She laughed. “You’re convinced there isn’t one.”
“You got him to come in and make a pizza?”
She looked up. “Not unless the sky fell today.”
“You decided to ditch that life in Chicago and stay right here in Bitter Bark?”
She froze in midstep. “I guess…that depends on this conversation.”
Something in Aidan’s chest slipped, rolled around, and threatened to crack. “You think that last one is a serious possibility?”
She didn’t answer, but sort of tugged her bag closer as they went in. “Let’s talk.”
Okay. He ushered her toward the living area and gestured to the open kitchen next to it. “Want something to drink? Water? Beer? I think I have some soda, too.” Although he’d spent so little time here in the past two weeks, he couldn’t be sure.
“No, no, I’m fine.” She headed to the couch, opening her bag. “I want to show you something.”
“What is it?” He sat next to her as she pulled out papers. And his heart dropped when he saw the words Record of Emergency Data. The DD93. “Shit,” he mumbled.
She drew back with a soft gasp. “You knew?”
Swallowing, he took the papers and set them down, not needing to see Charlie’s words again. “Yes. I knew.”
“When?”
“Several weeks ago.”
Another gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “I knew what you’d do. You’d try to give me Ruff, claim it was Charlie’s real wish, and break your own heart. And then you’d leave.” He closed his eyes. “I’m dreading that day, Beck.”
“If we hadn’t succeeded with bringing the restaurant back, why would I leave?”
“Because you would. You will. As soon as you can, because you’re not…”
“I’m not what?” she asked when he didn’t finish.
“As deep into this as I am.”
“Oh.” She breathed the word, reaching up to touch his cheek. “So much for casual.”
He put his hand over hers, pressing his lips against her palm. “Casual is for idiots,” he said. “For people who are scared and quit. Night Stalkers—”
“Don’t quit.”
“Unless they have to,” he added. “Unless they stupidly put everything on the narrow shoulders of one woman who lives in another state even after he was warned not to.”
She turned completely, folding her legs under her to face him on the sofa. “What do you mean you put everything on my shoulders?”
He huffed a breath, trying to figure out where to start. “I went plane shopping today,” he said.
“I know. How’d that go? I thought you’d text me if you found something.”
“I did find something, and it was too much to text.” He took the strand of hair that fell from her ponytail and twirled it around his finger. “Because the plane took on this monumental meaning. This…fantasy.”
She arched a brow. “I won’t do it in a plane you’re flying, if that’s the fantasy.”
He didn’t smile. “I wish it were that simple.”
“Aidan.” She closed her hand over his, pressing it to her cheek. “Tell me the whole fantasy, then.”
He waited a beat, considering how that would play out. It might scare her. Hell, it scared him. They’d known each other for years, but their romance was young, far too fresh for fantasies of forever. But what the hell? That was what he was having, all day long.
“I went to the airfield with Dad and Garrett, and it was…it was perfect, Beck. We talked, we laughed, we strategized this new business. Garrett is one hundred percent down for air rescue transport, and Dad already has the bank on board to finance the plane.”
She searched his face. “That’s the fantasy? You found your place at Waterford?”
“That’s a fact, and I have you to thank.”
“You’d have done it without me, Aidan. This direction, this life? It was right there waiting for you to discover it.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe I could have done it without you, but the point is…” He turned his hand and threaded their fingers together. “I don’t want to do it without you. I don’t want…” He took a breath, vaguely aware of how his pulse thumped. “A life without you.”
Silent, she stared at him, the golden flecks in her eyes giving away nothing. Not shock, fear, disappointment, or, sadly, the same emotion that hammered in his chest.
“It’s a good life,” he said softly. “It’s a fine life, I guess. But with you, Beck? It’s better, brighter, safer, and smoother. I’m like Ruff,” he added with a laugh. “I got here all unsettled and restless and pawing at the world. But then I found you, and now I want to curl up and stay put. With you. And when you leave, I’ll go pacing from the window to the door, looking for you to come back.”
