selective. Now I’m looking for The One. He needs to have intelligence, charm, and a sense of humor that is insanely fucking naughty.”
He grimaced. “Don’t need to hear this.”
“No worries because I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t exist.”
He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw misery in her gaze. “Okay, who do I have to kill?”
“No one.” She let out a low laugh. “And don’t think I don’t know that you made a visit to Sean last month.”
“Who?”
She rolled her eyes. “My ex-boyfriend.”
“Hey, I didn’t kill him.”
“True, you just threatened him with . . . what was it? Something about taking his favorite body part and shoving it up his own ass?”
Mark had no regrets. “He was a dick to you.”
“True. But I let him be, so that’s on me. I’m completely over him, though.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
If only that was true. “Is this one of those ‘nothings’ where later on you’ll send me a ten-page essay via text?” he asked.
“It’s not about me,” she said.
Mark looked at his watch.
Mia sighed. “Why do I try to help you?”
“Me?” Color him confused. “I don’t need help with anything.”
“Spoken like a clueless man.” She jerked her head toward the table. And Lanie.
With a shake of his head, he started to walk away but she caught him. “Listen,” she said. “You know how Mom collects people? Holden. Lanie. River—who she’s already going to birthing classes with. Anyway, you’re a collector too.”
Mark watched as Lanie broke one of her cookies in two and gave a half to each of his girls. Okay, so maybe he was a collector, but so was Lanie. She just didn’t seem to know it yet. “Do you have a point?” he asked.
“Yes, if you’d let me make it. I get that you’re still off love, but it makes me worry for Lanie. Not that I think you’ll hurt her on purpose, but . . .”
Mark let out a slow exhale. “I hear you.”
“I hope so, because even as hurt as she’s clearly been and as careful as she is, she’s let your girls into her heart. And she’s well on her way to letting your family in too because, well, we’re fucking irresistible. But up until now, the women you’ve let into your life don’t go all the way in. They dig you ’cuz you’re the sexy, badass military hero or because you carry a gun and know how to use it, but you’re more than that. They’ve been takers, not givers. And Lanie . . . she’s a giver. You need to protect her, Mark, even if it’s from you.”
It was excellent advice. It really was. And he needed to heed it, he thought, watching Sierra climb into Lanie’s lap and press in close.
Lanie didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his little girl and squeeze. She murmured something into Sierra’s ear that had her giggling and wriggling with pure joy.
Sierra hadn’t spoken a word since the day her mom had walked out on her, but she was still the best people reader Mark knew. That she was comfortable with Lanie spoke volumes.
Lanie smiled too and Mark wondered if she even realized she was letting down her guard for them. He doubted it.
The girls were safe for her, which made him smile because the girls terrified most people. In fact, the Capriottis terrified most everyone.
But not Lanie, and even thinking it had something tightening in his chest. Because if he wasn’t careful, it was going to be him who got hurt at the end of this.
Good thing he was very careful.
THE WINERY ALWAYS settled down after the end of the workday. It was one of Lanie’s favorite times to walk the property. It was quiet, majestic. Beautiful. But tonight as she walked the path to the end of the cottages, past the big house to the barn where the two boogie boards had been leaning against since she and Mark had used them and saw only one, she hesitated.
Don’t do it.
But she did. She grabbed the board. And five minutes later she’d changed and was on her way.
She’d spent the past ten years in Santa Barbara, but before that, she’d grown up in Morro Bay, only fifteen miles from here, where her parents had a home. She’d always felt most comfortable on the beach, any beach, with wet sand between her toes.
The sun was just setting when she slid out of her car and ditched the sweatshirt and shorts she’d pulled on over her bathing suit. She searched the swells and found him, a silhouette of a male body surfing the waves as the sun sank below the horizon.
Mesmerized by the sight, she dove into the water and joined him. Long before she got out to him, he turned his head and found her. Between the swells, their gazes met and held.
She waited, holding her breath. When he smiled and gave her a hurry up gesture with one jerk of his chin, she smiled back.
They spent the next hour racing for the biggest swells, trying to best each other and, barring that, knocking each other off. They exchanged no words, nothing but long looks and the occasional laugh when successfully unseating the other. But there was plenty of touching, grabbing, patting, wrestling . . .
It was the most fun she’d ever had.
Eventually they came out of the water and collapsed to their knees onto his towel, panting from the exertion. She’d never felt more alive and it was doing things to her, revving her up. She wondered if he had condoms tonight . . .
“You shouldn’t surf by yourself,” he said.
“You do,” she said. “And besides, I wasn’t by myself.”
He shook his head and gently pushed her wet hair from her face. “I just don’t like the thought of you out here on your own.”
“I’m good at being on my own.” She brought her hand up to his, holding it to her face, belying her words.
Water drops clung stubbornly to his face and shoulders, some running down his chest and abs. “But that’s my point,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to be, not here. You’ve got a lot of people at your back. Mia, Alyssa, River, my mom . . . everyone. They like you, Lanie. They care about you.”
He hadn’t included himself in that assessment. Not that it mattered, because she knew he liked her. He liked her a lot. But since he wasn’t going to let it go anywhere, it didn’t matter.
It was a reminder of something she didn’t want to think about, because she couldn’t control her emotions like he could and had to look away. But he took her face in his hands and ran his thumb lightly across her lower lip. She leaned in a little closer and could feel his abs tighten against her. She felt him take a deep, slow breath and watched as his eyes darkened.
She put a hand to his chest to feel the reassuring rhythm of his heart. God, she was so stupid happy to be with him. It was way too easy to fall right back into the only place that seemed to work for them.
Mouths locked.
Mark wasn’t big on words but he was most excellent at using actions to reveal his thoughts. She tried to do the same now, letting him know with her kiss how much his presence here tonight meant to her.
Remember, not falling for him . . .
His hands slid up her back, sending shivers cascading through her. She started to say something but was silenced by his hot mouth covering hers again. And again. Since that was nice, very nice, she pressed up against him for more and he angled his head and gave it to her, taking the kiss even deeper, and she felt herself wobble.
His arms tightened, pulling her hard against him in a silent I’ve got you and she let herself go, grinding into him, suddenly desperate to feel as much of him as she could.
Not falling for him . . .
A fact made much easier when he pulled free and met her gaze with reluctance. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Did you decide that before or after the night at the lake?” she asked.
He winced and closed his eyes for a beat.
Pulling her hands from his delicious body, she tried not to notice that they were wound up against each other, only an inch—or more accurately eight to nine inches—away from having a very happy ending to the night.
“I was serious about this not becoming serious,” he said.
“And I heard you.”
He opened his eyes, his gaze unwavering on hers. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t any misunderstanding.”
It was like diving into the cold ocean without any of the feel-good euphoria to go with it. Or the boogie board. Or the ability to swim. He’d literally just jumped into her personal nightmare and found the one thing that could paralyze her. Her deepest, darkest fear.
That she didn’t, couldn’t, trust her own love meter in picking the right guy because she had no idea what a normal relationship was even like.
Which was ridiculous because she didn’t even want that. So she nodded, like it all made perfect sense when actually, nothing made any sense at all; not the way her body still wanted his, not the stabbing, sharp pain where her heart sat in her chest, and not the way she wanted to beg him to change his mind.
But she no longer begged for affections.
She no longer needed anyone’s affections at all and she blamed him for making her forget that even for a second. “Look at the time,” she said, not wearing a watch or checking her phone. She rose to her feet and backed away. “I’ve gotta get going.”
And then she ran to her car, where she paused to smack her forehead on the steering wheel a few times to knock some sense into herself before driving off into the night.