His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency)

by Diane Alberts

  Her closet stood open, with all her clothes hung up neatly, and there didn’t seem to be a personal item out of place. Next to all the floral and pastel dresses he could make out the sleeves of her cop uniform in the right corner of the closet, a reminder of why he shouldn’t be here with her. Swallowing, he rubbed his forehead and took a breath. He wasn’t sure why he kept coming to her, or what it meant, but he’d do it again if she let him. “Daisy—”

  “You don’t have to talk to me with that apologetic tone in your voice,” she interrupted, sitting up and hugging her bare legs. She turned her head toward him, resting her cheek on her knees, her face relaxed. “I don’t think you’ve changed your mind about being with me because you’re here, just like I didn’t change my mind about you. We had sex. It was fun. That’s all this is.”

  She was right. Sex was all it was and all it could ever be. And yet… “Was your father in the military? Is he the reason you don’t want to date a vet?”

  Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers ached to touch its softness. “You put two and two together, huh? Guess you should’ve been a cop, too.”

  “Did he…hurt you…?”

  “Nah.” She scratched her nose, her cheek still resting on her knees. She looked so fragile sitting there hugging herself, but she was stronger than steel, and just as unwilling to bend under pressure. “He just pretended I didn’t exist, and prefers to spend the rest of his life burying himself in booze. He left me to raise myself and hoped for the best. Or didn’t. Not sure which. I never asked, since it really doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “Yes. Every once in a while, he gets himself in to trouble, and I have to bail him out of jail. When it’s convenient to him, he remembers I exist. Mainly when he needs money, or when he’s so drunk someone threatens to call the cops.” She scrunched her nose up adorably. “He was a drunk before she died, though. Said he needed to drink to drown out the crying of the dead he’d heard on the battlefield. It was the only way he could sleep.”

  He winced, knowing that feeling all too well. He’d seen a lot of men cope with the pain of their losses that way. You never forgot what it felt like to watch your buddy, the one who had been in the same boot camp as you, bleed out on the earth until nothing was left but an empty shell of a body. You never forgot the terrified look in their eyes, or the whispered pleas they gave as they died. Things like “tell my mom I love her,” or “kiss my baby girl for me one last time.”

  Those whispers and cries haunted you.

  Chased you into darkness.

  Lots of soldiers turned to drink to drown them out.

  He’d done it once or twice himself. For him, though, he found the best way to cope with the bad was to focus on the good. Like Ginny’s hugs. And the way she smelled fresh out of the bath, like strawberries and cream. And the way she called him Daddy, and stared up at him with bright blue eyes that she’d gotten from Tina.

  Those moments? Those smiles? They saved him.

  Too bad Daisy’s father hadn’t been able to do the same.

  Maybe her life would be different.

  And maybe they would have stood a chance.

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply, not sure what else to say. There was nothing else to say. She stared at him blankly, and he cleared his throat. “I should probably go. Ginny’s been having bad dreams lately, and if she wakes up, I want to be there for her.”

  A sad smile lit up her face. “You sound like you’re a good dad. I’m sorry for—”

  “It’s fine.” He reached out, hesitated halfway, but then followed through and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “I like you, Daisy. A lot.”

  She swallowed. “I like you, too.”

  “I want to be your friend. Can we be friends?” He hesitated because he wasn’t really sure what the hell he was saying right now, but he went with it anyway. “I want to be here for you. I want to kiss you and hold you and make you cry out in pleasure, but I want to be here for the other things, too. The bad nights. The good ones. Whatever you need, I want to be there.”

  She slid off the bed, grabbed her robe, and draped it over her shoulders. “That sounds an awful lot like being more than friends to me, which is a bad idea.”

  “Call it whatever the fuck you want. I want that.”

  She bit down on her lip. “Look, I get it. You get off on the chase. It’s a thrill. But—”

  “It’s not just that.”

  She shot him a doubtful look. “If we’re friends, most nights will end up like this, with you chasing me, me giving in, us having sex, and then you going home. Eventually, someone will want more, and eventually, someone will get hurt. Why go there?”

  “Why not?”

  A laugh escaped her. “I just told you why.”

  “I’m not saying we should be a couple. But let’s just…let’s keep doing what we’re doing. No one has to know, and we can just be friends, or we can fuck, or…whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. And if one of us decides that this whole friendship thing isn’t going to work, or that their feelings are getting too deep to be avoided anymore, then we split.” He held his palms out, open to the ceiling. “That’s it. No questions asked. No commitment. No hurt feelings. Just us, doing this, and being there for one another.”

  “And if someone does get their feelings hurt?”

  “They won’t.” He caught her hand. “We won’t.”

  She bit her lip and pulled free, tucking her hand behind her back. “Sure.”

  “We know what we want and what we’re doing, and neither of us wants to be a long term couple. So we won’t be. I want you, Daisy. I’m not afraid to admit I can’t just walk away because I don’t feel like we’re done. Do you?”

  She stared at him for so long he thought he overstepped, but then she did the last thing he expected. She shook her head. “I don’t feel done, either. But it has to be a secret. Lauren will flip if she finds out.”

