by Dani Pettrey
TWENTY-EIGHT
Noah tapped the steering wheel as he and Caleb headed back to the station. The distress call had been nothing more than a stupid prank, and everyone involved would be paying a hefty fine.
Noah spotted an open parking spot in front of Hunga Bunga Java. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one?”
“Sure,” Caleb said, his right leg still bouncing. It hadn’t stopped since he’d seen Mason and Rissi heading out together.
Noah pulled into the angled spot, cut the ignition, and they headed inside.
Several of the women’s heads turned at their entrance. Many of them eyed Caleb with big smiles, but he never looked back—hadn’t looked at anyone but Rissi in a couple of months.
Thus far they’d been able to maintain a solid work environment in spite of Caleb’s obvious feelings, but since Mason’s arrival on the team, that fine line was getting thinner. Noah had seen it stretching, felt the undercurrent rippling through the station, and it’d only been a handful of days. Noah needed to make sure whatever was going on, or wasn’t going on, happened outside the workplace.
“Hey, boys,” Lindy said, greeting them at the counter. “Red or black today?”
It’d been a long twenty-four hours, without much sleep. “Black-eye for me,” Noah said.
“I’ll take a red-eye,” Caleb said.
“You got it.” Lindy grabbed two insulated cups and hit the espresso machine.
Five minutes later, they headed back to the Jeep with their own coffee-espresso combos in hand plus drinks for Emmy and Logan.
Noah waited until they were back on the road before broaching the subject that had been heavy on his mind the last forty-eight hours. “There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
Caleb swallowed the sip of coffee he had in his mouth and set the cup down. “Okay.”
“It’s clear Mason’s arrival has created a new level of tension for you.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. “I . . .”
“No need to respond,” Noah said, before he went any further. “I just want to remind you, Rissi, and Mason that we’re a team. All of us. And we need to keep the team strong and focused while on the job.”
Caleb gave a hard nod. “Understood.”
“Great.” Caleb was an excellent agent and always would be, but when love came into the picture, it had a habit of affecting everyone and everything around it. He’d learned that the hard way and had seen “love” destroy more than one good man. Which was why he avoided it. He had a family to look out for—his mom, sisters, niece, and nephew—had a job he loved, a team to run, and a life of his own. No need to shift his focus from what he already had.
Now that he’d cleared the air with Caleb, he needed to have the same talk with Rissi and Mason, but he’d give them their day of rest first.
TWENTY-NINE
Rissi lay down, her head hitting the pillow with a poof—down feathers spreading to cradle her head. How was she ever going to sleep with thoughts of Mason invading her mind? He’d been in her heart and mind since he’d first walked through the children’s home door all those years ago. Or more accurately, when he’d swaggered in, setting a tone from the start. One that led to dark places on Hank’s part. But Mason had never lost his nerve or his fight—always ready to battle his way through Hank’s “punishments.” He’d been her hero.
Walking into the station all these years later, the same feelings came rushing back, swelling to the surface, but with a new level of maturity.
She rolled on her side, staring out her half-drawn shade at the sun’s rays gliding across the water. Knowing sleep would continue to elude her, she got to her feet and lifted her phone. If Noah was going to insist she and Mason take the day off, she might as well make the most of it.
Her thumb hovered over the phone screen. Just do it. You know you want to spend the day with him. What’s the worst that can happen?
He could say no.
Before she could chicken out, she dialed his number. Taking soothing breaths—or the closest she could manage to them—she waited as his phone rang.
“Hey, Rissi,” Mason answered. “What’s up?”
So he’d already programmed in her name. Her lips twitched into a smile. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep today. I’m heading out for a little adventure. Wanna join me?” She was about to backtrack and insist no pressure, but he answered before the words could slip from her mouth.
“Absolutely. What are we in for?”
“You’ll see. Just dress for some hot conditions.”
“Oookay.” With temps in the low eighties, he was probably wondering what she was getting him into.
Rissi knocked on Mason’s door. Since he was so new in town she’d expected to find him living in a temporary apartment while he looked for a place to settle in.
Mason settling in. She liked the idea.
Instead of an apartment, he’d gone with a cool seventies-style beach cottage on the sound side of Wrightsville Beach. Tall marshes dotted the waterways on her left. The sound of seagulls squawking contrasted with the beautiful silence of the white-and-gray egret standing regally at the marsh’s edge.
She stepped up on the porch of the blue clapboard cottage with white storm shutters.
The front door was open, and through the screen, she heard a whirring and crunching sound. She knocked.
The sound continued. She knocked a bit louder. “Hello?” She didn’t feel right just walking in.
The crunching stopped, and Mason appeared from around the corner. “Hey, sorry. Was grinding some coffee beans for tomorrow morning.” He strode barefoot to the door. “Come on in.”
She opened the door, and a cat swiped across her path.
“Oh.” She smiled. She hadn’t pictured Mason as a cat person.
