I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4)

by Jessica Lynch

  This was the third class since Thanksgiving. It was Saturday afternoon, and she’d worked herself up all morning to thank Rick, but tell him that this one would be the last one. One problem, though. She hadn’t come up with a valid reason why yet. Which was precisely why she was in the middle of a physical demonstration close to an hour later, and Rick still believed that the lessons were business as usual.

  As they grappled, Grace managed to evade most of his grabs. He was big, but she was quick, and she squirmed whenever he tried to disable her.

  And that’s when Rick’s big hand accidentally grabbed her breast, sending a spark of lust right down to her core. It was definitely an accident. Even in the heat of their battle, Grace knew that.

  Tell that to her libido, though.

  The attraction she’d been trying to deny for weeks slammed into her like a wave at the shore. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to drown in it. It was too overwhelming. Her skin tingled where he touched her, her senses on overdrive because of just how close he was.

  She couldn’t do this anymore.

  Just when she was about to slip out of his hold and put some much needed space between them, Rick reacted. He bowed his large body over hers, reaching behind her to get a handful of her hair. And then he pulled.

  It hurt so bad, she was momentarily blinded by the agony. It passed in a few seconds, but those were some godawful seconds. He released his hold on her hair almost as quickly as he grabbed it, leaving Grace to drop to the mats, curling up to protect herself before she could fight back.

  She didn’t want to. Let him have this round.

  “Mercy,” she ground out.

  Rick backed off. It annoyed her that she was panting, trying to breathe through the aftershocks of that jolt of pain, while he wasn’t even a little out of breath. He mumbled a quick apology—something he usually did when his strength got the better of him—and she waved him off. The pain was already receding. She’d live.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to bitch at him for it. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “Yeah, but what have I told you before?”

  The words were automatic. “If I’m in a fight for my life, there’s no such thing as fair.”

  “That’s right, Tiger.”

  He could have sounded smug. As much as her head ached from his grab, her pride hurt worse. So maybe she was distracted. Distraction could get her killed, she knew that. And it was a rookie move to let him get close enough to incapacitate her by grabbing her hair.

  At that moment, it became clear to her. Grace knew that it was either give up on her training—or give up on her hopeless crush on a man she couldn’t have. And there were so many reasons why she needed to get over her crush. First, because she was almost thirty, he was well past that, and the word “crush” made Grace feel like she was back in middle school again.

  Then there was Tommy. One way or another, it always came back to Tommy.

  It was ridiculous anyway. She knew she was being ridiculous. Having given up everything she had in order to escape one obsessed ex, she definitely shouldn’t be falling for a man she met a little more than a month ago.

  So what if he was big and strong, yet infinitely patient and kind? Even when he was tossing her around like a ragdoll and reminding her that she had to fight dirty if she wanted to survive, it was more instructive than mean and he always—always—made sure to gentle her falls so that she never suffered more than a few bruises as she learned.

  Grace also knew that his yank on her hair wasn’t supposed to ache as much as it did. With his shorter cut, Rick probably had no idea just how much it hurt to have his hair pulled. He probably saw it as another lesson: if an attacker can take advantage of something, no matter what, it was a weakness.

  Because focusing on her hair was so much easier than thinking about how crazy Rick made her, Grace mused out loud, “My hair could get me in trouble. There’s too much of it, and if someone grabs it hard, I don’t know if I could block the pain out long enough to fight back.” She picked up a hunk of it, eyeing it closely. “Maybe I should cut it. What do you think?”

  “What? Cut your hair? Why would you—No.”

  “No?”

  Rick shook his head. Was it her imagination or was he purposely not meeting her gaze?

  “I don’t think you should cut it,” he said. Then, as if he forgot for a single second that he was supposed to be her instructor, he added, “Maybe try a ponytail instead.”

  High ponytails and slicked back buns were relics of her performing days. Since she retired from the ballet, Grace celebrated by growing her hair out and wearing it loose; even though she knew it was silly to do so during training, she refused to pull her hair back. It had almost killed her—emotionally, that is—to give up dancing. Since the new length and strength of her mane was the only good thing to come from retiring, she didn’t really want to cut it off.

