His to Love (Fireside #1)

by Stacey Lynn

  “And breaking into my apartment was the only way?”

  He shrugged, unashamed. “It seemed the easiest way.”

  “And you cooked?”

  He laughed quietly and held out his hand. “No. I had my grandma make dinner, I’m just reheating it.” I placed my hand in his and followed him into my own kitchen, not unaware of the fact that he seemed just as familiar in my space as he did in his own. “I brought the wine and Grandma made some lasagna. It should be done soon if you want a glass of wine while we wait.”

  I wanted a bottle. I figured I’d need it. My mind overflowed with questions and thoughts.

  “A glass would be nice,” I said instead.

  I took a seat on one of my barstools while Tyson headed to the fridge, saying as he opened the door, “So tell me about your day. What made it so good?”

  I debated for a moment before answering. I wanted to get right to the questions I had, but I liked the feel of this. Tyson waiting for me when I got home, him serving me, him wanting to be with me.

  I wanted this to play out for as long as possible.

  “Simone promoted me to Associate Planner yesterday.”

  He arched a brow and looked at me while he uncorked the wine. “That the reason for the celebrating last night?”

  “Part of it.” I shrugged. “The rest was trying to drown my sorrows.”

  Sadness flickered in his gaze and the air stalled between us before he popped the cork and poured a glass of pinot grigio. He slid me a glass and I took it, thankful for the distraction.

  “Should we talk now or after dinner?” he asked, placing his palms on the counter. He was braced like he was ready for an argument.

  My earlier decision to let this fantasy play out changed.

  “It’s probably better to talk.”

  “Right.” He nodded and turned toward the oven, flicking a switch at the back. “Let’s go to the living room.”

  He gestured for me to go first and I waited as he reached back into the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself. A sarcastic comment about him helping himself in my own home was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back.

  “I joined the FBI soon after college,” he said, stating it plainly as soon as he sat down. “I can’t lie and say that after my football injury I knew what I was going to do with my life because I struggled for a long time. But I could never stop thinking about my father’s death and the men who caused it.” He paused for a moment, arched a brow, and waited for me to respond.

  I had nothing to say. All loyalty to my own father had evaporated when I learned he had been selling girls to line his pockets.

  When I stayed silent, he continued. “My mom took my father’s death hard and she’s never fully recovered. I was away at college, rarely coming home, and she was in the house I grew up in with only her memories. Eventually, after she moved to Florida, she started coming back to herself, but I’m going to be honest and say the rage I still felt simmered inside me for a long time. Perhaps it always will.”

  “I get all that, Tyson,” I said softly. “I’m not going to sit here and say I don’t understand why you took a job with the FBI, or why you even wanted to go after my father. What hurts is that you lied to me and that I trusted you.” I blinked and took a large gulp of my wine. “All those days you talked about your work, all the times you stopped us from going too far at the beginning…everything makes sense now.”

  “Then you know I tried to wait. That I didn’t want this shit between us, but damn it, Blue. It’s you and it’s me, we’re inevitable.”

  He was right. I not only knew it, I had spent all day deciding I no longer wanted to stay away from him.

  “What happened?”

  “There are still things I can’t tell you,” he admitted, hesitancy clear in his voice. “The case is technically still open until the trial.”

  “I understand that, too.”

  I hated it. But I got it.

  His shoulders slumped as if I’d personally lifted a weight off his shoulders. Perhaps I had.

  Licking his lips, he set down his beer and moved closer to me so his hand could reach out and hold mine. His was cold from his beer, but his grasp was firm. A shiver slid up my arm, and he looked down, watching goosebumps flare on my skin.

  “I was in DC when my supervisor called me in. He tossed a file into my lap and told me I was going undercover. I told you that this morning, but they knew you’d been called home. Fuck, Blue, you can’t begin to know the amount of relief I felt knowing that you were even still alive. All those years I spent waiting for you to come home, to reach out to me…and suddenly, there you were, your beautiful face in a photo inside your father’s file.”

  The photo he mentioned this morning. I had wondered what he meant by that.

  “I saw that picture, knew I would be seeing you again, knew I’d have to get close to you, and do you know what I said to myself the moment I left my office and hopped on a flight to Denver?”

  Nothing about us was coincidence. Not even meeting on the plane. I beat back the wave of disappointment the revelation gave me and pushed through it. “What?”

  “I said, ‘fuck it.’ I’d lose my job if I had to, but there was no way I was going to get that close to you again and let you slip through my fingers. You weren’t a job to me. You were the woman I fell in love with.”

  “And did you lose your job?” I asked, unable to hide the snide tone in my voice.

  I already knew the answer. It was quite possibly the biggest slap in the face, maybe the thing causing me the largest doubt since the nightmare of seeing Tyson arrest my father.

  “No,” he answered. “I was promoted to Managing Field Officer of their Detroit office.”

  “Do they know about us?” I recognized my slip the instant it left my mouth. Tyson’s smile told me he caught it.

  “I told them that the woman I love is in Detroit and I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

  I blew out a breath and reached for my glass. After several moments of being unable to look at him, I finally asked, “Is there anything I ever said that helped you with your case? The night I told you about Malik, did you use that?”

