In the Line of Duty

by Ami Weaver

  Maureen smiled and turned to her husband. “Isn’t it wonderful, Joe, that Matt lives here? Right across from Callie and the boys! I have to say, I think Jason would be so pleased.” She reached out to Callie and squeezed her arm. “Don’t you think so, Callie?”

  “Ah.” Callie averted her gaze, shame filling her. Would he? After that kiss? She forced herself to meet Maureen’s sparkling eyes and say what would clearly make her mother-in-law feel better. “I’m sure he would.”

  * * *

  Matt watched Callie send the kids off with her in-laws. The lost look on her face when they drove away made him realize she likely felt abandoned and overwhelmed. Their kiss last night probably hadn’t helped, either. He’d make it up to her.

  “Stay with me,” he said, and she spun around to look at him, clearly incredulous. “I’m serious. There’s plenty of room, and you’ll be right across the street from your house, so you can keep an eye on it.” He wanted to add he wouldn’t touch her, but he wasn’t so sure about that. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t trust him. Hell, he didn’t trust himself anymore.

  She chewed on her lip for a minute, clearly torn, which was a small blow to his ego. “I—all right. I will. But just until I can find somewhere else.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, and moved around her to grab his water bottle. His arm brushed hers—barely—and he felt her tense. It would definitely be best to have her find somewhere else to stay as soon as possible. Otherwise they’d both be on pins and needles around each other.

  “What do you want to do with all this wood?” he asked. “You’ve got enough for your fireplace, plus plenty more.”

  She looked at the tree and shook her head. “I have no use for it.”

  “Your fireplace is gas?”

  “No. It’s wood. But I don’t light fires,” she answered, not looking at him. “Not anymore.”

  Matt cursed himself for being so dense. Jason had died in a blaze, trying to save a fellow firefighter. Stood to reason Callie would steer clear of fire of any sort. “All right. I can arrange for this to be taken away, if you want.”

  She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

  Callie didn’t have to be at the salon until nine-thirty, so she insisted on helping with the tree. She’d found gloves in the garage and wouldn’t let him talk her out of it. She hauled what she could out of the way as he cut it. The process was tedious and loud, so they didn’t talk much over the whine of the chain saw, but that was okay, too. They fell into a kind of comfortable rhythm. When they stopped to take a water break, he looked at her. Really looked at her. She was flushed, disheveled, and a few strands of hair had escaped her ponytail. He thought he’d never seen anything sexier than Callie standing there, her shirt damp with sweat and streaked with grime, her hair a little messy and her total focus on the job they were doing.

  While he would never wish this kind of thing on anyone, he wasn’t sorry he was able to go through it with her. But he needed to keep his focus on the chain saw, so he kept his gaze off her as much as possible. Plus he didn’t want to spook her, since she’d be staying at his place for a couple days.

  With no kids.

  He was a gentleman. Or rather, he would be, even if it killed him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TWO DAYS OF staying at Matt’s, and Callie was pretty sure she was going to lose her mind.

  Not just from the stress of the situation at her house, but from being away from her kids and being in such close contact with Matt.

  She welcomed the hours at her job so she could breathe. Bill had gotten right to work on her place, so the repairs were going quickly. Roof and window were the priorities, and the water damage inside had been minimal, but there was stuff that had to be replaced in the attic. She was looking at a week or so out of her home, if all went according to plan.

  She lay on her air mattress now, in the bedroom where the boys had slept. It was better than the couch, far better than Matt’s way-too-comfy bed, which smelled yummy like him. This room had a door, and if she wanted it, a lock. Not that Matt had given her any reason to think she’d need it.

  No, it was her she didn’t trust.

  Since he’d kissed her, everything had changed. They’d managed to avoid talking about it, and Callie tried very hard to pretend it hadn’t happened, but utterly failed.

  So she kind of tiptoed around him and he gave her the space she needed.

  It was both kind and infuriating.

  Aldo padded into her room and looked at her. He liked her air mattress for his own personal use and seemed a bit nonplussed to find her on it.

  She chuckled as she held out a hand, which he sniffed carefully. “Sorry, boy. It’s mine for now.” She rolled to a seated position and then stood up to lead him out of the room, closing the door behind her and earning a really? look from the dog.

  Matt would be home in half an hour. This seemed like a good time to go to the store for something. Anything. But when she went outside, he was just pulling into the driveway.

  Oh, no.

  The nerves kicked up, her belly a crazy riot of them as she watched him unfold himself from the truck. She realized she was clutching her purse in front of her like a safety device, and made herself relax her grip.

  “Hi,” he said, and she realized she’d been staring at him. She swallowed and managed a smile.

  “Hi. I was just, um...” She waved vaguely at her van and Matt raised a brow.

  “Running away?”

  She took a step back, let out what even to her ears sounded like a nervous laugh. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. “I—of course not. From what?”

  He looked right at her. Through her. “Me.”

  Her heart fluttered. Well, she’d asked, hadn’t she? “It’s been a little awkward,” she admitted, since avoiding the subject when he was being straightforward seemed silly.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, turning toward the house, then back to her. “Callie. I’m sorry I kissed you. I get that you aren’t ready. It won’t happen again.”

