I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4)

by Jessica Lynch

  And, damn it, he needed Grace to be prepared. Not just for the class. He needed her to be vigilant for this ex that made her so afraid, she’d rather spend two hours a week with him. Rick knew it wasn’t easy. Good training never was. He tried not to be too much of a bastard, but he heard his old boot camp instructor’s words pop out half the time he opened his mouth. Rick pushed her to succeed, and maybe he pushed her too hard, but he had to.

  The more he got to know her, the more he became invested in ensuring she never had a reason to use the lessons he was teaching her. A good self-defense program was all about self-protection, after all. In between physical demonstrations, he taught her how to read body language, defuse situations, and increase her psychological awareness.

  And he did it all while hiding an erection that would’ve had Grace running for the door if she had any idea how she affected him.

  He tried to keep it professional. Tried. It was damn difficult, though, when all he thought about when he was showing her how to move her body was how badly he wanted that body under him.

  Shaking his head, shaking off his lust, Rick reached for his zipper and was just zipping his coat closed when another voice filled the wide room. It was high-pitched and cheery and could only belong to one person.

  “Ricky! There you are! Is it just me or have you been so crazy difficult to track down lately?”

  Rick stiffened. He hadn’t gone by that nickname since well before he enlisted. He let his old friends—Willie, Maria De Angelis, Dave—get away with it because they knew him way back then.

  And that person? Didn’t.

  Natalie Newton. She was all bundled up from the recent cold, with an extra coat over her deputy jacket. The ends of her long, white blonde hair peeked out from beneath the black cap she tugged over her ears. The tip of her nose was red, her cheeks ruddy from the wind.

  A tiny little thing, she barely came up to his chest. That didn’t stop her from marching across the station house, pausing when she was in front of him. In order to get a look at his face, she had to tilt her head back. There was an edge in her usually soft green eyes that warned that she was back on the hunt.

  Rick didn’t like the feel of being chased. It was another reason why, despite the fact that Natalie was both pretty and strong-willed—basically kryptonite to him—that he never even thought for a second about taking her up on her unsaid offer.

  Plus, she was a kid. She’d make some other man very, very happy. It just wouldn’t be him.

  Rick shrugged. He was always careful not to lead her on and chose his words deliberately. “It ain’t hard to find me.”

  “Really? Seems like it. We’re always scheduled opposite shifts—”

  “That’s my fault, sug,” said Willie. She was wrapping a muffler around her neck, pulling her big leopard print coat on right after it. “Ethan needed to cut back some hours after he got in the middle of another one of Jerry and Christopher’s battles over on the mountainside. Chris whacked him upside the head with the stems of the roses he clipped off Jerry’s bush. Sheriff said to rearrange schedules until he’s back a hundred percent.”

  “Right. Sheriff Collins might’ve told me about that,” Natalie admitted. “One of his scratches got infected. His mom had to take him to the county hospital since we don’t have a doc of our own anymore.”

  Rick grunted. “Those two coots have an argument every couple of weeks over the damn rose bushes. Maybe now Ethan will remember to page Chris’s wife instead of getting involved. She usually calms them down before we have to throw one of them into the cells.”

  “Yeah, but it was nice to have the company.” Willie shrugged. “What? When the sheriff told Chris he had to come down to the station until he cooled off, Margie left him to stew overnight. I had someone to talk to the next morning. Did you know he was a Lloyd Webber fan?”

  Shaking her head, Natalie said, “You and your musicals, Willie.”

  Willie sniffed. “Not gonna apologize for having taste.” Tugging her muffler so that she was entirely covered, she peered through her glasses up at Rick. “You gonna walk me to my car?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.” Nodding over at Natalie, careful to avoid that steely look in her eyes, he said, “Night. Have a good rest of shift.”

  He was fooling himself if he thought he’d make his escape that easily.

  She moved toward him, gloved fingers outstretched. But she didn’t touch him.

