by Zoe York
His jaw clenched and he stared at a point high above her head for a minute. “Today was a shitty day at work. The kind of day that makes me wish we had a hot tub and a beer fridge on the deck.”
And no drama from the wife. She could read between the lines and it made her sad.
“No. Liv, I can see where you’re going in your head and that’s not it, I promise. It’s just that I forgot for a minute. Even when we got divorced, you were always…”
She stepped forward. It was her turn to use a kiss to stave off a fight. She grabbed the front of his uniform and tugged him down to her level. “Shut up.”
“I thought you told me that wasn’t a nice thing to say,” he whispered.
“It’s not, but drastic times…” She licked her way inside his mouth, making him groan. Good. He needed to remember she was his, and he was hers, and drama was stupid. Maybe she needed to remember that, too. “Come on. Can I introduce you to them?” She extended her hand and wiggled her fingers.
They both gave sighs of relief when he took her hand. He tugged her close and she tipped her face up to his. “I love you, you idiot.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Liv.”
She shook her head. “If you do, it won’t be over another man, I promise. But it might be because you’re a lunkhead.”
“Got it.” He kissed her again, this time a sweet brush of his lips against hers.
“Why are you here, anyway?” she asked quietly as they walked back into the dining room.
“Your meeting. The commander wanted to send a community officer. I volunteered.”
That helped. A lot. She grinned up at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’m proud of you, Liv.”
But would he continue to be when the filming started and she was gone more than she was home, and their schedules rivalled each other for work hours each week? Could he handle that? Or did he need her to just be his Liv, waiting for him to take down her ponytail at the end of the day?
At the booth, Greg noticed them before she could start the introductions, and he slid out of the booth to stand. “This must be Rafe,” he said, extending his hand.
Rafe glanced at her as he returned the handshake and Olivia blushed. “I don’t think I talk about you all that much.”
Ashley laughed. “No, but when you do mention him, you do that—“ she gestured at Olivia’s pink cheeks. “It’s cute.”
“Rafe, this is Greg DeCecco and Ashley Patterson.”
“Nice to meet you both. Liv has done a great job of selling your movie here, we’re all excited.”
“She’s something else. It’s too bad we can’t steal her away to come work with us full-time.” Greg shrugged. “Glad we have her on our team for this project, anyway.”
Rafe didn’t say anything, but from the way his hand tightened around her waist, Olivia knew he’d heard exactly what had just been said.
Her heart pounded in her chest. “Well, we should finish up…”
Greg sat again, and Rafe tugged her hand. “Walk me out.”
On the steps outside, she propped one hand on her hip and gave him a sassy smile. “Back to the office, walk me out…you’re getting bossy.”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes full of heat and his lips curling into a smile. “Nope, you’re not going to change the subject.”
“Change it from what? We weren’t talking about anything.”
“Did they offer you a full-time job in the city?”
“No.” Not exactly. “It didn’t get that far in the conversation.”
“Good.” Her eyes flared wide at that and he grinned. “I’m a selfish man, Liv. This isn’t news. I want you, and I want to stay here.”
She wanted to ask him what he’d do if she actually did take a job in the city. Had anything changed? But she wasn’t that strong. There was only one answer she wanted to hear, and she wasn’t sure it would be what he would offer.
— SEVENTEEN —
PINE HARBOUR responded to the town meeting with the enthusiasm of school children at a birthday party. She’d even seen her in-laws in the crowd, and Rafe’s dad had given her a nice wave. Anne studiously read the flyer Ashley had handed out at the door and avoided making eye contact.
So it was a big surprise the following Tuesday when she ran into Rafe’s mother at the bank and she stopped to talk. Olivia had just run in to the use the bank machine, and Anne had been inside. For a moment, Olivia wondered if she could just crawl into a deposit envelope and hide, but then her mother-in-law said her name and all pretence of ignorance was lost.
“Anne, how are you?”
“Fine, dear. Just done work?”
No, but it didn’t matter. She nodded because that was easier than explaining she was heading out to take pictures of a parking lot off the highway halfway to Tobermory. Anne wouldn’t think that was real work, let alone better work than the diner. “Nice warm snap we’re having, eh?”
“Indeed. Gianni and Tom have gone hunting for a few days.”
“Right. Shame that Rafe couldn’t get the time off, it sounded like a good trip.” Olivia winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She’d violated the first rule of daughter-in-law conversation following: never offer extraneous information.
“You and Rafe are spending a lot of time together again.”
Well, in for a penny… “Yes.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
Olivia shrugged.
Anne pursed her lips together as if she was tossing up the merits of saying anything further. Luck was not on Olivia’s side, because her mother-in-law decided to weigh in. “You don’t want your heart broken again, dear.”
Duh. But that wasn’t a given. “None of us know how anything will go.” Parse that, witch.
“You’ve always been keen to leave our town.”
Not true. Olivia bristled. “No more than you’ve been keen to see me go.” Anne gasped and Olivia closed her eyes. Why, why, why was she such an idiot? No good would come of a public fight. “Sorry, that was…snarky.”
