by Rachel Lee
As he was coming down Allison’s street, all the streetlamps turned on, and with them the early Christmas decorations. It looked like a freaking winter wonderland.
But just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt those eyes on him again. That makes four, he thought grimly. Two when they were out taking samples and now two on her street.
Someone was watching Allison. He didn’t like it. Forgetting all his other concerns, he increased his pace to a flat-out run, took her porch steps in one leap and slipped inside the front door, taking care to lock it behind him.
Sitting on the hall table, under a watch cap he hadn’t worn, were his gun and knife. He wanted to put them on, but didn’t want to rattle Allison needlessly.
They’d bothered her. They weren’t part of her life. He guessed that meant his past would bother her, too, if he gave her more than an inkling of what he’d done.
Hell. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
But one thing was for absolute certain: no matter how difficult it might become to be around her without taking her to bed, he wasn’t going to leave her alone until he was certain she was safe.
That much he knew he could do right.
* * *
A pot of water boiled on the stove, fogging windows and raising a cloud of steam. Allison stood at a frying pan, stirring something that smelled out-of-this-world good to him.
“Chicken marsala coming up,” she said brightly enough, though her back remained to him. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”
Of course he’d stay. There was a watcher out there. The meal would be a fillip. “It smells good. How’d you make it so fast?”
“It’s really not difficult, and you were out for a while.”
He supposed he had been. He cleared the map from the table and carried it to the living room. “Want me to set the table?”
“Dishes are in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”
Odd how some things never deserted you, like riding a bike. It had been a long time since he’d done more than grab a plate, knife and fork for himself, but he still remembered how to set it all up right. As he laid everything out, the smells grew more delicious.
“I serve this over egg noodles,” she remarked. “Is that okay?”
“That chicken you’re making smells so good I could probably eat it on cardboard. Egg noodles are fine.”
She laughed, but it was a tight, small sound. He wished she would look at him. He stood there, feeling like a fifth wheel, staring at her back. He tried to rerun their conversation through his mind, wondering if he’d said or done something wrong. Damned if he could think of a thing. Which didn’t mean anything, either.
He almost sighed, and he wasn’t exactly the sighing type of person. He wished there was some flashing neon sign to guide him, but he was coming to realize that this woman was entirely outside his experience. Sour humor reminded him that he was similarly outside hers. That put them on even footing, and equally uncertain how to proceed.
Of course, everything could be stuffed into a mental box and they could both pretend they hadn’t had an oddly intimate discussion earlier.
And it was odd. He hardly knew her, yet he’d talked about things he seldom discussed even with his buddies. He’d pulled the cork at least part of the way out of the bottle and opened up, only to wonder now if that had been unwise.
But he was not a man to hang back from a tough situation, nor one to avoid a dangerous one. Standing here like this, wondering, didn’t suit his nature at all. His only concern was that he not inflict harm on her.
Well, how much harm could he do right now? Probably very little, so best to sort out a few things before he was in a position to hurt her.
Taking the bull by the horns, he went and took the woman by the shoulders. A flicker of amusement passed through his mind as the ridiculous comparison chased through his brain, but he moved until he stood right behind her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
He hated those words. They seldom meant what they said. She also failed to turn her head even a little bit toward him. The intensity with which she stared at the pan she was stirring could have been a red flag.
“What’s going on, Allison?” he asked quietly. “Are you mad at me?”
Seconds ticked by in silence. “No. Not you. Me.”
“Why should you be mad at yourself?”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
A brick wall slammed into place. He could honor it, just shut up, eat dinner and then return to his house. He could keep an eye on her from there. Or he could just walk out now and...and what? Insult her after she had invited him to dinner? Well, that would certainly sever any tenuous ties between them, but it would also make it difficult to keep an eye on her tomorrow.
“Damn it,” he said.
“What?”
At last she turned a little to glance at him. His hands remained on her shoulders, and he noted that she didn’t try to escape his touch. What the hell was going on here?
“If you won’t tell me why you’re treating me to the back of your head, things are only going to get worse.”
“What things?” she demanded.
He stepped back, giving her space, recognizing the signs of her irritation. Now he’d find out, and he probably wouldn’t like it.
So be it.
She reached over for a bowl and dumped the egg noodles into the boiling water. After a stir, she set a timer. “What things?” she repeated.
“That’s for you to say.”
“There are no things,” she said firmly. At last she faced him, back to the stove, her feet planted firmly. “There is nothing between us. You feel obligated to protect me from a remote threat, and I’m grateful for that. But beyond that, there’s nothing but an acquaintance.”
“Okay,” he said. But even as he spoke, he realized it was far from okay. He’d opened up to her, telling her things about himself he didn’t share with anyone. Was it the weapons? Was it his talk of sexual experience? “No,” she said. Her face softened a bit. “No. It’s not okay. You were kind this afternoon. That scares me.”
