by Fiona Lowe
She was surprised to find the LEC door unlocked and Mitch Hagen waiting for her. Before she could open her mouth, he said, “Ralston, you’re off duty.”
A jolt of panic hit her. “No, sir, I’m not.”
He growled as he waved his crutch at her, and she was tempted to ask if he’d been taking lessons from Bethany. Then again, she valued her job.
“Yes, you are. Next weekend’s the Fourth of July, and the weekend after that, Shakespeare in the Parks. You’re gonna be working straight through, so you have to take time off now.”
I want to keep busy. “But what if something happens?”
“If it needs two good legs, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I don’t want to see you back here until Monday morning.”
She’d argued, but he’d pulled rank, and so here she was at four o’clock on Saturday afternoon, pacing back and forth in her now very clean and very tidy apartment with absolutely nothing to do. Rifts of edginess kept jagging through her, making her jumpy and unable to settle. Having nothing to do was pure torture, because it meant she had time to think, which was why she always kept busy.
Which begs the question yet again, why did you think moving here and taking this job was a good idea?
Shut up. Only she knew exactly why she’d done it—she’d wanted to start over and try living a normal life, whatever the hell that was. Other people seemed to be able to do it, but right now normal was giving her hives. She needed to do something to burn off all this agitation.
She threw on workout clothes, picked up her keys and walked out the door. Five minutes later she was stepping inside the gym and her ears took a battering from the high-pitched shrieks of excited children. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw Ethan standing in the middle of the mats with six-year-olds running around him.
He suddenly clapped his hands, and they all stopped and bowed. He bowed back. “Say hello to Officer Tara, everyone.”
How did he even know she was here? She hadn’t seen his head turn toward her, but now ten kids were bowing at her.
“Hello, Officer Tara,” they all chanted obediently.
She bowed back feeling self-conscious. “Hello.”
Should she have said hello, boys and girls? Hello, children? Hi, kids? Argh! She didn’t have much experience with children, and they made her nervous. Spinning on her heels, she stalked straight to the rowing machine and started exercising. She tried keeping her gaze fixed on the stroke rate, but it kept drifting to Ethan.
Ethan without his glasses. Ethan wearing his Tae Kwon Do uniform. He looked good in a cross me and I’ll bust your balls kind of a way that contrasted sharply with his usual mild-mannered, hipster librarian look. A traitorous streak of heat pooled in her belly.
He’s hot in all sorts of different ways and you know it.
I don’t want to know it.
Too late, Tara. Way too late.
She rowed furiously, whipping her heart rate up to fast and her breathing to ragged, and all the time her gaze flitted between Ethan and the kids. They practiced kicking and did some simple patterns, and then the parents arrived, the kids departed and suddenly the gym was eerily silent.
“I’m glad you decided to come, Tara,” Ethan said, walking over to her with a smile winding through his short beard. The same warm, friendly smile she’d missed the week he’d been angry with her.
A blip of warm, fuzzy feelings unfurled before she could stop them, and she immediately centered her gaze on his chest in an attempt to neutralize them.
Bad move.
A smattering of blond brown hair peeked out of the V of his uniform, and she immediately got an image of it winding down to his belly. “I . . .” She cleared her throat. “I thought you said you taught a kids’ class on Tuesdays.”
“I do. That was Wyatt Breckenbridge’s birthday party.”
“You do kids’ birthday parties?” she asked incredulously. Was there anything he didn’t do for the town?
He laughed. “Sure, if I’m asked. They’re fun and I get the easy part. I run them around for an hour and then the parents take them to fill up on pizza, candy and ice cream.”
She found herself shaking her head. “Kids bewilder me, but you’re really good with them.”
“Thanks.” He looked as if she’d just bestowed upon him the best compliment he’d ever received. “You know, Tara, kids aren’t that complicated. The more time you spend with them, the easier it gets. You’ll learn that teaching the elementary kids bike safety.”
“I have to do that?” she asked, horrified.
He threw back his head and laughed. “And there’s that buried sense of humor of yours rising to the surface. You should let it out more often.” He handed her a towel. “So, how are you?”
Nothing about his demeanor was sexual. If it was, she’d have known what to do, but she wasn’t used to such open sincerity and real interest in her. Manic squads of butterflies unleashed in her stomach, hurling themselves against the sides. What on earth was wrong with her? Sure, feeling nervous before combat was normal, nerves in a difficult policing situation were expected, but a case of fluttering stomach from talking to a guy who was looking at her as if she was his sister? That wasn’t something she was familiar with at all.
“Slowly going crazy.” The words slipped out before her brain had censored her tongue.
He made a sympathetic sound. “Problems at work?”
“Only that there’s not enough of it. I’m not used to having so much downtime.”
“Must be a big transition for you coming out of the military.”
She thought about the nights she found sleep hard to find and realized with some surprise that over the past few months they’d decreased from regular to occasional. “Actually, it’s more the transition from working in Detroit to Bear Paw that’s proving to be the problem.”
Listen to yourself. You’re doing it again—telling him stuff you never tell anyone. He’ll take that as permission to keep asking you questions. Stop talking now.
