by S. M. Butler
“What?” She set down the knife, feeling self-conscious.
“Nothing.” He shook his head as if to clear it of whatever troubling thoughts he’d been plagued with. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had a woman in my kitchen.”
Trying to sound nonchalant, she resumed her dicing. “Did Alana like to cook?”
“Yep.” He snorted softly. “But she sucked at it.”
Jill was surprised to hear that. On the rare occasion that the subject of Alana came up, Shane spoke of the woman as if she’d been the reincarnation of Mother Teresa.
“So you did all the cooking, huh?”
“Oh yeah. I always made sure to leave a shit-ton of food in the freezer so she’d have something to eat when I was overseas.” He sighed. “I can’t even count the number of times she gave us food poisoning.”
“I gave my dad food poisoning more than once growing up,” Jill admitted. “Salads, I can handle. Maybe pasta. But anything more substantial than that and your stomach might be in trouble.”
“But you make a mean cocktail,” Shane pointed out. “In fact, forget the salad and whip us up some of your margaritas instead.”
“Ha, so you did like them.” She’d made a batch the other evening, and had then spent the whole night listening to Shane grumble about how he preferred good old-fashioned beer.
“They were all right,” he said grudgingly. Then he flashed a rogue grin. “But not for drinking. I had more fun licking all that salty goodness off your tits.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Pervert.”
“Ah, sweetheart, we both know you loved it.” With a laugh, he disappeared to tend to the chicken, while Jill stared after him in amusement.
And dismay.
Because she’d suddenly reached a staggering realization. Yes, she really had loved that he’d drizzled margaritas over her breasts the other night, but that wasn’t all she loved.
She loved to see Shane smiling and laughing more often.
She loved that he refused to watch action movies because he deemed them “unrealistic”, and how he answered the phone every time one of his teammates called, even when they just wanted him to settle an argument or talk some sense into one of the guys.
She loved when the word sweetheart rumbled out of his mouth, and how astoundingly patient he was with her when they went for a drive, and the way he listened to her ramble on about the restaurant, and how when he was moving inside her, he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, and—
Sweet Robin of Locksley.
Somehow, in the two short months she’d spent with the man, she’d fallen in love with Shane Heron.
Chapter Nine
‡
Shane woke up at 4:00 a.m. to find Jill lying beside him. In his arms. In his bed.
For one heart-stopping second, he almost dove off the mattress in a panic—until he remembered that he was the one who’d invited her to stay. That he’d wanted her here.
But the memory only succeeded in scaring the shit out of him. He hadn’t slept with a woman since his wife died. Actually slept with one. Feeling a warm body nestled against his, listening to the sound of steady breathing that wasn’t his own. He’d always believed that it required a helluva lot of trust to be able to sleep with another person, to lower your guard and allow yourself to be vulnerable like that.
Damn it, why had he asked Jill to stay?
But the answer to that was too fucking clear—because he liked her. Because she made him laugh and challenged him and turned him on something fierce. Jill was nothing like the eager SEAL groupies he’d been screwing these past two years. She was smart and self-assured, and the more he got to know her, the more he liked her.
A soft noise tickled his shoulder. Jill had shifted toward him, nuzzling her cheek against his bare skin as she curled one leg over his thighs. The closer contact stirred his groin, which only freaked him out all the more. Christ. Even when she was asleep she managed to drive him wild.
You gotta end it, man.
The urgent voice in his head made his chest clench, but he couldn’t silence it. Couldn’t ignore it.
He’d gotten attached. And how fucking ironic was that? He’d spent so much time worrying that Jill would be the one to latch on, yet he was the one who didn’t want to let go.
But he had to. He was leaving in two weeks, and even if he were sticking around, he had nothing to offer her. No promises, no assurances. Hell, it had taken him two months to ask her to spend the night—at the rate he was going, it would be ten years before he offered her a measly key to his place.
Jill was too incredible to settle for anything less than one hundred percent, and goddamn it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to give that to her.
She murmured in her sleep again, and he found himself holding her tighter, running his fingers through her silky hair as she slept in his arms.
As agonizing as it was to even think it, Shane knew the best course of action was to cut ties. Sever their growing connection before either one of them got in over their heads.
He had to.
For both their sakes.
*
Jill knew something was wrong the moment Shane showed up at her apartment the following night. They hadn’t made plans, but he’d called her just as she was leaving the Hampton Grill to ask if he could stop by. Even though it was past midnight, she’d agreed to see him. The unhappiness in his voice had been palpable. It had worried her, and as she let him in now, she grew even more unsettled.
Shane’s blue eyes were veiled as he stepped into the front hall, but she could tell he was on edge.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded, leading him into the living room.
She didn’t know why she bothered asking, though, because it was obvious why he’d come. Jill had felt him withdrawing from her the moment she’d woken up earlier after spending the whole night in his bed. He’d barely uttered a word during breakfast, and the kiss he’d given her when he’d dropped her off at home had lacked the warmth and passion she’d grown accustomed to.