  Thank fucking God.

  “Ricky, wait. I wasn’t kidding before. I’ve been to Thirsty’s a bunch of times this past week. No one’s seen you.”

  True. If he wasn’t on duty or at Ophelia with Grace, he was at home, plotting his next lesson. Now that Grace had gotten some of the basics down, their meetings had turned into discussing advanced techniques and running some real-life scenarios in between discussing what she learned from the book he gave her. Because he was a glutton for punishment, he already had two more books waiting for her. In case they got through the first guide quickly, he already had a built-in excuse to keep the lessons going.

  He wasn’t about to tell Natalie that, though.

  “I haven’t felt like a drink,” he said instead. That, he realized with a bit of a start, was also true. “I’ll talk to you later, Nat. Have a good night. Ready, Wil?”

  “Whenever you are, sug.”

  After he walked Willie to her car, he got inside of his truck and started to drive—but he didn’t go home. And, at first, Rick didn’t know why.

  Then his truck took him to Ophelia. Pulling up in front of the bed and breakfast, stubbornly resisting the real reason why he was there, he climbed out of the cab and paused with his boots resting on the edge of the curb.

  With the words I was in the neighborhood on the tip of his tongue, Rick stuck his hands in his pockets and, bowing his head against the rushing wind that sent his too-long hair flying in front of his eyes, started for the walkway. He was almost at the steps when he heard a sound—a soft thump—and he froze.

  Close to a decade as a Marine had left him with senses that were way more astute than a civilian’s. He stayed still, unmoving, straining his ears as he listened for another clue that something was out of place. Hamlet was quiet, especially once night fell, and that thump was different.

  There.

  He heard it again. Whatever it was? It was coming from behind Ophelia.

  It didn’t matter that he was off duty, or that he was unarmed. If there was a strange noise coming from behind the bed and breakfast, he was going to see what it was.

  Turning the corner, he was absolutely floored to discover that it was Grace.

  Beneath the haze of the big yellow moon hanging high over her head, Grace was dancing in the backyard. She had on a pair of sneakers, a long sweater, and the same tight leggings she wore when they were training. Her long mahogany hair rippled in the moonlight as she moved. Her eyes were closed, chin tilted up toward the star-filled sky.

  She was wearing headphones, dancing to a song only she could hear. The soft thump that caught his attention? It was the sound of her sneaks landing against the flat ground every time she leaped through the air, getting so much height, it seemed to Rick that she was damn near flying.

  He was intruding—but he wasn’t. It didn’t feel like it. This was a moment in time for the two of them, Grace lost in her music while Rick lost himself in the pleasure of watching her move.

  She seemed so… so peaceful. Crazy thing was, that actually brought him peace.

  When was the last time he felt so content?

  And that’s when Grace landed again, suddenly opened her eyes, and found him standing less than ten feet away from her.

  She jerked, a squeal of fright ripping out of her. Her whole body drew away from him. Her hands flew to her chest, as if trying to calm a racing heart, her mouth clenched tight to keep another shriek from escaping.

  His protective instincts went on high alert. He didn’t approach her, not when it was so obvious that he scared the shit
out of her, but he held his own mitts up in a submissive gesture.

  Grace ripped the headphones off. “Jesus, Rick, you scared the crap out of me! How did it get so dark? What time is it?”

  “Easy, Tiger. It gets dark here. You’re fine.” At least, he hoped she was.

  One good thing: she didn’t bat an eye at the nickname. He figured she realized it was just part and parcel with him. Last class, she told him that it was better than Kitten. Rick decided to take that as her permission to keep it up.

  The nickname seemed to ground her. She nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting anyone out here, you know? And Maria usually comes and gets me before it’s time for the lockdown. I guess, for a second there, I was afraid I was gonna have to sleep outside.”

  His jaw tightened. Yeah. She was afraid of something, all right.

