As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

What was wrong with her? Why was she literally spilling her guts to this man sitting on her couch? She’d met him a matter of days ago and had just basically word-vomited her entire life story to him.

She drained the wine in her glass, swallowing it down in two massive gulps. She was already tipsy and knew this would send her over the edge. She could end the conversation with Lucas, show him the door, and then drop into bed to sleep off the alcohol…and the emotions she’d been trying to drown.

Alaina hadn’t been lying when she told Lucas she didn’t drink often. It wasn’t that she didn’t like alcohol, and it wasn’t because she was worried about drinking too much. She just didn’t have the time. The time to go out for drinks or the time to enjoy them at home.

Most nights she was poring over house listings or planning remodels or going over contracts. A glass of wine or a cocktail would just slow her down. She always had a bottle or two on hand, but lately they had seemed more like decorations than actual beverages she intended to consume.

But tonight? She’d come home from the high school mentally and emotionally exhausted. And because her guard was down, because she was weak from being so tired, thoughts of Noah had filtered in.

She had an uncanny ability to turn things off, to compartmentalize every aspect of her life. It was probably the only reason she was still functioning, especially considering Noah had died just a few weeks ago. Any normal person would still be in the throes of grief. Not Alaina. Those first few days had been a blur, mostly because she’d had to take control of all the arrangements. She’d been so focused on choosing a casket and ordering flowers and arranging food for the reception afterward that she’d shelved her grief, putting it in the far recesses of her mind. Immediately after, she’d jumped right back into work, tackling projects she’s had to put on hold for those few days. And now…well, now she was focused on finding out what really happened to Noah. She’d had her mental breakdown in the cemetery. She’d allowed herself to cry, to feel the guilt wash over her. And then she’d decided to do something about it.

This gave her purpose, sure, but it also gave her something else: a new task to focus on.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She wasn’t facing reality. She wasn’t allowing herself to focus on the truth that was staring her in the face, and she wasn’t letting herself deal with all of the emotions connected to that truth.

Her brother was gone. And he was never coming back. And yes, she’d had her moments when the tears had crept in, when her throat had clogged and her heart raced, when she felt the emotion welling up inside her. But always, always, she’d beaten it back down.

“It’s not your fault.”

Alaina looked up, startled.

She’d almost forgotten Lucas was there.

His warm eyes were on hers, caressing her. His expression was tender, one of naked caring that made her stomach somersault.

“What?” she murmured. The buzzing in her ears made it hard to hear him. It had to be from the wine, she told herself.

“Noah,” Lucas said. “It’s not your fault.”

She shook her head. He didn’t know.

“Look, I know it’s easy to blame yourself. Hindsight is everything, isn’t it? You think about all the things you could’ve done. All the things you should’ve done.” He paused. “But what he did was his decision. His. He made it on his own.”

She stared at him. “If he did it,” she said. “Remember?”

He blinked. “Well yeah.”

“You think he did, don’t you?”

He brought his glass to his lips. He’d barely touched the refill she’d gotten for him.

“I didn’t say that,” he finally said.

She hung her head and closed her eyes. “Is this a wild-goose chase? What I’m doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think there’s a different question you might want to ask yourself.”

She looked up. “Oh? What’s that?”

“Instead of wondering what you’re chasing, maybe you should look at what you’re running from.”

He reached for her hand, and when his fingers wrapped around hers, she closed her eyes. It felt so good to be touched. To be comforted.

“Did you slip something into my drink?” she murmured.

“What?” His voice was so sharp her eyes flew open.

He looked visibly taken aback.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Not literally. I just… I don’t share with people. And look at me, spilling all my secrets.”

“You haven’t told me anything I can’t read on my own,” he said quietly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He was silent for a minute. “It means you don’t have to say anything for me to see how you feel. What you’re going through.” His eyes burned with such intensity, she had to look away.

“Tell me one of yours,” she said impulsively.

“One of my what?”

“One of your secrets.” She smiled. “Level the playing field a little.”

He chuckled. “What makes you think I have secrets?”

She nudged him with her elbow. Their hands were still locked together, and she was surprised by how comfortable, how right, it felt.

