He had coffee brewing by the time Emily came down the stairs.

“Did you go home?” She had that morning fog hanging over her still as she rubbed at her eyes and then ran a hand through her hair, which was now down. She wore comfy sweats—practical.

“Nah. I’m just as happy here. Home is really only…a place to sleep, I guess.” He’d made like the good boy his mother expected him to be last night. And he’d spent the night on the couch after Emily had gone to bed. After they’d watched a movie, an older one with trench coats and fedoras. She had a thing for the thirties and forties. And espionage.

John smiled and turned over the scrambled eggs in the pan.

She was human, a little broken and definitely timid when it came to relationships. She didn’t trust.

A good reason for taking any relationship endeavors slowly. And he had every intention of asking her to take things to the next level. He didn’t want to pinpoint an end game, but he wanted more.

When he turned back around, she was gone. He took a step so he could see down the hall to the stairwell, and grinned when he saw her turn and race back up the steps. “Okay,” he muttered.

Five minutes later, the eggs were done and he dumped them into a bowl and set them on the table. He grabbed the toast he’d been working on and did the same. Then he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat.

He silently said a quick grace and dug in.

“Oh my. Did you just pray?”

He turned to look at her. “So?”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Okay.” And then she smiled. Really smiled at him.

“Do you have a magic coffee pot upstairs or something?” he asked. “You look awake and different.” He checked his watch. “Or did we go through a time warp?”

“Dressed and ready for the day, that’s all.” The black pants accentuated her slim hips but didn’t hug her legs all the way down. They hung—like slacks—to the tops of her shoes—heels. The silk shirt on top was white and tucked in at her waist. All week she’d been in a more casual look.

“You look like a federal agent. Is that on purpose?” He’d liked the woman from the coffee shop, dressed down and casual. “Not that you don’t look good. You’re a hot agent.”

“See? That’s nice. Taking it down to your basic reaction. And I feel great.”

His ache hadn’t gone away. Her rear in those pants made him want to grab her ass. Basic—unholy—reaction. He cleared his throat. “Eat. Then we’ll leave.”

“Hm. Bossy.” Emily was obviously well rested. And she seemed more upbeat than he’d seen her since they’d left Harbor View. He hoped it wasn’t a false front, that she wasn’t playing him. He’d wanted her to feel at home on the team. The option to work full-time for Hawk Elite had been laid out there. He still hoped she was considering it.

They wolfed down the food and were out the door in under twenty. He appreciated it. “I like how efficient you can be. You don’t waste time.”

“I rarely have the time to waste. But I like to imagine.” She looked over his truck at him before they both got in. “Sandy beaches. Umbrella drinks. A good book. What about you? How would you go about wasting time?”

He immediately steered his mind out of the bedroom, out of her bed. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I was home, enjoying my mama’s apple pie.”

“Oh, you did not just say that.” She laughed at him. “Are you trying to earn brownie points or something?”

“You’re a cynic, aren’t you?”

She ignored him. “That must go over well with the ladies, huh? A man who loves his mama.”

At the red light, he looked at her. “It was either that or tell you exactly how I wanted to waste time with you—taking you, inch by goddamned inch. Slowly and thoroughly. Touching you every which way from Sunday.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, well…that works too.” She blew out a breath. “Okay. After last night—”

The light turned green and he stepped on the gas, slowly moving forward. “We haven’t known each other that long,” he answered for her. “We’re working together. Last night—” He stopped. “Last night, I had a really good time. And—”

“Oh, look at that bird,” she said, pointing out the window.

He laughed. “Fine. No talk about us.”

She smiled. “There is no us.”

“—yet,” he finished for her with a grin.

“God, you are hopeful.”

John took the next left and another quick right, and parked on the street in front of Tyler’s house. The neighborhood was run-down. Not too much of the economy was feeding this area of the city. He gazed out at the house, which was one of the neater, better-kept homes on the block. That meant something to Tyler. John had even been over a time or two on his days off to fix things up or do yard work.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s go see what’s up with Tyler.”

They walked up the path and he knocked on the door.

Silence met their approach, and John caught Emily’s gaze with a shrug. He knocked again.

* * *

The door cracked open and Tyler peeked through the crack before he opened the door completely. “Vega.” His wild gaze went from John to Emily. “Why did you bring her?”

Yeah, John. This guy is a drunk.

Emily’s pulse kicked up a notch. John considered him harmless—hurting yet harmless. She rested a hand on the small of his back, a little bit using him as a shield, a little bit offering him support.

“You met her last night, Ty, remember? Emily.”

“She with child services?”

“No,” John answered, his voice calm. He was so cool.

She was starting to wonder what kind of gun she should be carrying. She smiled, wanting to put at ease. She had no idea what it meant to be a parent, to want to protect a child.

