by Zoe York
They wandered over to his truck and sat on the blanket spread out on the tailgate. She told him about the job, and he asked a bunch of questions, all of which she could answer. “You aren’t curious about what the movie is called?”
He laughed. “Can you tell me?”
“Nope, I don’t know myself.” She sighed. “You’re good at not being nosy.”
“I’m curious. Really. I want to know everything you can tell me. But I get that there are some things you just can’t share, and that’s okay.”
It was a part of his job she’d always struggled with, that confidentiality. “So I guess I shouldn’t ask how work is going for you?”
“You can ask.” He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher in the half-light surrounding them. “I just can’t tell you much.”
“Crime still alive and well in Bruce County?”
“As ever.”
They continued talking, exchanging platitudes, but the flirting tone set with her call to Dani had slipped away while they talked about work. That was for the best, she told herself.
“I’m proud of you, Liv. Maybe this will turn into something you can do again.”
“Yeah, maybe. Let’s see if I still like it in the spring.”
He cleared his throat and looked at the ground. “You’re still thinking about leaving then?”
She nodded. “This doesn’t change anything. I want a fresh start.” Beside her, he was frozen, like a wall of granite, and she forged ahead. Rip off the bandage. “It gives us more time to settle everything with the house, but it doesn’t change—”
“Don’t sell the house.”
“I need my half of the equity in it when I move.”
“I’ll buy you out.” He stared straight ahead, his jaw set.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I miss having a yard.” That was a total lie, and a trickle of fear rolled down her spine. No good could come of Rafe wanting to hang on to a part of her.
“It would be better for both of us if we had a clean break,” she whispered.
“Don’t tell me what’s better for me,” he muttered. “You lost that right with the divorce decree.”
“I never had that right when we were married.” God, she hated that whiny edge to her voice. “Now I can say whatever I want. Up to you if you hear it or not.”
Rafe obviously decided to be a diplomat and changed the subject. “There are a lot of good memories in that place.”
Sure, when he’d been there, they’d been happy. It had been when he was away—long shifts, weekend exercises with the Army, the constant tug from his family—that sadness had flowed through the rooms. Longing for her husband that was never fully satisfied when he was home.
“I’m not moving for a while yet. Let’s revisit this conversation in a few months.” She reached for the beer bottle and their fingers brushed. A shiver danced up her arm at the rough slide of skin on skin, igniting way too much desire. A simple, accidental touch and she was squirming in her seat. Right after talking about moving on.
“You cold?”
She gave him a pointed look through narrowed eyelids. “Don’t you dare offer me your shirt.”
He gave her an innocent who me look and she laughed. “What? You look cold!”
“Here’s how that plays out,” she said, tipping the last of the bottle back. She licked her lips, enjoying the last drops of his beer, then pointed her finger firmly in his direction. “You wrap it around me, taking the opportunity to be all close and big and strong. Show off your muscles. Then I’m actually surrounded by your yummy smell, and now you’re cold, so you stay close. Put an arm around me. All in the name of warmth, of course. And then all of a sudden, your hand is on my ass, your tongue is down my throat, and everyone is talking about Rafe and Olivia making out in the back of a truck at a bonfire.”
He stared at her for a minute, then bit his lower lip and nodded. “Right. K. Well, I’m gonna grab another beer.”
He hopped off the tailgate and unbuttoned his shirt. She gasped as he tossed it into her lap before he ambled over to the cooler.
Between the moon overhead and the orange glow of the bonfire, it was almost like he had a spotlight on him. And from her perch on the back of his truck she felt like she could watch him safely from the darkness. Without anyone else noticing her hunger for his broad shoulders and long legs. His strong arms and tight butt. Even with the warm flannel that she greedily wrapped around her body—and it did in fact smell yummy—he still sent shivers down her spine. From thirty feet away. The man was dangerous.
He stopped to talk to a couple people on the way back, then handed her the beer before continuing to the cab of the truck. He returned wearing an OPP sweatshirt and she was absurdly disappointed that he’d gone and covered up most of the muscles she’d just complained he might show off to her.
He hopped back up next her, leaving a solid six inches between their thighs, and smirked as she stared at the blanket between them. “Miss me?”
Like you wouldn’t believe. “Nope.”
“Can I have a sip?” He nodded to the beer, and it dawned on her that he’d only brought one bottle back from the cooler. The first one had been shared…well, sort of by accident. But he could have brought two back and he didn’t.
The hoodie, the space…that was for her. The public show of Rafe and Olivia just being friends. But the single bottle of beer, passed back and forth? That was something else. She twisted the cap off and drank first, then quietly handed it over. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he tipped the bottle back, his lips where hers had just been.
When he handed it back again, she reached across her body and took it with her right hand. Leaving her left hand pressed on the itchy blanket between their bodies. He slid the bottle into her grasp, then dropped his hand on top of hers.
