Imperfect Heart

by Tarina Deaton

  “All right. The tire shop is putting a new tire on the rim for you. I’ll pick it up and drop it off this evening.”

  “Um, tonight won’t work. I managed to get the internet and phone companies scheduled for this evening and I’m going to get some boxes out of storage so I can start clearing it out and Linda’s daughter is going to prep the loft tonight so she can start painting first thing tomorrow and I need to push out job notifications to hire employees and—”

  “So you’re saying your busy tonight?”

  “Yeah. You can leave it beside the garage.”

  “I’ll hang onto it for ransom.”

  “Ransom for what?”

  “Dinner.” He hung up as she sputtered her response, chuckling as he pictured her face at his statement. Dinner could wait a few days while Zoe got her store settled, but he wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

  Chapter 14

  Tim yawned so hard his jaw cracked and he moved it back and forth. Damn, he hated late night call outs. He pulled onto his street and parked the cruiser behind his truck. Haven Springs wasn’t big enough and didn’t have enough crime for them to have a full mid-shift, but it did mean they rotated being on call for two weeks at a time, which meant he got to drive the company car for the week. Who said this job didn’t have its perks? Thankfully, he’d be able to go in a few hours late tomorrow since he’d responded to the call.

  He glanced over at Zoe’s house and saw her car in the driveway. She’d still been gone when he’d left to respond to the fender bender. Now, close to midnight, her car was there but the dome light was on. Either she didn’t close her door all the way or she’d forgotten to turn it off when she went inside.

  Did she have one of those cars that would die if the dome light was on? Oh, hell. He’d make sure her door was closed all the way at least. If it was and the car was locked, he’d check that she had a way to jump her car in the morning. If nothing else, he’d make sure his battery charger was good to go and accessible for her tomorrow.

  Her car door wasn’t closed all the way, so he shut it firmly. On the way back to his house, he passed the front door, stopped, and backed up.

  What the hell?

  He pulled his pistol from his belt and quietly approached her front door. It was ajar—with the keys still dangling from the lock.

  Stopping right on the threshold, he leaned forward and cocked his ear toward the opening, listening for any noise from inside. Met with only silence, he used his left hand to slowly push the door open. The small foyer was empty and he walked into the living room.

  “Fuck.”

  He swept the room and knelt down next to Zoe’s body, face down on the floor of her living room. There was no obvious bleeding. He found her carotid and continued to scan the room while he checked her pulse. It beat strong and steady under his fingers. She shifted and pulled her arms into her body, tucking them close into her chest with a sigh.

  “Zoe?” He shook her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Sleep,” she mumbled.

  He dropped to a knee and cradled his head in his free hand. “For fuck’s sake.”

  Holstering his gun, he shook Zoe harder. “Zoe, wake up.”

  She swatted in his direction. “Leave me alone.”

  He sniffed hard but didn’t smell any alcohol. Had she really fallen asleep on the floor? With her front door wide open? Fucking hell.

  “Zoe, you need to wake up.”

  “Those books don’t go there.” She rolled to her side and tucked her hands under her head.

  Tim scrubbed his hands through his hair.

  “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, upstairs.” He slid his arms under her shoulders and knees and stood. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Anger and worry warred with exasperation. What the fuck was she thinking? Yes, it was a safe neighborhood, but she shouldn’t be leaving her doors open.

  Flipping the light on at the bottom of the stairs, he carried her upstairs into her bedroom and laid her on the bed.

  “No pants.” Standing up, she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her hips. She lost her balance and leaned over the bed while supporting herself with a hand. Alternating legs, she pulled them out of the legs of her pants. She grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and lifted it to her ribs.

  “Okay, no.” Tim grasped her hands and put them back at her sides. The glimpse of her high-cut, lace-trimmed underwear was enough. “In bed.”

  “‘Kay.” She crawled onto the bed without pulling down the covers.

  She didn’t have a lot of extra pillows or blankets on her bed, so he reached over and pulled the comforter over the top of her. She yanked the edge of the blanket over her shoulder and adjusted her pillow.

  Tim stared down at her in the dim light from the hall. Who the hell slept that hard? He pivoted sharply and strode out of her room and down the stairs. He pulled her keys from the lock and set them on the table next to the door. Thumbing the lock, he left the house and pulled the door behind him. He stopped just before it latched.

  “Damn it.” He pushed the door open, grabbed her keys from the table, and then pulled the door closed behind him.

  What if she had been drinking? He hadn’t smelled alcohol, but she was pretty short—a couple of drinks could have put her over the limit without her smelling like booze. What if she drove home intoxicated? So many things could have happened. She could have killed herself or someone else. Because really, who slept that hard without taking something?

  He stopped, turned, and looked back at her house. What the fuck was he doing? Visions of Bree covered in blood flashed through his mind. He knew exactly what he was doing—preventing another woman from being attacked. It was irresponsible, never mind unsafe, for her to have done that. There was no excuse for it.

