Sitting with Reece in the all-night diner down the road from Mona’s was familiar . . . and yet strange. It was like slipping into someone else’s life I was intimately acquainted with.
The diner was virtually dead with the exception of a table of college guys who were trying not to appear too drunk while in the presence of an officer and a few truckers. Coffee was delivered for Reece and sweet tea for me with a quickness. We’d decided on getting breakfast.
Things were a wee bit awkward at first. I sat across from him, Indian style, in the harsh overhead lights, my hands fidgeting crazily in my lap. I didn’t know what to say or do, and I kept focusing on the low conversation that crackled through his shoulder radio every five seconds.
Reece broke the awkward sauce though. “So I saw that Thomas added another piercing to his arsenal.”
Moving one hand to fiddle with the cool glass, I nodded. “Yeah, he got the eyebrow piercing last week. Every time I see him, I want to take a chain and connect the piercing above his eye to the one in his nose and then to the one in his lip.”
He chuckled lightly. “I’m pretty sure he’d be down with it. Your dad was calling him ‘Metal Face.’ ”
I shook my head. “Thomas is turning eighteen in a few months, and he has our parents convinced that he’s going to get a facial tattoo. Something to do with a zipper on the back of his head that starts at the nape of his neck and ends between his eyebrows?”
His eyes widened. “He’s not serious, is he?”
I laughed. “I don’t think so. He’d have to cut off all those pretty curls, and I don’t think he’d do that. I think he’s just messing with them. Well, for the . . .” I trailed off as a loud thunk traveled across the diner.
Leaning against the red cushioned seats, Reece tossed his arm along the back of the booth as he glanced over at the college table. Someone had spilled a drink, and apparently it was insanely funny to the entire table, because they sounded like a pack of hyenas. My gaze darted back to Reece. He gave great profile. It was the jawline, I decided, that really just made his face exquisite. Capturing the hard line would be so easy with a stroke of a paintbrush or with charcoal. Ah, I could totally do his portrait in charcoal! Wait. I was pretty sure I’d added the whole “stop painting his face” to the priority list.
I really sucked at that priority list.
Reece’s gaze slid back to mine, and I felt my cheeks heat. Because I was totally staring at him, and he totally caught me. The grin that tipped up his lips was full of boyish charm. There was a flutter in my chest. “You’re still taking graphic design, right?”
Huh? It took me a moment to realize he was talking about college. “Oh, yeah. I’m doing online classes. Only two this semester.” I shrugged. “Those damn classes are expensive.”
“How much longer do you have?”
“A couple of more years.” I took a drink of tea. Ah, sugar. “Since I’m only taking two classes a semester, it feels like I’m taking the scenic route, but when I’m finished, I’ll . . .”
“Then what?”
I opened my mouth, but then I frowned. “You know, good question. I really have no idea. Guess I need to figure that out.”
Reece chuckled again as he dropped his arm and placed his elbows on the table. “You’re twenty-two, Roxy. You really don’t need to figure anything out at this point.”
My expression turned bland. “You make it sound like I’m still in diapers. You’re only twenty-five.
Maybe he was right, but there was a niggle of panic in the center of my chest. Once I graduated college, would I keep working at Mona’s? Doing web design on the side? Or would I get a “real” job as some people, especially nosey people, lovingly advised? “I like working at Mona’s,” I announced.
“Why wouldn’t you? Jax is a great guy to work for,” he said, head tilted slightly to the side. “And you’re good with people.”
I grinned. “I make some damn good tips.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth and then slowly rose. “I bet you do.”
A pleasant buzz trilled through my system at the light, almost offhand compliment. Was I that desperate for praise that if I had a tail, I’d be wagging it? Or was it just because it was coming from Reece?
Thick lashes lowered, shielding cobalt-blue eyes momentarily. When he looked up again, his eyes practically burned with the intensity uniquely his.
Oh yeah, it was because it was coming from Reece. Who was I kidding?
I shook those thoughts right out of my head as I grabbed hold of the paper the straw came in and started tearing it up into tiny pieces. “But how bad is it that I graduate with a degree in graphics and still work at Mona’s?”
“How bad is it for you to stop doing something you enjoy for something you don’t?” he countered.
My lips formed a perfect O. Well, when one summed it up like that, it really didn’t make sense.
“Look, do you remember how badly my stepdad freaked when he realized that both my brother and I had no plans of ever going to college?”
I nodded. Colton, his brother, and Reece never had any aspirations of being a college grad, something their stepfather, Richard, was not too keen on, considering he’d been all about higher education and law school.
“And not to this day do I regret never stepping foot in a college. I’m glad I joined the Marines and came back to this,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m satisfied with being a cop, even when there are moments when it’s . . .” A shadow crossed his face, and I held my breath, thinking he was going to talk about what happened—the shooting that had spun his life out of control for a little while.
Peeking up at him, I thought about how . . . how cut up Reece was after he was involved in the shooting a year and a half ago. Who knows what he faced at war, and I did know that he’d taken quite the hit while over there, something I didn’t like to think about . . . it was why he came home, but the shooting he’d been involved in as a cop had rocked him hard. While Reece hadn’t pushed me away at that time, it had been Jax who’d pulled him out of the downward spiral.