“Hey, Socks. There you are.” He bent to pick up the black cat with white paws. “Little guy just showed up on my doorstep looking for food. I’ve asked around, but no one knows who he belongs to. Until I find his home or figure out he doesn’t have one, which I’m starting to think is the case, he’s welcome to stay here. I’m normally a dog person, but I have to admit, he’s a pretty chill cat.” He nuzzled the purring cat behind the ear.
“Can I hold him?” she asked.
“Sure.” He handed her Socks. The little guy was soft, warm, and active. He climbed up and across her shoulders, lying on the back of her neck, his paws draped over each shoulder.
Mason laughed. “He likes you.”
“Looks that way.”
“So where are we off to today?”
“Nags Head.”
A smile lit his face as he arched a brow. “Outer Banks?”
“Yep. We should arrive just as the day starts cooling off.”
“I’m guessing I should grab swim trunks?”
“You can, but you won’t need them.”
His charming smile widened, his chin dimple deepening. “Now I’m even more curious.”
Mason glanced over at Rissi lounging in the passenger seat of his Impala. She’d asked if they could take his car as she’d never ridden in an Impala, and with the windows rolled down, sun spilling across her hair, and her bare feet propped up on the open sill, he had to say it suited her well. Guardians of the Galaxy: Awesome Mix Vol. 1 played over the speakers. He inhaled, soaking it all in—the soft floral scent wafting from Rissi’s hair every time the wind shifted toward him, the completeness he felt when she was near, and the peace. Somehow, she anchored his soul.
Thank you, Lord.
He couldn’t envision a more perfect day.
Rissi sighed and closed her eyes, soaking up the sun.
Mason smiled. She always had loved the light. Especially when it shone through the square rafter window in her crawlspace. He’d watched as she looked out over the neighborhood roofs, staring across the bridge that separated the good part of town from the bad—both of them wishing they were on the other side, wishing they were out from under Hank’s grasp
.
But that was in the past, and this was the present. He longed to reach over and hold her hand, but he needed a better understanding of her relationship with Caleb. She’d said they were just friends, and Rissi was always truthful. But the feelings between them were deep, even if they were only that of friendship.
So many questions swirled in his mind, but the last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable, so he kept his hand locked on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road ahead. Or, at least, he tried to.
THIRTY
The ride Mason never wanted to end did. But the Outer Banks were spectacular. High sloping dunes, rough surf, blue skies stretching as far as the eye could see.
“Okay, ace,” he said, looking over at her with a smile. “Where to now?”
“First stop, Morning View Coffee, and then Jockey’s Ridge.”
She had a definite twinkle in her eye when she said the latter.
“And Jockey’s Ridge is . . . ?”
“A state park in Nags Head.”
“Where we’re going to do . . . ?”
“Sand surfing.”
He laughed. “What?”
“You use a board like you would a snowboard, but you ride down the large sand dunes in the park.”
“No way!” He’d never heard of such a thing. How cool.
“Yep. It’s awesome.”
He tapped the wheel. “I can’t wait.” He loved seeing Rissi like this. So free, with her adventurous streak finally set loose. He couldn’t wait to see her fly down the dunes.
She directed him to Morning View Coffee, and he followed her inside. The first thing he saw upon entering was the huge bronze coffee roasting machine enclosed by glass except for a side entrance from behind the counter. “They roast their own beans?” he asked as they moved across the space.
“Yep.” Rissi turned her attention to the woman behind the counter. “Hey, Ashley.”
“Hey, Rissi. Off to sandboard?”
“Yep.” She turned to Mason. “This is Mason Rogers.”
“Hiya, Mason. Nice to meet you.” She leaned over the counter and shook his extended hand.
“You too.”
“Your usual?” Ashley asked Rissi, grabbing a large iced cup.
“Definitely.”
Ashley wrote on the cup in black Sharpie and set it to the side. “Mason, what can I get you?”
He looked up at the chalkboard menu. Everything looked great, and the espresso Ashley pulled from the machine smelled amazing. “I think I’ll do a double espresso con panna.”
“You got it. Anything else?”
“A couple muffins to go,” Rissi said. “Just surprise us.”
Ashley smiled. “On it.”
Rissi gestured to the purple sofa lining the back wall. “Want to sit while she makes our drinks?”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Mags,” Rissi said, bending to pet a golden retriever lying next to the turquoise-and-white surfboard serving as a coffee table.
“Hey there,” Mason said, bending to pet the dog before following Rissi to the sofa. More surfboards hung on the walls above photographs of the sand and surf, and unique artwork.
“They’re all done by local artists,” she said, bending her left leg and angling it so her foot draped over her right knee as she sat.
“Cool place,” he said, glancing at the TV playing surfing videos mounted over the coffee bar.
“I love it.” She smiled. “I never pegged you for a whipped-cream-on-your-espresso kind of man.”
“I like whipped cream, and I’m proud of it.”
She laughed.
He scooted closer, unable to help himself. “What kind of man did you peg me as?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He scooted closer still. “Come on. You’re the profiling expert.”
She hesitated.
He propped his elbow on the couch and rested his head on his hand. “I’d really like to know.”