  He turned to his house, took a step, stopped and turned back to Zoe’s house, then spun again to his house. He was making himself dizzy. It wasn’t any of his business. He needed to stay out of it. He needed to stay away from women who needed to be saved. She might not be like Monica had been, but he was fighting an overwhelming urge to protect her, which history told him was a bad thing. It wasn’t his job.

  Growling in frustration, he continued to his house, unlocked the door, and took the stairs two at a time. In his room, he tossed his uniform on his bed, not bothering to hang it up like he normally did.

  He was a cop. It was his job. Zoe needed to understand the danger she’d put herself in. Anything could have happened. Anyone could have walked into her house and attacked her. Then what? He was going to go back over there, wake her ass up, and describe in all the gory details what could have happened.

  He stomped down the stairs, ready to put his plan into action, except the dog was sitting at the bottom waiting for him. She did some strange half warble, half howl at him as he hit the bottom step.

  “You need out? Come on. Let’s go.” He slapped the side of his thigh and led her to the back door, sliding it open for her.

  Instead of going outside, she lay down and rested her head on his feet—something she’d never done before.

  “What are you waiting for? Go outside.” He gestured toward the door. She didn’t move, only licked her chops and moved her head closer to his ankles.

  “Seriously? I need to go.”

  She let out a pitiful moan and heaved a sigh. Tim dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Looking down at her again, he said, “Do you need attention? Is that it? Come on.”

  He eased his feet out from under her chin and sat in closest dining room chair. She rolled up to a stand, shuffled over to him, and dropped her hip on his foot, resting her head on his knee.

  “What’s up with you?” He scratched behind her ear and his thoughts turned to Zoe, asleep in her bed. What was he supposed to do? Yeah, he could wake her up and yell at her, but what good would it do? He wanted her to understand the danger she’d been in, but at the same time did he want to get that personal with a woman again?

  What would
he do if he’d found Mrs. Wilson like that? He would have helped her to bed, locked up, and approached her in the morning to let her know what she’d done was unsafe. Granted, he would have averted his eyes had Mrs. Wilson taken her pants off instead of appreciating the way the lace edge of Zoe’s panties framed the round globes of her ass, but that was beside the point. He would have made sure Mrs. Wilson was safe and understood the mistake she’d made.

  So that’s what he’d do with Zoe. To be sure he didn’t miss her in the morning, he’d sleep on her couch. That way he could be sure he didn’t miss her before one of them left for the day.

  Mitzy stood and returned to her dog bed.

  Tim lifted an eyebrow. “Was that all you wanted?” he asked.

  If dogs had expressions like people did, Mitzy would be giving him a “you’re a dumbass” look. Oddly, he wasn’t as angry as he’d been when he’d stormed through his door. Taking the time to pet the dog had given him chance to calm down and think about the situation with Zoe instead of storming back over there and causing a scene. That would not have been the best situation, nor would it have led to the best outcome. He wanted Zoe to understand the danger she’d been in without pissing her off.

  “Are you some sort of witch dog?”

  Mitzy groaned and rolled to her side, apparently done with their conversation. That was fine with him. He had a couch to go get comfortable on.

  Chapter 15

  Zoe stretched, pointing and flexing her toes. She blinked open her eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. Seven-twenty-nine. It was nice not having to get up at the crack of dawn to help Elba. She loved her, but those hours were brutal.

  Flicking the alarm off before it could beep, she stretched one last time and threw the covers back. Weird, she’d only pulled the covers over herself last night without getting under them.

  Wow, she’d slept hard. She didn’t even remember climbing into bed. Hell, she barely remembered getting home. All the little things she’d meant to take care of quickly had ended up taking more time than she expected. At least now they were out of the way and she could focus on all the big things she needed to do. First thing would be hiring some employees so when all the books started arriving, she had some help.

  She twisted her back to work out a couple of kinks. Ugh. Apparently she’d been so tired all she’d managed to do was take her pants off. Reaching under the back of her shirt, she unhooked her bra and peeled it off through the armholes, then rubbed where the underwire had dug into the soft skin under her breasts.

  Not bothering with pants, she went downstairs to fix a cup of coffee before she got in the shower and got ready for the day. Rounding the corner into the living room, she froze.

  Someone was on her couch.

  The top of a man’s head was just visible on the armrest. With the back of the couch facing her, there was no way to tell who the head belonged to.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she judged the distance to the door and noted the bolt was thrown. How many seconds would it take to throw the lock, open the door, and race next door to Tim’s? She took a careful step back, wincing when her heel landed on a loose part of the floor.

  “I already heard you upstairs, so you may as well come in.”

  “Puta merda!” All the air left her lungs in a whoosh and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Resting her hand on her chest, she felt her heart pounding against her sternum as the adrenaline receded.

  “What are you doing in my house?”

  Tim stood up from the couch and stalked toward her. Worry returned and she backed away from him until she hit the wall behind her.

  He was angry—she could see it in the scowl on his face—but there was something else in his eyes as well.

