by Mary Stone
To her immense relief, he laughed. “No sense worrying about it. Just do the rest like that. It’s just reminding me of when I went to bootcamp.”
She worried her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about the guard until it was too late.”
He smiled at her in the mirror. “It’s fine. I’ll just need to remember to wear a cap or sunscreen if I go outside. Otherwise, I’m gonna get burned.”
She was practically in tears by the time she finished up the job. She actually liked his hair longer. He looked better that way, though he was handsome all the time. But her tears had nothing to do with the length of his hair. He was so good to her, not complaining. Most men probably wouldn’t be so nice about it. All the more reason she shouldn’t be afraid…
But no matter how much she told herself she shouldn’t be scared of a lifetime with Linc, it didn’t stop the roiling in her stomach.
She wiped the hair from his shoulders when she finished. “Looks good. Sort of.”
He ran his hand through the remaining scruff, which was now no longer than the scruff on his jaw. “I wonder why, with all your career choices, you never decided to test out becoming a hair stylist? You clearly have the gift.”
She winced as she looked at him. He did look a little bit awkward, like a shorn lamb. “I’m sorry.”
“Relax. You didn’t clip off an ear. I’m good,” he said, standing up and lifting the chair out of the way. He folded up the newspapers where the rest of his hair had gone as Kylie watched him.
Her mother was right. He was the perfect man.
Of course, her mother had made a mistake with that kind of thinking once before. As did the approximate fifty percent of couples who walk down the aisle a few years before duking it out in divorce court.
She shook her head, trying to force the doubts away, just as Linc looked up. She mentally told those worry creases she could feel wrinkling her forehead to get lost, but not before Linc caught sight of them. “You okay?” he asked, for about the twelfth time that night.
She brushed some stray hairs from his shirt. “I’m fine, just tired.” Which was true. Ever since her concussion, she seemed to lose steam faster than usual. “Hungry? Want me to heat up the lasagna for you?”
“Already ate,” he said and followed her to the kitchen. “But I’ll take some of that pie.”
She hurried to dish him out a big slice, glad to have something to do.
For the rest of the night, her philosophy was this: It was impossible to pin down a moving target. Actually, she’d have been happy if all he wanted to do was pin her down. But every time her eyes drifted to that bulge in the pocket of his cargo pants, she had a feeling that his mind was on something much more serious. So she kept running around, first getting him the pie, then going out to make sure the dogs were okay, then doing dishes and tidying up the things she’d neglected while she recovered from the car accident.
By eleven, all she wanted to do was sit down and rest, but she was still worried that he’d corner her and drop to one knee.
“You should take a break,” he said to her from the couch, where he was paging through his phone.
From the kitchen, she could see him silhouetted in the light of the fire, patting the spot next to him. She’d always thought that spot of the house, with that glowing orange fire, was so romantic. A perfect place for cuddling, kissing, and…
She definitely didn’t want to go there.
“I’m good!” she called back.
When she finished the last of her self-imposed tasks, she saw him looking at her from the couch, and her heart rate sped up. She was getting physically tired, and walking this mental minefield was proving harder than she’d expected.
She needed to be alone. She needed to think. She needed to figure out why she was so innately terrified of having a close relationship with this man. And she couldn’t do it with him staring at her like she was some complex mathematical problem he needed to figure out.
Maybe she could just be alone in the bedroom. Ever since she’d met with her mother, she’d made up her mind to go online and put Adam Hatfield’s name into Google. Upstairs, alone, she could finally do it.
She started to fake a yawn, but the moment she opened her mouth, a real one took over. She really was bone-achingly tired. “I think I’ll take your advice and turn in for the night.” She was so tempted to go over and give him a kiss, but she knew he’d draw her onto his lap…kiss her more deeply…take off all her clothes…make passionate love to her…then…
Pull the box out of his pocket?
She simply couldn’t risk it.
Blowing him a kiss from the bottom of the staircase, she shot up them two at a time, hating herself all the way.
In his room, she sank onto the bed.
She didn’t deserve him, she knew. She really didn’t.
Kylie practically jumped out of her skin when Linc appeared in the doorway. He gave her another worried slash curious look as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Thought I’d turn in too. After a shower to get this hair off me. It’s kind of itchy.”
She eyed his head again. It actually wasn’t all that bad since it gave him a kind of dangerous, Jason Statham vibe. “I’m sure it is.” Beating him to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and washed her face as he turned the water on and began to strip.
As each inch of his flesh was revealed, she grew more tempted to join him. When his jeans hit the floor with a slap, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the lump in the pocket. It was definitely a box.
Don’t think about it now.
She needed to think less of the box and more about why it terrified her so much. Maybe she needed to make an appointment with the therapist Linc was seeing. She clearly had some unresolved abandonment issues that were seriously messing with her head.