Finally, he saw the emotion. Her eyes misted, and she swallowed, taking a breath he hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “And the fantasy?”
He shrugged. “Fill in the blanks. You, me, Ruff, a house, a yard, a date with a bunch of Kilcannons every Sunday. Does that sound awful?”
She bit her lip, gave the softest laugh. “Oh yeah. Wretched.” When she blinked, the dampness in her eyes trickled over her lashes. “I can’t lose another person, Aidan. If I let myself fall in love with you, I’m putting it all out there and taking a risk that absolutely terrifies me.”
“You won’t lose another person,” he insisted. “Not this person.” He sealed that promise with a kiss on her lips, feeling her sigh into him, and then she eased back.
“Can I ask you a question?”
When he nodded, she looked down, grazing his knuckles with her fingertip. “When you got into the cockpit of a helicopter and turned it on, or whatever you do before you actually fly, did you have any trepidation? Was there anything deep inside of you that said, ‘This could be it. I might not get back alive. I might die’? Did you ever think that?”
“Every single time, even after intense training. That’s what keeps you on your toes, that knowledge that you’re one mistake away from eating it.”
“That’s how I feel every time I inch close to a person. Like I’m one instant away from devastation. I always felt that way because of my parents dying so young, but then when Charlie died, it all came back. The fragility of life.”
“Life is fragile,” he agreed. “It’s also meant to be lived and conquered and enjoyed.” He pulled her closer. “Just tell me if I have a chance. If you’d consider staying here. If you could be with me, love me.”
“Aidan, I—”
He put his hand over her mouth. “Wait. Don’t say no. Not yet. Let me dream.”
She didn’t finish her sentence, but leaned into him to kiss him, sliding right onto his lap. There, she braced her arms on his shoulders and wrapped his head in her hands. Without breaking the kiss, she angled her head, opened her mouth, and bowed her back in invitation.
As always, blood surged and brain cells fried, and his hands went to every inch of her he could touch. Everything was smooth and warm and sweet and…Beck.
She kept kissing and kissing, rolling her hips over his as they moved in a way that was second nature now, the heat building, the need growing, the clothes…had to come off.
For casual sex. The words punched, and he somehow managed to break the kiss and still his hands in the act of getting her T-shirt over her head. Casual sex didn’t work anymore. He wouldn’t do it.
“What?” she asked, breathless.
“I can’t—”
“I’m showing you how I feel, Aidan,” she said in a husky whisper. “I’m scared to say the words. I’m terrified to get in that…that imaginary plane or helicopter and fly. And I’m petrified to lose someone again, because the ache is consuming and horrible.”
“Please tell me there’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”
She exhaled. “But I want to try with you.”
“Beck. Beck.” He pulled her into him. “Rebecca
Spencer, I love you.”
When she inched back, tears filled her eyes. “Let me show you, Aidan. I can’t say it yet, but let me show you.”
He’d take it. Pulling her back to him, he kissed her again, but she jerked away. “Should I answer it?”
Only then did he realize her purse on the floor was humming. “You’re kidding, right?”
“But that’s the third call.” She twisted and reached down. “Let me see who it is.” With a glance, she closed her eyes with a kick of defeat. “Aunt Sarah. I have to get it.”
“Pizza business can wait.” He continued his exploration under her shirt. “Call her back.”
“Mmm.” She seriously thought about it, he could tell, but then she tapped the phone and put it to her ear. “Hi, Aunt Sarah.”
He could hear the high-pitched voice through the phone and knew her aunt well enough to know that wasn’t normal. Immediately, Beck drew away.
“What do you mean, gone?” She flashed a horrified look at Aidan, moving off him back to the sofa. “He left? How? Where’d he go?”
“Ruff?” he asked, leaning forward.
“Uncle Mike!”
