by Jeannie Watt
“I know.” Jolie smiled at him then when he turned to leave, she patted his ass.
* * *
MIKE CAME TO the store every day, drank coffee and watched his news, gossiped with his buddies, Karl and Cal, when they came by, which they did with increasing frequency—especially after he moved the desk against the office wall and brought in three comfortable chairs in which he and friends could watch the news.
Jolie wondered how Finn was going to take the new office arrangement. Personally she liked the warm, social feeling the store now had. Coming to work felt better than it had right after Dylan had left. Having Mike there all the time was in no way the same as having Dylan, but she loved having him around. She’d barely known her own grandfathers and her relationship with Mike was as close as she’d ever come to feeling like a granddaughter. And she loved how he’d cleverly drop hints about what a good guy Dylan was, and how, even though he’d chosen poorly the first time, that didn’t mean he wasn’t good partnership material.
Partnership. That was the word Mike always used, as if by avoiding the word husband he could prevent Jolie from seeing that he was indulging in a bit of matchmaking. She played along—although actually it wasn’t playing because she agreed with him. Dylan would make a great partner.
The fear wasn’t gone, but it was easing—to the point that when she found Dylan waiting for her as she walked out of the bar late Saturday night, fear was pretty much the last thing on her mind.
“You’re back.”
Indeed he was, leaning against her old GMC, all long legs and lean muscle, arms crossed over his chest, an I-want-you look in his eye. It was a wonder she didn’t melt into a hot puddle right there in the parking lot. One corner of his mouth lifted as she moved closer and he reached out for her, drawing her to him, kissing her long and hard. She pushed her hands up into his hair, holding him as she answered his kiss.
“I kind of like the effect these trainings have on you,” she murmured against his lips.
His hands slid down to her ass, pulling her against him. “I think it’s you having the effect.”
She laughed lowly. “No horse trailer here, buddy.”
He pulled back a little, his hands moving to her waist as he made a show of looking around the almost empty parking lot. “Damn,” he murmured softly.
“Follow me home?” Jolie suggested. “I have a horse trailer there.”
A smile that bordered on wicked creased his cheeks. “Lead the way.”
It wasn’t until Jolie was driving home with Dylan’s headlights in her rearview mirror that the concerns started edging in. It was so much easier when her hormones were more involved than her head, but that no longer defined her relationship with Dylan. Quickies in the horse trailer were all fine and good, but they weren’t enough.
It shook her a little.
They parked side by side and made their way to the dark house where Gus greeted them effusively before dropping to his dog bed, exhausted from joy.
And then it was the two of them. Not in a horse trailer.
Dylan regarded her silently and Jolie knew she probably looked as uneasy as she felt. She was about to ask him if he wanted a drink when he gave his head a small shake, took her by the wrist and led her to the sofa.
Okay. This she could handle.
But he didn’t try to kiss her. Instead he pulled her onto his lap, pressed her head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Stop thinking so much,” he said gruffly, his breath feathering her hair.
Easier said than done.
But as his hands moved soothingly over her back and his heart beat beneath her cheek, Jolie felt her tense muscles begin to give. She exhaled softly and Dylan tipped her chin up.
“Better,” he murmured. “Now maybe we should get some sleep.”
She brought her head up. “Really?” she asked, making no effort to hide her disappointment.
“Unless you have a better idea.”
She leaned in to kiss his gorgeous mouth. “Yeah... I do.”
The next morning she woke to find herself spooned against him, his arm draped over her, as if protecting her. From what? The unknown future? Herself? She rolled in his arms so that her face was close to his, loving the feel of his breath on her skin.
He made noise low in his throat as his hand skimmed over the curve of her hip. “I like waking up with you.”
The sun just coming up and she needed to get moving. Instead she slipped an arm over him. “I have a rodeo this afternoon.”
“Where?”
“Twin Bridges. A couple hours drive.”
“Any chance you can play hooky?”
“I was just asking myself that same thing.”
“One time deal,” he said, his voice still husky from sleep. “We’ll turn off our phones, practice hanging out for the rest of the day.”
“Practice?”
“Well, actually, I’m already pretty good at it.”
“Wait a minute—I’m the one whose forte is looseness. I recall you being rather stiff.”
He laughed low in his throat and then rolled, trapping her beneath him. She gave a choking laugh as his erection nudged against her.
“So are you in?” he murmured as he eased her thighs apart and slowly began to sink himself inside of her. “Hooky-playing, no-phones weekend?”
Her eyes drifted shut. Dylan nipped her lower lip, then softly kissed it as Jolie slowly exhaled and arched against him, even though it was impossible for him to go any deeper. “I’m in,” she whispered.
* * *
THEY PARTED COMPANY on Monday morning, both feeling positive about their take-it-slow strategy. The less he talked about relationships, the more Jolie relaxed, and by the end of the week, it seemed almost normal for Dylan to show up at her place after having dinner with Mike. Jolie would fill him in on Marcel, who was fully recovered and even ate his medicine, which she hid in his food, and Mike and the not-so-exciting events at the store.
