Reed got out and closed his door. He stepped purposefully toward her. “Hey, Christie,” he said as he moved closer. “Let me give you a hand with that.”

He noted the bald man stopped, realizing Reed was with her, and then turned to walk back to his group.

Christie stood, looking way too fragile and feminine as her hand holding the card shook.

Her wide green eyes had looked up at him in surprise when he’d called out to her, but she seemed not to recognize him at first. Then her eyes widened. “Oh. Yes. Hello, Mr. Tindal”

“Reed,” he said. “Reed Tindal.” His hand closed over hers, and he held it for a moment to still the shaking. He noted that her hand was cold inside his, and he gave her a warm smile. Then glancing at the card, he said, “It’s backward.”

“Oh. Yes it is. Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She pulled her hand away, turned the card around, and tried to insert it again, but her hand still had the shakes.

“Let me do that,” he said.

She handed him the card. He put it into the machine and then it asked for her code.

“Your turn,” he said.

She paused as if thinking, as a frown came over her face. Maybe she didn’t trust him.

He turned his head toward the men, giving her a chance to put the code in privately without him seeing the numbers. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Did those guys scare you?”

“Guys? What guys?”

He turned back to look more closely at her.

Christie is in bad shape if she hasn’t noticed the guys clearly watching her every move. Had she even heard that whistle? Seen the man approaching her less than ten feet away?

As Reed watched her, he noted she had no awareness of her surroundings; her only focus was on getting gas. He had to remind himself she was a civilian with likely no understanding of situational awareness. And the men were still watching her, and now, him.

“No problem,” he said. “Why don’t you go on and get in your car while I finish this.”

“Okay,” she said.

The men’s interest in her hadn’t waned, though they were quietly watching and talking among themselves and hadn’t made another step near her. He doubted they would, now.

Reed had found that after joining the SEAL team, few men messed with him. Only the rare asshole looking for a fight would pursue one. Usually, Reed could de-escalate things with his calm response. He didn’t want to fight unless he had to, but when he did fight, he fought to end things fast. His goal was to put the other man down fast so peace could resume. The calm confidence he displayed at all times could easily be read by any man with street smarts.

You never took your eyes off the calm man in the back, because that calm man was likely the one who would take you down fast and hard.

The group of men, though they watched, made no other move toward her or him. Likely, they’d also noted the sticker on his car, which let him drive his car on base, and knew he was military. Though nothing on his car said SEAL, the way he moved his body suggested it.

Reed watched her get into her car. She was safe once again. He put the nozzle into the gas tank and started filling it.

She rolled down her window.

He wondered why her hand had been shaking if she wasn’t afraid of the men.

Is she still shaken up after the shooting? She shouldn’t be out here alone like this on any night, let alone this one.

Now that her window was down, they could talk again.

“So, how are you doing?” He watched her, looking for signs of shock. The EMTs had been busy tonight with a theater full of people to check out, and maybe they’d missed seeing her. He’d been busy and hadn’t paid attention to what was going on with Christie. She hadn’t been shot and had seemed fine. She’d been right there by his side, helping him with triage, intently listening and following his orders, so he’d assumed she was fine. And maybe she had been then, but she clearly wasn’t now.

“I-I’m okay. Just…cold.” She shrugged and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

The thing was, it wasn’t cold out tonight. It was warm and humid. Sticky, almost. There wasn’t even a breeze. He would’ve frowned but held that back and kept a casual, pleasant expression on his face. “You were headed home?” He hoped that was the case.

“Yes. I-I was running late to the premiere and had meant to stop for gas on the way. But I was going to be too late if I got gas then, so I didn’t stop. I didn’t have enough to get home without stopping.”

“If you’d said something, I’d have followed you to make sure you were safe. I’ll finish here, and then follow you home. Make sure you get inside safe.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s really nice of you.” She placed her hand on his arm and turned her green eyes up to him. “Thank you again for saving my life.”

Her slim delicate fingers were cool upon his arm. Shock was his assessment.

“Any time,” he said and then, redirecting her, he added, “You okay to drive home? You still look a little shaken up.”

“I’m okay now. I can drive.”

He wasn’t so sure. “How far is it?”

“About twenty minutes.”

He’d have preferred knowing miles, as that’s what he’d asked her, but wasn’t going to press her on it. If she were like his cousin, Katelyn, she wouldn’t have any idea how many miles.

Christie didn’t seem like a practical sort of woman. Girly from head to toe, she was the kind who needed looking after. An innocent. The kind bad men would pounce on if someone weren’t protecting her. The someone tonight being him, which he didn’t mind in the least. It was in his nature to protect.

Though she wasn’t the sort he usually went out with, and this wasn’t a date now, he felt a strong need to protect her, as if she were his, under his protection. It seemed she brought that out in him. And perhaps the live shooting event they’d been through together had created a bond, as intense situations tended to do; a friendship, if nothing more, though he liked her. He liked her enough to want to ask her out and get to know her better.

She was rubbing her arms and the movement moved the low-cut neckline of her dress. He admired the view, but he wasn’t the only one in this parking lot watching, and he wanted her out of here and home safe again.

She smiled at him. “This is really nice of you. To stop and help me get gas and to follow me home.”

Finishing, he closed and twisted the lid on the gas tank, pushed the cover over top of it and then walked back around to her open window.

She sat inside, her hands resting on the bottom of the steering wheel. From his vantage point he could see down into her cleavage. His gaze went there though he hadn’t intended it to. Her soft curves looked touchable and enticing. The view teased. He’d have loved to see more of her breasts. Just as any other red-blooded male would have.