Slipping from the bathroom, she climbed into her pajamas, and got under the covers before pulling her laptop onto her lap. Taking a deep breath, she typed Adam Hatfield into the search bar.
Half a million results poured in, including image results of men old and young.
She scrolled up to the bar and added New York to her father’s name.
The results were about half that.
Thinking, she added Construction.
Better…only ten-thousand results. Kylie sighed and began scrolling through them, spotting plenty of older men who could’ve been the man in her little family photograph, but she wasn’t sure.
Kylie also wasn’t sure her mother had mentioned the name of the new company that her father had begun working for, but Cityside Garbage Services, the company he’d driven a truck for, had stuck in her mind. She typed it in and hit enter just as the faucet in the bathroom shower turned off.
Crap.
She scrambled to close the computer, but before she could, a headline caught her attention:
Head of Cityside Garbage Services nabbed on extortion charges, possible mafia ties.
She wanted to read more but she also didn’t want Linc asking about her search and possibly commandeering her investigation like he did last time. This was personal for her, and she wanted it to stay just hers.
For now, anyway.
Kylie tagged the link to the article, then shut the laptop down as the sink faucet turned on. She only had a minute while Linc brushed his teeth.
Feeling like the worst person on the planet, she replaced the laptop on her night table, grabbed her pillow, and pretended to sleep.
Which was as close as she got to real sleep for the entire night.
Her mind whirred all night long with thoughts of extortion…mafia…did her father know anything about that? Maybe he’d somehow gotten himself tangled up with some bad people and needed to leave…or go into witness protection because he was law enforcement’s star witness?
She sighed, realizing she was doing what most kids did. Trying to think the best of their parents. Making excuses for them. But even knowing that the possibility of him sacrificing himself for his f
amily was slim, she couldn’t help but wonder…could it be?
Had her father been trying to protect her and her mother all these years?
But as half-formed thoughts and ideas swirled in her head, one big thing began to solidify.
The only way to find out what had happened to her father was by going to New York and tracking down Adam Hatfield herself.
Well, that had been a big old bust.
After getting out of the shower, Linc picked up his pants from the floor. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out the little box that had been practically burning a hole in his thigh all night long.
He set it on the side of the sink, frowning.
She’d had a crappy day. He could tell that much at lunch. In his mind, he’d thought that she’d come home, tired, and he’d make her laugh by presenting her with an official key to his home in a little box. He’d even thought that he might kneel, like he was going to propose, but had thought better of it.
He didn’t want to scare her to death. Hell, he didn’t want to scare himself to death either.
Just inviting her to live with him was enough to give him the hives.
Kind of.
A little.
Shit. No, it didn’t, which was the strangest thing. He wanted her by his side every night.
He opened the box, looking at the key to his home.
That’s when it hit him. Had she seen the outline of a little box in his pants? Had she thought it was a ring? That he was going to propose?
He groaned and turned on the water, attacking his teeth with a toothbrush.
Was that why she’d been so zany this entire evening? He went right, she swerved left. It had almost been enough to give him a complex.
And was that why she’d cut off all his hair? Hoping to steal all his strength and noble intentions like Delilah did Samson?
He turned off the water and put his toothbrush back in the holder before pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, cursing himself for his stupidity.
A key in a box? What had he been thinking?
And what did he do next?
Go to her and reassure her that he had no immediate plans to propose? How would she take that? And how would he feel if she heaved out a sigh of relief at the admission?
It was a no-win situation.
But he had to say something to her. She’d clearly been on edge, and he deeply wanted her to feel no pressure. That was why he was going to give her a key, so she could come and go as she pleased. He might want her there all the time, but he wasn’t selfish enough to pressure her into something she wasn’t ready for.
Taking a deep breath, Linc psyched himself up for the conversation. But when he opened the door and stepped out of the haze, Kylie was already asleep.
Well, that answers that.
Moving quietly to the armoire, he tucked the box with the key into the back. Then he stopped and dug a little bit deeper. He pulled out the second box. The one he’d purchased just a week ago.
It had been impulsive. He hadn’t been ring shopping or anything like that. He’d simply walked past a jewelry store and saw the two-carat beauty in the window and instinctively knew it would be perfect for Kylie.
Some day.
When they both were ready.
He’d thought long and hard before he made the purchase, then decided if he never gave it to her or if he found one he liked even better one day, he could always sell this one.
The ring didn’t come with an actual ball and chain.
Linc looked over his shoulder, making sure that Kylie hadn’t stirred, before stuffing the box back into its hiding place where he knew it would stay for a long, long time.
Then he sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, thinking.
She’d been acting squirrelly for the past few weeks. Actually, ever since he’d gotten it in his head that he’d wanted her to move in with him, he’d sensed something was bothering her. At first, he’d thought that she was having second thoughts about being with him after his official diagnosis of PTSD.
But lately, he’d been thinking that she might just be getting bored of him.