Anne stared at her for a minute, her face softening. “He’ll never leave, you know.”
She did, and it hurt.
“Unless you gave him children,” Anne continued, the unexpected and twisted suggestion slamming into Olivia like a silent freight train. “Then he’d follow you wherever you wanted to go.”
“God,” Olivia gasped. “I’d never do that.”
“Well, that’s foolish.”
“If Rafe wants to live in Pine Harbour forever, then this is where we’ll be. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” Olivia shook her head in amazement. “If you think that I’d try to trick him—” She cut herself when she realized her mother-in-law was quietly laughing. “What?”
“Good.” Anne lifted her silk scarf from around her neck and tucked it over her head to protect her straightened hair from the brisk November wind. “This is good. You’ll come to dinner on Sunday.”
And then she was gone before Olivia realized that the last statement had been an order, not a question.
— —
“I ran into your mom today.” Olivia had watched Rafe polishing his boots for a few minutes before finally telling him.
Rafe set down his blackened shammy rag and turned to face her. “Oh yeah?”
“We had words.”
His lips quirked. “I didn’t get a lambasting phone call, so I’m guessing they weren’t bad words.”
“First some bad words, then good ones.” She shrugged. “I’d call it a modest victory.”
“Well, that’s…good.”
“She wants us to come to dinner on Sunday.”
He winced. “I have to work this weekend.”
“You’ve worked all week!” She dialled her tone back a bit. “Army?”
“They’re short on instructors for a range. I might be back in time for dinner, though.”
“No, I’m not going without you.”
“I’d meet you there.”
>
It was an innocuous offer, probably fair—it had been a while, but Liv seemed to remember range weekends ending early enough that, yeah, he might make it back. But for her first Minelli family dinner in two years? Maybe wasn’t good enough. “Probably best to reschedule for the next weekend you have free. Can you call her and tell her it won’t work out?”
“I know I’m working nights next weekend, and the following weekend is the regimental Christmas dinner. Maybe you could just go without me and I’ll meet you there.” He was looking straight at her, how could he not see that wasn’t the answer she was looking for? “Liv, what’s the big deal?”
“Nothing. But I think I’m actually busy on Sunday too, so if you could just call your mom, that would be great.” She spun on her heel and went to the bedroom. Their bedroom. He’d practically moved back in, and a laundry basket overflowing with basketball shorts and stupid man-sized t-shirts reinforced that point. This was all too familiar and painful. She started folding shirts with harsh, jerky motions, only partially aware of him moving around the living room. The sound of running water as he washed his hands make her pulse pick up and her face flush. Great, let’s fight.
She felt him in the doorway long before he said anything. God, she was so mad at him. Still. This wasn’t about dinner, this was about all the dinners and the weekends and the late nights and early mornings. Six years of resentment burbled up inside her until hot, angry tears spilled down her face and still he stood there.
He’s not running away, the hopeful part of her heart said. He’s not magically making it better, the larger, more cynical part retorted.
“Liv, look at me.” His voice was rough, angry and insistent.
“Go away.”
“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
She shot a sharp look at him over her shoulder. “Really? I think you can and do go away all the time.”
He caught his upper lip between his teeth, like he was holding himself back from saying something nasty.
Maybe he was. Nausea pitched in her stomach.
“No,” he ground out. “We’re not doing this.”
Olivia didn’t know if she wanted to puke or cry or both. “Doing what?” she asked, the words teetering on the edge of being incomprehensible. She needed to pull herself together before she completely fell apart.
He stared at her, a hard, determined look that she couldn’t decipher. “Hurting each other.”
“That’s what we do.”
“We’re going to do things differently. I’m going to do this differently.” He flexed his jaw. “We’re just having a fight. Couples do that. We can do that, but not the way we used to.”
She laughed. “Sure, we’ll just completely change who we are.”
“We’ll go to counselling. Figure out how to talk without name-calling and blame.”
The words were right, but his tone…it was hard to believe that Rafe would sit there and listen to someone tell him how to be. And he still sounded so angry. “Just like that.” She couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. She didn’t really try. He needed to know her doubts and fears.
“No, not just like that.” His voice could have cut glass. “It took being divorced for two years, getting back together, and then almost losing you again for me to realize I might need help being a better husband.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he stepped into the room, his hand outstretched. Shaking like a leaf, she met him halfway. He laced their hands together and she felt the tremor under his skin. He was mad, but not just with her.
“Counselling doesn’t feel like something one does at the start of a relationship,” she admitted, her voice still small, but not as watery now as before.
He curved his other hand around her waist and brought her tight to his body. He lifted their connected fingers, nudging her chin with his knuckle, lifting her gaze to his. “Baby.”
“What?”
“This is hardly the start of a relationship. This is the messy middle.”
“The middle,” she breathed, relief pulsing through her veins. Meaning not the end. “Yeah, messy is the word for it.”
