by Laura Kaye
Her tears dried up, her legs fell asleep, and the moonlight moved across the room and disappeared. Hours later, the blackness turned gray. Time for her to go.
Holding her breath, Alyssa withdrew her hand and unfolded her legs. The pins and needles were terrible, and worse when she moved, but it was worth it. She limped across the room, gritting her teeth the whole way, and finally breathed again when the bedroom door closed behind her.
Tired as she was, she could’ve tossed her head back and cried out in triumph. Whatever tormented him was more than she could handle alone—she knew enough to know that—but if standing guard against his demons at night allowed him the peace of a decent sleep, she would do it. How many nights had he sat with her until she fell asleep when she was a kid? Brady had, too, of course, but her brother was possibly the most tone-deaf person on the planet, whereas Marco could sing and play the guitar. And many nights he’d sung her to sleep.
His presence and his music had kept her safe all those years ago. Had helped her to forget.
Now she could do the same for him.
She collapsed on the bed, wondering how her day could get any better. But then she remembered it was payday. Finally! She’d saved a couple hundred bucks in the half week she’d been at Marco’s, and her check should double that, easily.
Sometime later, the telltale signs of Marco moving around the house sounded out. She left her room and found him in the kitchen wearing only a pair of beat-up jeans that hung low on his hips. His arms were braced on the counter and he was staring at the coffeemaker like he might be able to will it to brew faster.
For a long moment, she drank him in with her gaze. His back was a sculpted canvas of muscle, one she longed to trace with her fingers and tongue. He was so damn gorgeous. Would she ever have the chance to show him just how much she loved him?
She frowned and stepped closer. A round, puckered scar marred the outside of his shoulder. What was that?
He turned toward her and rested his butt against the counter.
“Hey,” she said, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring. “It’s nice to see you this morning.”
“Yeah, well. Didn’t really feel like running in the rain.” He gestured to the window.
Alyssa looked out at the drizzly day, but then quickly refocused her attention on him. Lean and ridged, his abdomen made her want to see if it felt as hard as it looked. A line of dark hair extended from his belly button down into jeans sitting so low there was no way he wore underwear. He might’ve been an athlete featured in the pages of Sports Illustrated or a designer underwear model, if it weren’t for two things: a raised pink scar that ran in a straight line under his left pec and a puckered scar on the front side of his right shoulder that matched the one on his back.
Realization added adrenaline to the lust his body inspired. He’d been shot. She didn’t know whether to be angry with him and Brady for never mentioning that little fact or give in to her rising panic at the thought that he’d so often been in harm’s way. She knew the kinds of things the Army Special Forces handled. When the guys had finished basic training and headed off to SF qualifications, Alyssa had read everything she could get her hands on. Unconventional warfare, counterterrorism, combat search and rescue, manhunts, behind-enemy-lines reconnaissance—everything guys like Marco and Brady did was top secret and inordinately dangerous. But knowing that and seeing its consequences were two different things.
Brady’s crackling voice from Saturday’s phone call came to mind. Oh, God, he was still out there. A sudden wave of fear for him almost stole her breath.
Marco rotated his shoulder forward and glanced down at the mark that had captured her notice, then looked back at her. “Coffee?”
She agreed, glad for something normal to think about. He fixed it for her, having learned years before how she liked it, and handed her a mug. “Thanks.” She blew into it and took a small drink, watching him over the ceramic rim. “How’d you sleep?”
He swallowed and set his cup on the counter. “Pretty good. You?”
“Fine.” She didn’t even feel bad about the lie, because the circles under his eyes were the lightest she’d seen since she’d come home to Frederick. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. “I’ll go jump in the shower now. Unless you want to first?”
“No. Go ahead,” he said. “I’m in no rush.”
…
Marco watched Alyssa disappear into the bathroom. He should’ve put a shirt on, but maybe it was just as well he hadn’t. Maybe if she learned all the ways he was damaged, she’d stop looking at him the way she did. Because damn if that girl didn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve. And the affection and invitation in her eyes were almost more than he could bear.
It’s why he’d been staying away.
Only the fact that he’d slept last night gave him the strength to keep his feet planted on the opposite side of the kitchen from her. It was some of the best sleep he’d had in recent memory. What a difference a few uninterrupted hours made.
The bathroom door opened, spilling light into the hall. Alyssa went by in a blur of towels—one around her body and one twisted on her head.
Marco dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain and made for the shower himself. He closed the door and groaned. The air was pure Alyssa—warm vanilla and sweet apples. His mouth salivated and his erection was instantaneous, setting off a yearning ache throughout his body that made him set the water to cold.
But even that didn’t help. His brain knew Alyssa had been standing in this very spot, wet and naked, just a few short minutes before, and it conjured a stream of images that kept him hard and on edge.
Jesus, if he didn’t get some relief from this urgent need, he was going to end up jumping her. And what a shitstorm that would unleash.
The touch of his own hand around the length of his dick nearly took him to his knees. And then, surrounded by her luscious scent, he was drowning in those images again. He came like a teenager, fast and hard and long, barely able to restrain the groan poised to rip up his throat.
