Chapter Twelve
Shane arrived at Caitlin’s home promptly at eight the next evening. They had another thirty minutes of daytime left before twilight would settle in, which was just about perfect for what he had in mind.
He stood on her porch and hesitated before ringing the bell, wondering if he’d overdressed by upgrading his usual off-duty jeans and T-shirt. He hadn’t gone suit and tie, but the button-up shirt and khaki pants felt like enough of a departure to make him self-conscious. Which only made him feel more self-conscious, and that really wasn’t a thing he did. At least not with any woman before her.
He pressed the button before he could think too hard about that.
She opened the door quickly. Too quickly. She’d probably stood there watching him, the thought of which would have made him feel even more ridiculous had she not taken his fucking breath.
With a nervous smile, she pulled back her hair, twisting it into her usual messy bun before he could tell her how much he liked it the other way, too. And the black dress that clung casually to her curves and a set of strappy heels didn’t detract one bit from that, but hell, she’d look great in a potato sack.
Even better out of it, he’d bet.
“Hey,” he said. “You look…” Everything that he could think to say sounded too much like a line. And the blunt truth—that he wanted to remove every stitch of her clothing with his teeth and drive her headboard through her wall—wasn’t likely to go over well.
“Unfit for skydiving is what I was going for.”
Fuck. Not even those moments of freefall ten thousand feet up had felt like this. “You definitely don’t look ready to jump out of a plane.” Damned if that wasn’t the oddest compliment he’d ever uttered. “Or walk through the woods.”
She paused with her hand on the doorframe. “If I’m not jumping out of a plane, I can change shoes.”
“Don’t change a thing,” he said, wondering if she was one of those women who, in the name of beauty, bought shoes that doubled as torture devices. “You’re perfect.”
She blushed, and it made something warm spread through his chest.
Denver. Little over a week.
He shoved aside his mixed feelings and focused instead on the reason for them. Not that she was the one giving him doubts. Not that he had doubts, but if he did, they wouldn’t be coming from her. He had his sister and mother to blame for that. That Caitlin was the first woman to hold his attention in such a way meant nothing beyond the fact that he had a perpetual kickstand problem and no desire to take care of it without her.
“I’ll take you at your word,” she told him, “seeing as how you don’t look ready to climb through the trees.”
If only she knew what he would do right then. Anything, it seemed, but walking away, which was about the only way to get through his remaining time there unscathed. “Is that a challenge? Because I can always buy a new shirt.”
Unscathed was overrated.
“It’s definitely not a challenge, though I will say I’m curious what you have in mind.”
Too bad she hadn’t said that when he’d dropped her off after their lunch date. He hadn’t even touched her for fear he’d want more, but who was he kidding? He already wanted more. And no sooner did he decide the hands-off approach was best than she showed up, asking for…a hand. One he’d been all too willing to give.
His resistance had held up for all of a minute.
Tonight promised less.
He opened the truck door for her, surprised when she didn’t give him a hard time. She liked to do things herself—like pay for lunch—and he appreciated that, but it only made him want to do more for her.
Like what he’d planned for that night.
He fired up the truck, and ten minutes later, he steered into the lot of 34 West and Main. At twelve stories, the tower of granite and tinted glass wasn’t the most impressive of so-called skyscrapers, but it was the tallest Dry Rock had to offer.
Caitlin peered through the windshield as he cut the engine. “What is this?”
“Mostly corporate office space.” He hopped out and went around to open her door, not that she gave him much of a chance. She’d let herself out, though the entirety of her skirt had yet to fall from the seat, giving him a killer view of one smooth, creamy thigh. He imagined dragging his tongue along its length, then higher, and his mouth literally fucking watered.
She must have read his mind, because she smoothed the fabric, dislodging it from the seat, and looked around. “What are we doing here?”
She had no clue what he had in mind, and he loved that he had the chance to surprise her. “Tackling your fear of heights.”
Skepticism reigned. “It was more the water under the bridge. I’m generally okay with office buildings.”
“We’ll see about that.” He led her to the lobby, wishing the floors above were full of hotel suites instead of office space. Hell, even one suite. Anything to drive away this ache.
Or drive it home.
This section of town tended to clear out at the close of bank business, with foot traffic sparse. Most of it by that hour had moved toward the trendy, artsy district near the diner and the bookstore where the buildings were older, smaller, and boasted more of a nightlife. Though only a few blocks separated them, the difference was striking.
