Stirring Attraction

by Sara Jane Stone

  The police force would never be enough for Dominic. He’d joined for his father, his sister, and probably for her. A job that would keep him in Forever, watching over Josie and close to her . . .

  “I know.” Dominic wrapped his arms around her and drew her close.

  “It’s my fault, Lily,” Noah muttered, kicking the ground.

  She looked at Dominic’s best friend and saw the blood running down Noah’s face, his lip cut. In the firelight, his face looked as if he’d taken a hit. She glanced at Ryan. He’d missed a buttonhole on his shirt. It hung at an odd angle. Had they been fighting? On their last night together?

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Dominic said, releasing his hold on her as he fished his keys out from his pocket. “Let’s get you home. I don’t want your mom to worry.”

  Too late. Her mother had worried from Lily’s first date with Dominic, wondering—­often out loud—­if her little girl would hold tight to her parents’ belief that she should wait until marriage. And yesterday, in Dominic’s bedroom, proved her mother had every reason to be concerned.

  “I’m sorry,” Noah said. “I shouldn’t have—­”

  “My sister is a big girl, old enough to make her own choices,” Dominic cut in.

  Noah and Josie?

  Lily blinked. She never would have suspected. The town golden boy and Dominic’s wild little sister . . . Wow. No wonder Dominic had punched his friend.

  She glanced back at Ryan. That still didn’t explain the third musketeer’s disheveled appearance. What had he been up to on his last night before they went their separate ways, determined to pursue careers that might never bring them back . . . ?

  “Let’s go, Dom,” she murmured, pulling on his hand. Whatever had happened to Ryan, to Noah—­she didn’t care right now. The minutes were slipping away. And she refused to waste them at a party that felt more like a funeral.

  Dominic nodded and led her around to the passenger side of his pickup. He pulled open the door and held it for her as she climbed inside. She rolled down her window while he walked around the rear and hugged his friends, slapping them both on the back in turn. Then she called out her goodbyes. It was like pulling off a Band-­Aid. She said the words quickly and turned to stare out into the dark night. She could let Noah and Ryan, the men who’d become her friends through Dominic, go with one swift tearing motion. But the man putting the truck in gear?

  She didn’t want to let him leave, but she knew as well as he did that a future together was impossible right now. Maybe one day . . .

  They drove in silence down the dark country roads, heading for her parents’ modest two-­bedroom house on the outskirts of town. They sped past the university and Forever’s park. When they reached her quiet dead-­end street, Dominic pulled over and cut the engine three doors down from her house.

  “You’ll call me when you get there?” she asked, turning to him as she released her seat belt. “Or as soon as you can?”

  He hesitated.

  “Please,” she added.

  “I’ll call.” He stared into her eyes, his gaze drifting to her mouth and then back up.

  She nodded. There was so much more she wanted to say.

  I’m happy for you.

  Stay safe.

  I hate you for leaving.

  But she refused to send him off feeling guilty for following his dreams. One day he would come back. Or she’d join him.

  She bit her lip. The circumstances surrounding those possibilities—­her mother succumbing to MS, or Dominic facing a career-­ending injury—­she didn’t want to hope for those things.

  “Lily,” he murmured and she met his gaze. “I don’t know how to kiss you to make it last—­”

  “Until the end of basic training? Because after that, I’ll find a way to visit you. I can find help for my mom, hire a nurse for a few days. Save up some money and fly down.” She spoke fast, the plan taking hold in her mind.

  “And after that?” he asked. “I signed on to become a ranger if they’ll take me. And there are no guarantees I’ll be stationed on the West Coast.”

  “We can make this work,” she insisted. “I’ll kiss you goodbye. But it’s not forever.”

  He nodded, but she could see the doubt in his green eyes, and the stark acknowledgment that they might not have a future cut into her. But she pushed aside the pain. They could find a way.

  “I’ll come back for you,” he confirmed. “And when I do, I’ll be more. I’m going to give you a future you can count on.”

  I love you the way you are. I believe in you.

  But she couldn’t tell him that now. He needed to do this for himself. Joining the army, becoming an elite special soldier, or whatever they called the rangers—­that was for him.

  “OK,” she said.

  “And I’ll take care of you, Lil. After everything you’ve done for your mom, your dad—­I’m going to come back for you and—­”

  “Sweep me off my feet?”

  “Yes.”

  She reached out and touched his cheek. Her hand ran down his throat to his shoulder. She pressed her palm against the hard contours of his pecs, wishing to feel every inch of him.

  How do you memorize a man’s muscles?

  Her gaze drifted back to his lips and she leaned forward. She kept her eyes open until the last second, then she pressed her mouth to his. Her lips parted and she let him in. His tongue touched hers and he kissed her as if he wanted so much more . . .

  But they couldn’t go any further. Not here. Not now.

  “That will have to hold you over for a while,” she said, breaking away, her breath coming in sharp gasps. She reached behind her and felt around for the car door handle. “Finish basic training, and I promise I’ll kiss you again.”

  “Lily,” he growled.