  His eyes narrowed and he sucked his lip between his teeth. It was my answer.

  “Yes.”

  I swallowed, and turned away from him. Somehow, I knew this. Weeks ago, it might have hurt too much. But sitting with him, I couldn’t dig deep enough inside of me to feel any sort of pity or pain from hearing the truth.

  “Will you ever lie to me again?”

  “No.” His answer was firm. Abrupt. When our eyes locked, I knew it to be absolutely true.

  “Okay,” I whispered, leaning toward him.

  Tyson might have hidden truths from me, but I had to finally admit that they were for a greater good. Because of him, perhaps because of me in some way, dozens of evil men were off the streets—at least for the time being. “Then I’ll give you a chance to prove that I can trust you again.”

  His eyes widened as my fingertips brushed against his cheek.

  “You sure?”

  I nodded, nerves and anticipation making my smile falter as I leaned closer to him. He met me halfway and I gasped as our lips brushed against each other.

  “Tyson,” I murmured against his lips.

  He reached out and wrapped his hands around my hips, pulling me to him so I was straddling him on the couch.

  “What?”

  His hand curled around the back of my neck. A delicious shiver rolled through me, spreading outward until my body felt too warm…too exposed.

  “I love you.”

  “Ah hell,” he whispered, sliding his lips along my jaw and back to my ear. “I love you, too. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you so you never doubt me again.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t necessary, that I already know I wouldn’t.

  But then his lips pressed against mine, and his tongue slid into my mouth, tasting me and devourin
g me.

  I decided that what I had to say could wait, because I had a feeling I was going to like the way he proved his love to me.

  Epilogue

  ONE MONTH LATER

  “I feel like we should have our own table since we’re here so much,” I told Tyson as he opened the door to Fireside Grill.

  We were here so often it felt almost like my second home. Or third. Considering I’d been splitting my life between my apartment and Tyson’s house, his felt like my second.

  He chuckled as he guided me toward a table near the bar, and we both waved hello to Charlie.

  “I thought you were headed back to college,” I said to him as Tyson pulled out a chair at a high top table.

  Charlie tossed the towel he had been using to wipe down the bar over his shoulder and leaned forward. “Decided to take the semester off. I don’t leave until January.”

  “Well, good luck.” I smiled and shook my head when he said something about how, with his looks, he didn’t need luck, before he walked away. “Such a charmer,” I muttered to Tyson when he sat in the chair next to me.

  “And you’re a flirt.” He winked teasingly.

  I shrugged and smiled at Charlie as he set a margarita on the table in front of me.

  “Aw,” I clasped my hand to my chest. “It’s like you know me.”

  Tyson cleared his throat and scowled at me, making me laugh. Charlie’s cheeks turned deep red as he set down Tyson’s favorite ale. I wondered briefly if it should concern me that we were here often enough that even the bartender knew our drinks.

  “Careful, Charlie. Would hate to have to take you out back.”

  Charlie’s smile disappeared and he nodded once before walking away.

  “You don’t have to scare the kid,” I said and picked up the menu. Not that I needed it; there were six things on there that I always ordered depending on my mood and tonight felt like a large nacho platter kind of night.

  “Kid needs to learn not to stare at a man’s woman with a look that says he’d fuck her if he had the chance.” Tyson set his menu down and clasped his hands on top of it. He was dead serious, which made me choke down a laugh.

  “He’s in college,” I reminded Tyson. “He is a kid.”

  “Yeah, and probably popular as shit, but once he gets out, he could get his ass kicked for doing what he just did to the wrong guy’s woman.”

  I sipped my margarita instead of trying to scold Tyson over the fact that while we might be together—happily—I wasn’t anyone’s to own. We’d had this talk enough for me to know it’d fall on deaf ears anyway.

  Needless to say, in the last month, our relationship had moved full speed ahead.

  He was loving his job, a job that I actually truly admired when I wasn’t involved. I quickly stopped doubting how much Tyson cared for me, and once I was able to separate his job and the past from our current relationship, there was no looking back.

  My father’s case was progressing although we still had several months before the actual trial. Tyson kept me informed as much as possible, but I quickly learned that there would always be things I couldn’t know about his job. But I did know that my father’s organization had essentially collapsed from the top down. I was sure another mafia member would step in and take over someday, because when one bad man fell, another was always there to pick up the pieces. But it was no longer my problem. It also wasn’t a part of my life.

  My life had been filled with a career I loved, a man I loved even more, and a handful of friends I couldn’t imagine living without.

  “How was your day?” Tyson asked and leaned forward, changing the subject.

  For the next several minutes, I regaled him with tales of several different headaches I’d had to deal with at work while Tyson listened intently to every complaint and every story. I loved that, regardless of what I was going through, I always had his full focus.

  I paused during my story of an exceptionally bitchy client when our waitress stopped by to take our orders, but before I could restart, a familiar feminine voice called my name.

  “Hey, you,” I said back and waved to Chelsea as she sauntered up to our table. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Tyson,” she said to him before facing me. He nodded hello and sipped his drink. “Just picking up some food before I go back home and enjoy a Netflix marathon.”