Scared her? The words exploded in his head. This was so far from anything he had anticipated that shock rocketed through him. It was almost like being ambushed, and he’d been through a few of those. “What scares you?” he asked finally.
“What I’m doing.”
Damn, could she be any more obscure? “The poison? What, exactly?”
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know how to tell you. I need to think, okay? Just sit down. The noodles are almost ready.”
He didn’t want to leave it there, but he didn’t seem to have a choice right now. He took a chair at the table and decided that this was a time to wait.
She was scared because he’d been kind? What the hell kind of sense did that make?
* * *
Allison turned to take care of the noodles. The timer was ready to ding, so she switched it off, waited a few seconds then pulled out the colander and twisted it until almost all the water ran off. She dumped the noodles in a big ceramic bowl and reached for the chicken marsala. She always just mixed it together.
Focusing on the mundane tasks helped, but only briefly. She was about to put this dinner on the table and face the man who was full of questions for which she had no answers.
God. What was going on with her?
She placed the bowl on the table, pulled a tossed salad out of the fridge and sat. “Help yourself,” she said as pleasantly as she could.
He took a healthy portion, commenting again on how good it smelled. He even took a large plate of salad, which for some reason she had thought might not appeal to him.
He waited until she served herself, then started eating silently. Her fault, damn it. Her fau
lt. He’d been nice to her and she had gotten scared? How could she possibly explain that?
The dinner may have been delicious, but she barely tasted it, and her appetite seemed to have died. Apparently he noticed the way she was picking at it because he said, “Would you be more comfortable if I just took off?”
His taking off would only worsen the problem, she realized. His going out for a run had started this unwelcome cascade of feelings that had led her to this point.
“It wouldn’t help at all,” she managed to say.
He returned to eating, his head down.
She studied him, and didn’t like what she saw. This was the second time today she had sensed that he felt rejected by her. He was tough, he could handle it, but who was she to make anyone feel like that?
Somehow she had to find a way to let him know it wasn’t him at all. Finally she put her fork down, telling herself not to be a coward and just spit it out.
“You’re a rolling stone,” she said.
He lifted his head, his dark eyes settling on her. “Right now, I guess. Didn’t use to be in any meaningful sense. I mean, I gave fifteen years of my life to Uncle Sam. But right now, I can’t disagree. I am at loose ends.”
“Unless you get reactivated.”
“True. It’s not likely, but it could happen.”
“Do you want it to happen?”
At that he put down his own fork, leaned back and gave her his full attention. “No.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “Not even in an advisory capacity. You may be right that I’m grieving, but that doesn’t mean I want to turn back the clock. I’d go if called, but I’d rather not be called, for a whole bunch of reasons.”
He waited, but when she didn’t speak again, he resumed eating. She picked up her own fork and took another mouthful of salad even as she tried to figure out how to explain the tangled skein inside her. She owed him some kind of explanation. She was grateful, though, that he didn’t seem inclined to press her.
She put down her fork again. “Jerrod?”
He looked up from his plate.
“I’m sorry. I’m confused. It’s just that...”
He waited.
“I like you,” she said finally. “You already know I’m attracted to you. But you were kind to me. And that... Well... I’m not used to that kind of kindness anymore.”
She saw his eyes widen a shade. “I didn’t do anything special, Allison. I’m sure you must have friends.”
“I do. But that’s just it. They’re not men I’m attracted to.”
His hard, harsh face softened in the most incredible way. She wouldn’t have thought he could look like that. “You were hurt, weren’t you. Bad relationship?”
“It ended badly, that’s for sure. And it’s just so weird because, well, it was like I was crying out inside for some kind of reassurance. Some kind of kindness a friend couldn’t give. I don’t know how to explain it. Then you gave it to me, and I got scared.”
“Why did it scare you?”
She couldn’t blame him for wondering. “You know, emotions are a mess.”
He smiled faintly. “Tell me about it.”
“Fact of life. Messy, mixed up, hard to put into words. But basically, I guess, our conversation made me feel closer to you, and then I got scared because I’m not sure I want to take that risk again.”
“And I’m a big risk.” He didn’t ask her. He stated it. “I get it. All I can say is I don’t want to do a single thing to hurt you.”
“I don’t think you do.” She sighed and pushed her plate to the side. She’d eat later if her insides managed to settle down. “No, it’s me. I realized something. I suddenly understood just how much something has been lacking from my life, all because you offered it to me briefly. Pretty pathetic when a virtual stranger says or does something to make you aware of just what you’re missing.”
“I wouldn’t call it pathetic at all.” He’d cleaned his plate, seemed to contemplate seconds then pushed his place setting aside.