  But she moved too fast, slipping out the passenger side door. She slammed it closed behind her, shutting out his words. And then she ran up the sidewalk, rushing toward the house that held her responsibilities—­the ­people who needed her here, in Forever. Away from the man she loved, the man who was leaving, who didn’t need her at his side to survive the day.

  The man she wanted in life more than her next breath.

  She paused on the front porch steps. Her hand rested on the banister covered in peeling white paint. And she stole one last glance at the truck still parked on the side of the quiet street.

  Go. Fight. Be all you can be. And then, come back for me.

  Chapter One

  Six Years Later. . .

  IF IT WASN’T for Taylor Swift and chocolate brownies, I would be at home wearing size six jeans and enjoying the first Monday of summer break.

  Instead, the potent combination drove Lily to add an extra mile to her morning run. She turned up the volume on Swift’s not-­so-­country album and jogged down Forever’s familiar Main Street, trying to shake off the extra calories clinging to her thighs. If she kept going for another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, she’d end up in the park beyond the university. The well-­maintained paths weaving through a manicured forest might distract from the fact that she hated running.

  But I ate three large brownies at the end-­of-­year celebration yesterday.

  Because who could say no to a six-­year-­old student with a plate of homemade double-­fudge brownies? She might have followed her heart when she’d applied to teach kindergarten in her hometown when she graduated from college. But now, at the ripe old age of twenty-­nine, this career was hell on her thighs and waistline.

  Not that the kids shouldered all the blame. She’d turned to chocolate for comfort so many times over the past few years that she’d started to wonder if she should follow her father into rehab.

  But it hadn’t worked for him. He’d been arrested for driving under the influence. And this time t
he court had ordered him to rehab again. Not that he’d bothered to tell her. She’d received a call from his girlfriend of the moment with the news.

  No, she doubted a twelve-­step program to abandon chocolate would work for her. Plus, there were some times when she loved her curves. On those days, she welcomed the sugar rush, always promising to run the next day.

  And other times . . . well, after struggling to care for her mother toward the end, the handful of reunions with Dominic, followed by the breakups—­she’d kissed him goodbye more times than she wanted to count—­hadn’t she earned a treat? She’d rather have Dominic . . .

  But he hadn’t returned to Forever. And she’d buried her hope that he ever would after he took two bullets to the chest and one through his hand. He’d almost died in a war-­torn country, then again in Germany while on the operating table. But it was the shot that had ripped apart his right hand that might bury him alive. He couldn’t go back to the army. The rangers had kicked him out of the only group he’d ever wanted to join.

  And he still hadn’t come home.

  Not to her.

  He’d taken a break from his outpatient rehab to meet his niece after she was born. But he’d only stayed for a few days. Lily had been so caught up in school that she hadn’t realized he was in town until he’d left again.

  The traffic light turned green and she ran across the street, heading for the quiet park. The university students had mostly left for summer vacation. Plus, it was after nine in the morning on a Monday. Most of Forever’s locals were at work. She ran past a mother pushing a stroller toward the park’s swing set. In the distance, she could see another jogger.

  Alone with Taylor Swift. . .

  She picked up the pace, determined to push the extra calories clinging to her legs into exile. She had a date tonight with a man who wanted the same things out of life. Marriage. Children. A fellow teacher who wished to settle in Forever, not run away. Ted was the definition of “good man” even if he never tried to back her up against the wall and take her . . .

  Stop comparing him to Dominic. Stop waiting for someone who has made it clear he is not coming back.

  The playground disappeared from view. She followed the path through the trees. Glimpses of the university’s buildings were visible through the bright green leaves, but nothing more. Rounding the bend, she saw a flash of red.

  A man. Tall. Broad. Wearing a sweatshirt in June. Who did that? It was hot today even for a summer day.

  He drew closer. Running toward her as if he knew her and wanted to say hello. He was moving fast. He was wearing a ski mask. In June . . .

  And then he was on top of her.

  She hit the pavement and fell back. He came with her. And oh God, he was hitting her. Over and over. She heard screams and hoped the sounds came from someone who would help her. A hit to the jaw. A punch to the gut, this one stinging. And then . . .

  Silence.

  She’d been the one screaming, her voice high-­pitched and terrified. She’d been the one begging for help until the reality sank in. She was alone. In the trees. Out of sight.

  “Please . . . stop,” she whimpered, struggling to break free. But she wasn’t strong enough.

  “You ruined everything,” a deep voice growled.

  She kept her arms over her head, protecting her face. But through the gap she saw dark brown eyes peering at her through the mask.

  His pupils are huge. He sounds . . . familiar.

  And he looks crazy.

  Of course he was. Sane ­people didn’t attack strangers in the park. But who was he?

  He hit her forearm and she closed her eyes. The pain distracted from trying to place him. Her arms stung as if she’d been covered in paper cuts. It didn’t matter who he was, she just needed him to stop hitting her, stop hurting her . . .

  The weight lifted, but the pain remained. She reached for her side. It was wet from his punches.

  No, that’s not right.

