Chapter 18
Rosie awoke to hard rain lashing the windows and thunder booming overhead. She sat up in bed, belatedly realizing she was naked…
Cruz. Last night. Oh my god. She glanced to the side of the bed. Empty.
What?
But the windows were shut, and she distinctly remembered leaving them open to catch the cool evening breeze.
She scooted out of bed, feeling a delicious twinge south of her belly button. She closed her eyes for a second. He’d been a sexual god last night. She bit her lips just thinking about his naked muscles and the ways he’d worked her over.
A metallic clank echoed from downstairs. Her kitchen? She grabbed a baggy T-shirt that she used for pajamas, pulled on a pair of soft fleece shorts, and started to go downstairs. But first, she went to the window that faced the front yard.
There sat Cruz’s black truck, just where they’d left it last night.
She let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t taken off while she slept, though she hadn’t thought that of him. This was just new to her, and she needed the reassurance. She ducked into her bathroom to take care of business.
Wow. Her reflection in the mirror revealed messy, knotted hair and yesterday’s mascara still on, though it wasn’t too badly smudged. A grin spread across her face at how ravished she looked—and felt. She quickly splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth.
She headed down the steps and caught a familiar smell. Breakfast?
No way.
Hurrying the rest of the way to the kitchen, she found Cruz at her stove, humming and frying sausage patties. A bowl of eggs, cracked and whisked, sat on the counter. Holy wonderful way to wake up.
“Hey, you.” She walked in, unable to hide a huge grin.
“Morning, pretty girl.” He flipped the patties over and pulled her in for a hug. “Sleep good?”
“Yes, so good.” She skimmed her hands up his arms, to the sleeves of the T-shirt he’d worn last night. Guess he had no choice. Their little sleepover wasn’t planned. “Look at you, cooking? That’s so sweet.”
“You may wanna hold that thought until you’ve tasted it.” He frowned. “I think I can handle basic eggs and sausage, but you never know.”
“Well, it smells amazing.” She let go of him and walked to the coffee pot on the counter. “You want coffee?”
“Hell, yes.” He winked. “A little country girl rode me hard last night.”
Grinning, she filled the glass pot with water and poured it into the reservoir. “Oh my god. You’re bad. I’d spank you but you’re working with a hot pan.”
He slid her a purely sinful grin. “I’ll take a rain check.”
Oh. Her tummy flipped and it had nothing to do with the meat sizzling in the pan, but had everything to do with the tall, fully dominant man before her. “You want some help with the food?” she squeaked out around the prickle of desire that sparked down her skin.
“Nope. I’m good. And if this turns out like crap, I’ll take you somewhere for a real breakfast.”
Rosie watched him flip the sausage again, thinking this was the best, most real breakfast she could ask for. “This so nice, Cruz. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And like I said, you haven’t tasted it yet.”
I know what else I haven’t tasted. God, girl, get your mind out of the gutter. What was wrong with her?
Cruz. Cruz is what was wrong, and what was too right to be true. She was stuck in a Cruz-filled orbit, and she had no desire to leave. And she was going to be stuck as long they shared the same air space. She took a breath to get a grip and leaned a hip on the counter. “I woke up to an empty bed. Then I heard a clank.”
He chuckled. “That was me searching for a pan.” He transferred the now-done sausage to a plate and turned the burner down. “And for the record, I’d never leave without sayin’ goodbye.” He covered the few feet between them and set his warm hands on her hips. “That’s not who I am.” He sifted a frizzed lock of her hair through his fingers, searching her face, and she knew he expected a reply.
She swallowed. It was easy to state things in absolute terms when you didn’t have the whole story. And life could change in a heartbeat.
“Hey,” he said softly, skimming his hands up her arms. “Please tell me you don’t think I’d—”
“No,” she said quickly. That was the last thing she wanted him to think. That anything he’d done was wrong. No, the ugliness rested with her. “I don’t think that you’d go. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’ll leave you a note next time,” he murmured. “Even if I’m just down here trying not to burn water.”
She smiled, because he was too perfect to exist and be standing here in her kitchen. “You don’t have to.”
He studied her with those eyes that were too perceptive. “Everything okay?”
How was he so aware of her? She forced a smile. “Yeah.”
“You get this shadow sometimes, in your eyes,” he said. “Like there’s something deep down that just hurts, or makes you sad, or just isn’t right.”
She stared at him, too shocked to speak. A hundred emotions barreled through her. How could he guess her so accurately? How could one person pick up that much…or was she that transparent? She should be happy that this one incredible man paid her that much attention.
“Um…” she blinked, drawing a blank on how to spin this. She self-admittedly had no emotional poker face.
“Maybe I should lay off this kind of talk until after breakfast,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He dropped his hands down to hold hers.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“But, Rosie.” His voice took on an edge. “Tell me if something’s bothering you. Whether it’s something I’m doing or something in the world that ticks you off. I want to know.”
“Okay.” What else could she say? How could she tell him, if the problem was within her?
Needing to redirect this conversation, she tugged him down for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm and tasted like orange juice, and she spotted his glass on the counter a second later. Next to it was a second one, unfilled.
But she needed her morning shot of caffeine, and poured coffee while he cooked up a batch of perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs. “Cream and sugar?”
“Nah. But thanks.”
Rosie added her usual ton of sugar and liberal dose of cream to her coffee, watching as he gulped a swig of the bitter liquid—completely plain. “I’ve never been able to drink it black,” she said, partly in awe and partly imagining how bad it must taste.