They sat there for another hour, sharing that bottle and then another as many revellers took their leave. Rafe didn’t drink much of the last one, just holding it on his turns.
“Are you driving?” she finally asked.
“Hmmm?” He’d been staring at the fire for a few minutes. He slid her a curious look.
“You’ve stopped drinking.”
“Oh. No, Dean drove my truck. I’ve got the second row of seats, so we can take more people back.”
Leave it to cops to have a responsible bush bash.
“Can we give you a ride home?”
“I came with Ryan and Lynn, but…”
“Who’s driving?”
“Lynn, I think.”
His jaw clenched. “You’ll come home with us, okay?”
“Rafe?”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle and stretched his neck left and right before answering. “She disappeared into the woods for a bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a joint on her.”
Olivia sighed. Her friend should know better than to bring drugs to a party at Scott Turner’s farm. Or anywhere in public, but especially around cops. Jeez. And driving… “Yeah, I’d love a ride home. Thanks.” She pressed her lips together, not sure how to ask the next question.
“I’m not going to do anything about it,” he said roughly. “I didn’t see anything and I’m off duty. Plus she’s Ryan’s wife, not that I’d let that stop me if—”
“She’s a mother of three.”
“Do you think she ever smokes up before she drives them around?”
That silenced her. Ugh. Maybe she should talk to Ryan. She looked around for her friend but couldn’t see him. All of a sudden she didn’t feel like drinking any more. She tucked the bottle against the wheel well behind her and lifted her legs up, wrapping her arms around them making a Livvie-ball, as her father used to call it.
“What are you thinking about?” His voice was quiet. She didn’t look over at him again, keeping her gaze trained on the moonlit tree line instead.
“How we’re too old for bush parties,” she admitted. “And my dad…I miss him. That he’s gone now makes me f
eel old too. Like…I should have done more, ya know? I don’t have much to show for someone my age. This job is fun, but it’s yet another temporary gig, ya know?”
— —
He craned his neck at her in surprise. She felt old? She was three years younger than him and he felt like their lives were just beginning. He reached out and tugged at her ponytail. She turned her face back in his direction and dropped her cheek to her knees. She looked exactly the same as she did the night he met her at a house party in Woodstock. Fresh, innocent, and beautiful. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming.
Instead, he pushed off the truck bed and moved to stand in front of her. “You want to dance?”
Someone had rigged up an mp3 player and a pair of portable speakers. A slow Guns N’ Roses power ballad floated around them. She slowly unwound her limbs and looked around.
“We’re among friends here, Liv. Dance with me.” Let me take us back in time six years and start over again. He wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t fucked up the better part of her twenties. Flirt and touch and tease like they really could build a future together instead of having a history so tainted that his beautiful wife thought she’d missed out on something good.
She nodded and eased against him, her arms going around his neck and her head onto his shoulder. He slipped his hands under the borrowed shirt and found her waist. She giggled quietly against chest. “Your hands are cold.”
“You’re soft and warm. I’m not moving them.”
“I’m not asking you to.” They shared a long, warm gaze.
“Good.” If this was the reward he got for going slow, he’d pace his win-Liv-back plan out over the entire six months reprieve he’d been granted. They swayed back and forth in the shadow of his truck, even after the song ended and something faster set the tempo for the rest of the party. Laughter and jeers filtered through the dark as people got a little silly around the fire, but all he cared about was the woman he held in the circle of his arms. “You having a good time?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She wiggled closer. For warmth, he told himself, but his dick paid no attention to the caution. He knew the moment she found him hot and ready for a laundry list of bad ideas because she froze, then eased away just enough to pretend she didn’t know how much he was enjoying having her up against him.
“There’s a stag and doe next weekend,” he offered after he found his voice again.
“Yeah?” She sounded skeptical, but tempted. In the country, the pre-wedding fundraisers were often the only real opportunity for dancing. If he was flooded with memories of slow dancing, maybe she was too.
“We could meet there or something.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” She tipped her face up to his and smiled. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Don’t call it a date. We could accidentally run into each other.”
“And share a few beers? Maybe have a dance or two?”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Is your mom going to be there?” He heard the edge to her voice.
Hell no. They weren’t fighting about his mom tonight. “Not her scene.”
“We’re not dating, Rafe. I’m leaving town in six months. And when I do, it’s going to suck. Let’s not make it worse.”
“If leaving would be so awful, don’t leave.” There, he’d said it. Don’t leave. Pathetic begging, something he’d promised himself he’d never do.
“Do you want to do this now?”
Listen to her list all the reasons why they don’t work as a couple? It was a short list of two razor-sharp points, but Liv had a way of exponentially expanding the list until it filled hours of endless, torturous fights. They always started as conversations but devolved quickly into sniping matches. “Let’s skip to the end where I’m an asshole.”