Looking up at him with those green eyes, she said, “Thank you. I appreciate you helping me with the gas.”

“You’re welcome. You ready to drive?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Then start her up. I’m right behind you.”

“Okay.”

He walked back to his car, and she started hers. Soon, they were driving along the roads, which led to her house.

She drove slowly, five miles under the speed limit, like someone who hadn’t had enough sleep or was driving home from a party after a few too many. His concern for her made his brow furrow, as he wondered at her state of mind. It was a good thing he’d seen her on his way home and had stopped.

Her house was on a street where older cottage-style houses lined both sides, and well-groomed trees stood in the grassy areas of the median. She drove into her driveway and parked. Her house was painted white, had soft blue shutters and a black roof. Blue and purple flowers out front had taken over. He pulled in behind her as she opened her car door.

He got out of his car and walked up beside her. “Nice house,” he said.

“I’ve lived here for three years,” she said. “I love it.”

“I can tell. I take it you enjoy gardening and flowers.”

“Flowers? Oh I’m all about flowers.” She giggled.

Is she nervous, or is there something funny I missed?

“Oh, I didn’t tell you.” She stopped, putting her hand to her mouth. “I’m a florist. Flowers surround me all day. At work, here at home . . .”

He laughed. “So, you do enjoy flowers.”

“That’s a big understatement. I love flowers. And I love arranging them.”

“That’s great.” He grinned. Her excitement was good to see, and her happiness contagious. He’d also managed to take her mind off tonight’s live shooting event and onto a happier topic. “I’ll have to stop into your shop some time.”

“Oh yes, you should.” She nodded. “I work at Floral Blessings, the new shop by the library. I used to work for a wedding planner doing the big jobs, but now I’m in with Mrs. Brown, who really ought to be named Mrs. White, because she’s so pale. She’s a short, white haired sixty-year-old widow with light blue eyes. After her husband died she decided to start a new career selling flowers. She smiles all the time. You’d never know she was widowed less than two years ago.”

They’d reached her front door as they walked and talked, and she automatically reached into her purse for her keys. After about a minute of rifling through her purse, she pulled them out. The keys hung from a red and white polka dotted key chain.

He held the screen door for her while she fumbled with the key in the lock. All the while he watched her, he noted she showed symptom of shock.

“Come in for coffee?” she asked. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

It was late and they both needed sleep, not coffee, but he suspected she wasn’t ready to be alone or ready to go to sleep. He certainly wasn’t. And maybe she’d quit thanking him every five minutes if he allowed her to thank him with coffee. It would also give them a chance to get to know each other better. “Sounds good,” he said.

“I have some Jamaican blue,” she said. “Got it on a cruise, and I save it for special occasions.”

“Sounds wonderful. Where did you cruise to?”

“Jamaica, of course. Grand Cayman and Saint Thomas. Have you ever been?”

“Nope. Been lots of places around the world but nothing in the Caribbean. No pleasure cruising.”

“The islands are wonderful. Very relaxing.”

“That sounds good right about now.”

“I agree.” She smiled and nodded.

As she busied herself making coffee, he took in the room. White lace curtains on the window over the sink and the window in the back door, a white lace tablecloth on a small round table, and padded cushions with a pale pink and white polka dotted print on the two chairs. The pale pink was picked up in accessories throughout the kitchen; accessories that could’ve stepped out of an old movie where the woman of the house wore an apron and a dress.

She noticed him looking and said, “I love anything retro, from the forties and fifties.”

Ah. So that’s why she’s dressed like that and why her house was decorated this way.

“It suits you.”

Those boys overseas would’ve had many a good dream about her if she were pinned in their locker.

“Thank you.” She rubbed her hands down her hips, in a self-conscious gesture; unaware she outlined her hips, drawing his gaze to those curves.

“I, well, this is why I’m dressed like this. Tanya and I were having a girl’s night out, retro style. I’d step back in time if I could and visit those days.”

“You look great.”

“Thank you.” Pink flooded her cheeks.

Is she embarrassed? Not used to compliments? “Who’s Tanya?”

“Tanya is my best friend.”

He frowned. “You were alone tonight. What happened to Tanya?”

“She had an emergency with her animals. Had to take them to the vet. I think her neighbor poisoned them.” She gasped. “Oh, no. I was supposed to call her after the show. I didn’t think to check my phone. Oh, I hope they’re all right.”

She hurried to her purse and pulled her phone out, turning it back on, and watching for it to turn on again.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Her phone was blowing up with missed calls or texts, likely from people who cared about her and had heard about the shooting at the theater.

Christie sat on a kitchen chair, her shoulders dropping. She read through text after text.

Reed tried not to appear nosy or to look, but it was clear she was upset again. “Lots of messages. Everything okay?”

“Miss Priss and Brutus are going to be okay. They both ate something bad that I’ve never heard of. I hope it’s not a poison. And Tanya is worried about me. She heard on the news about the shooting.”

“Maybe you should call her.”

“After coffee. I promised you coffee. And she’s probably asleep now.” Christie put her phone down and got back up to get two coffee mugs out. “Sugar? Cream?”

“Black.”

“Okay.” She placed the coffee mugs on the table, and then got dream and sugar out for herself. “It’s almost ready.”

Pouring the coffee, her hands trembled again, making the coffee slosh over the side of the cup.

“Hey,” he closed his hand over hers “You’re still shaking. Let me.”