“And I can’t drink it with all that crap in it.” He winked and set his mug down. In a minute, the eggs were done and he divided them onto two plates. He added the sausage and they took their seats at her tiny table.
She forked a bite of egg into her mouth.”Mmm. These are delicious!” She paused. “Did you add a pinch of sugar?”
“Damn, you’re like a taste detective. That’s what my mom taught me. I think.” He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “I may be making that up.”
“Well, you learned well. You can make these for me again.”
He stopped, fork halfway to his mouth. “You askin’?”
God, those eyes. Like he wouldn’t take no for an answer, yet carried a hint of caution as to what she would say. “Looks like it.”
“Good, ‘cause I planned on repeating this.’ He waved a finger above the table, then stood and leaned down to her. “And this.” He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up for a quick kiss.
“That sounds nice,” she murmured as his warm lips left hers, leaving them cool for a second. Amazing didn’t begin to describe him.
He lowered his tall frame into the chair. “Good.”
They ate in silence for a minute, Rosie trying to process the incredibility of Cruz making her breakfast. He was damn comfortable in the kitchen. He’d never mentioned a father, so she had to give a mental thanks to his mom or grandma.
A loud clap of thunder shook the house. The light flickered. Cruz glanced up and frowned. “That happen often?”
“No.”
“Good.” He devoured the last of his meal. “You working tonight?”
“No. Surprisingly. But I am watching Brenda’s girls today. She has to work the lunch shift.” She nibbled a bite of perfectly cooked sausage. “Hey, she’s having a party next weekend. She has one to kick off summer every year.”
“Kick off?” He arched a brow.
Rosie giggled. “Yeah, she tries to have it on Memorial Day weekend, and then ends up having it mid-June. She’s always late.”
He took a gulp of orange juice. “I’ll say.”
“Wanna go with me? I know she was your waitress when you got to the Grille that first night and all, but now you can officially meet her. And there’ll be a lot of Sundowners there.”
“Sure. Sounds fun.” He leveled her with a heated stare. “Long as I get you all to myself before and after.”
How did he always know the right things to say to make her wish that she had no responsibilities, that she could spend entire days wrapped in his arms? “You got yourself a deal,” she murmured.
A before and after date with Cruz. Of all the unexpected things in her life, she had a feeling he was going to be the best.
Shane’s phone rang, cutting through the long boring afternoon. Cooped up inside thanks to the deluge, he and Denver were both grumpy. Shane grabbed the phone. Glancing at the screen he recognized the cell of one of the cops in Hamilton, the next town west. “Yo, Collins.”
“Marlow.” Nate Collins wasn’t the best cop, but he wasn’t the worst either. Shane regarded everything he said with a grain of salt. “What’re you up to today?”
“Nothing, thanks to this damn storm. You?” Shane paced to the window and scowled. Nate didn’t usually call to chat.
“Nada. Hey, did you hear the Quick-Mart in Marmion had a robbery last night?”
“No. What happened?”
“Suspect came in around 11:30 at night. Had a knife, threatened the clerk. She gave him all the cash in the register. He had a mask on.”
“Shit. Clerk ok?”
“Yeah, just scared.”
“Got any leads?”
“We’re reviewing the security footage.”
“All right. Sounds like you’re on it. What do you need me for?”
“Heard Sundown’s newest resident is an ex-con.”
Shane froze and instant anger spread through his veins. He didn’t particularly like Zaffino…but he also didn’t like cops making assumptions, and he really didn’t like cops suspecting people with zero reason. He cleared his throat. “Not exactly an ex-con, since he was exonerated.”
“Shit, man, you’re splitting hairs as bad as any lawyer. All right then—he’s an ex-inmate. That’s a statement of fact.”
Shane blew out a breath. “Fine. I know. I met him. Read up on him. You got reason to place him at the scene last night?”
“No. Just checking on loose ends.”
“You can’t make up a loose end that don’t exist,” Shane growled. “Look what that got him before. And his story is all over the web, making Cook County look like a bunch of fools.”
“Take it easy, man. Didn’t know you were buds with the guy.”
Shane ground his molars. “No one is buds with anyone. And I’ll be damned if Redemption ends up in the news for any fucked-up arrests.”
“Absolutely, we don’t want that kind of spotlight on our fair county,” Nate drawled. “And we don’t want to be known for a sudden spike in crime, neither.”
“No shit, Collins,” Shane snapped. “Do your investigation. If you have any shred of evidence that might tie back to Zaffino, call me first. Are we clear?”
“You got it. Your concern for our justice system is duly noted.” Nate ended the call.
“Fucker.” Shane stalked to the kitchen. Nate was a smug asshole and Shane didn’t doubt he was chomping for a suspect to haul in.
Shit. He should’ve seen this coming. Zaffino wasn’t a boy scout, but he wasn’t a murderer either. But some people judge without knowing the whole story. He got the same treatment, just the opposite way.
People stopped him and thanked him for his service to the nation. Shane hated the word hero more than anything, but he’d learned to accept that he was going to get that label. It was one he didn’t deserve, not when half his team had died needlessly, and he’d been helpless to save them.
He opened his fridge and grabbed a beer, wondering if his initial reaction to Cruz had been too harsh. Maybe he wouldn’t have thought as much about him if Rosie hadn’t been involved.
He took a long slow pull off his Bud. He’d keep his eyes and ears open, like he always did. And he’d reserve judgement of Cruz until he knew the guy. On a level he forced himself to acknowledge, they’d both been through their own hell, and for each it was something most people never had to endure. Giving Cruz the benefit of the doubt was the least he could do.