by Jill Shalvis
She stared at him thinking maybe they were kindred perpetually-pissed-off-at-the-world spirits. One thing for sure, he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the least as she studied him. In fact, he didn’t seem the sort to be uncomfortable in any situation.
Around them, the bar was filled with music, talking, laughter . . . the sounds of people having a good time. Someone called out for Jenna to join a dart game. Jenna slid off her stool. “Okay, so, I’m going to abandon her now. Feel free to play the gallant gentleman swooping in to save the birthday girl. Night, Piper.”
“That’s Grandma to you,” Piper called to her back, and when Jenna laughed and kept walking, Piper pulled out her phone and thumbed in a text.
Hot Guy seemed to be very slightly amused, though still no smile touched his lips. “Bet you just told your wingman that you’re going to kill her.”
Gallant Gentleman her ass. Dark and Dangerous, maybe. She shrugged. “I might’ve mentioned she shouldn’t close her eyes when she goes to sleep tonight. But yours is better. Hold please.” She typed a new text: Don’t forget, thanks to my dad, I know a ton of ways to kill someone with my pen.
“Nice,” he said, reading over her shoulder.
“You find violent tendencies nice?”
He shrugged. “Being able to defend yourself is smart.”
She paused. “You know I was just kidding about the pen thing, right?”
He cocked his head and studied her. “Were you?”
She sat back, staring at him. She had been just kidding about the killing Jenna thing. But not about knowing how to do it with a pen. No one had ever, not once, called her out on that threat as being real.
“Your dad military?” he asked.
“Was,” she said. “He’s gone now.”
He gave a single nod, like he got it at a core level. “I’m sorry.”
She supposed it was his genuine and clearly understanding reaction that had her doing something she rarely did. She said more. Unprompted. “We lived overseas in some seriously sketchy places. He made sure I knew how to defend myself and my siblings.”
He gave another nod, this one in approval, and it had her taking a second look at him, at the calm steady gaze that withheld any personal thoughts, at the way he sat at rest, but with a sense of tightly harnessed power. And then there was his build, which suggested he could handle whatever situation arose. “You too,” she said quietly. “You were military too.”
He studied her right back for a long beat, assessing. “Still am.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she arched a brow, waiting for more, but it didn’t come. “Let me guess,” she said. “It’s a secret. If you told me, you’d have to kill me.”
The very corners of his eyes crinkled. Yeah, she was most definitely amusing him. “I’m actually a DEA agent, but also Coast Guard.”
“How do you do both?” she asked.
“I was active duty for twelve years. Been in the Reserve for two. My DEA job schedule allows for the times I’m in training or activated.”
She thought her parents had lived dangerous lives. This guy had them beat. And considering what had happened to her mom and dad, she had less than zero interest in him, no matter how curious she was. Where was a hot easy-going surfer when you needed one? “How often do you train or get activated?”
“My unit trains three days a month. We get activated at will.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal that he put his life on hold at what she assumed was short notice to go off to save the world.
“The DEA doesn’t mind you leaving at the drop of a hat?”
“They knew that when they signed me on.” He shrugged again. “I had the skill sets they needed.”
“What skill sets are those?”
He gave her another of those looks, and she smiled. “Right. Now we’re at the ‘you’d tell me, but then you’d have to kill me’ part.”
With a maybe amused, maybe bemused shake of his head, he lifted his drink in her direction. “Happy birthday.”
She blew out a sigh. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He gave a very small snort. “You’re really not a fan of birthdays.”
“No. Nor parties.”
“I’m getting that.” He was looking at her list and she put a hand on the page to prevent him from flipping to the next page, which was even more revealing. Still, she braced herself for an inevitable comment, probably about the getting laid thing.
But he surprised her. “It’s way too cold in Alaska,” he said. “If that were my list, I’d be aiming for a South Pacific island.”
“Let me guess—preferably deserted?”
He met her gaze. “Maybe not completely deserted.”
Her stomach did a weird flutter, and that scared her. She didn’t want to feel stomach flutters, not for this guy. “If you’re flirting with me,” she said slowly, “you should know I’m not interested.”
“Good thing then that I’m not flirting with you,” he said, completely deadpan.
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Reading social cues was not her strong suit. Feeling awkward, which was nothing new for her, she slid off her barstool and tucked her journal inside her jacket. How was it that they were surrounded by people, her people, and music and talking and laughter and yet . . . for those past few moments it had felt like they were all alone?
“You out?” he asked.
“I think it’s best if I call it a night.”
He rubbed his jaw again, and the sound his stubble made did something to her insides that she refused to name. “I could at least buy you a drink for your birthday.”
“Thanks,” she said. “But there’s a big storm blowing in. So I need keep my wits about me.”
“Doesn’t have to be alcohol.” He glanced around them at the full, rowdy bar. “Are you a first responder like all your friends?”
“Yes. I’m an EMT.”
“Well, I’m the new guy,” he said. “Zero friends. You going to desert me like Jenna deserted you?”
She actually hesitated at that, until she caught that flash of humor in his eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
“I am.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond. It’d been a long time since she’d felt . . . well, anything. Just beyond him, she could see a group of her friends playing pool. CJ, a local cop, was winning. After Jenna, CJ was one of her favorite people. He glanced over at her, caught her eye, and gave her a chin nudge.
Guy speak for “Are you alright?”