But Caitlin hadn’t seen anything yet.
Shane led her to the front entrance, a wide swath of glass that gave him a startlingly normal view of the two of them, all couple-like. He shoved away the thought and punched a code into the keypad to let them in.
“Do you have an office here?” she asked, still sounding puzzled.
“No, but we do some after-hours training at this location.” That was a whole other kind of ache. Maybe that was what he needed—a few hours of grueling physical exertion. He had focus when it counted.
Too bad it counted so damn much with her.
“You train in an office building?”
“The stairs.” His legs ached and lungs burned just thinking about it. “We hit the stairwell in full turnout gear. Going up, you haul a hundred-pound fire hose. Coming down, you get to carry the dead weight of a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound dummy on your back and shoulders. And it’s timed.”
Caitlin looked impressed—something he doubted he’d coaxed from her before that moment, but he’d love to see that look on her face again. Already, he was mentally calculating ways to impress her. Most of them involved nudity. “I doubt I could make it up more than two flights in leggings and trainers,” she said. “Your department has nothing to fear from me.”
“Until you find yourself on a bridge.”
To her credit, she smiled. Forced or not, the way her face lit stunned him.
He turned his back on that and a dozen lascivious thoughts to lead her through the empty, dimly lit lobby to the elevator.
She hesitated a few feet away and stiffened when, after he hit the button, the door slid silently open, but the touch of his hand at the small of her back was enough to send her forward. He wondered about her hesitation. She couldn’t possibly know what he had in mind. If she did, she wouldn’t have held back on letting him know what she thought.
She winced when the doors shut.
Recognition hit. “Seriously?” he asked. “You can’t be afraid of everything. Narrow it down a little.”
She stared at him like he was an idiot. “I’m fine with spiders.”
He tried not to let his shock show. He knew grown men who ran from spiders, though he wasn’t one of them. He’d have put money on her being afraid of those. “And elevators?”
With a nervous glance around, she said, “There’s not a building back in Wyatt with more than two floors. If you need to go up and you can walk, you take the stairs. But I’m a lot more worried about where we’re headed than how we’re getting there.”
So maybe it wasn’t so much fear as it was unfamiliarity. He pressed the button for the roof. It wasn’t labeled with a thirteen, but it sat right after twelve. He bit back a grin when her eyes narrowed, though her words implied she’d suspected the top floor.
Just probably not what he really had in mind.
Just to keep the smile off his face, he asked, “Bridges, water, heights, fire…what else terrifies you? Let me guess—elevators.”
“Not elevators,” she said, glancing at the space. Mirrors made it seem bigger than it was, but they only occupied the top half. Beneath the rail, brushed stainless steel seemed to funnel toward the floor. “Not a fan of freefall, though.”
The elevator jolted, and she gasped. He opened his mouth to give her a hard time, but the fear in her eyes was real.
Damn it. He hadn’t meant to terrorize her with the elevator, of all things. She stood, frozen, and he realized that’s what she’d been doing when he’d found her on the bridge. He wondered what was going on in her head. The direction of her gaze suggested she watched the numbers tick by. The elevator was slow, but horrifying seconds could feel like hours. He remembered that from losing his dad. Those words sitting there, lingering in air, waiting for someone to take them back. To call it a cruel joke, to say that his dad was soot-stained but otherwise okay, the smile he always wore fixed firmly in place.
Everyone had demons.
He just had a bad habit of running toward his.
She breathed an audible sigh of relief when the doors slid open, and so did he. He didn’t need to be closed in with those memories. He didn’t dwell. He moved forward.
So did Caitlin. She’d stepped out ahead of him and looked around, her eyes as wide as a child’s. Not that he could blame her. This was one of his favorite places to have a drink, though it was far from a hotspot. In fact, the rooftop vestibule into which the elevator opened was long closed for the day. Still, the view couldn’t be matched. Inside the glass-walled vista, bistro seating lined three-quarters of the perimeter, with a small café filling the rest. A smattering of tables filled the open space, but he knew it was the view beyond the glass that had grabbed her.
“What is this place?” Her voice was breathless, this time without a trace of fear.
“Think of it as a cafeteria,” he said. “It was put here for the people who work in the building, but it’s open to and seldom visited by the public.” He likened it to a best-kept secret, and it was yet another place he’d never taken a date. Or whatever this was. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be left to revisit this place without her. He’d find another rooftop somewhere, where the sunset had never set fire to her hair or bathed her face in that astounding light.
