His heart sank. Under any other circumstances? At any other time? He would’ve gladly accepted an invitation from the woman who’d captured his attention like no one else. He’d been struck by her beauty and courage at that hospital the very first day, so much so that he’d maintained a year-long correspondence with her. Like they were a couple from an earlier decade, writing letters to get to know each other.
The guys had teased him to no end, and he couldn’t care less.
But going to her house under these circumstances? “Um, I don’t…”
One of the men rounded the last of the booths in front of them. There were only four between him and where Wyatt stood with Nadine.
The guy looked back and forth. He and his partner had split up again. The other guy might be behind them right now.
Wyatt had to get out of there and quick.
“You know what? I would love to.”
Her face lit up, making him hate himself even more. “Really?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw the thug’s bald head bobbing up and down among so many others. He was getting closer. “Absolutely. Can I ask you for a ride, though? Since my car’s still out of commission?”
“Of course. I’ll drive you back into town after dinner.”
“That sounds great.” He took her by the arm, intent on getting her away from the market before either of his pursuers spotted him. “Let’s go.”
He looked to his left just in time to find the bald man staring at him. Smirking.
“You know what?” He gave Nadine a tight smile. “I have to use the restroom before we leave. Would you excuse me? I’ll be right back.” He was gone before she could reply, weaving his way through the crowds on his way to the men’s room. So long as Nadine was safe—and he thought she was since the bald man only had eyes for him—it would be fine.
Within moments of Wyatt escaping into a stall, the bathroom door opened with a bang as it rebounded off the tiled wall. “I know you’re in here, Highfield. Let’s get this over with, huh? Stop wasting time.”
Wyatt slowly unlocked the door before climbing silently onto the toilet. The man opened the first stall. The second. Wyatt was in the third.
It all happened so fast.
The door flew open.
Wyatt took hold of the metal partitions on either side of him, bracing himself, swinging his legs out and driving his boots into the man’s chest.
The impact sent the guy falling back against the sinks, dazed.
Wyatt jumped to the floor and slammed the man’s head into the ceramic sink once, twice, making sure he was unconscious. His bruised, aching body cried out in protest as he dragged the heavy man into the last stall and propped him up on the toilet.
So long as nobody tried to open the door—the man’s feet were plainly visible underneath—it would be fine for a while.
He washed his hands to get rid of both the dried and fresh blood before he hurried back out to where Nadine waited. Her expression of relief at the sight of him was damn near painful. Like she’d been afraid he was going to vanish.
He was such a bastard.
Chapter 3
Nadine gripped the steering wheel in her hands until her knuckles turned white, trying to get a glance at Wyatt out of the corner of her eye without looking like she was looking at him.
What was she thinking? Was she out of her mind? She wasn’t worried about her safety with him. That wasn’t it at all, even if this was already more time than she’d spent alone with a man in more than a year.
Chloe wanted her to get back into the game of life, didn’t she? Was this good enough? Nadine smiled to herself as she drove, imagining what her best friend would do when she heard. How loud her shrieks would be.
He’d told her he hadn’t talked to Chloe, but Nadine had double-checked while he’d been in the restroom. She’d texted Chloe to make sure she wasn’t going to tell him to come meet Nadine—careful not to mention that she was already with him. Chloe had sworn she wouldn’t do anything like that unless Nadine asked her to.
Do you want me to ask him to meet you face-to-face?
No. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t gotten all excited and decided to take matters into your own hands.
I haven’t. Why?
Why? That had been the question.
Why was he at the Fresh Market? Why had she gone against every defense mechanism she’d built over the past year and asked him to dinner?
Why?
She had no idea. But it seemed like fate was stepping in, and for once, Nadine was going to go with it.
No reason. About to drive home. Love you. Talk soon.
“Are you okay?” It was subtle, but much like he had at the market, he kept looking around—in the side mirror, over his shoulder, past her to the cars traveling next to them.
“Yeah, fine.” He shrugged one broad shoulder, and his blue button-down shirt pulled against the muscles there. She had to force her eyes away from his chest and back to the road.
And somehow remember how to breathe.
She could not turn into some stuttering idiot around him. Just because he was so much bigger and stronger and way better looking than she had remembered didn’t mean she needed to start acting like her IQ had dropped thirty points.
This was the same Wyatt she’d been talking to online for a year. She could talk to him face-to-face.
“I guess being aware of your surroundings is a holdover from your time in Special Forces, huh?” she asked with her eyes on the road.
“What makes you say that?”
He sounded tense. Maybe this was the wrong thing to bring up. “You keep looking around. That was why I asked before if you were okay.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He settled back against the passenger seat. “You’re right. Sometimes it’s tough to shut down that part of my brain… old habits and all that.”
“Well, it makes sense. You work for a security firm. You’re used to keeping an eye on your surroundings. Most jobs don’t require that.”