She stiffened against him, and then shrank away. Fuck. “You’re not an asshole, but you are a workaholic. And you come with a family that’s…overwhelming, to put it mildly. And you shut down when I ask you for even a little bit more. More time, more attention—”
“You have my attention. All of it. All the fucking time. I can’t get you off my mind.” Why wasn’t that enough?
She pinched her eyebrows together. That made two of them that found this frustrating as fuck. “For now, sweetie. But not forever. You live a life best suited to a single man. There’s a reason why soldiers had to ask their officers for permission to marry way back when.”
He rolled his eyes. “This isn’t way back when. Guys in the army are married.”
“Soldiers and cops?” She snorted. “I think the divorce rate is pretty high in both professions. Mix them together and you’re better off in a relationship like Dean’s. Something easy. No strings.”
A spark of something stupid and awesome came to life in the back of his head. An idea that he was surprised neither of them had suggested yet. “Let’s do that.”
“What?”
“Something easy. No strings.”
She laughed, then stopped when she realized he was serious. “No.”
“Why not?”
She reached between and slowly tucked her fingertips just inside the waistband of his jeans. “Because when I do this…” She stepped closer and pressed up on her tiptoes, bringing her pelvic bone up against the bottom of his quickly hardening junk. “And this…you lose your mind and say stupid things like you love me. We’re a mess of strings already. We can’t fall into bed again. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“I do love you.” The words spilled out with ease, and he was relieved to not have to hold them back. “But you’re right. An affair isn’t right for us. We need to take this slow.”
“This isn’t anything.”
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his body. “This is everything, Liv. And I’m going to find a way to make it right.”
— SEVEN —
PART of starting anew with Liv would also have to be repairing his relationship with his mother, because eventually he was going to have to ask her to be nice to his wife. So without a plan but with a clear mission, he headed over to his parents’ house a few days later, when he knew Dani had an evening shift. The last thing he needed was to have mother and daughter picking sides and hollering at each other over his head. Besides, he wasn’t going to dive right into the Liv conversation. That could come later.
Unfortunately, his mother did not get that memo. He found her in the kitchen baking bread. She barely let him sit down before serving the first volley. “According to Toni Ross, you were seen leaving your former residence at four in the morning on Sunday.”
“Is that right?” Rafe couldn’t care less what the uptight shrew across the road from Olivia thought of his comings and goings. For that matter, he didn’t really care what his mother thought either. He didn’t bother to set the record straight that he’d just walked Liv to her door, and it was closer to midnight than four a.m.—and Dean had been sitting in the truck the whole time. She wouldn’t believe him.
“It’s not the first talk of a reunion that I’ve heard about.”
“We’re not reuniting, Ma.” Not yet. They were just…rediscovering each other. Maybe. Liv still hadn’t given him a clear answer on if she’d be at the stag and doe. The next time he saw her, he was going to get her to say yes.
“So if someone said they saw you kissing in the woods behind the diner?”
It would, strictly speaking, be a lie. “I haven’t kissed Olivia in two years.” She kissed me a week ago, but I kept my hands mostly to myself.
“That city girl has you wrapped around her finger, Rafe. It’s not healthy.”
“Ma, you can’t talk about Liv that way.”
“I’m your mother. I can talk about whatever I want.”
“Not if you want me to listen.” He shook his head. “You’re the only person who never welcomed her to Pine Harbour.”
“I gave her a job!”
“So you could keep her close and monitor her every activit
y.”
She gasped. “Rafaelo, that’s not true.”
“No?” He stood up and grabbed his jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done two years ago. Setting some boundaries.”
“This isn’t very mature.” Her voice slithered under his skin, the reproach making him doubt himself for a second before she made his point for him. “Besides, she never embraced our family.”
“Why was it her job to build the bridge?” She didn’t have an answer for that. Obviously didn’t think she needed one, because she waited until he winced in apology. “I’m sorry, Ma. Look, I need you to dial it back. I’d prefer if you actually tried to make an effort to like her—”
She sniffed. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I hate her. I don’t, you know.”
“It never felt like that to Liv.” He took a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel like that to me, either, I gotta tell you. Maybe if I’d said something early on, Liv wouldn’t have left me.”
Silence was rare in the Minelli household, but it was never a good thing. This was no exception. His mother’s back stiffened and she resumed her kneading, this time without the commentary on his life. Which is what he wanted. Too bad thirty-one years of conditioning had trained him to feel badly for hurting her feelings.
“Ma…”
“Don’t Ma me, Rafe.” Her voice was cold and stiff.
“Maybe this isn’t an all-in-one-day kind of conversation.” He waited for her to say something, anything, but she’d returned to the silent treatment. He thought about getting up and leaving but that didn’t help Liv at all. Or himself. “Ma, I’ve missed feeling welcome here.”
“You’re always welcome. You should have moved here instead of that stupid apartment. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel like a stranger in your parents’ home.”
“I couldn’t. A part of me hoped it would be temporary.” And moving home would have underlined all of Liv’s fears about Rafe prioritizing his family over her.