  “It’ll be our secret,” he said, crossing the room and grabbing her hand, bringing it to his lips and locking eyes with her. “I swear it.”

  “Then fine. We’ll be…friends.” She wiggled her fingers in his. “Until one of us changes our mind, and calls this whole thing off. It’ll probably be me. I’m a runner. And I need to focus on my career right now, not on some guy I’m sleeping with.”

  “The guy you’re sleeping with happens to like running after you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I noticed.”

  With a grin, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her. She melted into him, and in this moment, with her hand resting over his speeding heart, he wasn’t so sure of his plan. The way she made him feel, the way she seemed to fill the emptiness inside him he’d felt since Tina died…that didn’t seem like something that would just go away.

  But he’d be damned if he walked away from her now.

  No, he had to see this through to the bitter end.

  Chapter Eleven

  This was what happiness felt like.

  She’d almost forgotten.

  But now, three nights later, as they lay in his bed together, and she watched his ceiling fan whir above them in a clockwise rotation, she remembered. And, God, it felt good.

  Smiling, she turned her head and checked out her surroundings, since she’d been a little too busy a few moments before. His room was big. Much bigger than hers. And he had a king size bed. The walls were a light blue, and his dresser had framed pictures of him and his daughter scattered across it. She was cute, of course. She had his blond hair, a sweet face, and dimples when she smiled, plus one in her chin. She must’ve gotten the former from her mother.

  As well as her blue eyes.

  There was a photo of her on the wall. Mark was in it, too. They both wore their military uniforms, and Mark had his arm around her.

  He was smiling, and his eyes were shining, and he looked so…

  Happy. Say it, Daisy. He looked happy.


  “I should probably go,” she said, tearing her eyes off the photo. It felt like his wife was watching her with judgement. “It’s getting late.”

  He rolled over and caught her hand, raising it to kiss the back of it. She shivered, even though they’d just finished a round of intense sex. He lay on the bed, the sheet pulled up to his waist, and his chest was harder than a brick wall. She knew that first hand. And the way his waist tapered down to that sexy V that she could just barely see…

  Perfection.

  Damn him.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said, watching her from under his lowered lids.

  “In more ways than one,” she said drily, forcing a smile then glancing at the photos again. They were only a few days into their little arrangement, where she came by after his daughter was asleep and left before she woke up, and already she was imagining his dead wife hating her. “You looked happy with her.”

  He looked toward his dresser, catching on quickly enough. He collapsed on the bed, rubbing his temples. “I was. We weren’t together long. And when we were, I was overseas, or she was. So we didn’t get much time together, but when we did…yeah, we were happy. We made each other laugh.”

  Daisy didn’t slide off the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” They stared at one another silently for a minute, neither speaking, but neither moving to end the hand contact, either. After a few seconds, he asked, “If you could go anywhere, do anything, see anything, what would you do?”

  She blinked at the abrupt change of topic. “Easy. I’d go see Hamilton in New York,” she answered quickly.

  He frowned. “Is that a show? A restaurant? A person?”

  “Seriously?” she exclaimed.

  He laughed. “Yes. Seriously. What is it?”

  “It’s a Broadway musical about Alexander Hamilton, and it’s sold out forever.”

  “Forever?” He cocked a brow. “That’s a bit exaggerated, isn’t it?”

  “Since you literally can’t buy tickets on their site…I say it’s legit.” She sighed. “For most of the shows you have to pay an outrageous amount to scalpers.”

  Shaking his head, he exclaimed, “Jesus. All that to watch a bunch of people sing on stage about history?”

  “You wouldn’t get it,” she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

  “I get it. I just never saw a musical, and I had no idea it was so cutthroat.” He smiled. “Alexander Hamilton, huh? Didn’t he cheat on his wife? And wasn’t he kind of a prick?”

  “Maybe. But I want to see it anyway. I want to be in the room where it happens.” She bit her tongue, considering him. “What would you want to do?”

  “Disney with Ginny,” he answered immediately. “Me and Tina talked about it right before she left. She was a huge Disney and Harry Potter girl, so all she could talk about was taking Ginny to Disney and Universal, to see the princesses…and Hogwarts, of course.”

  She smiled. “I was wondering if that was the inspiration for her name. I love that series. Read them all at least five times. Maybe ten.”

  “Wait. They’re books? I thought they were just movies.”

  She dropped her hand, standing, ready to march out that door right frigging now. “Serious—?”

  He burst into laughter, holding his hand back out. “I’m kidding. Just kidding. I read them all six times. Swear to God.”

  “Who’s your favorite character?” she shot back, not believing him.

  “Hermione. I wanted to name Ginny that, but Tina wouldn’t let me.” He cocked his head. “Yours?”

  “Same. Also, Neville. I think he should have been with Hermione. They were both so brave. And the actor who played him grew up to be hot.”

  Mark rolled his eyes, but he ruined the effect by grinning. “Hermione ain’t so bad, either.”

  “True.”

  They laughed, and she broke off first, rubbing her face and watching him. It was after midnight, and she had to be at work at six, so she really should get going. “Which was your favorite?”