“All right.” She shifted to face him better, her blue eyes sparkling in the sun streaming through the large window behind the counter. “As a teen, I viewed you as the strong, tough guy, who could also be gentle and very kind. Someone who pushed the limits, thrived off danger, and needed no one.”
His brow arched. “Needed no one?”
“I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just mean you never had to depend on anyone. You were the strong one and always held your own.” Her lips twisted as she cast her gaze down. “I was the weak, vulnerable one.”
“Order’s up,” Ashley called before he could respond.
They stood, each grabbing their cup. “Thanks,” they said in unison.
Ashley smiled. “You two have fun.”
Once back in the car, Mason shifted sideways to face Rissi better.
“What’s up?” she asked, her voice tentative.
He cleared his throat, fighting the urge to reach out and cup her face. “You got two pivotal points wrong in your assessment of me.”
Her brows arched. “Oh?”
“First”—he hated being vulnerable, but she was worth it— “I did depend on someone back then, very much.”
She frowned.
He reached for her hand, unable to stop himself. She didn’t pull away as he threaded his fingers through hers. “I depended on you.”
Her face tightened, her beautiful blue eyes narrowing. “Are you messing with me?”
“No. I would never joke about something like that.” He scooted closer until their knees were touching, her hand still in his. “I needed you back then.” He swallowed. “And I still do.”
“I don’t understand. . . .”
“You think you were the weak one, but you’re wrong. You never let Hank break you. You never gave him the satisfaction of pleading with him or crying in front of him. You were so strong. And you kept your sweetness through it all. You didn’t let it change who you were. That takes a tremendous amount of strength.”
Tears rimmed her eyes.
He continued before he lost his nerve. “I needed you to help me remain me. Before I got to Hank’s, I was so angry. So bitter. So over-the-edge. But then I met you. I saw strength in many forms. You didn’t view me as an outcast. You looked at me with love.”
She looked down. “So you knew about that?”
His heartbeat drummed in his chest. “About . . . ?”
She looked him in the eye and after a sharp inhale and short exhale, she said, “About my feelings for you.”
“As a friend?” His voice cracked.
She hesitated, and hope nipped at him. Did she feel the same way?
“Or more?” he asked, aching to know.
She tilted her head to the right as her shoulder came up to meet it in a soft shrug.
His heart beat faster. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she said slightly above a whisper.
His mouth went dry. “And now?”
She nibbled her bottom lip.
“Ris?” He searched her face, her beautiful, wonderful face.
“And still,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes, her voice steadfast.
Warmth rushed through him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Back then our friendship meant everything to me, and I was afraid if you didn’t feel the same way, we’d lose our friendship.”
“And now?” he asked again, his voice a throaty whisper.
“And now . . . I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t feel the same. I mean, it’s been years, and I didn’t want to freak you out saying I still have feelings for you, which I probably just did. . . .”
He cupped her face, cradling it in his hold. “You didn’t freak me out.”
She blinked. “I didn’t?”
Instead of telling her, he’d show her. Leaning in, he hovered his lips over hers. To his bliss, she leaned in to meet him.
He pressed his lips to hers, the kiss soft and slow.
He’d dreamt of this mom
ent more times than he could count and now that it was here, he didn’t want to rush a thing. After a decade, he was finally kissing the woman he loved.
Tenderly, he deepened the kiss, losing all sense of time and reason.
“Hey, boss,” Logan said as Noah entered the station, Caleb behind him.
“Hey, guys. I brought sustenance,” Noah said. He handed Logan a cup. “Your vanilla almond-milk latte.”
“Thank you.”
Caleb tilted his head. “You know that’s a girly drink?”
“I’m perfectly comfortable with my masculinity, thank you very much.” Logan took a sip. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”
Caleb shook his head with a chuckle.
“Emmalyne,” Noah said, “one iced pumpkin spice latte.” He set it on her desk.
“Thanks.” She smiled, took off the lid, and lifted the cup to take a sip. “Delicious.”
Logan smiled at Emmy.
She frowned. “What?”
“You got a little something . . . ” Logan said. He stepped toward her and pulled out his silk handkerchief. “Allow me.”
She leaned back. “Really, I’m okay.” She swiped at her mouth.
“Suit yourself,” Logan said, sliding the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket with two perfect points. “But you missed a spot.”
Emmy swiped again.
“You got it,” Noah said. “It was just whipped cream.”
She smiled. “Thanks. The dangers of pumpkin spice lattes, I suppose.”
“So where are we at with the environmentalists?” Noah asked, sitting on the corner of his desk across from Emmy’s and Logan’s.
“Talk about interesting,” Logan said.
Noah arched a brow. “Oh?”
“You go first, Em.”
“All right.” She lifted a yellow legal pad sparsely filled with notes.
Caleb frowned. “That doesn’t look like much.”
“That’s because it’s not,” Emmy said.
“Not much to find?” Noah asked, surprised. Emmy was the master at digging stuff up. If she couldn’t find much, none of them would.
“Actually,” Emmy said, crossing her legs. “Such a small amount of information being somewhat readily available means there’s a lot more being suppressed.”
