by Sandra Owens
Three dogs raced onto the deck, two going to Jack and one to Nichole. Jack leaned over and put a hand on each of their heads. “We have guests, so be on your best behavior.”
“What pretty dogs.” Peyton held out a hand to the one next to Nichole.
“That one is Rambo,” Jack said. “He belongs to Nichole.” He tapped the Belgian Malinois on the head. “This is Dakota. She’s the head honcho of the bunch.” He moved his hand to the other dog. “This goofball is Maggie May. She’s a kleptomaniac, so guard your stuff around her.”
“You’re making that up,” Peyton said.
Nichole shook her head. “No, she really is. She’ll steal anything that catches her fancy.”
“She stole one of my shoes the night I was here,” Noah said.
Peyton grinned. “That’s funny.”
“Where’s Lucky?” Jack said.
“At Peyton’s.” He’d left him behind because he needed a night without a dog shadowing him. Jack could shoot disapproval his way all he wanted. He focused on Peyton, who was laughing at something Nichole said.
Damn, she was pretty. It wasn’t just her sky-blue eyes and long, inky-black hair, nor a body he itched to explore, that called to him. As much as those attributes appealed, it was her inner light that drew him in, that he longed to touch. He thought she could help him heal, but he had nothing to offer in return. All he could do was take, and he wouldn’t do that to her.
As he perched on the railing, listening to the three of them talk, his gaze stayed on Peyton. Every emotion showed on her face and in her eyes when she talked. Her hands were never still. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d been friends with Jack and Nichole for years.
The sun was setting, he was surrounded by people he liked, particularly one of them, and the conversation was interesting and sometimes funny, especially when Peyton got going. It was almost too easy to think life was normal, that he had possibilities. He wanted that to be true, but it wasn’t.
“What about you? What’s your superpower?” Peyton said, looking at him.
“Superpower?” His thoughts had drifted, and he tried to run their conversation back through his mind. He didn’t have a clue what they’d been talking about.
“Yeah. Jack can touch his nose with his tongue, which is impossible for most people. Nichole can wiggle her ears, and I can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue.”
“You can do that?” What else could she do with her tongue?
Jack snorted, letting Noah know he was aware of where Noah’s mind had gone.
“I can. So, what can you do?”
“He can sing the alphabet backwards,” Jack said when Noah didn’t answer.
Peyton clapped her hands. “Do it.”
Only because he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her, he started singing. It was a trick he’d won money on every time someone bet he couldn’t do it. When he finished, she clapped again. “That was cool.”
It was a silly thing, but making her happy made him...well, happy. He wasn’t sure he was okay with that, this good feeling, but he’d examine that later. For tonight—and only tonight—he’d lock his demons away and enjoy the company.
“The weird thing is,” Jack said, “he can’t speak the alphabet backwards.”
No one believed him, so he had to prove it. Then the others tried, and Peyton got so tripped up on the letters that she dissolved in giggles, laughing so hard that she had the rest of them laughing at her.
For the rest of the night, he allowed himself to have a good time without feeling guilty. It was a gift he wasn’t expecting.
* * *
“I love your friends,” Peyton told Noah when they returned to her loft. She wanted to tell him that she’d also loved seeing him enjoy himself. His smiles and laughter tonight had been a beautiful thing to see.
“They’re good people.”
She smiled. “Yeah, they are.” Lucky was bouncing around them, excited they were home. She kneeled, giving him a hug and chin scratch.
“I need to take him out.”
She glanced up at Noah. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Already, he was reverting to gloomy Noah, and she wanted to beg him to please stay happy. She wanted to know what had put that haunted look in his eyes, but he wouldn’t tell her, so she didn’t ask. What she could do was be a friend, and everyone needed a friend, even when they pretended they didn’t.
“You never told me where in Maine you’re from,” she said when they reached the sidewalk. That seemed a safe enough question, and she was curious to know everything about him. With each passing minute, he was retreating into himself while she was growing more desperate to keep him from shutting her out.
“No place you would have heard of.”
“What’s the closest town I’d recognize?”
“Bar Harbor.”
“That’s on my bucket list. If I ever get to go there, I’m going to eat lobster for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” When he didn’t respond, her nerves kicked in. “With lots of butter. You can’t get a really good lobster here in the mountains, so I don’t bother. I did go to a restaurant in Charleston once that had Maine lobster on the menu. I had a two-pound one and ate the whole thing. Can you believe that? They put one of those bibs on me, and I had butter all over my hands and face. Dalton said I was embarrassing him. He—”
Yes! He was kissing her. His hand was behind her neck again, and he caressed her skin with his thumb. He hadn’t done that before, and talk about tingles. That circular motion he was making with his thumb sent goose bumps down her back.
If he could do something new, then so could she. She slid her hands around his neck, praying he wouldn’t push her away. He didn’t. He circled her back with an arm, pulling her against him. There was no place she’d rather be. When he deepened the kiss, her body hummed in response. How did he do this to her? Make her hum, tingle, and get goose bumps? It was too much. It wasn’t enough. If she could ever get him in her bed, she might not survive it, but she’d sure like to find out.