  While she knew she should be relieved, a low swell of disappointment ran through her. Of course he was right. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—happen again. She didn’t want it to any more than he did. And it was just as awkward for him to be here with her as vice versa. So really, she needed to chalk up her mixed feelings to all the stress she was under right now and leave it at that.

  “It’s okay,” she said to his retreating back. Then she looked at the car keys in her hand, sighed and got into her van. The least she could do was grab some actual groceries, since takeout was wearing thin—and getting expensive.

  After she pulled into a parking space at the grocery store she called her mother-in-law and waited for her to pick up.

  “Hi,” said Eli, and Callie smiled, even as her heart squeezed. She missed her little guys so much.

  “Hi, honey! How are you?”

  There was a pause. Breathing. Prompting by Maureen in the background. “Um. Fine.” Callie couldn’t help but grin. They could talk a mile a minute, but on the phone—unless it was about Lego sets or dogs—nada.

  “That’s good, honey.”

  “Is Aldo there?”

  Ah. Kid priorities. “No. He’s back home.” She winced. “I mean, back at Matt’s house. I’m in the van right now.”

  “’Kay.” Scrambling noises, then Maureen’s laughing voice. “He went to tell Liam the dog wasn’t there. Just like their daddy, always wanting a dog.” There was both sorrow and humor in her tone.

  “I know,” Callie said with a sigh. Between the dog, her kids and the man, she was being hit from all sides by things she wasn’t ready for.

  “So how is it? Bill said it’ll be another week or so, right? How are you holding up?”

  Callie d
idn’t think it was acceptable to tell her mother-in-law she was a nervous wreck thanks to her sexy neighbor and the tense undercurrents between them. “Oh, fine.”

  Something in her voice must have given her away, because Maureen made a little noise. “Matt not being a good host?”

  Her eyes widened, even though Maureen couldn’t see her. “Oh, no, he’s just fine. It was very nice of him to let me stay. I don’t see him much. We’re both pretty busy.” Then she wondered what had made her add that last part. Had it sounded as if she was trying to assure Maureen there was nothing going on?

  “Matt’s a wonderful man. We haven’t seen him much, but he was all over the world for so many years. So very glad he’s home now, and close to you. I have to say, it makes me feel better to know that.”

  Callie stared at the dashboard. That comment seemed like a minefield. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe it meant too much. Maybe she was overthinking it due to a guilty conscience. Most likely the latter. “Ah. Well, that’s good.”

  The rest of the conversation was less awkward, much to her relief. Before hanging up, Callie talked to both boys one more time and promised to call again at bedtime.

  She tucked the phone back into her purse and sat for a minute, frowning at the steering wheel. Maureen had almost sounded as if she’d encourage her to start a relationship with Matt. That couldn’t be right. Deciding she’d misunderstood, and was affected by the kiss they’d shared, Callie got out of her van. Matt wasn’t her type. Another risk-taking man wasn’t a possibility. She’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

  Still. A part of her knew she was being a little bit hypocritical. She’d been pretty adventurous once upon a time herself. But after Jason’s death, she’d lost that part of her. Well, no, to be more accurate, she’d given it up. It was no way to live when she had children relying on her—and she couldn’t risk her boys losing her, too.

  * * *

  Matt watched Callie leave, then went into the house. She was right not to trust him, but it still sucked to have her run away like that. Was it better that she admitted it? He wasn’t sure.

  He went for a run with Aldo, and when he came back, her van was in his driveway. In the house, he smelled beef cooking and heard the TV going in the kitchen. His stomach growled. Aldo plodded down the hall and dropped in front of her closed door. Matt toed off his running shoes and laughed at the dog.

  “She foil you, big boy?”

  Aldo turned big eyes to him, then to the door, obviously expecting Matt to open it so he could have access to the blow-up mattress. Matt shook his head and Aldo shut his eyes, clearly disappointed with his human.

  Still chuckling, Matt went into his kitchen. It struck him this was the first time the house had smelled like real food since he’d moved in. That was pathetic. He really needed to learn to cook. Something that smelled this good.

  “Smells great in here,” he said, and Callie spun around, eyes wide. She slapped a hand over her heart.

  “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.” She scrambled for the TV remote, but he grabbed her hand. She went perfectly still at the contact.

  “It’s fine,” he said, and let her go. She snatched her hand back as if she’d burned it on her pan, and he tried not to take it personally. “What are you making?”

  Clearly on safer ground, she went back to the stove. “Just a stir-fry. Beef and broccoli. Easy but really good. My kids love it.” She sent him a glance that was almost playful. A nice change from the wary look from earlier. “So will you.”

  “Okay.” He sat at the counter and let himself enjoy the view of her in his kitchen, the smells and sounds that made a home a home. Things he’d been missing for twenty years. That he remembered from growing up.

  He’d loved being in the army, loved the unpredictability, but yet the strict routine of it all. Until those last two tours in Afghanistan. He’d seen too much, done too much, to go back. It’d finally worn him down.

  She moved to the broccoli and pulled out a cutting board. He stared at it for a minute, frowning. “I have one of those?”