  From what Sly told him when he signed on to train her—from what Grace let slip during her lessons—she was definitely hiding something. He never pushed, because it wasn’t appropriate. Besides, if she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. Simple as that.

  With the heaving of her chest, the stark terror in her anxious gaze, Rick knew that she had.

  Grace Delaney wasn’t just hiding from the idea of a clingy ex. She was living in fear that he’d find her, as if he would do something when he did. The lessons might have been Maria’s idea. Even so, Grace put everything she had into every class and then some. She was dead set on protecting herself from something—or someone. The ex who wouldn’t take no for an answer, yeah. But there was more to it. He was damn sure of it.

  And it frustrated him that she didn’t trust him enough to spill her secrets.

  They’d only known each other for two weeks. They were little more than strangers. He had to accept that.

  Or did he?

  “I’m off Thursdays,” he blurted out.

  Grace’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Clearing his throat, Rick tried again. “Thursdays. I usually have the evenings off. You’re doing pretty great so far, but I can squeeze another hour in if you want to beef up your defense lessons. I, uh, got another book for you, too. There’s so much to cover. An extra class wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Really?” With a soft sigh, Grace visibly relaxed. It was as if, once she let that whisper of air out, she let go of everything that held her hostage; her tension and fear slipped away, carried off in the wind. He didn’t know what he did to fix her, but he realized he would do it a thousand times over again if it helped his outsider.

  Rick clenched his jaw. Nodded. If he spoke now, he’d say something sappy and ridiculous and reveal what might have just gobsmacked him. Like bam, brick to the had type of gobsmack.

  Shit.

  This wasn’t only attraction. He wanted Grace—God, did he want her—but it finally dawned on Rick that he wanted more. Not just this beauty in his bed, though he spent far too many sleepless nights fantasizing about what that would be like. No, he wanted her in his life as something other than his student. And not only when he was busy trying to show her how to kick his ass.

  But he couldn’t have it. For so many reasons, they wouldn’t work. She was an outsider, he was going to die in Hamlet; he’d had enough of the outside world to last him the rest of his life. She was clearly hiding something. Rick had too many nightmares in his head. He’d scare her, or he’d lose her, and after Caitlin, he couldn’t risk it.

  He just wasn’t strong enough.

  When she smiled, Rick nearly groaned. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she threw her arms around him. He tucked his hips back so that she would never know how inappropriately turned on he was at that very moment.

  “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much I appreciate the offer.”

  And if Rick had it his way? Grace would never discover how much he appreciated her.

  14

  The added class helped a lot.

  A month into her lessons, Grace thought she was getting pretty good at self-defense. She almost always managed to predict Rick’s sneak attacks and could often take him down to the mats by twisting her body and using his size against him. She was becoming a pro at leveraging her weight and, when she couldn’t, going for his eyes, throat, and groin. He praised her every time she got him down, irrationally pleased at her progress.

  But her attraction to her gruff instructor on the other hand? Oh, yeah. That was a lost cause.

  She continued to fight it. Once she really started to get to know the big man, to see what made him tick underneath that locked-down exterior of his and his buttoned-up lips, she discovered that Rick Hart was smart, gentle, and kind at the same time as he was a strict teacher, never letting her settle for anything less than her absolute best. He pushed her to her limits, congratulating her whenever she succeeded, supporting her if she struggled. He was her mentor and, after weeks of lessons that were supposed to be only an hour long and never were, he was quickly becoming another friend.

  If Grace wanted more, that was her problem. She was grateful for what he’d already given her. It was, she learned, far more than he had given anyone else in Hamlet. Even though he was a local, born and raised in Hamlet, his veteran status put him closer to being an outsider. No one really left Hamlet. If they did? It was usually for good. Not Rick. Gone for almost a decade, he came back a couple of years ago and settled down as if nothing had changed.

