Tonight, he had attempted to do the same until the electricity went out. He saw now that the digital clock on the stove blinked the wrong time. 12:02. Must’ve just clicked back on.
Swiping a hand down his face, he abandoned the recliner and went to the refrigerator. He stood in the open light, tipped an orange juice container, and drained the end of it down his throat.
Unwanted images seeped through the cracks of his mind.
He lifted the carton, blinking sleepy eyes. Tropicana. 100% pure. Focusing on the words, he read the side panel. Anything to keep from thinking about Afghanistan.
It was no use. Whenever he woke in the middle of the night, his brain kicked up his worst memories like dust and threw them in his face. They weren’t exactly nightmares; he never woke up in a sweat or a panic like some of the guys in his unit had, but when he woke in the dark, in the quiet, it was with a picture in his head.
The picture was always the same.
A mother’s face frozen in a look of terror as she clutched the toddler against her leg, one arm wrapped around his dirt-streaked face and the other over his back as she cradled him against her skirt.
He squeezed his eyes closed and in the process crushed the cardboard container in his hand.
Five, four, three…
When he got to one, he let out the rest of his breath in a long, even exhalation. Another clatter of thunder shook the windowpanes. Flashes of light bounced off the stacked cardboard boxes in the corner of his living room.
For some reason, the boxes made him think of his buddy. How Donovan had faced his fears, stopped running. He’d come back to the Cove permanently. Let a woman into his house, his life. Meanwhile, Connor was awake, facing down the skeletons of his former life, the packed boxes their bones.
He walked over to one pile—stacked three high—and rested his hand on the top. He could tear open the tape, find out what’s inside. Even as the thought occurred, a sardonic smile curved one side of his lips. He’d been telling himself he would unpack since he came home two years ago. He’d yet to listen to that internal voice.
What was inside was the life of a man who’d left the Cove angry with Maya, fed up with his father for trying to strong-arm him into the family business. What had come back was a man who had survived a spray of machine gun fire at the expense of a mother and her child. In a weird way, that moment mirrored Maya and her pregnancy. He hadn’t been able to save her and the baby from an asshole, either.
Tossing the orange juice container into the trash, he stretched his arms, pulling his palms over his chest, then opened the refrigerator again, this time pulling out a plate of leftover roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables Sofie had sent home with him. He put the plate in the microwave, hit a button, and stared blankly at the stile turning his dinner.
He’d eaten a lot of meals with Donovan and Sofie over the last year. He’d crashed at the mansion more often than not. In fact, he’d probably stayed there more than he’d stayed in his own apartment over the last six months.
Recently, even in a thirteen-thousand-square-foot house, Connor had begun feeling like he was in the way. Not that Donny or Sofie would ever make him feel unwelcome, but it was clear they had made the mansion their home and were starting their life together there. It made him take a hard look at his own life and realize he hadn’t moved on much. He cast a glance over at the shoebox full of receipts on his kitchen table. Hell, maybe he hadn’t moved on at all. He’d sort of…frozen in time.
They were moving forward—both of them. And in a weird way, Connor felt like he was hampering their progress. The last thing he wanted to do was freeze his friends in place with him.
As he ate, he wondered what the hell time it actually was, whether he should lift weights before going back to sleep. Or hell, maybe he’d try sleeping in bed. That would be one step toward making this place feel more like home. The very first step.
But as he scraped the last bite into his mouth, he knew he was lying to himself.
He wasn’t going to sleep at all.
CHAPTER 3
Well, that was embarrassing.
“Thank you, Officer.”
Incredibly attractive, blond, full-lipped Officer Brady Hutchins gave Faith a smile. “Ain’t no thang, Ms. Garrett.”
He capped his comment with a wink and turned for the door. Brady and Faith had known each other since grade school, and though they hadn’t kept in close contact, Evergreen Cove was a small enough town, and Brady a good enough looking cop, that he was hard to miss. A few years back, before Donny had come back to town, Brady had gone on a date with Sofie, but Sofie said there wasn’t a spark. Faith got that. She was beginning to wonder if she had any spark left in her. Especially since, faced with this man right now, she felt nothing.