  She lifted her palm and saw the blood. And she screamed, over and over, never stopping to breathe. Panic rushed in and held her captive. Her world was reduced to one word.

  Help.

  No one came. Fear took over, shifting her cries. Screw help. She didn’t need a white knight. She needed power, strength, and someone who gave a damn about her.

  Dominic.

  She called his name. Her voice bordered on hoarse. She inhaled and tried again, staring up at the trees. The branches shifted in the light breeze as if mocking her. Sunbeams slipped through the leaves.

  He’s not coming.

  Her ranger wouldn’t rush to her rescue . . .

  But he wasn’t an army ranger anymore. He’d been injured, rehabbed, and released. And he still hadn’t come back to her.

  So she’d moved on.

  She shouldn’t be calling for Dominic. Her new boyfriend—­the man who promised a future filled with gentle kisses, romantic adventures, and children. If she made it out of this park . . .

  Ted.

  She called his name to the trees. The leaves shook, spilling pockets of sunlight on the path. Ted specialized in teaching elementary school kids to read. He was a good man, a kind person . . .

  Her vision blurred and the leaves above her merged together. She needed help now. She rolled to her side and the pain shifted, but it didn’t increase. More wasn’t an option. She’d reached her threshold. There was agony and passing out. Those were her only choices

  But before she tried to escape the pain, she needed to crawl into the open. She had to save herself. Dominic, Ted, the woman in the park—­they weren’t rushing to her rescue. She needed to pull herself into the open.

  Slowly, she maneuvered onto her belly and raised her left arm. If she could crawl . . .

  Dragging her bruised, battered, and possibly sliced forearm over the paved path, she pressed down and pulled her body forward. Her legs scrambled for purchase, but she couldn’t find her way onto all fours.

  Time distorted like it did when she visited the dentist, and the receptionist insisted on redefining the word “brief.” But she made progress. Two slides forward, she saw something pink lying on the path. Her cell phone. She crawled closed and picked it up. Music still blast from the headphones. She turned it over and—­

  No ser­vice.

  “Stupid woods,” she muttered. “Stupid park.”

  Still clutching the phone, she started dragging herself forward again. She reached the edge of the path and spotted her saviors. Two girls raced forward as if they’d eaten an entire pan of brownies last night. Or maybe they’d simply spotted her.

  Help.

  But the cry died before she could part her lips. Her vision blurred. And then—­

  Nothing.

  Chapter Two

  “YOU HAVE FIVE minutes to get off your ass and find your pants. Don’t bother shaving. We don’t have time.”

  Dominic turned his back on the only appliance in the kitchen he gave a damn about—­the coffeemaker—­and faced the friend who’d saved his high school football team a time or two with a well-­placed field goal. But most of the time, Ryan had missed the uprights. And right now, the town rich kid turned air force officer had kicked one helluva foul.

  “How did you get in here?” Dominic asked.

  “Your super gave me the key,” Ryan said. His dress uniform sparkled under Dominic’s crappy overhead lights. Between the severe look on his movie-­star face and the medals lining his chest, yeah, Dominic could see how the timid super had handed over the key. Hell, even Dominic was tempted to give in and pull a pair of jeans over his boxer briefs. Maybe find a clean shirt.

  “Get dressed,” Ryan barked again.

  “And if I refuse?” Dominic held tight to his steaming mug with his left hand. He’d given up on sleeping through the lingering pain months ago. Now, he sipped his cup of j
oe and tried not to think about the future.

  “Three minutes now.” Ryan glanced down at his watch. “If it takes longer to find your pants and your wallet, I’m heading for an unauthorized absence.”

  “You’re a long way from base. I don’t see how three minutes would make a difference—­”

  “I need you to put down the coffee and put on your pants. They won’t let you on the plane in your underwear. And if we miss this flight to Oregon, I won’t make it back before my leave is up.”

  Oregon. Ah hell.

  “I’m not getting on a fucking plane. I don’t give a damn who sent you to try and bring me home. I’m not going. You’re risking your career for a lost cause.”

  Ryan turned and marched the shiny-­ass shoes that matched his sparkly uniform across the apartment. Then he disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Dominic staring into the now empty living area. The space looked as if he’d hired one of the guys who’d served alongside him to play decorator. The worn brown leather couch pointed to a big-­ass TV mounted on the wall. A cardboard box sat in front of it.

  When Dominic had first moved into the place, a ranger who lived down the road had stopped by for a beer. His buddy had turned over the box and declared it a coffee table. And now, months after leaving the only place where he had ever felt like he belonged—­the freaking army—­Dominic ate every meal with his feet on that box.

  But the sorry state of his rental didn’t leave him pining for his dad’s farmhouse in Forever, Oregon.

  His left hand tightened on his mug to keep his right from dropping the coffee cup to the linoleum. Sure, his brain had fired off the message—­hold on to the fucking coffee—­but the nerves in his right hand rarely listened anymore.

  And neither did Ryan. He could hear his childhood friend opening drawers in his bedroom.

  “Hey, careful with my dresser,” Dominic called. “I picked that up secondhand. The first owner didn’t exactly treat it right.”