  Only it had. He was a different man. Guarded. Weary. He spent his nights at the local bar, worked down at the barbershop, and held everyone but Sly at a distance. The fact that his house was on the edge of Hamlet was telling. Rick kept himself on the fringe of the community on purpose. Becoming a deputy didn’t change that. It just meant the rest of Hamlet now had a reason to be wary of the quiet former Marine.

  Maria confessed to her all that and more. Once Grace gave up on hiding how much she was attracted to him, she stopped switching the subject whenever Maria slyly brought Rick into the conversation. Which was often. An utter romantic, Maria cooed over the idea of Grace and Rick together, no matter how many times Grace assured her that it was one-sided. He was helping her out. That was all.

  It stung that he never, ever once gave her some sign, some clue that he saw her as anything other than a student. Sure, he still called her Tiger; she expected he only did it to rankle her and get her to fight back harder. In his good moods, he could tease with the best of them. By their third class, she was shocked to discover he actually had a sense of humor at times. He was thoughtful, attentive, and worked hard to keep her motivated even with the limited information she offered about herself and Tommy.

  He trained her under the impression that Tommy was a ridiculously clingy ex and that Grace was more worried about the dangers in the outside world than anything else. And he taught her with the enthusiasm and drive of a drill sergeant.

  Rick took her concerns seriously. It was so unfamiliar to her, she wondered if that didn’t make him seem even more attractive. Maybe. But he had so many things going for him that just clicked with Grace. His strong jaw. Beautiful brown eyes. That tempting curl. A body built for sin. His honesty… Rick didn’t hold anything back. He didn’t play games like Tommy did. He treated her like a person—he treated her like a worthy opponent—instead of arm candy.

  He was never inappropriate. A consummate professional every time they met or spoke over the Hamlet radios, Rick was the best instructor she could ask for. And as much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t risk that when him shutting her down was all but a guarantee.

  So Grace tried to ignore her desires. When Rick broke out in a sweat during some of their more intense lessons, she tossed a towel at him instead of giving in to her urge to run her tongue along the strong lines of his thick neck. Jesus, she knew she had a problem when she was jealous of a drop of sweat.

  It only got worse as November ended. The week before was Thanksgiving. Because Grace was still staying at Ophelia, Maria decided to go all out when she made her Thanksgiving feast. The bed
and breakfast was decorated to the nines, the fancy dining room table decked out with oranges and reds, plus a massive cornucopia as a centerpiece. She decided dinner would be served there. Grace understood why when she found out that, while Sly was a given for an invite, he wasn’t the only one.

  Rick joined them for Thanksgiving. It was the first time she saw him in something that wasn’t his deputy uniform or a t-shirt and jeans. Ducking his head, looking so uncomfortable it was adorable, Rick shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis. He had on a freshly pressed olive green button-down shirt that absolutely hugged his chest.

  Was it awful that she got jealous of a damn shirt, too?

  Grace was glad Maria insisted she get a little dolled up for their dinner. And it was okay that Rick didn’t seem to notice the effort she put into her hair or her make-up. With the troublesome thoughts running through her head constantly, she didn’t have time for anything else.

  Of course, that didn’t stop her from staring. So many weeks later and she still caught herself doing it.

  Her fantasies were filled with him reaching across the table to pass the mashed potatoes only to have the buttons fly off, revealing his built form. Grace had gotten tantalizing glimpses of his body before during their training. The button-down shirt he had on was so tight, it left little to the imagination.

  It was torture. A nice kind of torture, since she thoroughly enjoyed spending the afternoon with Rick when he wasn’t trying to knock her down and she wasn’t retaliating by going for his groin. He didn’t talk much at first, but as the afternoon faded into evening, the two couples paired off. Sly and Maria eventually disappeared, leaving the two of them alone to talk all night together.

  Something changed after Thanksgiving. Something was different. Her attraction to Rick was stronger, deeper, and so much harder to ignore. She almost wanted to call the self-defense classes off entirely. Her body could take the bruises. But her heart? She didn’t want to risk it.