  “Book? Deathly Hallows. Movie? Deathly Hallows part two. You?”

  “Book, The Sorcerer’s Stone. There’s something about the first book in a series that can’t be beat. And movie…Deathly Hallows part one.” She smiled and reached forward, picking up the sock that had ended up on his spare pillow. “Do you actually like pink?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. “I mean, it’s fine, but whatever.”

  “So the pink socks…?”

  “Ginny picked them out at the store. I didn’t have the heart to say no. She also wanted me to wear them to the wedding.” He grinned, his face lighting up almost as much as in the picture with his wife. “Her room is pink, and so are her comforter and sheets. She’s obsessed with the color.”

  “I bet she is,” she said, smiling.

  She’d probably never see that room. Meeting his kid would be crossing a line. Maybe once they were done with the benefits part of this situation and were just friends…maybe then she’d meet her. And she’d be Auntie Daisy. And from a distance, she’d watch Mark fall in love with someone more appropriate for him. Maybe she’d even be invited to the wedding, if his next wife wasn’t the jealous sort, and she’d maybe be a detective by then, if she played her cards right.

  Funny.

  That didn’t sound like fun.

  “Why don’t you want to be in a relationship with anyone?” she asked abruptly.

  “Uh…” Laughing, he sat up and leaned against the headboard, the sheet falling to reveal dark curls and a hint of penis, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I just got really hurt when I lost Tina, and I almost lost myself, too. Her death? It almost killed me. The only thing that kept me sane was Ginny, and knowing I had to take care of her. But to open myself up to that kind of loss again? To give myself over like that to someone, knowing they had the power to destroy me? I don’t know that I could do it again. I don’t think I want to.”

  Daisy nodded. She understood that all too well. Losing William had done the same thing to her. She’d fallen into an abyss, and only her work had kept her going. It was all she had anymore. Guess they had that in common, too. Their unwillingness to be vulnerable like that again. In a way, she thought the reason she and Mark were drawn to each other was because they had each suffered the same loss, and pain attracted pain.

  “Would you want another relationship someday?” he asked, watching her too closely for her liking.

  It was like he saw right through her, straight to her center, and uncovered all her deepest desires. She wasn’t so sure she wanted him to see all that. She didn’t even want to examine it too closely.

  “I don’t know. Yeah, I guess so, maybe someday.” She shrugged. “I like love, and I like the way it makes you feel, but right now, I’m just focusing on being me. On being a good cop, without anything or anyone tying me down. On getting this stupid cast off so I can be back out there, taking down bad guys. So it’s not like I’m not sitting at home alone, wishing I had a man by my side. I’m fine like I am, where I am.”

  He nodded, staring at her cast. “When does it come off?”

  “Friday. I can’t wait.”

  “And then…” He lifted his gaze. “You go back out there?”

  “Yep.”

  He didn’t say anything. Just stared. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he looked as if he swallowed a bag of rocks. He didn’t like the idea of her being out there, maybe getting hurt. But that was why they weren’t dating, right? “If you can’t—”

  “Why did you become a cop?” he asked at the same time.

  “I became a cop because I wanted to help people. My mom…she was killed in a mugging when I was a kid. When I lost her, I wanted to do my part to make the world a safer place. And I do that, every day. I make the world a little bit safer, just like you do.”

  “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

  “It was a long time ago.” She cleared her throat. “Look, if yo
u can’t handle me being a cop, even though we’re just friends, then I can walk out of here right now. I feel no shame in my job. No hesitation. It is my life, and that won’t be changing any time soon.” She lifted her chin. “Not for you. Not for anyone.”

  He shook his head. “I would never expect or ask you to. I was just curious what drove you to join the force, is all.”

  “What made you want to be in the military?”

  “I love my country, and I would die to protect it,” he said simply.

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Annnnd cue stare-down number three.

  He broke it off first this time, laughing. “Guess we’re a lot alike, then.”

  “Guess so. Do you miss it?”

  “Miss what?” he asked, frowning.

  “The military.”

  “Yes. Every damn day.” He gestured toward the pictures on his dresser. “But I’m all she has now, and she’d miss me more than I miss the Marines.”

  “What did you do over there?” she asked, staring at the pictures again.

  “I ran security on the planes and the WMDs.” He smiled ruefully. “So, really, a job not all that different from what I do now. Only instead of guarding weapons of mass destruction, I protect old farts who love golfing and women young enough to be their grandchildren.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’ll be you, with a young floozy on your arm and a nine iron in your hand.”

  “Nah. I prefer basketball.”

  “Notice, you didn’t deny the young floozy part.”

  He laughed. “I don’t know. I kind of see myself as the single-and-okay-with-that grandfather to Ginny’s kids. I’ll be the cool one. The one the kids always want to go see.”

  “Do you want more?” She slid off the bed, picked up her panties, and stepped in to them. “Kids, I mean?”

  “I’d have to be with someone for that,” he said, watching her. When she glanced around for her bra, he pulled it out from under the sheets. “I think I’m fine with just one, unless…”

  “Unless what?” she asked, buckling the bra.