  She laughed. A real laugh, full and bawdy and rolling. If he’d been standing, the sound would have sent him to his knees. God, if she’d laugh like that more often, he’d say asinine things every damn day.

  Still chuckling, and apparently not noticing what she’d done to him, she plopped the head of broccoli on the cutting board, little droplets of water flying around her. “No, you do not. It’s mine. As are the knives, the spices and the pans.” She turned and cocked a brow at him. “Since your selection of cooking stuff is a little, shall we say, sparse.”

  “Guilty,” he agreed. “Kitchen implements weren’t something I carried around with me.” What would he have done with a frying pan in the army?

  She began chopping broccoli, her movements neat and efficient. “No, I’m sure they weren’t,” she agreed. “But maybe you want to invest in a couple now just in case you get sick of takeout.”

  She had him there. He watched as she scooped up the sliced florets and dumped them in the pan, her back again to him as she stirred it together. Her apron tails draped over her ass in a way that made his mouth water.

  Whoa. He quickly jerked his eyes back up to the middle of her back. Time to refocus.

  “What’s in the other pan?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

  “Noodles,” she answered. “My kids prefer them to rice. Made them out of habit, I guess.” She clapped the lid on the stir-fry. “This’ll be about five minutes.”

  So he’d eat, then shower. By then he’d need a cold one.

  She bustled around, draining noodles, getting plates. The plates weren’t paper, so she’d obviously brought them with her, as well. She dished the food up and they ate at the counter. Wow, had he ever missed real cooking. He got home-cooked meals so rarely, they were a real treat. And this woman had given him two in less than a week.

  Best not to get used to it, because, like her, they weren’t for him. Casting for a safe topic, he said, “Aldo bugging you?”

  She looked up, confusion in her caramel eyes. “Now?”

  “Anytime. He’s camped in front of your door.” Matt inclined his head, and she got up with a frown and walked over so she could see the dog. She was chuckling when she came back.

  “No, he’s not a bother. He just thinks my bed is his. And he seems sort of confused as to why I don’t share.”

  “Sorry about that,” Matt said. They were making headway on training, but sometimes Aldo knew what he wanted and was pretty stubborn. Especially, apparently, when it came to Callie and her kids. Though frankly, Matt didn’t blame Aldo for wanting to share her bed—so did he, for entirely different reasons. He’d be happy if she opted to leave the mattress for the dog, and share his room. Focus. “He’s got manners, but they seem to be a little sporadic.”

  “It’s fine.” Callie took a bite and he watched her chew, then swallow. The actions weren’t in and of themselves sexy, but somehow she made them seem that way.

  He was in a boatload of trouble, if he didn’t get this under control, and quick.

  “Leave the dishes, please,” he said, because he knew she’d clean up if he didn’t expressly ask her not to. “You cooked, I’ll clean. It’s only fair.”

  She stared at him, then shook her head. “I’m imposing on you. This is the least I can do. And I don’t mind the cleaning.”

  He rubbed a hand over his head. Frustrating woman. “Then at least wait for me. I’m going to shower first, and I’ll help. The water heater can’t do both.” It was a low blow, insinuating there wasn’t enough water—it was probably true, though—but he wanted to be around her more.

  She relented, but likely because she recognized the rudeness of taking hot water from his shower. “Okay.”

  He bathed quickly, trying to keep his thoughts off her an
d not using nearly as much hot water as normal, since his thoughts were still running pretty hot from his unintended houseguest and her fantastic laugh.

  Among other things.

  * * *

  Callie waited for Matt to finish, scraping the plates and pans, decanting leftovers into containers she’d brought over for the fridge and trying to determine if the dishwasher worked. Even if it did, there appeared to be no dishwasher soap. Really, if he ate takeout on paper plates—and how sad was that?—a couple forks and a glass each day weren’t enough to run the dishwasher, unless he wanted to wait a whole week or two to run it.

  Plus, being busy took her mind off him in the shower. All those muscles, under the hot water.

  Oh, my.

  Callie tried to bring her thoughts back around to mundane matters, but it wasn’t easy. This was a terrible time for her hormones to have made a reappearance. They’d been shut down, as they should be, after her husband’s death.

  She touched her rings. When would it be time to take them off? How would she know? Was the fact she had these feelings for Matt enough? The problem was, she wasn’t certain they were real and here to stay. How would she know for sure?

  The bathroom door opened and Callie trained her attention on the entertainment program on the TV. She heard him, then caught a whiff of his soap and shampoo, a yummy combo that was spicy and fresh. That low tug was back, that wanting what she couldn’t have.

  She was glad she had her back to him so he couldn’t see her shut her eyes for a moment. When she turned around, she hoped he couldn’t read her expression very well.

  “How was your shower?”

  He came closer and her mouth watered—actually watered. “Fine. Ready?”

  “I, um, wasn’t sure if the dishwasher works,” she said, trying to hold on to her sanity a little longer.

  “I’m told it does,” he said. “But I’ve never needed it.”

  “I can tell,” she muttered, then blushed when he laughed. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  “Not at all.” He turned the water on and gave a squirt of soap. “You want to dry?”