“. . . kickboxing?”
“Excuse me?” She hadn’t heard his question over the deafening volume of her own thoughts.
“Do you want to do some kickboxing? I promise I won’t go easy on you.”
This time she laughed. “I hadn’t picked you as competitive.”
“Ah, that’s my power,” he said as he picked up the kickboxing pads. “I’m an enigma.”
And he was. He was unlike any of the men she’d ever known personally or professionally. He wasn’t muscle bound and buff, and he didn’t swagger or wield a weapon. He had a strong artistic side and a soft, caring nature, and yet with a black belt—second dan—in Tae Kwon Do, he was every bit as masculine as the hard-edged men who’d barreled through her life.
Accepting his offer, she climbed off the rowing machine, pulled on some gloves and joined him on the mats.
He bowed low to her and she returned it.
“Right cross, left jab,” he said, holding up the pads.
She punched them hard, feeling his resistance.
“Add back leg knee,” he instructed, moving the pad to catch her rising knee.
Three rounds later he barked, “Switch knee.”
She kept boxing, alternating knees, feeling her heart rate pick up and her frustrations start to leave her.
“Left jab, right cross, back roundhouse.”
As she swung her right leg up, he lowered the pad to his thigh and collected the hit.
She found her rhythm, adding the different combinations as he called them out to her and matched the pads to her jabs, uppers hooks and kicks. Her thoughts drained away and her mind emptied of everything except his instructions as she landed blow upon blow on the pads. Sweat dripped into her eyes and off her nose, and still his instructions rained down on her with no respite.
Her chest tightened as she panted, her breath straining to move in and out of her lungs. Every muscle in her body screamed as fire burned through her, and she now struggled to lift her arms and
legs, which had turned into two-ton lead weights. Every part of her quivered with fatigue, her knees sagged and she felt herself folding inward. The mats called her, promising relief from pain and hard work. She almost gave in, almost sank down, and then a lightness swept through her, lifting her up with a white, vibrant energy, making her gasp.
She was floating. She was flying. Her arms and legs felt lighter, her kicks and hits sped up and she hammered the pads hard, each blow freeing her even more until she was a blur of motion.
“Stop,” Ethan commanded, lowering the pads.
Nooooooo! It felt way too good to stop, but her hands dropped to her sides and she bowed to him before sitting down onto the mats.
He joined her, panting almost as hard but with a knowing smile on his face. “You got the rush, didn’t you?”
She found herself grinning back at him, thrilled he understood. “Oh yeah. One minute I thought I was going to die and the next minute a surge of energy picked me up and threw me back in the game. It was like one part of me was boxing and the other part of me was soaring out of myself.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“It was amazing,” she said, still spinning on the high. “It was better than sex.”
He made a strangled sound. “Granted, an endorphin rush is amazing, but better than sex? I don’t think so.”
She fell back so she was lying on the mats staring at the ceiling. “Believe me, it’s better.”
“Then I’m really sorry you’ve only ever had lousy sex.”
She whipped her head to the left to look at him as an old embedded anger stirred inside of her. “Let me guess? You’re about to offer to show me exactly how it should be done.”
His eyes flashed the color of burnt butter. “And to think we were getting along so well there for a little bit,” he said tightly as he wrapped his arms around his knees. “Seriously, Tara, after all our conversations, you really think I’m that sort of guy? Jesus, some asshole must have done a number on you.”
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the hurt in his eyes and in his voice, but it stayed there, accusing her of being very unfair. She didn’t want to tell him about the men in her life, but their legacy had just hurt him because she kept judging him based on her past experiences. Ethan didn’t deserve that. He really was a good guy, and that alone scared her. Good guys confused her, and as much as she wanted to run from this, she owed him an explanation.
She returned her gaze to the ceiling, because it was easier than seeing the mixture of anger and pain on his cheeks. “One guy? I wish. It was way more than one.”
ETHAN flinched as Tara’s flat words punched him. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but she was also the toughest and knew every trick in the book of pushing, blocking and holding people at bay. Even when Millie had been struggling and out of control fighting her diabetes, she’d never been mean. Half of him wanted to hug Tara close, and the other half of him wanted to run. Falling for a difficult woman wasn’t one of his life’s goals, but despite how much she pressed his buttons, he was fast losing the battle not to want to care.
Watching her during her kickboxing routine had been blissful torture. She was fit and toned, and that glorious expanse of exposed belly between her black crop top and the bright red waistband of her black shorts was enough to make him hard for hours. She’d put everything she had into the kicks and punches, and he knew his arms would feel it tomorrow. As much as her athleticism attracted him, it had been the expression on her face that had held him captive. The ice queen had vanished, and along with her cool demeanor so had the tight control she kept herself firmly under. He’d watched as she’d slowly let go of her restraint and joy had snuck in and flared on her beautiful face. She’d not only dazzled him but she’d looked gloriously and blissfully happy.
