by Sara Daniel
“Have you ever written back?”
“I can’t.” His throat tightened. No question he was an insensitive ass. Becca might as well know the truth before she assumed him worthy of her affection. The woman’s brother had died, and Connor couldn’t even plagiarize a few words of sympathy from a greeting card in reply.
What he’d done instead felt worse than if he’d ignored her completely. “We actually both lived in Chicago after I got my military discharge and completed the police academy, but I never went to see her. I looked up her address to make sure she lived in a safe neighborhood, and I convinced the officers in her district to make a few extra drive-bys on her building. But I never even accepted her Facebook friend request.”
“She never knew you did the extra police patrols for her?”
“No.” He glanced at Becca to see if she understood how he wanted to watch over her for Kevin but couldn’t bear to have reminders of the fallen comrade in his life.
Her compassionate expression didn’t waver. “Tell me about the transition to city cop after the military.”
One more thing he hadn’t adjusted to well. He sighed. “For the first time in my life, I didn’t share living quarters with anyone. I had no one to distract me from my thoughts. No one joked. My police partner was a quiet, serious guy who lived for the end of his shift when he could go home to his wife and baby. I lived in mortal fear I wouldn’t be able to stop something from happening to him.”
“You’ve spent your whole life trying to protect everyone, even the people who should have had your back. This partner signed up for the same dangerous job you did. So did Kevin.”
Intellectually, he agreed with her point. Heck, he’d told himself the same thing. But still he’d been the man responsible when they went down. “I used to wake up in cold sweats about the look on his wife’s face as she’d get the fateful knock on her door. So I made sure I entered every building first, ensuring my chest came into the target scope first.” Remembering, he felt as dead and empty inside as he had on every single one of those missions.
“Then what happened?”
“They missed me and hit him instead.”
Becca gasped with all the horror he’d felt as he watched his partner crumple to the ground.
“Just in the hand. The bullet went straight through. Anyway, it messed up some ligaments. He took a desk job and now can Skype with his wife anytime the commander isn’t looking. He couldn’t be happier.”
“Did you get a new partner?”
“No. I had to take a few days of administrative leave, mandatory but routine. Wilbur got in touch, told me Larry was retiring, and the town wanted someone with local ties to take over the job.” Connor paused. As both his parents had passed away while he’d been in the military, his first question for Wilbur had been if Becca still lived in town. “I jumped at the chance to work in a place where stray bullets were the exception, not the rule.”
“Bit of a culture shock, I bet,” she said. “Even though you lived here before.”
The good kind of culture shock, enough to make him wonder why anyone would want any other kind of culture. The hardest adjustment had been her ignoring his presence, seeming to have no memory of their entwined past. The few times he’d opened his mouth to call her on it, the hurt that flashed across her face changed his mind. Having caused too much hurt for too many people, he’d gone along with her wishes.
“This town is a dream. Of course, bad things still happen. Car accidents and domestic cases are part of the job, and they can be brutally ugly. But even though I’m still making my body target number one for the bad guys, I feel like I have as good a chance at survival as anyone else.”
Becca squeezed his hand but didn’t say anything. He’d given her the happy ending to assure her he was okay. He belonged here as Kortville’s police chief. Any PTSD diagnosis only proved him less than competent for the life he’d made.
“But bad things do still happen,” she said finally. “Over and over in your mind. You can’t get away from them, no matter how safe you are here. All your adult life you’ve protected other people—from landmines, from bullets, and now you’re trying to protect everyone from yourself. You need to stop and let someone protect you from the nightmares. Let someone help you, Connor.”
He would have pulled away, but she kept her fingers tightly entwined with his. He needed the connection too much to sever it. “Look, if you think I can talk to a shrink and then suddenly I’ll be fixed well enough for a relationship with you, you’re setting yourself up for heartache.”
“I agree.” She turned toward him, cupping his cheek with her other hand. “You are already good enough for any relationship you want. You deserve to have a happy ending with a wife and baby just like your former police partner. You deserve to have people in your life to laugh and talk with and carry on the memory of Kevin. You deserve to go to sleep at night and wake up alert and refreshed eight hours later without a single memory of your dreams.”
He blinked. He’d admitted to being an insomniac. Only a couple days ago, she’d assumed he used that time for innovative—or at least mundane—thoughts. Now she seemed much closer to guessing the terror and sweat soaked sheets he couldn’t get away from. “How do you know I don’t dream about hot sex with you?”
“If you don’t, you should. But you don’t have to start with something so dramatic.” With her hand on his face, she guided him to her mouth. Her lips met his, softly, gently. Warmth, tenderness and acceptance rolled through him in waves. He’d felt safe the moment he returned to Kortville, but now for the first time he’d truly returned home.
His eyes burned again, and he closed them against the stinging. Becca’s tongue slid between his lips, and he gave himself over to her, wishing he could be whole again if only to be worthy of her touch.
Chapter Eight
Reluctantly ending the kiss, Becca pulled back, savoring the final sweet sensations before opening her eyes.