“Even when it’s fucking difficult, I don’t regret my choice.”
For some reason, I was disappointed that he hadn’t mentioned the “difficult” situation. Even though Reece had allowed me to get close to him while he was dealing with that crap, he’d never talked about it, and I guessed he still didn’t.
“Not everyone has to do the same thing to be happy,” he continued. “It took Richard a while to get over it, but he did. And he’s fine, because he knows Colton and I are happy.” He paused. “And I know your parents wouldn’t care if you kept working at Mona’s or whatever. They just want you to be happy.”
“I know.” And that was the God’s honest truth.
Reece reached across the table and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist. Slowly, he pulled my hand away from the pile of paper I was creating. “You know, you don’t have to live Charlie’s life for him.”
My jaw hit the table.
“Just because he can’t go to college, doesn’t mean you have to do it for him.” Turning my hand over, he smoothed his thumb along the inside of my wrist. “Charlie would never have wanted that for you.”
There were many days where I wondered what the hell I was doing or why I was doing it, and Reece nailed it on the head right then, after us not exchanging a single civil word to one another for almost a year. Shocked me right to the core, because there was a part of me that didn’t want to acknowledge why I did some of the things I did.
Or why I didn’t do other things.
His thumb made another swipe, drawing my attention. The pads of his fingers were calloused, telling me he used his hands a lot. The contrast of the roughness to the smooth movements and his words had me squirming in my booth.
Before I could think of a response suitable to that statement, our food arrived and he let go of my wrist. But when he did, his fingers were slow to leave my skin, trailing over my hand and the length of my fingers. Unable to stop it, I shivered.
The topic of conversation changed to a much lighter one. “So how long do you think Jax is going to be up here before he takes his ass back down to Shepherd?” he asked, digging into his biscuit drowning in gravy.
I laughed as I picked up a slice of turkey bacon. “Nick was wondering the same thing. Jax is supposed to be back home middle of next week, but I doubt he’d make it a whole week without running down to see her.”
“I don’t either.” His grin was just too much. “Man, he’s got it bad for her.”
“They’re good for each other.”
“True,” he agreed. “Jax deserves it.”
When we finished eating it was close to four, and Reece had to go back on duty. He took care of the check, ignoring my protests with a mischievous grin that made me feel sixteen again.
He walked me to my car, parked next to the cruiser. “I’ll follow you home,” he said, opening my car door for me.
I blinked. “You . . . Reece, you don’t need to do that.”
“I’m back on call. If I get one, I can take it. And it counts as patrolling, so it’s no big deal.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye. “It’s late. You live alone. I’m going to follow you home and make sure you’re safe. Either you can be okay with it or I can follow you like a total creep.”
My brows shot up.
That damn grin was back as he dipped his chin. “Don’t let me be the creep.”
A laugh burst out of me. “Okay. Follow me.” I started to slide into the seat and glanced up at him. “Creeper.”
His answering chuckle had me grinning and then had me wanting to bang my head off the steering wheel the short drive to the Victorian. What was I doing? Why was I all happy and fuzzy? Just because he wanted to start over didn’t mean anything other than being friends. And that was totally cool, and I guess it was also cool to be . . . happy about that and letting go of the anger and all the messy crap that surrounded that night. I could totally do the friend-zone thing with him.
As long as he stopped grinning at me like he was, and touching me. Friend zone meant a no-touch policy.
When I parked at the curb, the cruiser was right behind me, and I wasn’t entirely surprised that, when I stepped out of the car, he was already out of his, waiting for me. “Walking me to the door?” I asked, slinging my purse over my shoulder.
“Of course.” He closed the car door for me. “After all, I’m all about protecting and serving.”
I lifted a brow.
The scent of the late-blooming roses Mrs. Silver took care of filled the air as Reece placed his hand on my lower back, steering me up the old cobblestone walkway to the front porch. The weight of his palm seemed to sear right through my thin shirt. The whole no-touch policy went right out the door.
The lights were off in the Silvers’ and James and Miriam’s place, but a small yellowish glow radiated from the apartment above mine. I really needed to introduce myself. I added that to the ever-changing priority list.
Stopping in front of my door, I fished out my keys, desperately wishing I didn’t notice how his hand still remained on my back or that we were standing so close, his right thigh almost brushing my hip.
I glanced up at him and drew in a sharp breath. Out of all the things streaming through my head, I couldn’t pull out a single coherent sentence.
“See, you safely made it to your door,” he said, his tone light.
My skin felt too warm in the balmy air. “Thanks to you.”
“I’m good for something.”
“You’re good for a lot of things.” For some reason when those words jumped out of my mouth, they sounded a lot more perverted than they did before I spoke them.
In the dark, I could barely make out his expression, but he shifted so that we were face-to-face. Doing so caused him to drag his hand from my back to my hip. “Ah, Roxy, I wish I could say that I believed you knew just exactly what I was good at, but I can’t.”