  He stopped a couple of feet away from her. “I’m in your house because when I got home from a call-out last night, your car door was open. Then I saw your front door was wide open and the keys were still in the lock. When I found you passed out on the floor of your living room, I thought you’d been attacked and left for dead.”

  Her heart fluttered for completely different reasons than fear. He’d been worried about her. That was why he was so angry.

  “Were you drunk?”

  Her brows snapped together. “What?”

  “Drunk. I didn’t smell any alcohol—had you been drinking?”

  “Of course not! I wouldn’t drive if I’d been drinking. I was tired.”

  “So tired you didn’t have the energy to close and lock your door? So tired you didn’t wake up when I shook you or carried you upstairs to your bed?”

  “Yes. I’m a heavy sleeper—I’ve been known to have complete, lucid conversations with people and not remember them later on—and last night I was exhausted. Between helping Elba out yesterday morning and trying to take care of some things for the store, I’d been going non-stop for more than eighteen hours. I barely remember getting home and going to bed.”

  “You didn’t go to bed, I put you in bed.”

  She pulled down the front hem of her t-shirt, conscious of the fact that it and her underwear were all she wore. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

  Of course he looked, because what man wouldn’t look when a woman pointed out she didn’t have on any pants?

  “You insisted on taking them off before you got in bed.”

  “And you didn’t see anything?”

  He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “I might have caught a glimpse.”

  “A glimpse?”

  His arms went up in surrender. “Don’t blame me. I had to fight you to keep your shirt on.”

  “You could have left the room,” she said.

  “I wanted to make sure you got into your bed and didn’t fall asleep on the floor again.”

  She looked down and bit the corner of her lip. “I laid down on the floor because my back hurt. I remember thinking I’d rest for a few minutes before going upstairs.”

  His bare feet bracketed hers and she could feel his heat on her front.

  “You worried me, Zoe.”

  Her gazed moved up to his chest. “I didn’t mean to. It didn’t occur to me that anyone would.”

  “You were married. Didn’t your ex ever worry about you?”

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  “Then he was an idiot. That probably goes without saying since he let you go.”

  He hadn’t let her go so much as shoved her out the door, but she wasn’t going to share that with Tim. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but this felt like a “moment.” The kind that she’d only read about because “moments” didn’t happen in real life.

  “Zoe.”

  “Yeah?”

  His hand rose slowly and he used his fingers to lift her chin and tilt her head back. She kept her gaze lowered until she had no choice except to close her eyes or look up.

  “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “Oh.”

  His full lips tilted up ever so slightly. “Oh.”

  She ended up closing her eyes anyway. His lips were soft on hers—a bare whisper of pressure as his tongue touched the center of her bottom lip. She gasped and his mouth settled fully on hers. He was gentle until she touched her tongue to his.

  He grasped the back of her head and groaned. His head came down until it was almost even with hers, then he wrapped one arm around her back and lifted her so she was level with him.

  It was so much better when she didn’t have to crane her neck to kiss him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. The door was against her back and his arm had moved under her ass. His erection cradled between her thighs sent a shiver racing through her body. His hand edged under her shirt, branding the skin under her breast. When he palmed her and ran a thumb over her erect nipple, tiny bolts of electricity coursed through her body. Groaning, she squeezed her legs, trying to get even closer.

  His hand slid back to her waist and she whimpered with disappointment. He eased off the kiss an
d rested his forehead against hers. His breath fanned across her swollen mouth, tightening the sensitive skin on her lips as the moisture dried.

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said.

  “You said you were going to kiss me.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did.”

  “Oh.”

  He lifted his head. “That doesn’t sound like a good ‘oh.’”

  “No, it is, it’s just— I, uh—” She was disappointed that he’d stopped, but didn’t want to tell him that when he was the one who’d slowed things down. “Um, you can put me down.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m going to keep you here until you tell me why you’re upset.”

  “You can’t keep me here.” She wiggled, trying to get down, but that only made his erection nestle closer to her center.

  His eyes darkened and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I like you here. Besides, what are you going to do? Call the cops?”

  She glared at him. “Fine. Esse foi o beijo mais quente da minha vida e eu não queria que você parasse. Happy?”

  “I didn’t understand a word of that,” he said, shaking his head.

  “It’s not my fault you don’t speak Portuguese. You said tell you—you didn’t specify which language I had to use.”

  He closed the distance between them and kissed her hard. Maybe he’d gotten the gist of it, but no, he stopped again. “I’m letting you go on a technicality.”

  He stepped back and her legs dropped from his waist before he let her slide down his body. “How busy are you going to be this weekend?”

  “Why?”

  “Curiosity.”

  Curiosity for why? “I’m not sure. I’m going to spend Saturday and Sunday interviewing applicants and Elba said something about going out Friday night to celebrate.”

  “Where does she plan on going Friday?”

  “Some country bar in Raleigh she likes to go to.”

  “City Limits?” he asked.

  “Sounds familiar. Why?”

  “There’s a couple of bars you should avoid—wanted to make sure it wasn’t one of those.”