Connor watched her solemnly as she did. “I will dream of that,” he assured her.
She forced a shaky smile. She’d given him an antidote to chase his nightmares away. But what good would it do for him to dream about her? They weren’t headed for happily ever after. She’d be touring another country, not waiting at his front door for him to return every evening.
She stood and brushed off the back of her pants. “I’m going back to the diner to finish our cocoa. I’ll tell everyone you felt sick and went home.”
Connor shook his head. “I’m fine now. Tongue action cures all, didn’t you know?”
“Tongue action?” He made it sound like they’d indulged in a meaningless make out session, not a heart-to-heart conversation. He hadn’t trusted her to confide about his flashbacks until she’d figured out the main parts on her own and forced him to spill the details. Now he thought they could wrap up their lingering regrets and desires from the past through no-strings sex because his baggage left him unworthy of a relationship.
The truth was even if he did trust her, they couldn’t have a relationship until he believed himself worthy of it. The likelihood of one of those happening, let alone both, appeared slim to none.
He grinned at her. “If one kiss isn’t enough to qualify, I’m up for more.”
“Tempting, but no.” She couldn’t make out while keeping her heart and soul unattached. She didn’t need to travel the world with a broken heart. And Connor certainly didn’t need more emotional trauma to heal from.
She returned to the diner while Connor stopped at his squad car, ostensibly to check in with dispatch, although she suspected he needed a few more minutes to compose himself before he faced everyone. Most of the audience had cleared out, but Jake and the other cocoa contestants were still there, along with the diner staff.
“Is everything okay with Connor?” Rochelle asked.
“Oh yeah. He just had to run out to respond to a call. He should be back any minute. Looks like you got the dishes catastrophe all cleaned up.”<
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“What call? I didn’t hear anything,” Larry said.
“Oh my gosh, your banana cocoa is to die for,” Veronica proclaimed, holding up her paper sample cup.
Becca shot her a grateful glance.
“If you mean ‘to die for,’ as in it will kill you on the spot, then yes,” Jake added, not giving Larry a chance to repeat his concern. “If you put me on a diet of that stuff, I’ll be the skinniest guy in town.”
“Your cocoa is very distinctive,” Pauline said diplomatically. “People either love it or hate it.”
“Good to know,” Becca said, loving how everyone rallied around Connor, sorry he wasn’t with her to witness the show of support. “Did anyone get a chance to try the turtle cocoa Connor made last week? I think you’ll get a consensus that drink is an absolute winner.”
“Too many people are allergic to nuts,” Harriet said with a sniff.
Becca bit back an urge to laugh at the perfectly valid, however petty comment. Where else in the world was she going to find a place where cocoa flavors were debated with as much fervor as a presidential election? “We’ll sort it out next week at the finale. You still have time to come up with something better and take me down, Harriet. I have to run an exercise class at five a.m. tomorrow, and I need my sleep. Will I see you then, Jake?”
Caught off-guard, he recovered immediately. “Yes, absolutely.”
“Wait, you have a place I can exercise here?” Harriet demanded, gripping Becca’s elbow. “Goodness, I just complained to Larry that the only thing I miss about Florida is our fitness center and my workout group. I absolutely hate standing in front of my TV and taking orders from a woman who never sweats.”
“You need a bigger living room, Becca,” Rochelle said.
She wasn’t joking. The group already bumped hands and feet as they stretched, and Becca had just invited two more people to join them. Well, she’d only invited Jake. Harriet had invited herself, but Becca couldn’t turn her down.
“Sounds like it’s time to move into my building and make the fitness center a reality,” Jake said.
“What? No, I—” Panic fluttered in her chest. “The lanes are waxed, for goodness sake. We’ll all end up in the ER.”
“I know a guy who does great remodeling work,” Veronica said with a wink at Matt. “I’ll even talk him into giving you a special discount.”
“I look forward to the negotiations,” Matt bantered back.
“Have pity on us single folks and take it outside, you two,” Jake teased.
Becca understood his frustration, however good-natured. Even if she and Connor satisfied their physical longing for each other, they weren’t building up to the lifetime of contentment and joy Matt and Veronica had found in each other.
“A fitness center’s not going to magically appear in the next nine hours,” she said. “Everyone who wants to exercise come to my house on schedule, and we’ll see if we really need to relocate to a new building.” They could make her living room work. Putting down more roots when she had one foot out the door was ridiculous.
Connor chose that moment to reenter the diner, his jaw tight and unsmiling. His green eyes sought hers, and the hint of vulnerability in them shifted to relief. His broad shoulders relaxed, and his lips curled, leaving her with the unsettling realization that her desire to leave the city limits became lukewarm at most if she had to leave him behind.
“Okay, ladies and Jake, this last yoga pose is called the sun salutation. Reach your hands to the ceiling, then arch your back. Now exhale and bend to touch your toes. Good,” Becca called from the kitchen doorway so her students could use every bit of space in the living room. She kept everyone bent over for a count of ten. “Now straighten and reach for the ceiling again then arch backward.”