She walked over to the door and touched her fingertips to the glass, her eyes fixed on the world beyond. High above the trees, they had a clear view of the mountains to the west. In the foreground, a rooftop garden burst in a riot of summer blooms.
He reached past her to push open the door, and he didn’t think he’d ever forget the excitement in her eyes when she turned to look at him in surprise. “We can go out there?”
“After you,” he said. He loved the excitement in her voice, though it surprised him. Of course, they were in the center of a generously-sized patio, not hanging over the edge.
“I’m not getting on a ledge,” she warned.
“I wouldn’t let you if you tried.” Which was true, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d ended up on one himself.
He followed her into the night air so thick with the scent of flowers drifting from planters of all shapes and sizes that he was surprised it didn’t give him an instant headache. “Why is everyone in town not up here?” she asked. “It’s beautiful.”
“Well, for one, it’s not open. Closes at three, and only open on weekdays. Otherwise, they probably prefer burgers and milkshakes.”
“You think you’re kidding,” she said somberly, “but those were the two best milkshakes of my life.”
So she’d remember him for something. Not that he cared. “I can’t compete with that,” he said, “but I do have some wine I’m told is good.”
“You have wine?”
He found the insulated basket he’d left hidden before picking her up. “Wine and some glazed baked ham and Swiss rollup things.”
She laughed. “Rollup things? Is that how you found them on a menu?”
“No, but I didn’t memorize the menu, either. I just asked the chef what he recommended, and he threw this together for me.” Shane had been in Dry Rock so long he knew pretty much everyone, including the man behind the menu at the best fine-dining establishment in town.
“A chef threw this together?” Was he imagining things, or had he actually managed to impress her? Her eyes sparkled. “And I thought we weren’t dating.”
“Who said we’re dating?” The question was sincere, but something inside him protested over his protest. He’d dated, but he’d never done anything like this. Which meant it should count as a date. Either that, or it definitely didn’t.
Neither option seemed right. Caitlin was different.
And she wasn’t his. Never would be.
“It’s already the best date of my life,” she said. “It has to count as a date, or I’m going to have to admit to an embarrassingly mediocre dating history.”
“That sounds like something I want to hear more about,” he said, not bothering to share with her how closely his story mirrored hers. The last thing they needed was for him to admit they had something else in common. Instead, he poured two glasses of wine and took her hand, leading her toward the side. Early stars pierced the sky, and a cool mountain breeze stirred her hair against her nape. He wondered if it tickled. And what would happen if he kissed her there.
She hadn’t mentioned the hand-holding, like that would be a conversation topic. But if there was a woman on the planet who would call him out for touching her, she was the one. She hadn’t objected to their growing proximity to the side, either, so he kept moving.
By now, twilight had begun to settle on the mountains, giving them a purplish hue at the treetops that grew into a glowing ember reflecting on the barren rock and patches of snow higher up.
She had her attention pegged near her feet. He squeezed her hand, only for her to pull away. To his questioning look, she said, “I’m fine.”
She didn’t sound fine, but he let it go. “Check out that view.” When she hesitated, he added, “There’s absolutely no reason to look down. You can see everything straight ahead.”
She did as he asked, then let out a long breath at the sight of the pink-and-purple streaked sky. “Wow.”
Wow was right, though it didn’t compare to the reflection in her eyes.
“This is the best not-a-date I’ve ever been on,” she said. “Elevator and all.”
So now they were back to the not-a-date thing. Only it was her best. He felt like a jerk for basking in the glory of that. And for wanting to be remembered…especially when he could only hope to forget her. He swallowed a spike of vulnerability when he realized how unlikely that was and tossed out the most generic response he could muster. “Then the guys you go out with need to step up their game.”
She scoffed. “Because that’s what every man wants to hear.”
“You’ve got a point. I don’t think I’d appreciate that very much.”
“I figured that about you.”
She hadn’t taken her eyes off the view, so he couldn’t get a read on her. Finally, he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have women falling at your feet. Why would you listen to criticism when you can just move on to someone who tells you what you want to hear?”
Her words hit home. She wasn’t wrong, though he’d never thought of it that way. Which as far as he was concerned meant he wasn’t that kind of guy. “Who says I have women falling at my feet?”
“Am I wrong?”