“What the hell?” Then he stood and took her hand. “He’s making pizza. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Sarah, we’re going to Slice. No, no. I’m not there. I’m at Aidan’s house. But we’ll run over now, and if that’s where he is, we’ll find him. Don’t worry. I can’t believe he drove, though. He must have been determined to get there.” She listened for a moment, gathering up her stuff and walking to the door with Aidan. “This is good news, Aunt Sarah. Great news. He’s cooking again.” As she hung up, she glanced up at Aidan. “I hope.”
“He is. We got through to him, Beck. I know it.” As they walked outside, Aidan pointed to his Jeep, parked next to her car. “But let’s go make sure. I’ll drive.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was about to get good.”
He smiled. “Life’s about to get good, sweetheart. I know all I need to know.”
“Except, about the DD93. It was dated two days after the letter to me, Aidan.”
“What DD93?” he joked. “Army doesn’t send them all the time, so I never saw it. Don’t remember it. Plan on tearing it up.” He held the door for her. “You?”
“I want to do what Charlie wants,” she said.
“Two days apart?” He laughed as he jogged around the Jeep to the driver’s side. “Dude never did anything without a good reason.” He turned the ignition and rumbled out of the drive. “Let’s go find your uncle.”
“Who just interrupted the best—”
He held up a hand. “It’s what families do, Beck.”
The gleam in her eyes when she smiled was all he needed. They’d get to I love you and forever and fantasy lives. But for now, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good and drowning in hope.
“Plus,” he added, giving her hand a squeeze, “Uncle Mike’s not going to lose that contest. He’s an honorary Night Stalker and, as you know—”
“Night Stalkers don’t quit,” she finished. “And maybe he’ll even share the secret sauce with us.”
Aidan put a hand on her shoulder and eased her closer for a kiss. “He told us the secret, Beck. It’s love.”
* * *
Beck’s body hummed like the engine of the beat-up old Jeep as it ate up the roads into town, the wind whipping through their hair, their hands locked except when he needed to shift gears. Even then, Aidan barely let go, occasionally glancing at her with a knowing smile.
Of all the times for Uncle Mike to decide to go back to work. And to leave without telling Sarah, just climbing into his car while she was out grocery shopping.
“Didn’t he know Sarah’d freak when she got home?” she asked, voicing her thoughts over the noisy Jeep. “She was so upset, I didn’t want her to drive.”
“Then I’m glad we can go.”
“What would she do if I wasn’t here?”
He tipped his head and lifted both brows. “Exactly.”
She couldn’t help laughing at his low-key determination. Night Stalkers didn’t quit, she knew, and something told her Aidan wouldn’t take no for an answer. And she’d been so close to giving him the answer he wanted. So close to whispering the three words that suddenly felt more natural than terrifying.
She did love him.
“Someone’s parked in your spot,” he said, pulling her attention to the alley.
“Oh, that’s his Buick. Hallelujah. He’s making pizza.”
Aidan whipped into a spot Sarah used, next to Uncle Mike’s car, not far from the back door and the bank of kitchen windows. With the thick curtains drawn, they couldn’t see if the kitchen light was on. “Got the keys? We can surprise the maestro at work.”
“Don’t need them. Uncle Mike never locked that door in his life when he was at work.”
He turned her face to his. “Then let him work. We can sit in this dark alley, finish our conversation, make out like teenagers, then go in and eat all the pizza.”
She laughed and leaned in. “You had me at ‘make out.’”
“Then you’d skip ‘finish our conversation’?” He kissed her, holding her face. “Would you mind if I tell you I love you again? Because I really enjoyed saying it before.”
“I wouldn’t get mad.”
“I…” He kissed her forehead. “Love…” And her nose. “You.” Finally, her mouth, making her kiss back. “And you know what else I’d love? To hear you say it right back to me.”
Her heart tripped and danced and did a few other crazy things that took her breath away. “You would, huh?”