He was ending it. She knew it with bone-deep certainty, and the pain that sliced into her heart was more excruciating than she’d thought it would be.
God, why couldn’t he have dumped her before she’d fallen for him?
“We’re heading to Nevada tomorrow for a week or so.”
She blinked at Shane’s opening remark. She hadn’t been expecting it, and the fact that he hadn’t led with “I’m dumping your ass” evoked a spark of hope. Maybe he wasn’t ending it, after all.
“More training?” she said carefully.
He nodded. “We’re running some demos in the desert.”
“The desert.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “So you’re really going to the Middle East then?”
“Still haven’t received confirmation of that.”
Jill was used to his vague responses regarding his missions, and she didn’t bother pushing for more details because she knew she wouldn’t get any. “And after Nevada you’re coming back here? You’ll be home for a week and then you’re gone for six months?”
He nodded.
A curtain of silence hung over them. Awkward, ominous. It reminded her of the night they’d met, when Shane had stood in Holly and Carson’s kitchen keeping as much distance between them as he could, literally and figuratively. He was doing it again now. Jill could practically see him raising the walls around him. One by one they slammed into place, effectively shutting her out.
“Say it,” she murmured.
“Say what?”
A burst of indignation erupted in her gut. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not fair to me, and I don’t appreciate it. We both know why you came over, so at least have the decency to be straight with me.”
His chest rose and fell beneath his snug black sweater as his breathing became strained. “You’re right,” he said roughly. “I’m sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “We can’t see each other anymore.”
T
he quiet words sliced her heart to ribbons, but somehow she managed to keep her composure. Talking, however, was impossible. Her throat was too tight, so she offered a jerky nod.
Shane waited for her to speak, and when she didn’t, frustration filled his eyes. “I can’t ask you to wait around for six months, Jill. It isn’t fair, especially when I can’t even make you any promises about the future.”
She nodded again.
He waited again, his agitation growing. “Damn it, you deserve more. Don’t you see that?”
By some miracle, she was able to squeeze a handful of shaky words past her paralyzed windpipe. “I get it, Shane. You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to explain. I want you to know why I’m doing this. I need you to understand.”
“I do understand.” Her legs felt weak, and she sank onto the couch so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself by keeling over. “You were honest with me from the start. You don’t want a relationship. You don’t want to get married again. You don’t want to fall in love. I heard every word you said. I get it.”
Misery thickened his voice. “Then why are you crying?”
She was crying?
Jill touched her face, startled to discover that he was right. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyelids were stinging like hell.
Taking a breath, she quickly wiped away the tears. “You know me,” she said feebly. “I get overemotional and blubbery at the drop of a hat.”
“No, you don’t.” Pain clouded his expression as he joined her on the couch. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
Her heart splintered when he cupped her face and swept his callused thumbs over the moisture on her cheeks. Why was he touching her? Didn’t he realize it just made this awful goodbye a million times worse?
“I wish I could be the man you deserve,” he mumbled. “I really do.”
You are! she wanted to shout, but she held her tongue. Shane Heron had closed his heart the moment he’d lost his wife. He didn’t believe himself capable of loving anyone again, and trying to change his mind would be like pounding her fists against a brick wall to get it to move. These past two months she’d been praying for him to lower his guard and let her in, but he hadn’t. His emotions remained locked up tight, and she didn’t have the key.
“If we keep seeing each other, we’ll only get more attached.” Shane’s hands left her face, dropping awkwardly to his sides. “I’ll end up hurting you.”
You already have.
She bit back the accusation. Offered another nod. “I get it,” she said for the hundredth time. “This was supposed to be a casual thing. And it was.” She almost choked on her next words. “And now it’s over.”
“Jill…” He trailed off, and she didn’t wait for him to finish.
She stumbled to her feet, shoving a stray hair off her forehead as she tried to control her unstable breathing. “You should probably go now.”
He stood, visibly reluctant. “I know.”
Jill found the courage to meet his gaze, and her heart clenched so hard it sent a shooting pain through her chest. He looked ravaged, but resigned. He wasn’t going to change his mind.
She almost blurted out that she loved him, just to see if that would make a difference, but she knew it wouldn’t, and she refused to humiliate herself by dropping an L-bomb that wouldn’t be returned. “Be careful when you’re overseas, okay?”
“I always am.” Gruff and somber Shane had returned, shutting down right before her eyes as he took a step to the doorway. At the last second, he halted, then walked back to her. Slowly. Sadly.
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
He brushed a sweet, fleeting kiss on her lips, and another piece of Jill’s heart chipped away and pierced her insides.
A moment later, he was gone.
Chapter Ten
‡
“Dude, you’ve gotta tell Allie to get her sister to chill the fuck out,” Duke announced. The younger man was sprawled on one of the twin beds in Shane and Max’s hotel room, which was probably going to be the nicest digs the men stayed in for a long, long time. Once the team went wheels-up, luxuries like beds and running water would most likely vanish.
From the other bed, Max rolled his eyes at the other man. “Tell Allie yourself. I’m not your messenger.”