“I’m pretty sure no one has actually fallen.” He realized the unexpected truth behind the words after he said them aloud. He’d never felt the kind of connection he’d even begin to call love, and as far as he could tell, he’d never devastated a woman by ending things. Most of the time, they stayed friends, or at least friendly, so he wasn’t losing much. Missing intimacy, he now realized, but he’d never had it walk away from him. He’d just never really had it at all.
“A literal response and an attempt at deflection. Nice.”
He met her eyes. “Criticize me, since you think I can’t take it.”
“And be left on the roof?”
“You have my word I will not leave you up here, toss or push or otherwise fling you off the side, or request a helicopter to airlift you out of here. So here’s your chance. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
After a moment, she spoke. “Well, first of all, you told me about the food and didn’t let me have any.”
Relief surged. “Let me fix that right now.” He left her long enough to grab the cooler and its contents, then brought it back to the nearest table. The ham roll wrap things were in a foil container with a clear plastic lid—not the prettiest presentation, but this wasn’t a date. He handed her one with a napkin and cracked open a bottle of iced water for himself.
“Second,” she said, “you keep giving me phallic-shaped food.”
He choked and nearly spit the water. Oh shit, he did. “Unintentional. I swear.”
“Third—”
He stared. “There are three things? Really?”
“Third, you insist on torturing me with things that terrify me.”
“Wait a minute,” he protested. “You requested this one. You said, and I quote, I want to tackle my fear of heights.”
“Fourth,” she said with a grin, “despite that, and the fact that we are not dating, this is still one of the three best dates of my life.”
“Really, that’s a criticism?” He paused. “What were the other ones?”
“Things you and I did together. And I don’t want to hear it, so just don’t. Your ego has been stroked enough.”
Stroked. Shit. He was quiet for a moment before he said, “So I bring the phallic objects and you discuss stroking things? Is that where we are?”
She laughed, but then sobered. “Rumor has it we’re headed in two different directions, which precludes any chance of there being a we to locate. That might be different under different circumstances, but under different circumstances, we wouldn’t be here.”
“I guess it’s a good thing, then,” he lied, swallowing that unwelcomed bit of reality with another shot of water. “And we’re not done here.”
“We aren’t? Because I have to tell you, I’m not getting any closer to the edge.”
Good for her, because he couldn’t seem to take a step back to save his life. He took the glass from her and set it aside. “What I meant,” he said, “is that it’s my turn to criticize.”
“I don’t think I agreed to that.”
“You’re stubborn,” he said anyway. “And a drain on civic resources.”
“Well, I’ve heard one of those before,” she grumbled.
He touched her cheek, causing her to meet his gaze with wide eyes. “And you’re beautiful.”
“Flattering, but generic.”
“The color of your eyes, it’s like walking through the woods in the spring.” Would he ever do that again and not see her?
“Less generic,” she murmured.
He toyed with the ever-present chaos of her hair where it escaped its knot. “And this. I don’t even know how hair can seem so cheerful, but I see it sticking out and it makes me smile.”
“A little strange,” she said.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, guarded, but she’d said it.
He let go of her and walked to the edge, leaning against the thigh-high concrete barrier with his back to the drop. There was still a ledge below, so he wasn’t risking much, but she didn’t know that. “Come here.”
She gave him the most convincing oh hell no expression he’d ever seen in his life. “Not even if you had a gallon of wine and an actual phallus.”
“I’ve got news for you sweetheart. I’ve got both. Now come here.”
She rolled her eyes, but the indifference of the gesture didn’t disguise her fear.
“I’m not coming after you,” he told her. “You need to make this decision on your own. It’s why we’re up here, right?”
She edged away from him, toward the insulated bag. “I’m going to need more of that wine.”
“Nope. The wine isn’t going to do it, either. This needs to be you.”
She sighed—annoyed, he hoped—and took a step toward him. Then one more, half the length of the first. The third was more of a wobble.
“The staff will be here by three a.m.,” he said, doing his best to sound bored.
Shot him a glare. Another small step accompanied it. “At what point,” she asked, eyeing the distance between them, “can I call it close enough?”
“When you’re as close to me now as you were on the bike.”
Not even the heavy dusk could hide her blush. “I find that highly unnecessary.”
“There’s a fifty-six story building in Denver. If we have to do this there instead…” Damned if he couldn’t see that. He wanted it.