“You mean you don’t look over your shoulder all the time as a virtual assistant? Setting up travel arrangements sounds pretty dangerous.” A smile fell over those full, firm lips.
“Only when I don’t manage to score priority boarding.”
He laughed and she relaxed. It felt good making him laugh. They fell into an easy conversation the way they had with their online chats. As they got farther out of town, he seemed to relax, too. He still glanced in the mirrors every once in a while, but not as often. Probably because he realized there was no way trouble could find them out on this empty highway without them realizing it.
She wanted to give him a night where he could relax.
She wasn’t going to worry about what his words or actions meant—whether he was flirting or not. He did seem to stay closer to her than necessary at the Fresh Market—touching her, guiding her, poking her gently.
Maybe that was flirting, or maybe it was the way he was with women. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.
But like Chloe said, Nadine didn’t want to be too wrapped up in her own lack of interpersonal communication skills to miss an expression of interest.
God, she was so bad at this.
But at least the conversation between them was good—it had always been good no matter how they talked: chat room, email, phone. They just had a good rhythm.
“Here we are.” She pulled to a stop in front of the little brick bungalow she called home. Good thing she had cleaned over the weekend. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
He studied the house then glanced over at her. “I like it. Perfect size for one person, too.”
Unfolding his long body, he climbed out of the car.
“Let me get that.” He took the two bags full of produce while she carried the flowers.
It was rare to meet a man who made her feel small. At five-ten, she was taller than every
other woman she knew and had worn flats on dates her whole life. Wyatt still towered over her.
“So, do you like being so far outside of town? I know I would love the quiet out here. You’ve described it but being here is like being in another world.”
“That’s what I was looking for. Peace and quiet.” No people. No chance for mistakes.
“Do you ever miss being around people?”
She gave him a wry chuckle. “You sound like Chloe. Except, come to think of it, she doesn’t bother asking that question. She assumes I must be miserable without people, but I’m not.”
Opening the front door, she had to admit the full truth. He would understand. He always did. “Though I do miss being around people sometimes. I used to love the energy on-set, back at Day’s End. There was so much creativity. Collaboration. People bouncing their ideas off each other.”
“Until Oakley ruined it for you.”
Her stomach clenched at Travis’s name. She forced herself to keep walking and lead Wyatt to the kitchen, busying herself finding vases for the flowers while he put the grocery bags on the counter. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her silence.
But he did. “You okay?”
She sighed. “I didn’t expect to hear his name. I don’t even like thinking about him. I spend a lot of time not thinking about him.”
“Can I give you a little friendly advice? Something I learned in the Special Forces?”
“Sure.” They certainly knew each other well enough to give it. And frankly, anything delivered in his deep voice would be worth hearing.
He began unloading the Fresh Market purchases from the bag. “Never turn your back on your enemy if you have any choice. In this case, that’s the memories of Oakley. Turning your back won’t make them go away. All it does is make you more vulnerable. You’ve got to process before you can ever move on.”
Moving on. It sounded too good to be true. But he didn’t know, hell, Chloe didn’t know, that after a year Nadine sometimes woke up screaming, even a year later, trapped in the memories of what Travis had done.
How he’d left her to die.
Wyatt didn’t know how the sensation of choking on her own blood tore her from her sleep, how she’d gasp for air and claw at her throat like she was right back in that burning cabin. How the smell of her own flesh burning sometimes had her running for the toilet to retch.
She glanced down at her legs; glad she’d gone with jeans. He knew about her scars, but seeing her deformed flesh would probably have taken him aback.
“Moving on doesn’t mean I forget,” she said softly. “I don’t get to forget everything so easily. My reminders are inescapable. I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely over it.”
He laid the rest of the fresh produce on the counter. “There are some things a person never fully gets over, and that’s okay.”
“Tell that to Chloe.” She grabbed the cherries and lettuce and placed them inside the fridge. “She’s moved on, even though what happened to her was worse. She’s healed. Has no problem with it anymore.”
“People heal at different rates. It’s not a race.” His voice was even, steady.
She closed the fridge, staring at the door because it was easier than looking him in the eye. “I don’t see how I’m supposed to heal when I’m still afraid of getting hurt.”
“Physically or emotionally?”
She still didn’t look at him. “Both.”
“That’s okay. Fear has kept me and my friends alive more than once.”
She doubted it was the same thing at all. But she didn’t want to concentrate on that tonight. She wanted to have a meal with a gorgeous man and help him relax a little. She turned to him with a forced smile. “So, how does pasta primavera sound? All this produce I got at the market will be put to good use.”
He grinned, and she was glad he wasn’t going to push the issue. “What do you need from me?”
“That’s the perfect response.” They shared a laugh while she gathered the ingredients. He washed up, then started to chop the zucchini, onions, and tomatoes.
They worked side by side with her washing veggies for him to chop. “You’re pretty good with a knife,” she noted.
“Thank you. Occupational hazard, I guess.”