  But she also expected that her do anything to avoid being a target Marine mentor would be all for it. The way he balked at the idea was so out of character for him, she found it kind of funny.

  She glanced up to tell him so, pausing before she got the chance. She blinked.

  Oh my god.

  Was he blushing?

  Rick turned away, but not before Grace could spy the flush of color riding high on his cheeks. His neck was tomato-red.

  Holy crap.

  He was.

  She moved quickly around him, trying to get a better look at the curious expression on his face. It was as if, for the first time, he was letting her see past the professional shield he maintained at all times. And what she saw almost had her floored.

  Embarrassment, sure, but also desire. Heat. Longing. And, most noticeably, a determination that things were going to stay the same no matter how much either one might wish otherwise.

  Stunned, she fell back, giving him some space. Rick immediately took a knee, reaching for the mats so that he could fold them up and tuck them away until their Tuesday class.

  Okay, then. It seemed like this one was over.

  Too bad that finding out her hair was a major handicap wasn’t the only thing she learned.

  She never would have guessed it, and maybe wishful thinking made her read too much into their exchange, but that look—that look. Years on the stage, plus months with Tommy, made Grace an expert at knowing when a man was imagining her in bed with him.

  To her absolute astonishment, Rick was one of those men.

  She shouldn’t do it. It wasn’t as if she was free enough to give another man her all, and the relationship she already had with Rick was special in its own way. She shouldn’t risk it by chasing after something she shouldn’t want or need.

  Grace was going to do it anyway. Because, she wondered, what was the purpose behind learning these techniques that might save her life if she didn’t actually live one?

  As soon as he finished with the mats, Grace moved in front of him, blocking the door so that he couldn’t escape until she spoke to him.

  He raised his eyebrows at her.

  “So, uh… since training is over and it’s still early, I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight.”

  When he didn’t say anything right away, Grace gulped, but soldiered on. Just because her last date ended up causing a disaster, it didn’t mean they all would. Besides, this was Rick. Even if he tried anything funny—and she doubted he ever would—he was the man who taught her how to defend herself. She could take him if she had to. She’d proven that in her lessons.

  “I thought maybe we can go get a drink or something. I mean, you could. I would only get a soda, but it might be nice. Or food. The coffeehouse is pretty damn good. What do you think?”

  Rick stayed silent for a moment.

  She settled her long hair over one shoulder, nibbling on her bottom lip in such an innocent way, he was willing to bet she had no idea how arousing the gesture was. Grace looked up at him through the fringe of her long lashes, hope dashed across her g
orgeous face, a cautious worry in her hazel eyes.

  Part of him was still stunned at how fiercely he reacted at the thought of her cutting her hair. She was one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. Cutting her hair wouldn’t change that. Still, he secretly liked it long—and, okay, it sure as hell wasn’t a secret any longer.

  And now she had asked him out for a drink.

  Shit.

  What was he supposed to do?

  When he offered to teach her how to protect herself, he promised himself he wouldn’t let it go any further than that. He wouldn’t take advantage of a vulnerable woman in need. Then, when he got to know her, her spirit and her fire and her strength, he knew that she was way out of his league.

  To have her ask him out was like a wet dream come true. He’d kill to spend some time alone with Grace in a way where he wasn’t accidentally getting carried away and hurting her.

  If only she actually meant it.

  Rick knew what this was. It was just like how he convinced himself Caitlin De Angelis was the one for him. How Natalie Newton spent the last few months trying to entice him, even going so far as joining the HSD. When the options were limited, it was easy to settle for what was available. So maybe Grace was lonely, maybe she wanted to thank him for his time, but there was no fucking way she could be attracted to him the way that he ached for her.

  There was only one thing he could do.

  “That’s… uh, that’s nice of you to offer. I’d love to—only I can’t. Sorry. I’ve got other plans.”

  His mumble wiped the hope right from her face. Her eyes shuttered, and when she opened them again, the interest that had been there vanished. It was like the fire had gone out, the spark extinguished.