“What was that?” Noah said, breaking the kiss. He scanned the area around them.
She wanted to drag his mouth back to hers. “What?” Then she heard it. A woman was crying, begging someone not to hurt her.
Noah handed her Lucky’s leash, then strode away. Pulling at the leash, Lucky whined, and Peyton let the dog tug her along. A narrow alley ran between two buildings, and Noah disappeared around the corner. When she came to the entrance to the alley, Noah glanced back at her.
“Stay there.”
“Okay.” Lucky wanted to go with Noah, so she held tight to the leash.
Halfway down the alley, a man stood over the crying woman. “You think you can walk away from me, bitch? I say when it’s over.”
Peyton gasped when the man hit her. He was so intent on yelling at the woman, that he didn’t notice Noah coming up behind him. The man was big and mean looking. Afraid Noah was going to get hurt, Peyton wanted to call him back.
Noah stopped inches from the man’s back. “You touch her one more time, and I’m going to show you how it feels to have a fist in your face.”
The man spun, and Peyton slapped her hand over her heart when she saw the rage in the man’s eyes. She searched around for a cop, but there wasn’t one in sight. Why hadn’t she brought her phone so she could call the police? Knowing it would distract him, she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from calling out to Noah.
“You need to mind your own business, dude,” the man said.
“I’m making it my business, asshole.” He glanced at the woman cowering against the wall. “Does it make you feel manly to pick on a woman half your size?”
Why was Noah taunting him? The man was bigger, and his arms bulged with muscles. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Noah. He stood as stil
l as a statue, as if a huge woman beater wasn’t worth the blink of an eye. Never had she seen a man so deadly calm, yet so menacing. She was looking at a warrior, a man trained to conquer his enemy.
Her worry for him eased. Did the man not get that Noah was daring him to come at him? She still wished a cop was around to put a stop to this madness, but she knew in her heart that Noah wasn’t someone to be messed with. Unfortunately, the horrible man didn’t seem to grasp that. He grinned as he fisted his hands.
Even though she believed Noah could win the fight, she still worried that the man could get lucky. When the man lunged at Noah, Lucky growled and jerked the leash out of her hand. The dog raced down the alley with his teeth bared. Before she could call him back, Noah had the man on his back. It happened so fast that even though she was watching, she couldn’t say how he’d done it.
Lucky had his mouth clamped around the man’s ankle. “Get him off me.” The man kicked his free leg at the dog.
“Don’t hurt him,” the woman screamed.
Really? She was worried about the jerk after he’d hit her? Peyton ran down the alley. She grabbed the end of the leash and pulled. “Lucky, come here, boy.” The dog gave one last shake of the man’s ankle before letting go and coming to her. He sat next to her feet, still growling as he kept his gaze focused on the man.
“Baby, are you okay?” the woman said, kneeling near the man’s head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Peyton wanted to shake some sense into her. “He was beating you, and you’re worried about him? Your lip is bleeding, and you’re going to have a black eye. You should be calling the police and sending him to jail.”
“She’s right,” Noah said, stepping away from the couple. “He’ll do it again. Probably wasn’t the first time he’s hit you, right?”
The woman glared at him. “Go to hell.”
“You should be thanking him,” Peyton said. “He saved—”
“Save your breath, princess.” Noah wrapped his hand around her elbow. “Let’s go.”
There was no emotion in his voice, and his face was blank. It was as if he’d completely shut down.
At the end of the alley, she glanced back. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”
“No.”
She lengthened her stride to keep up with him. “But what if he hits her again?”
“He will.”
“Then we shouldn’t leave her with him.”
“What do you think we should do? Kidnap her? Drag her away against her will?”
“I think we should call the police.” He stopped so suddenly that she was several steps ahead of him before she realized he wasn’t next to her. She faced him, and where before his face had been a blank slate, he now looked tortured.
“We could do that, but she’ll bail him out as soon as they let her. Then he’s going to be even angrier, blaming her for the reason he had to spend the night in jail. She’ll pay for that at his hands, but she’ll blame herself and forgive him.” He started walking again.
It struck her then why his expression looked so tortured. She caught up with him. “Was that how it was for your mother?” she softly said.
“Until the day he killed her.”
“Noah.” Her heart broke for the boy who’d lost his mother at the hands of a man who should have loved and protected them both.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Feel sad for you? Wish it hadn’t happened?” She knew he wanted her to shut up, but she couldn’t. Her heart hurt for him, and she didn’t know how to pretend it didn’t. She slipped her hand in his, and for a few seconds he didn’t respond, then his fingers tightened around hers. “My father keeps a distance between us, but he’s never laid a hand on me, or anyone for that matter. I can’t imagine what it does to a child to see the man who’s supposed to love his mother hurt her.”
They stepped inside the elevator to her loft. “I think a part of you blames yourself, thinking you should have protected her. But you were just a boy, no match against a grown man. Did he ever hit you?”