Her eyes got big. She’d never thought of it that way. “Oh…”
He snickered, nudging her. “That was a joke. This is a far cry from using a knife on a bad guy, trust me. I had to teach myself some basic cooking skills or else there’d be nothing in my trash can but crumpled-up fast food bags.”
“I’ve always loved to cook… and eat,” she added with a laugh at herself. Nobody would ever have called her petite. She was a big girl and had been for as long as she could remember. Always taller, always wider. Solid, as she was sometimes described, which somehow was more insulting than it was ever meant to be.
“Nothing wrong with that.” He winked and tapped her on the nose before he went back to chopping.
She was back to what she always came back to with him—was he flirting or merely being friendly? He could have any woman he wanted. What would he want with the scarred-up big girl?
She pushed the thoughts aside again.
He was here. That was all that mattered. She wouldn’t let herself lose the present moment in favor of questioning every little thing. The man didn’t have to carry on a year-long correspondence with her, yet he’d done that.
The conversation was light throughout their delicious, colorful dinner. They discussed some of the travels he’d done for his work in security and stories of the insanity she’d had to put up with in her job as an assistant. He gushed about the food so much she actually blushed.
She liked him. Yes, he was ruggedly handsome in a way that made her insides melt, his brown eyes a deep, luscious caramel that constantly seemed to draw her in. And yes, he was strong, with thick, corded muscle constantly pushing against the seams of his shirt.
But it was more than that. She liked him. She liked talking to him, listening to him, and joking with him. Even without his good looks, she’d still be happy to share a meal with him.
And her goal was working. He seemed relaxed as he told her stories about his family. He’d mentioned them before in their talks, so she knew he had a younger brother and sister and how close they were in age. A tale of them at the beach for a family vacation—Wyatt convincing his five-year-old brother he had to pee on the seashells he’d collected to get rid of the shark poop—had her in stitches.
“How about you?” he asked as he got them both a second helping of pasta. “I guess there weren’t a lot of childhood vacations in foster care.”
She shook her head. “Not many. But Chloe and I have more than made up for it as adults. We’ve traveled all over the place.”
Although Chloe had Shane to travel with now. They’d want to take trips on their own.
“Chloe’s like a sister to you.”
She took another bite. “She is my sister in every way that matters.” She shrugged. “I guess that sounds weird to someone who has actual siblings.”
“Not at all. The Linear Tactical guys are every bit as much my brothers as Mickey is. I’d do anything for them, and I know the feeling’s mutual.”
It was nice to have someone who understood. “Exactly.”
“Speaking of Chloe, why were you asking if I’d been talking to her earlier?”
Dang it. She took another bite, wishing she could avoid the question. “You won’t laugh at me?”
“Oh, now I’m intrigued.” He rested his chin on his hands and waggled his eyebrows, making her feel a little less stupid. She smiled.
“Chloe and I were talking on the phone earlier… about you.” She pushed pasta around on her plate.
“About me, huh? I’m surprised my ears weren’t burning. Flattering things, I hope?”
Canoodling. She fought not to flush but looking at the table made it worse. “She, uh… was encouraging me to be more open with you. Make some plans to me
et face-to-face rather than just talk online.”
“Looks like we have that out of the way already.”
“Yep. And she was doing her damnedest to convince me it would be a good idea to ask if you’d like to meet up for coffee sometime or… a date.” She was unable to keep eye contact with him. “She knows how much talking with you has meant to me. How much I look forward to hearing from you.”
His hand covered hers. “I feel the same, you know.”
She looked up at him again, and his sexy half-smile about curled her toes. She cleared her throat. “And then, right after she and I had that conversation, you showed up out of nowhere. I’d say that’s a sign, wouldn’t you?”
“A sign?”
It was time to take a chance and express her interest to Wyatt. “That the universe wanted to help us out. Today I told my best friend I would ask you out. I wasn’t sure how it would work, you being in the next state and all, but I decided I would try. I would figure out a way to ask you out on a date.”
The weight of his big hand on hers gave her strength to keep going. “And then you showed up at the market. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.”
His hand slid off hers and he sat up a little straighter. “A sign…” He picked up his fork and took a bite of pasta.
Her appetite suddenly vanished. “Just that… I know you know I don’t get out much, but the truth is, the market is the only place I go to regularly, and only on Mondays. If you’d been there any other day or gone anywhere else in Idaho Falls—hell, anywhere else in Idaho at all—you wouldn’t have seen me.” She shrugged. “It seemed like the universe was trying to help out.”
She felt like an idiot, especially when he just nodded then kept eating. A few seconds later he launched into another story about his family. This time about his sister chasing him around the house with a baseball bat because he’d drawn a moustache on one of her American Girl dolls.
She’d laughed at the funny parts and winced as he’d explained all the extra chores he’d had to do to replace the doll—much more expensive than the ten-year-old had expected. But she was aware of the differences from the stories now than the ones he told before.
Danger and Desire: A Romantic Suspense Anthology Page 45