  My eyes flickered to Tyson in a silent question, and he nodded.

  “That sounds dreadful.” I pulled out the chair next to me and pointed. “Join us.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You can,” Tyson interrupted with a smile. “And you will.”

  “Well,” she huffed playfully but listened. “Who am I to say no then?” Then she leaned toward me and mock whispered, “Is he always this bossy?”

  “No—,” he started, as soon as I said, “Yes.”

  I glared at him. “Always.”

  He rolled his eyes and we gave Chelsea time to place her drink and dinner order before I asked her about her week. She’d been busy lately getting ready for school to start back up next week. “Ugh. It’s exhausting and I know Paige is even more tired after spending the week setting up her room for the year. For me, I have all the books and computers set up. I just need to finish my lesson plans and then I’ll spend time helping the other middle school teachers.”

  “You sound excited to get back to work,” Tyson said.

  Chelsea’s smile brightened. “Yes. I love being around the kids, absolutely.”

  She was a librarian in the middle school. I couldn’t imagine being around that many kids for that many hours every single day, but she and Paige both loved their jobs.

  Our chatter turned to general conversation about our days and our lives, and then we continued with another round of drinks while we waited for our food.

  After Declan personally delivered our dinners, he was getting ready to head back to the kitchen when the front door opened and a man named Aidan and his son, Derrick, walked in. Aidan was friends with both Tyson and Declan, and his son was fourteen years old, going into eighth grade in the fall. I didn’t know the full story of why the mom wasn’t in the picture, but I knew Aidan had become a parent when he was still a teenager and that all three men had been friends since college.

  I’d only met Aidan in passing, once or twice, in the last few months. Tyson’s job didn’t allow much time for socializing and he generally tended to be a relax-at-home kind of guy, something I enjoyed immensely. I might not have known Aidan well, but Chelsea clearly did, because I caught the faint blush that painted her cheeks as both guys sauntered toward us.

  It was easy to see that Derrick was Aidan’s son: they had the same dark hair, strong jaw, and tall and lean build. He was still a teenager, but I figured it wouldn’t be long until he matched his dad in size and stature.

  “Hey, man,” Declan said, standing and grabbing Aidan’s elbow in some sort of manly grip. He pulled him close and slapped him on the back twice. He immediately did the same thing to Derrick but gentler.

  Aidan turned toward the table and said hello to all of us. When he stopped at Chelsea, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

  I resisted the urge to kick her under the table when she stuttered, “Hello, Mr. Devereaux…Derrick.”

  One side of Aidan’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Call me Aidan when we’re not in school, Chelsea.”

  She dipped her chin and pressed her lips together. “You got it, Aidan.”

  His smirk turned into a grin.

  I caught Derrick rolling his eyes and hid my laugh behind my napkin.

  “What are you guys up to tonight?” Aidan asked, focusing on Tyson and me.

  “Dinner and home,” Tyson said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Been slammed at work this week and I need to get some damn sleep.”

  “Bummer,” Chelsea chirped, “because I was just thinking, I know Paige and Suzanne aren’t doing anything tonight. Or Camden. We could all hang out at my place, have a b
onfire.” Her eyes flickered to Aidan’s before she focused on me and with a quieter, shyer voice I’d never heard her use, finished with, “Probably won’t have too many nice nights once school starts.”

  I pressed my lips together and gave Tyson big eyes.

  He shrugged. “Whatever you want, honey.”

  Chelsea’s backyard was the bomb, as I had learned the first time she’d had a girls’ night at her place. It was gorgeous and filled with trees, bushes, and flowering plants and had this firepit in the back corner that made you feel like you were in a wilderness oasis, without the risk of snakes and bears. The first time I was there, it reminded me of Colorado because it was so peaceful and the girls and I had hung out there a few times in the last couple of weeks, drinking wine around the fire, roasting marshmallows—or even better, when we skipped the marshmallows and just ate chocolate bars.

  I freaking loved it.

  I smiled at Chelsea. “We’re in.” Then I looked at Aidan. “What about you guys?”

  Aidan’s eyes softened in a way I suspected meant he wanted to come but wouldn’t and he was trying to find a way to let Chelsea down easy.

  Maybe it was the fact that I was finally in love and I wanted that for a friend of mine, who had been through so much that it made my heart clench, because I began to speak up. Then Derrick jumped in and almost shouted, “Yeah, that’d be awesome,” at the same time that Aidan muttered, “Sorry, Chelsea, but we can’t. Got something going on this weekend.”

  Derrick’s eyes went to his dad. “We do?”

  Aidan’s lips tightened but he said nothing.

  I saw Chelsea frown and I lifted my shoulders. “We’re still in.”

  “Awesome,” she said, only half meaning it. Then she slid out her credit card, but Tyson stopped her.

  “We got dinner. You’re providing the fire later.”

  “I couldn’t,” she started to stay.

  “Trust me, Chelsea,” I said. “Let him pay. If you argue, you’ll lose and just have wasted your breath. Save it for something important.”