“Or better yet, tell Bridget,” Hunter piped up from the armchair near the window.
“For real,” Max agreed. “Isn’t it time you guys finally buried the hatchet?”
“Fuck that.” Duke scoffed at his friends. “I’m not the one with the stick up my ass. If Bridget wants to hate me, she can go right ahead. I don’t like her either, and I don’t fucking appreciate the way she bitches about me to everyone who steps foot inside Andy’s. And acting like I don’t pay my tab? Only happened one time, and that’s because we got called out to San Diego at the last minute!”
Shane had been sitting in the chair across from Hunter’s, but he got up abruptly, tired of listening to the boys talk about pointless bullshit. The worst part of working on a team was the complete lack of privacy. He’d been bunking with Max for the duration of their Nevada stint, but every night at least two of the other guys popped in to shoot the shit. Normally he didn’t mind, but he’d been in a god-awful mood this past week, and at the moment, he didn’t have the patience for it.
“Time to go.” He voiced the sharp command to Duke, who bolted off the bed without delay.
“Sorry, Senior. Didn’t realize we were keeping you up.”
As Duke and Hunter slid out the door, Max moved into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. “How the fuck do you do that?” he demanded. “Those assholes never follow a single order I give them unless it’s during an op.”
Shane shrugged. “You need to work on your scary voice.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Max grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned the TV on. “Mind if I watch some NFL highlights before we turn in?”
“Go for it.” Shane padded to his bed in bare feet and boxers, then lowered his aching body onto the mattress. They’d done some backbreaking demos this week, including a sixty-mile trek in the hot sun, and his muscles were showing the strain of it. He was looking forward to heading to Norfolk tomorrow for a few days of downtime. After that, the training resumed, and then the real thing would follow it.
“So how’s it going with Jill?” Max said absently, flipping channels in search of ESPN.
The inquiry was light and casual, but Shane’s reaction to it was anything but. His chest went so tight his lungs seized up, and the sudden lack of air was enough to bring a rush of dizziness. He breathed through it, doing his damnedest not to conjure up the image of Jill. But it was too late.
Her green eyes and silky red hair flashed to mind, accompanied by the sound of her laughter. He’d been thinking about her laugh all week. He’d been thinking about her all week, no matter how hard he’d tried not to.
“Senior?” Max prompted.
He was tempted not to answer, but of all the men on Team Eight, he trusted the young LT the most, and so he rolled over with a sigh. “We ended it.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?”
“Yeah, before the team left for Nevada.”
“Why?” The other man frowned.
“There was no sense in letting it go on.” Shane made an effort to sound indifferent. “We’re leaving town for six months, remember?”
A groove appeared in Max’s forehead. “And she didn’t want to wait for you?”
Shane didn’t answer. He didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t even given her the option, but Max knew him too well. The man’s light blue eyes narrowed, and then he raked a hand through his hair. “Aw, shit. You’re the one who broke up with her. For fuck’s sake—why?”
Shane stayed quiet, but Max answered for him again.
“Shit, why am I even asking you that? I know exactly why you dumped her.” The blond man shook his head irritably. “You got
too close, and it scared the crap outta you. Right, Senior?”
Discomfort churned in Shane’s gut. “No. That’s not what happened.”
“Bullshit.” Max dropped the remote control and swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was facing Shane, his expression conveying sheer aggravation. “How long are you going to do this, Shane?”
Shit. The guy had called him Shane. Not “Senior”, but his actual name, which meant that Max wasn’t fucking around.
“Do what?” he muttered.
“Be alone. Be miserable. I get it, okay? You lost your wife. And I know you were insanely in love with her, but she’s gone.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped.
His lieutenant was unfazed by the sharp comeback. “I think you’re terrified of losing another woman you care about,” Max shot back. “I think you make a crapload of excuses. You know, how you found the love of your life, and how no one will ever compare, so what’s the point in giving anyone else a chance, right? But that’s the fear talking, man.”
The blunt accusation stung. Caught him off guard, too. “You’re wrong,” he stammered.
“And you know what else?” Max went on without acknowledging the objection. “I think you’re in love with Jill. And it’ll be a damn shame if you go wheels-up without telling her how you feel.”
Panic clutched his throat. “I’m not in love with her.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” Max lay back down and picked up the remote. “No offense, Senior, but you’re kind of an idiot.”
Shane’s mind was spinning so hard he couldn’t even muster up a protest. He stumbled off the bed, stunned and confused and pissed off, and desperate for some space.
“Where are you going?” Max asked as Shane hurriedly threw on some clothes.
“I need a drink,” he said tightly.
He was reaching for the door handle when Max spoke again. “Shit. I’m sorry. Ignore everything I said, okay? I didn’t mean to—”
Shane left before the other man could finish.
The hotel they were staying in didn’t have a bar, but there was one conveniently located right across the street, and Shane wasted no time going there. A few minutes later, he was sliding onto a stool and ordering whiskey, his brain struggling to make sense of the accusations Max had hurled his way.