Ack! Okay. The words really did come off perverted-sounding, because he was talking about that night, and we were supposed to move on from that. But we were right smack-dab in the middle of that mess. And my tongue got completely out of control. “You were good,” I said, remembering the way he’d kissed me. Drunk off his rocker or not, the man knew how to kiss. “I mean, really good.”
Those damn lips curved up, getting my lady bits all kinds of excited and wishing he’d move his hand a few inches to the left and down. “Now, Roxy, I thought it was nothing to write home about?”
I had said that. And I also realized we were thinking about two very different things. Kissing versus sex. I really needed to tell him what happened. “Reece, I—”
“There’s something I want to be up front about,” he said, cutting in. He dipped his head so that when he spoke, his breath danced along my cheek. “I told you that I missed you and I was done missing you.”
My brain emptied. “Yeah, yeah you did.”
“But that’s not the only thing,” he explained while my heart started to pound. “Obviously there is something between us. Drunk or not, that night would’ve never happened if there wasn’t.”
“Wait. You said you regretted that night. That you—”
“Yeah, I wish that night didn’t happen, Roxy. Only because I want to remember the first time I got inside you. I want to recall every second of thrusting into you, inch by inch, and commit that to memory, babe. That’s why I regret it and fully plan on rectifying that situation.”
Oh, holy balls, what he just said was light-me-on-fire hot. So steaming hot I wasn’t even focusing on the fact he’d never been in me. No guy, not even Reece, ever talked to me like that.
I liked it.
So did my girlie parts.
Katie once told me she knew this guy who could make her wet just by speaking to her, and I seriously didn’t believe her. Now I did. Totally did. Definitely no longer an urban legend. It was possible—wait a sec. He planned on rectifying the situation?
“You know what the fucking hardest thing the last eleven months was to watch?”
“No,” I whispered.
His voice was rough, a low rumble. “Seeing you with guys who weren’t even worth a minute of your time—people that make me wonder what kind of shit choice in guys you have.”
I started to defend my taste in men, but I snapped my mouth shut. Yeah, the last couple of guys I’d gone out with were kind of bad. Not Dean. He was just . . . blah. Boring.
“You go out with these tools while you’d turn and run from me.”
“You’re worth my time?” I asked, unable to stop myself from doing so.
The tilt to his lips was knowing, arrogant and annoyingly sexy. “Babe, you have no idea how worth your time I am.” The hand on my hip tightened. “I’m not wanting to be just friends with you, Roxy. Hell no, but if that’s all you want, then I’ll deal with it. I just need to lay it all out there. So we’re both on the same page. You know what I want.”
Static transmitted through his shoulder radio, a dispatcher calling in a traffic accident on a back road not too far from here. Keeping his eyes on me, he moved his hand and hit a button I couldn’t see on the radio. “This is Unit Three-oh-one,” he said. “I’m en route.”
When Reece removed his hand, he said to me, “Just think about it.” Then he dipped his head, brushing his lips across my cheek, to my temple. He placed a honeyed, all too brief kiss there. “Now get your sweet ass inside.”
In a daze, I did just that. The only thing that stopped me was when I turned in the open doorway and he was already halfway to his cruiser. “Reece!”
He looked over his shoulder. “Roxy?”
My cheeks heated. “Be careful.”
I couldn’t see him smile, but I heard it in his voice. “Always, babe.”
Then he was gone.
The pleasant trill was back, stronger than I could remember. It was like having sugar land on my tongue. I floated as I closed my door, seconds from throwing out my arms like the chick in the Sound of Music and twirling around when I drew up short, just in front of the hall. There was a low hum coming from the kitchen, the sound of gears—of a machine turning over.
Reece and his I’m-not-just-wanting-a-friendship speech forgotten, I quickly flipped on the light. Everything looked normal, but that sound . . .
Dropping my purse on the couch, I slowly made my way through the small dining room, flipping on lights as I went. My stomach twisted as I reached the kitchen, quickly finding that light switch.
Light flooded the kitchen and I sought out the source of the noise, immediately finding it.
“What in the world?” I muttered.
Directly across from me, the dishwasher was getting down, doing its business. Nothing weird about that . . . except I hadn’t turned the dishwasher on before I left for work. And even if I had, it wouldn’t have been running this long. Tiny hairs rose along the back of my neck as I stared at it.
With the breath hitched in my throat, I crept toward the dishwasher, expecting it to spring to life and start singing like appliances did in Beauty and the Beast. Swallowing hard, I slid my fingers under the handle and yanked it open, interrupting the cycle.
Steam poured into the air, and I jerked my hand back. The door creaked and then fell all the way open. There were only two things in the dishwasher. The cup I’d used for the tea before I left for work and the plate I’d eaten a bagel on.
Nothing else.
Leaving the door open, I backed away as I shook my head. I didn’t get it. Had I accidentally knocked on the timer? Sounded plausible, but hell, I honestly didn’t even know how to turn it on.
A cold chill snaked down my neck as I folded my arms across my chest. Turning in a wide circle, my gaze sought out every nook and cranny in the kitchen. Then, more than a little freaked out, I darted out of the kitchen, leaving all the lights on, and I didn’t stop running until I was in my bedroom, door shut and locked behind me.