“I don’t recall telling you I’d get anywhere near Denver.”
He’d been joking, but her refusal to visit dinged his pride. At least one of them had some sense. “Come. Here,” he said.
She took a shaky breath and hitched her gaze to his. “Okay, I’m going to be straight with you. If I get any closer, I’m not going to be able to breathe. It’ll be the bridge all over again.”
“Trust me. I’ve got you.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never trusted anyone that much.”
He took a step toward her and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Start.”
Then he retreated.
She grimaced. Tears touched her eyes, but she held his gaze and closed the distance, one painful step at a time. He couldn’t imagine living with such fear, but he could see in her eyes it was real. And he’d do anything to take it from her.
“Just look at me,” he said. “And let me tell you about me.”
“You?” One word, and yet her voice wavered.
“Yep. All about me.”
“If you’re going to detail your dating situation…” she said faintly, dragging him back to the moment they’d met. It felt like a year ago, and she’d so thoroughly consumed his thoughts since then that he honestly couldn’t remember a single moment before it. At least not without inserting thoughts of her.
“You’re safe from that.” He wiped an escaped tear off her cheek. “So, stuff about me. I’m not an adrenaline junkie—”
“Says Lieutenant Must-go-somewhere-more-exciting.”
He ignored the jab, despite the laser-precision delivery. Mainly so he wouldn’t have to tell her how much better she made the mundane stuff. Like this rooftop. He’d seen it a hundred times, but even when he’d hit it after a twelve-story run, his heart hadn’t skipped like this. “As I was saying, I’m not all about the thrill. But there’s this feeling up here. I don’t know if it’s the mountain or the air or the feeling of freedom, but it comes from being on the edge.”
She scowled. “Um, isn’t that the definition of an adrenaline junkie?”
“I like the feeling of being up here. Not of falling off.”
“Didn’t you tell me you’d jumped out of a plane? Twice?”
Jesus, this woman. “Caitlin, I swear to God.”
She smiled sweetly, though it was strained.
So they were doing this again, but the fear was gone. He’d take it. He tugged her closer, and she whimpered a soft protest. She landed against him, standing between his parted legs. The combination of her high heels and his leaning against the ledge left them on even ground, height-wise.
Her eyes grew wide with alarm. Or maybe it was the same fear he felt, growing and churning and having nothing to do with the distance between his feet and the earth several floors below.
“It’s like having a beautiful woman in your arms,” he said, ignoring a veritable explosion of second thoughts, to say nothing of whatever she must be thinking. Whatever it was didn’t matter. He had her, and he had no intention of letting go. “Thinking you want to kiss her. Not really wanting her to push you off a roof.”
“Is that your abstract analogy?”
“It’s not entirely abstract,” he admitted.
Caitlin pursed her lips, then softly said, “She doesn’t completely want to push you off the roof.”
It was a good thing he was half sitting, or he’d have fallen over. “Damn good thing,” he whispered, right before he dipped his head and kissed her. He hadn’t intended to take it too far, but when she softened against him, he was screwed. Fingers threading her hair, hand cupping the back of her head, drawing her in, needing her for his next breath screwed.
What the fuck.
He should have seen it coming from a mile away. He hadn’t been able to shake the first kiss, despite his attempts to convince himself it was a fluke. Hell, first kisses were supposed to be memorable.
Second kisses weren’t supposed obliterate them. And they weren’t supposed to make him wonder why he’d ever stop kissing her to go to Denver.
Panicking, he broke it off, just barely aware of the awkward timing of having just deepened the kiss before abandoning it.
Caitlin stared at him, flushed. Sexy. Her lips were swollen, her glasses askew. He felt like hell over it, but he needed to get out of there. Keeping her off-balance was one thing. Losing his own equilibrium was another.
“We should probably go back downstairs,” he finally said. “If I’m going to accidentally trigger an alarm and drag a security guard back out here, it’d better be before he gets in bed.”
“Oh,” she said. The hurt in her eyes felt like splinters gouging at raw skin, but he needed the ground under his feet.
Just not at her expense. “You did it, you know.”
He’d have given anything for criticism number five right then, but she didn’t throw any jabs.
She didn’t say anything at all.
He felt bad, but she’d scared the hell out of him. His desire to fall into her was scarier than any twelve-story drop could ever be, and he hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d hurt her.
And he had no idea what to do about his fucked-up desire to fix something that needed to stay broken.