“I would.” His blue eyes cut through her, warm and direct. “But I’ll wait until you’re ready. I’m telling you, Beck Spencer, I’d wait for—”
A sudden shattering noise crashed through the night, deafening and sharp, raining glass into the alley and making Beck shriek.
Turning, she looked in horror as the back windows of the pizza place vomited giant clouds of black smoke, and flames devoured the drapes with a menacing, crackling sound.
Beck screamed again, shock slapping her in the face, along with a wave of heat and smoke that nearly knocked her over.
Aidan threw himself out of the Jeep without even opening the door. “Call 911!” That order was the last thing she heard him say before he ran to the back door, yanked it open, and disappeared inside a burning building.
Chapter Twenty-three
Help me out, Spence. Help me find him. Help me.
If Charlie had an answer from the great beyond, Aidan couldn’t hear it over the roar of a fire consuming the front half of the pizza kitchen. He ducked down, then crawled across a floor he’d learned every inch of in the past few weeks. Good thing, because he couldn’t see a thing through the smoke.
“Mike!” He hollered once, but had to pull his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, feeling his whole body slide into combat mode. He’d been in worse. He’d survived worse. And so had most soldiers he knew.
But Mike was no soldier. He was a sick old man who was nowhere to be found.
He rounded the counter, noticing fresh semolina on the floor. He had to be here. He had to be close. He called out one more time, crawling around to the oven where—whoa!
Flames danced and ate up the whole front and left side of the restaurant, devouring the shelves and counters around it.
The oven. The damn fifty-year-old beast that couldn’t go over 647. Maybe it shut off…or maybe it sparked. They’d never tested it. Had Mike’s faulty memory failed him? Had he turned the dial and forgotten his own rule?
Smoke stung his lungs with every labored breath as he powered through to the other side of the kitchen. Could Mike have gotten out through the dining room? Flames engulfed that door, and the smoke blinded him so he couldn’t see through the small broken window.
“Mike!” Where the hell was he? There wasn’t much real estate left in this kitchen. The prep area. The fridg
e. The—
The apartment.
Of course, he went upstairs to save Ruff. Where they would both die if Aidan didn’t get to them. And Beck would be the next victim, dying of a broken heart at the very moment she was about to heal. He would not let any of that happen. He wouldn’t quit. He wouldn’t.
Come on, Spence. I know you’re up there. Help me out, buddy.
Crouched in a half crawl, Aidan took a shaky breath, refusing to cough it out or let his stinging eyes close. Instead, he made his way to the stairwell door. Flames danced around it, and he knew the glass window in the middle could shatter at any second, which would send the smoke up the stairs and let in enough oxygen that the fire would follow.
A few feet away, a hundred dishes crashed to the floor when the shelves burned, and a stack of pizza boxes combusted with a whoosh. Heat slammed him, but he stayed steady and used his shirt to cover his hand so he could turn the searing-hot knob. The stairwell was smoky, but totally passable if he could get up and down with both of them in a minute.
Of course he could. He had to.
Making sure the door behind him was latched, he started up the stairs, but didn’t make it two feet before the glass in that door shattered, too, letting the smoke roll in. The flames wouldn’t be far behind, and they’d eat up these old wooden stairs in seconds.
Which would trap Mike and Ruff—and Aidan—upstairs.
“Mike!” He bellowed the name, hearing the amplified echo in the dense air. “Ruff!”
In the distance, he heard a siren scream and…a dog bark. Muffled. Low. Terrified and frantic.
Taking one more look at the flames on the other side of the broken glass, he made a calculated guess. The stairwell would be completely impassible by the time the firefighters got here. Could they get Mike and Ruff out through the apartment windows? Maybe.
But they’d have a better chance if Aidan was up there and told them where to go. He stood stone-still for a split second. Run up there and save them himself, or find a way back outside and let a firefighter go up there?
He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t. It went against his training, his gut, and his knowledge of right and wrong. He charged up the stairs, grabbing the still cool doorknob and swearing mightily that apparently Mike did lock some doors.
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