In turn he would tell her about his day and even though Jolie suspected that he was editing, she got a sense of just how mundane his daily shifts could be and came to the conclusion that she’d been overthinking. Focusing on worst-case scenarios instead of seeing the reality of the job. Yes, Kyle had had some close calls, but he was also supremely macho and had brought some of them on himself according to Allie.
And so the days went. The only hard part was dealing with the news that now played constantly at the store. The television was in the office, but Mike’s buddies were hard of hearing so the volume was louder than normal, which meant that every time there was an incident anywhere in the nation involving a police officer, Jolie heard about it. And her stomach knotted.
She’d talk herself down; tell herself that if Mike could handle this, so could she. Pretend that it wasn’t scaring her. Bad things happened. But they lived in a quiet rural community. They’d be okay. Every now and again the unwelcome feeling that she was living in denial slipped through her defenses, but she squashed it instantly. She was refraining from thinking too much. That was different than being in denial.
Besides, things were so damned good between her and Dylan that she had to be doing something right, and that something was not jumping at every shadow. Granted, they skirted the serious issues of relationships and permanence and did exactly what he’d promised her they’d do...they focused on simply being. She loved it even though she knew that the situation couldn’t go on indefinitely. At some point they were going to have to stop being and make some decisions.
That time came more quickly than she’d anticipated.
* * *
JOLIE STOPPED FOR doughnuts on the way to the store on a damp Tuesday morning, figuring that Mike would appreciate having some pastries for his friends, who had a tendency to show up on rainy days. She jumped a
few puddles on her way across the graveled yard and pushed the door open. The bell jangled and she called hello to Mike who was standing in the office doorway, watching his television. He turned toward her and she could instantly see that something was very, very wrong.
Setting the doughnut box on the counter, she went to where he stood.
“There’s been a shooting on the highway north of here.”
Instantly the cold hit her; the same coldness she’d felt when her mother had told her she’d lost her father, weakening muscles as it spread through her body. “Is Dylan involved?”
“I don’t know.” He spoke grimly. “There are injuries. Maybe a death. The report was preliminary. I don’t know.”
Jolie blinked at him then turned blindly away. The next thing she knew, Mike was guiding her to a chair, sitting her down. She immediately stood up, but he pushed her down. “Sit.”
“Then you sit, too,” she snapped.
Obediently he sat as Jolie pulled out her cell phone, scrolling as fast as she could through various news sources.
“If it was Dylan, they would have contacted us.”
Or they will. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely operate the phone.
“I’ll call Dispatch,” Mike said, getting up and crossing the room to flip through the phone book. A moment later he was on the phone, identifying himself. “Yes. Give me Deputy Moody if he’s there.” The phone dropped into Jolie’s lap as she sat staring at Mike’s back, praying as hard as she could.
“Yeah. Jess. Mike—” He stopped abruptly and Jolie’s heart almost stopped. For one long moment she was ten years old, not fully understanding that her father was dead. And once she’d understood what they were saying, she’d known they were wrong. Because that was impossible. Her father couldn’t be dead. She needed him.
“I see.” Mike’s gravelly voice snapped her back to the present. “Right...no...no.” The old man let out a breath that shook his entire body. “Thank you, Jess. Appreciate it. Yeah...anytime.”
When Mike turned back, the rims of his eyes were red. “No deaths. The shooter was critically injured.”
“Were any deputies involved?”
“A deputy made the initial stop. But it wasn’t Dylan. He’s on the other side of the county.”
But he could have been there.
Jolie let her head fall back against the chair, fighting tears because she didn’t want to upset Mike. Tears for the officers involved in the incident...tears for the ten-year-old girl who still lived inside her and was scared to death of losing someone else that she loved.
* * *
DYLAN WAS LATE getting home. He hadn’t been involved in the shooting, but that hadn’t lessened the impact. Life was short. He’d tried to call Jolie, but she’d only spoken to him for a few minutes, telling him that she was grateful he was all right and that she couldn’t talk. So, instead of calling again, he waited until his shift was over then drove straight to the ranch.
It was nearly dark when he parked. The porch light came on as he came up the walk and he realized that his pulse was pounding in his temples. He was nervous, damned nervous, because he had a feeling about what was coming after talking to Jolie for just those few minutes.
Sure enough, when she answered the door she looked distant, pale and not exactly welcoming. But after looking him up and down, she held the door open and allowed him to come in. Once the door was closed, they stood awkwardly and he fought to keep from stepping forward and pulling her into his arms, assuring her that everything was all right now and would continue to be all right in the future. It was pretty obvious from her closed-off expression and stance that Jolie would be having none of that. So he stood there, waiting, allowing her the first volley, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“I know now why I can’t do this,” she finally said.
“Jolie—”
“Your job. I can’t be with you while you work in this job.”