An appreciation for long, dark blond eyelashes, gorgeous green eyes, and a nice, firm build, sure. But on a personal, oh-baby level?
Zip.
Good Lord. Maybe she was broken.
No, you’re not. Because: Connor.
True. Connor made her eyes bulge out of her head and her tongue stick to her palate like she’d glued it there. Made her voice go quiet, her skin tighten. There weren’t so much sparks between them as there was an explosion—like a rogue firework igniting a tanker truck.
She purposefully shook her head to dislodge the thought. Didn’t matter if she wasn’t feelin’ it for Brady. He hadn’t come to her house at four a.m. to flirt with her anyway. He’d come because she’d called 911. And she’d called 911 because she heard noises.
She opened the door to see him out, but he faced her in the threshold, his smile gone, concern evident. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around until sunlight?”
“That’s really sweet, but I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.” She gave him a tight smile.
He ducked his head and met her eyes with those gorgeous eyes of his. Faith was tall, but Brady was taller. Especially since she was standing here in a robe and slipper socks.
“Long as you’re sure,” he said. “I don’t want to scare you, but I feel like you should know that the window locks aren’t as solid as I’d like. And a deadbolt on a door can be busted.”
She tore her eyes away from his uniform—dark blue with a badge, insuring safety for every resident of the Cove—and studied her windows. Windows that suddenly didn’t look as safe as before. Her breath went shallow. The idea of someone busting in here was…terrifying.
“But…” he started, and she met his gaze. “If I had found evidence of anyone tampering anywhere, there’s no way I’d leave you here by yourself. Fact is, you’re on a second floor, surrounded by neighbors. A burglar probably wouldn’t bother. Unless you have enemies. Piss anyone off recently?”
Faith laughed and Brady grinned. He knew her. She was too nice to have enemies.
He palmed her shoulder in a friendly way. “Unless you have a stash of valuables in here, or a ton of cash, it’d be a lot of trouble for a random burglar. The patio doesn’t make for an easy getaway. Maybe whoever tried gave up and went on to an easier take.”
“Maybe.” Arms wrapped around her torso, she hugged herself, remembering the stone-cold fear that had radiated through each and every one of her limbs when she woke to the sound of scratching outside her balcony door. In that moment, she felt very small and fragile, her only weapons a knife from the kitchen and the cell phone in her shaking hand.
Afraid she was overreacting, she sat for a good five minutes and listened. The rain made one sound, the thunder made another, but the scratching on the balcony door? That sound could only be one thing.
An intruder.
Then Brady got here and started poking around outside. He found nothing. Now Faith was left believing it was an animal outside her window, and she had overreacted thanks to back-to-back-to-back movies she had no business watching if she was going to continue to sleep by herself.
And she was.
“Really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it wa
s a case of my overactive imagination combined with way too much red wine.”
His startlingly attractive grin returned, this time with a sexy pair of smile lines bracketing his generous mouth. His palm on her shoulder squeezed.
Nothing. Not a single tingle anywhere.
What was wrong with her?
Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be single forever.
Oh. Right.
“I’m a call away,” he said as he stepped out of her apartment. “I’ll be patrolling the area for the next hour or so. I’m sure whoever it was won’t try anything else with me nosing around.” He smiled reassuringly and she had to admit, she did feel safer knowing he wasn’t leaving right away.
“Thanks.”
She didn’t go back to sleep after Brady left, choosing to stay up, drink a cup of coffee, and watch TV…as long as what she watched had nothing to do with anything scary. She settled on an infomercial channel and watched the screen with little to no interest. The announcer was jabbering about super-absorbent towels and was not a madman bent on murdering innocent people, so the program met her requirements.