“Everybody has secrets,” she told him.

“Hmm.” His brow furrowed. “Okay. I used to be a cop.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s your secret?”

“It’s not really a secret,” he admitted. “I was actually on the force here in Aspen Falls.”

“Really?” She stared at him. “I don’t remember seeing you in police uniform.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know most of the other officers on the force?”

Alaina felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “No, of course not. I just meant…I didn’t know.” She hesitated. “Why did you leave? Did you quit so you could start your own business?”

“Hardly.” He snorted. “Injury forced me out. My knee.”

She flashed back to earlier—the trip to her childhood home seemed like it had happened a week ago, not the day before—and remembered when Lucas had stumbled down the stairs, how he’d gripped his knee afterward. Told her it was from an old injury. She felt bad that she hadn’t pressed for more information.

“What happened?” Her mind conjured up a police chase, or a shootout with some horrible criminal.

He looked at her and she knew he could read the thoughts she was having. “Nothing glamorous or exciting,” he said dryly. “Baseball injury. A charity game. Blew out my knee and, despite surgery and therapy, my time as a cop was over.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

He nodded.

“They just kicked you out?”

“No, they offered me a different position. Pushing papers.” He chuckled and made a face. “You’re probably aware that paperwork is not my forte.”

She burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it.

“Yes,” she said, thinking of the cesspool that was his office. She still had work to do there, but she’d at least made some headway. “Anyway,” she said, “that’s still a lame secret. Tell me another.”

“I wasn’t aware my secret was going to be judged.”

“Well, it is.” She squeezed his hand. “I told you all kinds of things. About how I got started with my business, my relationship with my dad. I got…your last career. As a public servant.” She didn’t mention the things he’d guessed, the emotions she’d tried to hide but were apparently on full display.

His lips twitched. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Fine.” He sobered, and her pulse quickened. “It’s been an adjustment, not being on the force,” he told her. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he was quiet for a minute, almost as if he were struggling to find the words. “That was my career. It was going to be my one and only job until…well, until it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Her heart suddenly ached for him. He’d been flippant in discussing the injury and how it had ended his career, but she sensed that the words he was speaking now were a better indication of just how that event had affected him. It was crystal clear that being a police officer had meant a lot.

“I know all about feeling guilty,” he said.

“Guilty? What do you feel guilty about?” The injury hadn’t been his fault.

“For fucking up,” he said simply. “And maybe it’s not so much guilt as it is self-blame. I feel like a failure because of what happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alaina said firmly.

He cocked his head. “Gee, where have I heard those words before?”

She nodded and smiled. “Fair enough.”

“I’ve spent the last year constantly trying to prove myself.” He took a long sip of his wine. “To show people I’m not a failure. To prove to myself that I’m not a failure.”

“You’re not.” Alaina’s tone was fierce; she could hear it with her own ears. She set her glass down and reached for Lucas. Her hand cupped his chin and she gently guided it so he was looking straight at her. “You are not a failure.”

She stared at him, lost in what she saw reflected in his eyes. There was sadness and fear and pain. She didn’t know if she was looking into his soul or if she was seeing into her own.

But there was something else lurking in the depths of his gaze. An aching longing that ignited something within her.

She closed her eyes and, without thinking, leaned toward him, in search of…something. Her lips met his, a whisper-soft touch, and it was like a bolt of electricity shot through her. She whimpered, letting herself taste and feel him. Lucas shifted and suddenly so did the kiss. Mouths melded together, hands shifted, and she pulled him toward her, desperate, eager for his touch.

She wanted him. No, she needed him.

She raked her hands through his hair as his lips moved against hers, his tongue gently probing her mouth.

Everything about his touch, his taste, felt right.

A voice inside her tried to tell her otherwise. Tried to tell her that it was the wine, the emotions she was feeling, all of these other things that were causing this reaction, this response in her.

She ignored it, pressing herself firmly against him, shifting her hands to his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath the fabric of his shirt. His chest flexed and he sucked in a sharp breath as she inched her own fingers under his shirt.

No, this wasn’t the wine. This wasn’t the guilt or sadness needing to be washed away.

This was unabashed desire. Need.

And she was running with it.