“I love you.” He lowered his face until their noses touched and he repeated his words until she smiled. “See? That’s all that matters. We won’t give up this time.”
Her gut spasmed with guilt. He was the only reason they weren’t throwing things right now. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Shut it. Next time it’ll be your turn to be the voice of reason.”
His lips brushed hers, lightly at first, then harder as he cupped her face in his hands. Her hands restlessly bounced up his chest and across his strong shoulders. He murmured sweet, calming sounds as he kissed that spot on her neck that drove her crazy, then found his way back to her hungry, wanting mouth.
“Rafe?” She nibbled on his lower lip. “Can we have make-up sex now?” Can I make this up to you the only way I know how?
He grinned. “Does this do it for you, rational conversation?”
“Oh, yeah.” She slid her hands under his t-shirt, over the hard planes of his abdomen to the narrow band of fur running south from the middle of his chest. She followed it to where it widened at his waistband and tucked her fingers under his belt. “Take your shirt off,” she whispered as she pulled the leather strap from the loops. She took her time with the button, knowing that just beneath her fingertips his erection was rapidly rising to attention. She gripped the zipper and painstakingly tugged his fly open halfway before pausing to admire the bulge of black cotton covered maleness in front of her.
“Stop teasing.” He groaned and jerked his hips against her hands.
She turned and yanked the laundry basket out of the way, then whipped off her clothes and crawled to the middle of the bed on all fours. “Who’s teasing?” she said, glancing over her shoulder.
With a chuckle, he shoved his pants to the ground and climbed up to join her. He smoothed one hand over her ass and she pressed into his touch. He made her feel so beautiful, the way he stared at her body. The rest of it was important too, but this elemental recognition of his mate…she loved how magical it felt. And hated it, too, because the thought of losing that connection…no. They weren’t going to lose each other again. She lowered her cheek to the bed and arched her back. He teased her with his fingers until she was rocking against him, and then he slid home, curving over her back. He whispered filthy, beautiful things in her ear until she exploded, then he flipped her over and they made it happen all over again.
They lay together spooning on the bed for quite a while before either said anything. She didn’t really want to talk. Fear was a powerful motivator. It had motivated her into using awesome sex as a distraction device.
“I’m not complaining,” Rafe said quietly, as if he could read her mind. “That was great. But we need to—“
“No, we don’t.” She closed her eyes. “Not all at once, anyway.”
“I meant it when I said that love is all that matters.” He kissed behind her ear. “That doesn’t mean we’re not going to have competing interests. But you’re always in my heart. I can’t change who I am, Liv. I’m a cop and a soldier, and my duty is going to take me away from you far too often. But while I’m gone, I never forget that you’re right here. And when I come home, I’m all the way home. I’m all the way yours.”
— EIGHTEEN —
SOMETHING wasn’t right.
Rafe stood beside the long line of cruisers, reinforced SUVs and forensic vehicles while the tactical officers ran up to the door, loudly announcing their execution of a search warrant. He turned in a circle, looking for whatever it was that pinged in the back of his brain.
Something didn’t belong here.
His eyes narrowed in on a navy blue minivan parked over by the barn. Shit. Even at a bit of a distance he recognized the yellow bumper sticker and parade of stick figure decals on the rear window. He stabbed the button on his radio at the same time as he took off at a run to intercept Dean an
d the team approaching the out buildings. His heart thudded in his chest at the unexpected complication.
“Be advised—probable civilian presence in the barn.”
Dean’s voice crackled back immediately. “We can sort that out back at the detachment.”
“I think it’s Lynn Howard.”
The other man cursed. “Well, sucks to be her, then.” That was the truth, but they didn’t need her screaming at them like a fucking banshee, either. Growers knew the drill, understood the risk they’d assumed with their illegal business.
Rafe reached them just as the door swung open with a loud bang. The four officers in front of him snapped their weapons up, training them on the couple now framed in the open doorway. A man in his thirties with long, dirty hair held the struggling woman tightly in front him.
Lynn Howard was his shield, and she knew it by the look of panic on her face.
“Back up, or I’ll put a bullet in her gut.”
She blanched at the wall of police in front of her and Rafe stepped forward to placate both his friend’s wife and the asshole holding a gun to her back. He heard a growl from one of the tactical officers, a reminder this was pretty far outside his role and they had a negotiator on scene, somewhere, but he wasn’t here, was he?
He pressed calm and reassurance into his voice. Both fucking lies. “It’s going to be okay.” He addressed the blond man with the ponytail, hoping Lynn had the good sense to keep quiet. He could feel her gaze on him.
She had three little kids and a husband who loved her. What the fuck was she doing at a grow-op? He couldn’t look at her and stay calm. So he didn’t. He looked at the grower and drew him into a conversation. A minute, maybe two, passed, and then Dean’s voice quietly alerted him to the negotiator’s arrival from the far side of the house. John Hooper. Rafe had met him once or twice at training courses. Good guy. Loads of experience. Likely super pissed at Rafe right now. A problem for another time.