He thought she loved him, and he knew he loved her, even though neither of them had officially said those three little words.
Which was stupid, he thought to himself, moving until he was under the covers and staring up at the ceiling as the full moon slashed through the blinds, painting lines across Kylie’s sleeping form. Why hadn’t they shared how they felt?
His therapist called it philophobia, the fear of love or any emotional connection.
At least the fear had a name.
But how to get over it? And more, how to help Kylie over her phobia too? As opposite as they were, they were so very good together. They filled in each other’s cracks, became the glue to the other’s personality.
A couple of things he’d done were not so bright. He’d mentioned to her once that he wanted to have kids before he was thirty-five. She’s ignored that statement. Then, he’d told her that he was a traditional person. She hadn’t said anything to that, either. Then, he told her that his grandparents had been married on the hill out behind the pasture, and it was a really nice spot for a wedding, especially if the wedding happened right when the sun was setting. Nothing.
He’d quickly come to learn that where Kylie was concerned, there were few things she wouldn’t talk about. But those few things she refused to speak of? If they were brought up, Kylie would simply ignore them.
For example, football. It bored her to tears. Whenever he and Jacob got into a discussion on how the Panthers were looking for next season, Kylie went on talking about whatever subject she wanted to talk about as if they hadn’t said a word.
Linc was quickly getting the feeling that marriage and kids were two of those subjects. Not that they were taboo. She just wasn’t interested.
But hell, that couldn’t be right. She was a woman. Women liked commitment, didn’t they?
Apparently not Kylie.
What else could have spooked her?
Had she accidentally seen the receipt in his wallet? Or the velvet case tucked in his armoire?
They needed to talk. He needed to tell her that he wasn’t ready for that level of commitment either. He needed to assure her that he was fine with just being together the way they currently were. And he needed to tell her that he loved her, so she could feel secure in that knowledge.
At least he hoped she would be.
He sighed as he looked at her, with her long brown hair slipping down her shoulders, scattering on the pillow. God, she was gorgeous. She had these green, expressive eyes, little freckles on her skin, and the most phenomenal body he’d ever seen. Not only was she beautiful, she was smart. Funny.
To think, she’d annoyed the hell out of him when he first met her. But all the things about her that had once ticked him off—her impulsiveness, her tenacity, her craziness—turned out to be exactly everything he needed in his life. And she was the right woman. He had no doubt about that at all.
Months ago, while dealing with memories of his past in Syria, he’d thought all he wanted was to be alone. Then, he’d met Kylie. The second he saw her outside the Asheville vet clinic, trying to haul an injured Newf out of her truck, he’d been smitten. She’d been clueless about handling dogs then; had no clue what she was getting into. But she was so damned persistent, cute, insane…a little firecracker.
She’d been the one pushing to be with him, constantly showing up at his house. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d probably still be alone.
He smiled at the thought.
Since then, they’d slogged through a lot of shit together. They’d taken care of each other. She’d stuck close to his side during all of his PTSD episodes, making sure he was up to date on his counseling appointments and simply being there if he ever needed to talk.
She was the reason why he was here, functioning, and not a complete wreck. Hell, if she hadn’t been there for him durin
g the time when his nightmares had gotten really bad, he didn’t want to think about what he might have done. He owed everything to her. Couldn’t even think of life without her.
And she probably knew it.
She expected it.
Was that it?
Did she think he’d fall apart without her? Was she here out of guilt?
The thought made him sick to his stomach. He’d never considered himself to be a pity fuck.
Linc eventually fell asleep, but not until the wee hours of the morning. When he finally woke up, he felt the other side of the bed to find it cold. Opening his eyes in the orange glow of the sunrise, he looked around and discovered Kylie had showered, dressed, and left the room without waking him.
Was she still avoiding him?
Noises resounded from downstairs, so he pulled on a t-shirt over his boxer briefs and went down to the kitchen. He found her pouring coffee into her commuter mug. Again, he was struck by just how gorgeous she was.
She’d been dressing more professionally in ass-hugging skirts and high heels, maturing from the perpetual college student to a damned classy woman. His eyes went over her hand, with its thin, flower-stem fingers, and he couldn’t help thinking that this damned classy woman should be wearing his ring.
“What? Were you just going to escape without waking me?” he said with mock-hurt, though it was bordering on real hurt by now.
She smiled. “Sorry. Told you I had to get to the office early. I have a client to meet this afternoon and another case…” She trailed off as she looked around, clearly missing something. He smiled and lifted her car keys from the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed up to him and grabbed them, kissing him long and hard. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he mumbled, scratching his scalp. Holy shit. She’d really done a number on his head. She had to be deliberately avoiding him, because all he kept thinking was that she’d said how dead it was at work. Why was she now rushing to get there?
She’d already pulled the front door open but stopped suddenly and came back to him. “Sorry I have to run off. Are you doing anything interesting today?”