By eight a.m., she was on her way to work, her bag thrown over her shoulder, keys in hand. She had forgone the sunglasses this morning. There was no need given the fact the sky was heavy and gray, the same color it was when the sun had come up, but not out.
Inside the mansion, the front door opened to a huge foyer and a curved staircase leading to the second floor. When Donny had first inherited the mansion, he’d planned on cleaning the place out and selling it to a buyer who would turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. Then he met Sofie, and any plans he had to stay away from Evergreen Cove fell by the wayside. Sofe had changed him for the better. Faith had watched it happen. It was encouraging, hopeful. Beautiful.
Proof that true love did exist.
“Just not for me,” she grumbled to herself as she dropped her keys into her purse.
“What’s that?”
Donny strolled into the foyer dressed in worn jeans and a plaid button-down shirt cuffed at the elbows. His long, ink-black hair brushed his cheekbones on the sides, and his collar at the back of his neck. Tattoos decorated both forearms and one hand. He was attractive when they all worked together at the restaurant years ago—in a dangerous, intriguing way. Now, he was attractive in a sexy, grown-up way. A way that showed his dark edges were still there, only less ragged since he’d met Sofie.
Her eyes ran the length of the tattooed tree on his arm. “Hey, new ink.”
He twisted his forearm, examining the trail of blowing leaves. “Yeah. Evan added them.”
“Nice.” Sofie had told her the meaning behind the many tattoos decorating his arms, shoulders, and torso. The sad fact was they didn’t mean anything. Donny had endured injuries at the hands of his abusive father when he was a child. His many tattoos covered the scars. Faith wondered if the orange and red leaves were significant of anything, but didn’t want to pry.
Tipping his chin, he asked another version of his initial question. “What’d you say when you walked in?”
She threw a hand. “Pfft. Just talking to myself. I had…sort of a ridiculous night.”
“I thought we had a great night.” Sofie stepped out of the office on the right, grasped the doorway, and rested the toe of her knee-high suede boot on the floor, knee bent. Her shoe collection was enviable.
Covering, Faith exclaimed, “Are you kidding? I had an awesome night!”
Donny turned to his wife-to-be, satisfied. Sofie didn’t let her off the hook quite that easy. “What was ridiculous? Did something happen?”
At his fiancée’s urgent tone, Donny snapped his head around. Great. Faith had been hoping to keep this quiet. Brady wasn’t a gossip, and he was the only officer who showed up at her house. Then again, Donny and Sofie were her friends. People she trusted.
She pushed her hair behind her ear. “It’s really kind of embarrassing. About three o’clock in the morning, I woke up because I thought I heard something at the balcony door.”
“Something like what?” Brow furrowed, Donny took a step closer to her.
Faith may be tall, but Donovan Pate was tall. He hovered around six-four, a lean, formidable, towering man. And right now, he looked like he’d added suspicious and protective to that list of adjectives.
“Sounded like scratching.” Shrugging, she played down her fear. “Probably a raccoon. Or possum.” She chewed on her lip in thought. “Or is it opossum, with an O? I never know which one’s right.”
“That last movie we watched would give anyone nightmares,” Sofie chimed in, ignoring Faith’s vermin conundrum.
He briefly snapped his attention to Sofie. “Yeah, we talked about that. Never, ever watch a movie like that unless I’m here to come home to.”
“You were here.” Sofie smiled gently.
Faith watched as the pair exchanged looks she thought might be secret sex looks. What would she know? She had been in a sex wasteland for approximately fourteen months. The wilderness.
She hated the wilderness.
Before she could excuse herself to the office, Donovan stopped her with a request. “Describe the scratching.”
“Well…” Her eyebrows went up. “You know. Scratching. Like”—nerves jumped as she remembered—“okay, when I first woke up, I thought maybe it sounded like someone was trying to break in. But when Brady got there, he didn’t find evidence of tampering.”
“You called the cops?” Her best friend’s surprise was evident in her tone.