“Don’t stop eating on my account. There’s plenty.”
“I may get more later.”
There it was again. Later. As if he planned to be around. Well, he would, she supposed, at least through tomorrow.
“So tell me about the jerk who wrecked you,” he said.
“I didn’t think he was a jerk until our breakup. Blinded by love, I guess. And I was totally in love with him. Apparently foolishly in love.”
“You know, I’m no expert, obviously, but I always thought love, if you were lucky enough to get it, ought to be cherished like diamonds.”
“It doesn’t always work that way.” And now her throat was tightening. She tried to clear it. “I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, it took two years, but I found out just how bad he was. If there was anything wrong with me that he could throw at me, he did. It was pretty savage.”
“And all the worse, I warrant, because he knew you so well and you’d trusted him completely.”
She nodded. Now her eyes burned and she lowered them, not wanting him to see the glisten of unshed tears. “Yeah,” she said hoarsely. “All the worse. Then add to it that I’d just recently lost my parents. I was already a gaping wound.”
“There’s no excuse for that,” he said flatly. “None.”
She couldn’t even answer. Of course it was inexcusable, but here she’d been sailing along thinking she’d put the worst of that behind her, albeit that she tended to avoid relationships with men, and all this had made her aware of how fresh the wounds still were.
Lance had cratered her in important ways. It was just that simple. Scary to discover just how deep that hole still remained after all this time.
Scary to realize just how vulnerable it had left her.
“This is getting to be a habit,” Jerrod remarked. Before she knew what he meant, he once again scooped her up off her chair and carried her to the living room. She didn’t even protest about his back. She was past protesting. She was afraid, but everything about him both exacerbated those fears and eased them. How crazy was that?
This time he held her across his lap, his strong arm supporting her back. Only then did she realize that a tear had escaped and run down her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered thickly.
“No need. Looks like we’re the walking wounded.”
She managed a short nod, and just leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder, grateful for his strength. She hated her own vulnerability, but could no longer hide from it. It had been lurking in the depths of her mind for years, but today it had leaped up to bite her.
He rested his other hand on her thigh, a comforting weight through the layer of fleece. She felt surrounded by his strength, something she never before had imagined she needed. Apparently she did.
“God,” she whispered finally. “I feel like someone took a can opener and exposed my insides.”
“Not me, I hope.”
She shook her head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t you, it was me. Something I needed to face, I guess. You can live in a fool’s paradise just so long.”
“So talk to me. I can at least listen.”
“I don’t know what to say. I honestly hadn’t realized how gutted I still felt.”
“Until I was kind. Or what you call kind.”
“Exactly. I was bopping along, telling myself I wasn’t really interested in a relationship, ignoring the whole thing, feeling that the right guy would either land in my lap or never show up. It wasn’t a priority. And in a small town like this, you have to watch it. If a relationship goes south, you’re going to be seeing that person for the rest of your days.”
“Must be fun.”
“At my age, yes. It’s not high school anymore where
all that is so fluid, people just move on. Another breakup like that and I’d never escape it. I can’t imagine seeing Lance every day. I don’t know how I’d deal with it.”
“So this happened when you were away?”
“In grad school.”
“Oh, the supreme age for male jerks.”
At that, a shaky laugh escaped her. “Maybe so. Anyway, I’ve been ignoring it for a long time now. Locked it away. I don’t know what possessed me to bring it up to you.”
“I’m trying to remember how we got there. Strangely, I don’t.”
“What’s strange about that?”
He tightened his arm around her shoulder briefly. “Because I usually have a tenacious memory for detail. But maybe that applies only to operational detail.”
“Well, I don’t remember exactly, either, but we got there. And opened my can of worms, which now I need to deal with.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you can go back to the way you were. You seemed happy enough when I met you.”
“Don’t even go there,” she said sharply. Her chest tightened even more. “You have nothing to do with the mess inside me.”
He shifted a little but kept right on holding her. “Maybe not, but I sure as hell don’t want to make it worse.”
She pushed a little away from him and twisted so that she could look him in the face. “You’re making me see something I needed to see. Knowing my own vulnerabilities is an asset.”
“True. That’s one of the things they trained into us. Accurate self-assessment. Otherwise you’re a danger to yourself and your team. Know your weaknesses.”
“Makes perfect sense to me. Now.” After this she’d be aware, and less likely to be swayed by some guy just because he was kind to her. Safer. On surer ground, just because she’d faced the crater within her.
Although, thinking about it as she laid her head on his shoulder again, she wondered. Other men had been friendly and kind to her since Lance. What was it about Jerrod that had gotten past all her defenses? Had it just been a weak moment? Or did it have something to do with the fact that she was sexually attracted to him? Had that made her respond more intensely?