“Shut up, Peyton.” His mouth landed on hers and stayed there until the door opened on her floor. He lifted his head and stared down at her, turbulence in his eyes. “You drive me crazy, woman.”
“Well, anytime I do, feel free to kiss me.” The man was holding a lot of heavy stuff inside him, and that wasn’t healthy. He’d never be happy if he didn’t forgive himself for his imagined sins.
It wasn’t only the death of his mother weighing him down—she didn’t think so, anyway. He was on leave from the navy for something, and that was the thing she thought was keeping him from sleeping at night. If he kept everything bottled up, eventually he was going to explode. She decided it was her job to keep that from happening.
How could she get him to talk to her?
Chapter Fifteen
Damn woman. She was like a pesky little termite, burrowing into the wood until it was dust, exposing the secrets hidden behind the walls. He’d already told her too much, and for a moment, when she’d slipped her hand in his, he’d wanted to tell her everything. To just let it all out, to trust that maybe in all her words there would be ones that would show him the way out of his personal hell. But he hadn’t, thankfully.
Admit the real reason, dickhead.
Okay, so there was that. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her look at him with disappointment in her eyes, or worse, disgust. Jack didn’t even know the full story, and he, more than anyone, would understand that things had a way of going south in the sandbox. If he couldn’t admit his failure to Jack, he sure couldn’t bare himself to Peyton.
He should move out, go back to his little box of an apartment. And he would if her ex wasn’t hanging around. He’d seen the man tonight trying to hide in the shadows across the street from her building. Noah hadn’t told her, not wanting to upset her. That was wrong, though. She needed to know so she’d keep a vigilant eye out, and he’d do that in the morning.
They returned to her loft and he closed himself up in his room before she started talking again and he’d have to kiss her to silence her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to hear her talk. He did...too much. He could listen to her for hours on end, not that he’d ever tell her. And kissing her? That could become an addiction if he let it.
After holing up for a few hours, the ants were biting. He had to get out of this room. By now, Peyton would be asleep, so it would be safe to come out. Lucky got up from his dog bed as soon as Noah opened the door.
“You don’t have to follow me around, you know.” Apparently, the dog didn’t know that since he trailed along. That was another thing he didn’t want to admit. He was beginning to like having Lucky around, and the dog didn’t talk a mile a minute like a certain other person.
Funny thing, though. All her talking kept his mind from wallowing in regrets and wishing he could turn back the clock. He’d thought he wanted silence, but she was proving him wrong.
What he really wanted was to slip into her room, crawl into bed with her, and lose himself in her sweet body. Being near her and trying to keep his hands off her was a new kind of torture. Not that he’d succeeded in the hands-off part since he kept kissing her. But that had to end, because another time or two and he wouldn’t stop with just kissing. The willpower to resist her was close to nonexistent as it was.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” the woman filling his head said as she walked out of the kitchen, a cup in each hand.
He was slipping. He should have been aware she was nearby. That lack of awareness was how one got a knife in the back or a bullet between the eyes. Or how a woman he couldn’t get out of his head could sneak up on him.
“I don’t drink tea.”
“This is special tea. It’s got a splash of whiskey in it. Maybe it will help you sleep better.”
Nothing was capable of that. “Why are y
ou up?”
She gave him a shy smile. “Because I knew you would be.”
Definitely a burrowing termite. Maybe not a flattering image, but it was how he was beginning to think of her. He should hate it—her worming her way into his heart—but he didn’t. His SEAL brothers loved him and had his back, but when was the last time someone actually took care of him? That question had an easy answer. His mother, a long time ago.
She held out the cup. “Drink the tea, Noah.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And that pleased smile of hers...he wished he could take a picture so when he returned to his team, he could look at it and remember the night she’d stayed up with him because she knew he couldn’t sleep.
“Come sit.” She sat on one end of the sofa, curling her feet under her.
He took the opposite end. “You should be in bed.” With me. Not that he’d ever allow that to happen, but a man could dream.
“Not really sleepy. I can’t stop thinking about that woman. Why does she stay with a man like that?”
“Could be she has no place else to go.” His mother hadn’t. His father had made sure of that. “Or she doesn’t have any money. Or he’s made her afraid to leave him.”
“Were those the reasons your mother stayed?”
“All of them.” He sipped the tea, welcoming the burn of the whiskey as it flowed down his throat. She’d been generous in the pour.
“She never tried to leave?”
Maybe it was that they were sitting in the dark, with only the downtown lights filtering through the windows, or maybe it was the whiskey, or it was just her, but for the first time since it had happened, he wanted to talk about it.
“She tried once, the night he killed her.” Even though she still had no place to go, no money, and she was afraid of her husband. He emptied the cup of tea down his throat. Peyton didn’t say anything for once, and in her silence, he talked.
“He came home drunk after gambling away the grocery money again. There was no food in the house to feed me, and I guess that was the last straw. She told him she was leaving. He told her she wasn’t going anywhere, and no way in hell was she taking me away. Not sure why that mattered since he didn’t give a shit about me.”