“Come in.” His gaze scanned the neighborhood, never resting before he waved them in and shut the door behind them. She got a funny feeling at her back, though, and itched to pull the damn thing back open.

Twitchy as hell, Tyler ran a hand through his hair, scratched at his scalp. “Sorry, man. I’m on edge. Waiting for the shit to hit the fan. Keisha’s been calling every other hour, talking shit about people watching, about how she’s finally going to fix everything.”

Oh, yay.

John’s frown deepened a good bit as they crossed the threshold. And her own look around found the place…neat, but not necessarily clean. There was a coating of neglect, that thin layer of dust and the closed curtains, which made the place seem ever drearier than it probably would normally be.

“Is Jenny here?”

Tyler tensed at John’s question, his suspicious gaze hitting Emily again. She reached into her back pocket and pulled her ID. Without a word, she showed it off.

“Tyler, Emily works for Hawk. New recruit.”

Tyler glanced at it with a nod. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I’m freaking out right now.”

Emily had another word for it—paranoia.

“Come on in.” He led them back to the kitchen, and at the table sat a little girl, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders as she ate a bowl of cereal. “Jenny, say hi to Mr. Vega. And this is his friend, Emily.”

The girl gave them her full attention but only hinted at a smile.

Emily waved, her heart going out to the little girl who was obviously stuck in the middle of a not-so-nice spousal standoff. “Hi, Jenny.”

“Hi,” the girl answered, her serious eyes seeing right though her. “Do you work with Mr. Vega?”

“I do.”

Jenny nodded. “Are you going to help my dad?”

“We’re going to try.” Emily took a seat across from the girl and rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “What are you up to today?”

The shrug was pure pre-adolescence as was the never-may-care expression in her eyes, and both were seemed unexpected of a six-year-old. “Dad says we’ll probably stay home. Sometimes we go for a ride in his Jeep.”

Emily smiled when the girl’s eyes brightened.

“And we get ice cream. Do you like ice cream?” Jenny warmed up.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes,” she answered. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Chocolate.”

The men were talking on the other side of the room, murmured voices that rose and fell with emotion. She hoped they were making progress for this sweet little muffin.

“Plain chocolate?”

“Yup. I love chocolate. What’s yours?”

“Cotton candy.”

“Aaah, now that’s a good flavor, and I bet it reminds you of being at the carnival.” Emily grinned, remembering her own childhood and the visits to the fair in Harbor View with her mom.

“Oh! My dad took me to a carnival once and we went on the Ferris wheel.”

John stepped toward them and crouched down next to the table. His hand came down and rested on Emily’s thigh. Warmth filled her, and when she smiled at him and he smiled back…holy moly, she wanted so much to be friends with him, but more than that, too. Because in a flash, she could see a future where his smiles didn’t disappear from her life, and it was a very, very good life that included sunshine and laughter and someone to watch her back—no matter what.

Bullshit dreams. Alternate realities. She could never have a family. Not with her record.

“We were talking about a Ferris wheel,” Emily told him, taking his touch another step and placing her hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever been on a Ferris wheel?”

“No. Nope. Never.”

“What?” Her surprise was genuine. “I imagine you to be the first in line.”

“No, thank you,” John said with no shame. “I keep my feet on the ground.”

Tyler snorted a laugh behind them, and Emily looked up to see that the young girl’s dad was definitely more relaxed now, more in control of his emotions. And maybe he wasn’t drunk, either.

Jenny giggled. “Are you afraid?”

“Maybe.” John leaned in. “You won’t tell my secret, will you?”

She shook her head.

“Good. We have to go, Jenny. But I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

The girl looked like she didn’t believe him. There was a doubting element to her innocence, one that made Emily think she wasn’t far from being not that innocent anymore.

“I promise. Be good for your dad.”

“Okay.” She trusted John, trusted her dad. “Will you bring her again?”

Emily bit back a laugh when the girl jerked her thumb in her direction.

“Yeah,” John answered. “She’s with me.”

She’s with me.

John stood and held out a hand.

Emily’s hand shook a bit as she took it. “See ya later, Jenny.”

They left with her brain in a bit of a muddle. I’m with him.

He hadn’t been the typical café customer. He hadn’t been her usual ally. And he definitely wasn’t her usual…date, partner, or even hookup. This man, who solved family problems, who was a backbone on the teams for being someone a person could rely on. He flipping had a mom and dad, brothers and sisters. He was…a golden boy—made in America.

When they reached the car, she realized she was still gripping his hand. “Oh, sorry.” She pulled her hand free and went for the door handle at the same time he did, and their heads bumped. “Shit, sorry.”

He rubbed at his forehead. “Get in,” he said with a laugh. “I need to look in on the ex and talk to someone at social services.”