He didn’t know what shocked him more—the fact he’d never seen her look happy before or that he’d do almost anything to see it happen again. But right now, sitting next to her, that seemed like a long shot. She was coiled so tight that she vibrated with tension, and she was studiously avoiding eye contact. Not wanting to be higher than her, he lay down next to her, leaving enough room between them so there was no chance of accidental touching. He wasn’t giving her any excuse to lash out again and leave. Not before he had a chance to try and understand her.
He cleared his throat. “Way more than one? I’m sorry to hear that.”
She snorted, the sound derisive. “You sound like a counselor.”
He swallowed his sigh. “Okay, then, I’m thrilled some guy has hurt you. That better?”
She turned her head, and her aquamarine eyes warmed a degree or two as her lips twitched upward for a split second. “See, this is the thing. You’re so different from the men I’m used to that it confuses the hell out of me. I have no clue how to deal with you.”
“Deal with me? Now you’re scaring me,” he joked, trying to relax her.
“Exactly,” she said softly. “You frighten me.”
Astonished, he rolled onto his side to face her. “Tara, absolutely nothing about me is frightening.”
Her black lashes brushed her cheeks before rising again. “You’re kind, caring and involved in your town.”
“Exactly,” he said, not remotely understanding where she was coming from. “I’m just a regular guy. Heck, the town’s got a hashtag for me and broadcasts all of my dumb stuff on Twitter. If I was scary, do you think they’d do that?”
A flash of something hard and brittle lit up her eyes and then faded as fast as it had come. “You grew up very differently from me. You haven’t fought in a war.” Her fingertips scraped back and forth on the mat. “You see things from a totally different perspective, and that makes you not only frightening but as foreign as Afghanistan.”
He didn’t say anything, because he knew she’d have seen unimaginable things when she’d served, but he was starting to worry she’d seen as worse before she’d joined up.
“I’m going to tell you some stuff, Ethan, but don’t interrupt.”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She looked back up at the ceiling and was silent for a moment, so he rolled onto his back and looked up, too. The only noise in the cavernous building was the rhythm of their breathing.
Tara sucked in a breath. “You know how your dad took you to Tae Kwon Do? Well, my dad took off before I had any real memory of him being around. He’d turn up every time mom and I’d rebuilt our lives without him in it, accepting yet again that he was never coming back.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “He’d stay around just long enough to dismantle those foundations, lay new ones and then blow them up. Every time he left, mom went back to drinking and trying to find a man who wouldn’t leave her. Unfortunately, she always chose worse men than my father. These guys not only abandoned her, they left far greater scars than dear old dad. As much as I hate him for what he did to us . . .”—she sucked in a breath—“. . . did to her, when he was around he treated her well. That was the problem. If he’d been a total ass, we might have had a chance of creating some sort of a life without him in it.”
He wanted to say, Sorry, but he’d promised not to interrupt; only he needed to do something to show her he felt for her. Taking a risk, he rested his hand very lightly on top of hers. Her fingers tensed under his palm, but thankfully, she didn’t pull away.
“When I was younger, mom’s boyfriends stuck me in front of the television and ignored me, but things changed when I turned fourteen. They started buying me clothes and things. Every gift came with an expectation.”
This time Ethan tensed. He did not want to hear what he feared would come next.
“I got really good at making sure I was never alone with any of them. When a gym teacher at school offered kickboxing as an activity, I started training. I was tall and fit, which made grown men look at me in ways no teen should ever have to deal with, but it was also my safety net.
I spent years sleeping with a baseball bat in my hand while my mother was passed out on the couch.”
A growl rumbled deep from his chest, and his fingers automatically tightened around her hand as the remains of his lunch filled his mouth. He forced the acidic contents back down and wished he could break the necks of every single bastard that had ever tried to touch her. His anger spilled over to include a mother who’d left her kid exposed to that sort of danger.
“A couple of my teachers were amazing, and when things got really bad, I slept on their sofas, but school was finishing, and I knew once that happened, I’d have no backup. The night mom was too drunk to go out and her current boyfriend demanded I go in her place was the night I left home. With nowhere to go, I went to the diner and asked my boss if he could up my hours from part-time to full. He said no.
“I sat in a booth and ran through my options. My part-time waitressing job didn’t earn me enough to rent a room, let alone feed me, and college, which had always been unlikely, was now impossible. An advertisement came on the TV for mouthwash, and I remember thinking, my life is falling apart and this white bitch with perfect teeth is worried about bad breath. I yelled at the screen.
“Then one of those moments happened, and if I was at all religious, I might say it was a sign, but really it was just another advertisement. It told me that joining the US Army would change my life, and it did. Two days later, I passed the aptitude test and I was a private on my way to boot camp.” Her voice caught. “For the first time in my life I had a family.”
“Except it was a family that sent you overseas and showed you even more horrors,” he choked out against the clutch of gut-wrenching emotions that gripped him as tight as a lasso.
“But we had a common purpose,” she said quietly, “and for the first time in my life, I had people looking out for me.”
He’d only ever known the unconditional love and support of his family, and she’d never experienced anything like that from hers. Middle-class guilt struck him so hard, a burning hot pain lanced him down his side. “When you put it that way, I think I get it.”