A loud crash jerked her out of the position she’d been demonstrating. Jake stumbled backward into the recliner and tipped it with such force that the back corner of the chair embedded in the wall. He lay half on the chair with his feet up in the air.
“Jake!” She rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”
He swung his legs around. On the second try he managed to right himself to a sitting position as everyone crowded closer, wanting to help. His face flamed as he stood up. “Sorry, I lost my balance.” He surveyed the chair and grimaced. “Hope you don’t use this chair.”
Becca scrutinized the damage. The back tipped at an odd angle, one side no longer connected to the seat. Less than a week ago, she’d slept in it waiting for Toby to come home. On free evenings she flopped there to indulge in The Travel Channel. “Never mind the chair. What matters is, are you okay?”
“Fine, just embarrassed.”
“The accident could have happened to any one of us,” Veronica said sweetly.
“Maybe, but no one else’s fall would have broken the chair and put a hole in the wall,” Jake said morosely.
But Agatha could have just as easily broken a hip. Harriet had nearly twisted her ankle when she kicked the stereo earlier in the morning.
“There’s not enough space in this room for everyone to exercise safely,” Becca admitted. If she wanted to continue the classes, she had only one option. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll all meet at the old bowling alley next to the convenience store, five a.m.—normal class time.”
“You’re really going to open a fitness center?” Rochelle asked, her eyes wide.
“No.” She had a job, and she was leaving when Toby graduated. “I’m just going to use my day off to clear out a wide open space where we can’t bump into anything or each other. Hopefully I can at least get Matt to stop in and give me some pointers on creating a safe, suitable floor.”
“He’ll be at your beck and call,” Veronica promised.
“Dang girl, you rocked those negotiations,” Rochelle said, more than a little enviously.
“And as long as Jake and I can come to a rental agreement,” Becca added.
He eyed the broken chair and the dusty hole in the wall. “Oh yeah. We agree.”
…
“Hey, the rumor mill is all abuzz that the bowling alley is no longer vacant.” Connor stood inside the door as Becca tossed several old boards into a pile. He couldn’t put into words how good—how satisfying—it felt to watch her build something in his town.
She looked over, her expression a bit sheepish. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not opening a fitness center. I just need a place for my exercise group to meet.”
“Your approach makes perfect sense,” Connor said, ready to give her the push she needed to get beyond her denial. “Take small steps to building the whole. By the end of the summer, you’re not going to want to leave this place.”
Her expression fell, making him wish he’d kept his mouth shut. She tightened her ponytail, tugging it higher on her scalp. “Yes, I will. I want to go to Greece and the Great Wall of China. I’ve never been to Canada. Heck, I’ve never even been to Vegas.”
“What about Italy?” Her dream destination when they were in high school consisted of visiting Rome and riding the gondolas in Venice.
“Sure, I want to do that too.” She brushed it off with a shrug, as if she no longer cared about the ideas she’d dreamed up with him. “But I thought I’d go to Greece first.”
He frowned, calculating the government oppression, terrorist threats and general targeting of Americans on foreign soil. “Do you have any idea how unstable Greece is right now?”
“Compared to Kortville, everything’s unstable. Everything changes except this town. I need to get out and experience life.”
“You want to experience life?” She didn’t need to leave town for that. She didn’t need to go anywhere. He crossed the room and grasped her shoulders. “This is living.”
He crushed his lips to hers. For a moment, Becca’s mouth remained rigid beneath him. He gentled the kiss to a caress, nibbling at her tender seam, coaxing with his tongue. Gradually, she relaxed. Her hands settled on his arms, and her lips began their own explorati
on. She opened to him, and he dipped his tongue inside, tasting her warm, sultry sweetness.
His body hummed. He’d never been so aware of every tiny detail. Of her salty skin sprinkled with dust from the manual labor. Of each tentative touch of her fingers as she slid her hands around his neck and through his short hair. Of each beat of his own heart pounding against his chest wall.
For the first time since the horror of the military had turned him into a robot with the single intent of surviving the day, life pulsed through him. He became more than a police officer who placed value on everyone else’s existence above his own. He was a man enjoying the affection and desire of a woman he—
“Whoa, my help clearly isn’t needed here,” a male voice observed.
Disoriented, he pulled back from the kiss but kept his arms wrapped around Becca as he turned toward the voice. Matt smirked at them from the entrance.
“Go away,” Connor growled, intending to lock the door to keep others from intruding while Becca snuggled warm and willing in his arms.
Matt grinned. “I would, but I told Toby to meet me here after school, which should be in—” He glanced at his watch. “Five minutes.”
Becca pulled away from his embrace. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips.
Connor bit back a moan, trying not to embarrass himself in front of Matt when every fiber of his body wanted to tug her in his arms and reclaim her mouth. He didn’t want to stop with her mouth this time either.
“Help would be great,” Becca said, her voice sounding completely unaffected by the passion from moments before. “It’s taking me longer than I thought to uncover the cement slab so I can have a flat, unwaxed floor.”
Matt advanced toward her. “Do you have gloves, Becca?”