He braced both hands against the tile and let the shower rain down on his neck and shoulders. He was so fucked.
Guilt had him hanging his head as he stepped out of the bathroom, but it didn’t take long to discern the house was empty. Towel around his waist, he called her name just to be sure. A note sat on the futon.
Had some errands to run before work. See you later. ~Aly
The next time he saw her was in the break room before their shift started. It was crowded today—not only the usuals, but also a couple of the waitresses who infrequently joined the festivities in there.
Alyssa was laughing at something Van had said when he walked in the door. Her eyes flashed to him and her smile became more reserved.
Why did she never direct those free, open laughs and smiles at him? Of course, he knew the answer. And it made him want to bitch-slap his brain for even asking the question. He glanced around and offered a few hellos as he took a seat. Once, he’d avoided casual friendships with his coworkers, not wanting any attachments, but now it felt like he could almost fit in here. He didn’t have to think long on what had brought about the change.
“So,” Eric said, catching everyone’s attention, “who wants to head up to Cunningham Falls before work on Saturday? Maybe grill some burgers and dogs for lunch or something?”
“I haven’t been to the lake in a few years,” Alyssa said. “I’ll definitely go.”
Soon, everyone was brainstorming ideas and chattering about their plans for the trip. Alyssa’s enthusiasm shone from her eyes and rang in her voice.
Marco watched her for a long moment, and his mouth opened before he really thought about it. “I’ll go.”
The conversation absorbed his pronouncement, apparently not as surprising to the others as it was to him. Alyssa smiled at him, that big, open kind he’d been wanting earlier.
He wasn’t sure why the hell he’d said it, and her obvious enjoyment that he
’d be coming along made him squirm in his seat. But whatever. It was just a frickin’ trip to the lake.
The night passed in a blur of business. The band was popular and had recently released its first labeled album, drawing in a big, mixed crowd of locals and people from around the region. He barely had time to look at Alyssa, let alone talk to her. But at least things felt easier between them. Progress. Though to what end, he couldn’t have said.
“What’ll you have?” he asked the next in a long line of waiting customers.
“A glass of white wine and whatever you have on tap.”
Marco grabbed the glasses he needed, poured the wine, and held the beer mug at an angle under the tap. His forearm cramped and the mug slipped from his hand, plinked off the ice cabinet below the taps, and went ass over lip, splashing beer all down the front of him. It hit the floor just off the edge of the rubber mat that covered the tiles behind the bar and shattered.
Marco flinched and cursed under his breath. He poured a second beer, careful to watch the angle of his arm, and handed the drinks off to the customer.
“My tables are set for a few. Need a hand?”
He turned to find Alyssa standing at the waitstaff counter.
Marco looked around, the word no on the tip of his tongue, but there was broken glass on the floor and at least four customers waiting to be served, not to mention the waiters’ orders. Thursdays weren’t usually this bad, and he rarely had a second pair of hands back there during the week. “Sure.”
She lifted the hinged section of the counter and ducked behind with him. “Want me on cleanup or service?”
“Cleanup, if you don’t mind?”
“Got it.” Alyssa disappeared out the other side of the bar and returned a moment later with a broom and dustpan. She swept the obvious pieces of glass into the pan and threw a few rags on the floor to sop up the spill.
Marco reached over her back when necessary, stretched around her when he had to. If they brushed up against each other one more time, he was gonna lose it.
He set a completed order on the side counter for one of the waitresses.
“Oh, wait. There’s more.”
Marco turned and nearly crashed into Alyssa, who was crouched on the floor in front of him. She squeaked and held out a hand to cushion the collision, grabbing the top of his thigh—too damn near where his body was reacting to how she was positioned before him.
Marco gasped and shifted away. “Shit, are you okay?”
She stood, her eyes dragging up his body and her face going red. “Yeah.”
In the middle of the chaos, everything went quiet around them. He was hard as a rock, and she was flushed, her lips parting. And neither could break the eye contact holding them in the moment.
But then Alyssa’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She tossed the glass she’d retrieved into the trash and covered her mouth as her humor transformed into a full-out belly laugh. There was that open laughter. Just for him. Marco smiled at the sound.
She leaned against him. “I think there’s a joke in there somewhere.”
He grinned, a big, genuine smile the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Oh, yeah? Let’s hear it.” He arched an eyebrow, suddenly eager to know exactly what she’d say.
“Hey, lady, can I get some service?” came a demanding voice at the counter.
Alyssa’s eyes went wide and watered, and she laughed so hard she snorted as she pointed at the curmudgeon waving his twenty dollar bill. “I’m not…” Tears streamed down her face now. “I’m not…touching that…with a ten-foot pole.”
It took him a second to understand her through her halting, laughter-filled speech, but then he realized what she’d said.
And he burst out laughing.
Not for nothing, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.
By the time she stumbled out from behind his bar and Marco had taken the man’s order, his cheeks ached and he felt more alive inside than he could last remember.
And it was all because of Alyssa.
Every day, she became more and more appealing to him. Her looks, her smile, her big heart—everything about her lured him in, made him want more, made him want it all, with her. Which was just not fucking possible.