“Good girl.” Donny dipped his head in encouragement. He turned to Sofie. “You better do the same if you ever think you hear anything anywhere in this house. If I’m not here, and you hear tampering or what sounds like tampering or what you think might sound like tampering, you call the police.”
“Baby, I hardly think—”
“End of discussion.”
Wow. He was absolutely wonderful, gentle, and perfect with Sofie. This side of him—this protective, warrior side of him—wasn’t exactly new, but it was intense. Faith had never seen him quite this intense.
“I’ll come check out your place tonight.” He nodded as if the decision had been made. “I want to make sure you’re safe.”
Faith weaved her fingers together, clasping her hands and remembering what Brady said. Mostly remembering that he’d pointed out her windows weren’t secure and her door was completely penetrable. Still, she didn’t want to put out her friends, especially when Brady had told her he’d found nothing. He’d done a thorough search. She trusted his judgment.
“That’s really sweet,” she said, “but I’m going to have to get used to the things that go bump in the night if I hope to get used to living by myself.”
“What’s going bump in the night?” Connor came from the direction of the kitchen, a sandwich in hand. He took a bite and chewed and waited for an answer.
Great. The gang’s all here.
Donovan jerked his head in her direction. “Faith heard someone tampering with the balcony door.”
“That’s not…” She held out a hand like a stop sign as she turned to Connor. No sense in calling in the troops…literally, in his case. Everything was handled. “I thought someone was tampering with the balcony door. According to the police—”
He swallowed the bite he was chewing, his eyebrows slamming down over narrowed eyes. “Police?”
“I overreacted. That’s it.” She held up both hands in exasperation. “Ask Sofie. We watched some crazy scary movies, and then I went to bed. I haven’t slept in a house alone for a very long time. I’m sure—”
“Does she have a security system?” Connor directed this question to Donny.
Arms folded over his flannel, he shook his head and frowned. “Not unless she got one since I helped move her in.”
“I’m standing right here,” Faith said.
Connor turned his attention to her. “Do you?”
Her turn to frown. “No.”
“Let Do
nny take a look,” Sofie encouraged from the other side of the room. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a second set of eyes on your place.”
“I’ll do it.” Every head in the room swiveled to Connor. He polished off his sandwich in one big bite, chewed, swallowed, and said, “I have tools to reinforce your locks. I also know how to break a lock.”
“You do?” Faith and Sofie said in tandem.
Connor didn’t answer.
“That’s a good idea,” Donny encouraged.
Faith looked from one man to the other. “No, it’s not a good idea. You are both overreacting as much as I did last night. Brady said…”
“Who the hell is Brady?” Connor’s brow furrowed.
“The police officer,” Faith answered.
“I would rather overreact than under-react,” he said. “No matter what Brady said. I may see something he missed.”
Faith gestured to the big-shouldered landscaper, who had clearly gone insane, but Sofie didn’t back her up. Not even a little. She stepped closer to Donny in a show of unity, her brow wrinkled with concern. “I think he’s right. What if it’s the old owner who knows the quirks of the place? He or she would know how to get in if they had to.”
“The old owner is dead,” she blurted, then paled as a dart of fear shot down her sternum. That did not make her feel better. A haunting was scarier than a corporeal body trying to get in.
“It’s settled, then.” Donny dipped his chin to Connor.
“Hello?” Faith waved both hands in front of her, feeling invisible. “I said I don’t—”
But the topic was already dead. Donovan leaned down to kiss Sofie good-bye. “I’ll be at the Braxtons’ place until dinner. Love you.”
Faith was aware of the “third wheel” tension stretching across the room as Sofie tipped her chin, said, “Love you, too,” and then kissed Donovan for a long, long, long time.
When the kiss went on longer, Connor cleared his throat.
Correction: fourth wheel…
Donovan raised his head inches from Sofie’s mouth. Then a completely wicked smile overtook his face, and he grasped her butt with both hands and stuck his tongue down her throat.
A Bad Boy for Christmas Page 3