“Mike said you had a hard time.”
She let out a choking sound. “Yeah. I had a hard time.” She rubbed her forehead in a nervous movement. “Because I’ve been hiding from the truth, which is that I’m worried sick about your job. And I have these dreams where you die.”
“I’m not going to die.”
“You can’t promise that. So don’t. Because if people could promise that, I’m pretty sure my dad would have promised it.”
“Jolie, I know it’s rough.”
“I won’t go through that again. Okay? I won’t sit in a hospital room and have some...nurse...tell me things I’m not ready to hear. Will. Not. Do. It.”
“You’re kind of going worst-case scenario here.”
“And?”
“What happened today could have happened anywhere to anyone. A mall. A hospital. On the street.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I worked for ten years as a cop—”
“And only got shot at once, right? And lost control of the car and hit a pole. And, sure, that could have happened anywhere to anyone. But it happened to you.”
“I’m still here.”
She blinked at him, as if holding back tears. He reached for her but she stepped back. “If you touch me,” she said, “it’ll only make this harder.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“I think...” She swallowed hard and looked at the opposite wall while she composed herself. “You need to leave. Give me time to figure a few things out.”
“Will you figure them out?”
“I don’t know.” Her chin dipped down.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
She looked up at him. “Yes. You are.”
“Jolie...this is killing me.”
“It’s not doing me any good, either, but I know what I can and cannot handle. So...maybe we can talk. Later.”
“How much later?”
“A lot later.”
“Jolie, there aren’t any guarantees in life. You could marry a guy who worked in a shoe store—”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Her lips curled slightly. “Have known it all along?” She touched her head. “Even though I may not have understood it. That’s why I don’t do relationships. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.”
* * *
THE DAYS DID not pass quickly. Instead they crept along as Jolie worked her way through the truth that she could no longer bury. She couldn’t handle losing another person in her life the way she’d lost her father, and she wasn’t going to increase the odds by tying herself to someone with an inherently dangerous job.
Pretending she could handle it had been nice for a few weeks, but her reaction to the highway incident, the crushing fear it reawakened, told her that she had to be realistic about her limitations. Maybe she was damaged, but if so she was damaged by circumstances beyond her control. Now all she could do was to mitigate damage by managing the circumstances she could control.
The shooting had opened up feelings and truths that she’d buried for so long, it was going to take her some time to get over them—but being impatient by nature, Jolie wanted the feelings dealt with now. It wasn’t happening, so she did her best to fill her time and not think. Dylan helped by honoring her request and keeping his distance. She didn’t hear from him. Didn’t see him.
But she saw Mike every day at the store and that wasn’t helping matters. She didn’t want to be harsh with the old man, especially when she cared about him, but she also didn’t want anyone interfering with her very sound decision to back off and live life the way she had before Dylan had come into the picture.
When she was at home, she spent her time running Jenabelle in the new arena, since the frequent rains had turned her outdoor practice area into a mini lake. The plank fences were all fixed and she’d managed to paint them during a we
ek-long daytime dry spell, so now they shone white in the sun, or they did when it wasn’t raining, making the ranch look more like its old self.
She’d hoped to mow the hay herself, but had hired a neighbor to do the job for her during the dry spell, because it was unrealistic to come home late from the bar then get up early to mow. A body could only do so much. This body was trying to do too much because she was trying so hard not to think. She just wanted to do. Do. Do. Do. Keep the second-guessing at a minimum. Having finally confronted the truth, she knew her emotional capabilities...knew her lack of tolerance for deep emotional pain.
Even though she missed Dylan, she told herself it was getting better. Or maybe she was just getting numb, because she didn’t seem to feel much of anything anymore. Exactly as she’d felt after losing her dad. As if she was wrapped in cotton, insulated from the world, except when the grief broke forth and she felt unbelievably raw and retreated once more into her insulated world.
She was becoming a nutcase.
Mike left her alone at work, other than a pleasant good morning or the offer of coffee, therefore she was surprised when he showed up out of the blue one Sunday afternoon to visit Maisy, Daisy and Karen. He fed his goats, stroked and patted them, slipping them small treats from his pockets, and then they went to lean on the plank fence to watch Karen graze with her herd.
“We’ll find out if she’s pregnant in a month,” she said.
“If it’s a boy, name it after me.”
Jolie laughed and it felt kind of good. “Will do.”
“Have you heard from Dylan?” he asked casually. Too casually.
“No.” She did not expand on her answer, hoping Mike would take the hint.
He did not. Shades of Finn and Dylan and all of her sisters. She really needed to work on her conversation-stopping voice.
“He’s doing well. He asked about you.”
Jolie smiled without looking at him. “Well, tell him hi from me next time you talk to him.”
“Why?”
The bald question startled her and when she met Mike’s gaze, she could see that he knew exactly what was going on. Well, maybe not the nuts and bolts of the situation, but he knew there was unfinished and uncomfortable business there.