Hating the realization, Marco watched her enter the dining room and approach one of her tables. Much as he wished otherwise, he was too damn jaded and broken for someone as young and hopeful as Alyssa. Sure, it might be okay for a few months, but what about in a year or five years? His bitterness and pain would wear her down until he saw it reflected back to himself through her eyes. And that would kill him.
Part of him hated the idea, but he had to get her out of his house. Seeing her at work every day was challenging enough, but no way could he continue to resist the comfort and familiarity of being with her 24/7.
Hell, maybe he’d thought about this all wrong the night he invited her to stay. Maybe she was better off living out of a hotel room than getting stuck with him.
She had to go for her own good—and for his, too. And soon.
Chapter Nine
The alarm on her cell phone woke Alyssa. She fumbled for it, her thumb finally swiping over the button that turned it off. Dragging the phone closer, she read the time: two a.m. Perfect.
Or it would be once she shook the fog of sleep from her head.
A few yawns and a trip to the bathroom later, she felt a bit more human. She waited at the arch to the dining room, knowing his nightmares would come and that she’d be there to chase them away.
Minutes passed. She shifted her position against the arch.
Marco groaned, a strangled sound in the quiet of the house.
Alyssa padded across the rooms to his side and knelt as she had the night before.
He kicked out a leg and moaned low in his throat, his breath going short and choppy.
Heart racing, Alyssa grasped the big, masculine hand hanging over the edge of the futon. He squeezed her fingers, the moonlight illuminating a tormented grimace and a clenched jaw.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m here.”
He rolled from his back to his side, facing her, his hand pulling hers in until it rested against the heated skin of his bare chest. Twice, he unleashed long shaky sighs, and then he stilled.
Relief eased the tension in Alyssa’s neck. Thank God she could do this for him. Aside from a little sleep deprivation, it wasn’t that hard. Not that she wouldn’t sacrifice almost anything for Marco’s happiness.
Alyssa found a position she could tolerate for a while and rested her head on the edge of the futon. The moon created a halo of light around his dark hair that shadowed his face. But she could feel the soft puffs of his breath against the back of the hand he held, and it made her smile.
The rhythmic sound and feel of him sleeping lured her eyes to close. Just for a few minutes…
Marco moaned deep in his chest and his hand flew free of hers.
Alyssa was immediately awake, her heart thundering so hard in her chest she had to work to catch her breath. “Shh, you’re okay. Hey, come on,” she whispered. She grasped his hand and stroked his skin with her thumb.
While the worst of his torment eased, his muscles continued to twitch and his breath hitched.
Alyssa frowned, wondering what had disturbed him. Maybe she’d let go of his hand in her sleep?
She forced herself into more of a sitting position to ensure it didn’t happen again. In the stillness, small sounds stood out. The white noise of the central air, the hum of the refrigerator, from outside, the chirping of cicadas over and over.
Marco’s hand clenched, squeezing hers. He released an anguished cry. “No.”
Alyssa frowned, her certainty that she could help harder to hold on to with every outburst. No way was she giving up, though. Her presence had worked wonderfully last night. Slowly, gently, she lifted her free hand and stroked his hair. Once, twice. He shuddered and leaned into her touch. Moments later
, he quieted again. He remained calm, so she continued running her hands over his surprisingly soft hair until her arm grew too tired to hold up.
For the rest of the night, every time Alyssa’s eyes threatened to close, Marco stirred. Her stomach sank. Only the fact that she seemed capable of easing him each time the nightmares restarted kept her hopes from being dashed altogether.
When the first light of morning chased the darkness from the room, she withdrew her hand and hobbled her achy, tired body back to bed. She reset the alarm on her phone for nine thirty. She needed to buy some new clothes for work that morning, so no lazing around all day for her.
The alarm bleated its annoying ringtone five seconds later.
At least, that’s what it felt like. Alyssa groaned as she turned it off and forced herself into a sitting position. She’d gotten a total of four hours of sleep, but her body seemed completely unconvinced of that fact. The shower helped some, but all morning she felt like she was slogging through molasses.
Some of that sluggishness was the loss of sleep, and some of it was having to admit there was no easy fix for whatever troubled Marco. So be it. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep trying.
When she got to work at two thirty, she actually felt groggier for the hour catnap she’d snuck in. At least she’d found some new work clothes and didn’t have to wear the same three pieces over and over again. This outfit in particular helped perk her up a little—the black skirt was short and flowy. Very cute. And the tight tank top had a low-scooped back that left her ponytail tickling her spine. And, of course, it all looked awesome with her Chucks. She felt fresh and summery and ready to tackle another busy shift—well, as ready as she could be on a half night’s sleep.
Now all she needed was some food.
She dropped off her purse and made a beeline for the break room.
“Hey guys,” she said as she entered, finding the usual cast of characters, minus Tommy.
Eric looked over his shoulder and his eyes went wide. His gaze was so direct she thought she’d spilled on her new shirt, so she glanced down at herself to be sure. Nope. She looked back up to find Marco with an odd gaze, too, except his was angry where Eric’s was…who even knew. She dropped into a chair.