She nodded and he went back to pool. Ry was still flirting with two women, and she had to wonder. What was the worst thing that could happen if she let her hair down and enjoyed herself for a few minutes? After all, it was her birthday. “Maybe just one drink,” she said.
Hot Guy nodded to the bartender, who promptly ambled over. “A Shirley Temple for Grandma here on her birthday.”
Piper laughed. She shocked herself with it, making her realize how long it’d been.
Hot Guy took in her smile, and almost gave her a small one of his own. “Or . . . whatever you want.”
She bit her lip. What did she want? That was a very big question she’d tried very hard not to ask herself over the past decade plus, because what she wanted had never applied. In her life, there were need-to-do’s and have-to-do’s . . . and nowhere in there had there ever been time for what-Piper-wanted.
Which was probably why she made lists like it was her job.
The bartender’s name was Boomer, and she’d known him for a long time. He was waiting with a smile for her to admit the truth—that she loved Shirley Temples. But she didn’t admit any such thing. She just rolled her eyes—honestly, she was going to have to learn to stop doing that—and nodded.
Boomer slid a Shirley Temple in front of her. She took a big sip and was unable to hold in her sigh of pleasure, making Hot Guy finally really smile.
And oh boy, it was a doozy.
Just a little harmless flirting, she told herself. There was no harm in allowin
g herself this one little thing.
Which was when the power flickered and . . . went out.
She wasn’t surprised, but by the collective gasp around her, she could tell everyone else was. Boomer hopped up onto the top of the bar. “Storm decided to hit us early and she’s gonna be a doozy! Calling it a night!” he yelled out to the crowd. “Everyone go home and stay safe!”
In the ensuing chaos, Hot Guy grabbed Piper’s hand and tugged her along with him, not towards the front door with the mass exodus, but through the bar and out the back.
Where indeed, the storm was moving in with a vengeance, given that the wind slapped them back against the wall.
“Nice work getting us out so quickly,” she said breathlessly. “How did you know about the back door if you’re new here?”
“I always know the way out.”
That she believed. She took in the night, which was the sort of pitch black that came from no power anywhere and a dark, turbulent sky whipped to a frenzy by high winds.
“The rain’s gonna hit any second,” he said, not sounding thrilled about that.
This tugged a breathless laugh from her. “Chin up, Princess, or the crown slips.”
He turned and gave her a dry wtf look. She’d bet her last dollar he’d never once in his life been called a princess before. “Sorry,” she said on a grin. “That was an automatic response. My dad used to say that to me whenever I complained about the rain. Do you know how often it rains in Odisha, India?”
“I’m betting less than Mobile, Alabama,” he said, “where I spent six months with my unit training the Maritime Safety and Security Team, and we never once saw anything but pouring rain. Emphasis on pouring.”
“Six months straight, huh?” she asked sympathetically. “Okay, you win.”
His lips quirked. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
And with that, he took her hand and was her anchor as they ran through the wind to her beat up old Jeep. She was actually grateful since the gusts nearly blew her away twice, saved only by his solid, easy footing. Actually, the man moved like he was at the top of the food chain; quiet, economical, stealth movements that if you knew what he did for a living made perfect sense.
She and Jenna waved to each other from across the lot, and when Jenna gave her a thumbs-up, Piper shook her head.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the wind.
“I’ll follow you home to make sure you get there okay.”
“Not necessary, I’m fine.” Because no way was she falling for that line. There was flirting, and then there was being stupid. “And anyway, as a local, I should be checking on you to see if you get home okay.”
He laughed. And as it turned out, he had a great one, though she had no idea if he was so amused because he was touched by her worry for him, or because it was ridiculous, since clearly he could handle himself.
“I’m good,” he finally said. “Drive safe.” And then he stepped back, vanishing into the darkness.
About the Author
New York Times Bestselling Author JILL SHALVIS lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s bestselling, award-winning books wherever romances are sold and visit her website, www.jillshalvis.com, for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
By Jill Shalvis
Heartbreaker Bay Novels
Sweet Little Lies
The Trouble with Mistletoe
Accidentally on Purpose
Chasing Christmas Eve
About That Kiss
Hot Winter Nights
Playing for Keeps
Wrapped Up in You
Women’s Fiction Novels
Lost and Found Sisters
The Good Luck Sister (novella)
Rainy Day Friends
The Lemon Sisters
Lucky Harbor Novels
One in a Million
He’s So Fine
It’s in His Kiss
Once in a Lifetime
Always on My Mind
It Had to Be You
Forever and a Day
At Last
Lucky in Love
Head Over Heels
The Sweetest Thing
Simply Irresistible
Animal Magnetism Novels
Still the One
All I Want
Then Came You
Rumor Has It
Rescue My Heart
Animal Attraction
Animal Magnetism
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Almost Just Friends copyright © 2020 by Jill Shalvis.
wrapped up in you. Copyright © 2019 by Jill Shalvis. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition OCTOBER 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-289776-3
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-289778-7
Cover design by Nadine Badalaty
Cover illustration by Shane Rebenshield
Cover photographs © Shirley Green (couple); © Dziurek/Lara_Uhryn/Liliboas/Servet TURAN/istock/Getty images (4 images); © Anelina/freedomnaruk/Kamenetskiy Konstantin gillmar/ PUSCAU DANIEL/ New Africa/nexus 7/YanLev/Artazum/tab62/MestoSveta/DMITRII SIMAKOV/Rose-Marie Henriksson/Shutterstock (13 images)
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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