  Well, he just fucked that one up. Big time.

  Huge.

  “Grace, I—”

  “No. No. I—You don’t have to say anything. Whatever. It was just an idea. I know how busy you are, fitting in these sessions in between your patrols. I really appreciate it… I just thought it would be nice to buy you a drink.” A tight smile tugged on her lips. “No problem, okay?”

  How to explain that it wasn’t her, it was him? Some guys might be ready to take a pity date thrown at them. Not Rick. He was the type of man who went all in and needed a commitment in return. It was why his infatuation with Caitlin would have never worked; she had only ever been devoted to one man. If Grace couldn’t give him what he wanted, it was better to admire her from the sidelines.

  Rick felt the sudden desire to apologize. She might have attempted to brush him off, act like his shitty refusal didn’t hurt her, but he knew her better by now. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it, but when he told her no? He hurt her. Grace might be a pro at hiding her feelings, but he could tell.

  He needed to explain. He couldn’t.

  She wouldn’t let him.

  By the time he was anxious enough to try, Grace had dropped down to the wooded floor, already yanking her discarded socks and sneakers back onto her feet. She kept her back to him. Rick couldn’t tell if she did that on purpose or not. Given his luck? Oh, yeah.

  Once she was standing again, she cleared her throat. She dared a glance up at him, a fleeting look, before she settled on a point over his shoulder.

  “You know, I’ve been meaning to bring this up. Guess now’s as good a time as any. We’ve been meeting three times a week for a while now. I think I’ve got the basics down. I know how to avoid danger, how to shout out for help in order to scare an attacker off. I know what parts of the body can hurt the most, and what parts can cause the most damage. I… I think I’m good now.”

  “Wait,” rumbled Rick. She couldn’t mean— “What are you saying?”

  She shrugged. “You’re busy, Rick, and it’s time I stop being selfish. I’m really grateful for everything you’ve taught me. I am. But maybe we shouldn’t have these lessons anymore.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. He knew this day would come. They were already on their third guide and, all right, sometimes the training classes resembled wrestling matches with how physical they’d become lately. He couldn’t help himself. It gave him as much pleasure to teach her as it did touch her. And he got a ton of pleasure out of every touch, even when he had to do something like grab her hair to teach her a lesson. Shit, it was so damn soft.

  And he knew there was no way he could keep the lessons going indefinitely. But Rick thought, by the time she was done, he’d have made up another reason to see her. When he came up empty-handed, he even wondered if she’d be willing to teach him ballet. To spend more time alone with Grace, he’d sure as hell learn how to dance.

  Now she was telling him goodbye. It hurt. Damn it, did it hurt.

  He didn’t mean to lash out. Couldn’t help it, though. “Oh. So the drink was a kiss-off? Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I guess I thought of it more as a way to say thanks.” Her head held high, a steely gaze in her eyes, Grace refused to back down even as he loomed. Strong-willed and proud, she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. And he was trying. It wasn’t on purpose and he stepped away once he realized it. Her brow furrowed at his sudden retreat. “It’s probably a good thing you’ve got other plans. It would’ve been a mistake.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” He could hear the disappointment in the way his voice lowered. He had to get out of there before she caught on to how deeply she just cut at him. “If you change your mind about the classes, buzz me. I’ll leave the mats here in case. Feel free to keep on using them for your dance classes. I don’t mind.”

  Her lips thinned in a tight line, Grace didn’t say anything.

  “See you around, Tiger.”

  Not even the normally light-hearted nickname did anything to break through the sudden awkwardness. It had never been like this between them before. He didn’t like it.

  Neither did she. With a frown, she crossed her arms over her chest. For the first time ever, she didn’t walk him to the door.

  “Yeah, Rick. Maybe.”

  That final maybe nearly knocked him on his ass. She might as well have grabbed one of Sly’s loaded Glocks and shot him in the heart. Even a bullet to the chest wouldn’t hurt half as bad as that last word.

  15

  Rick felt the shove on his shoulder. It was actually powerful enough to make him wobble on his bar stool which meant that it could only belong to one person.

  Without turning around, he growled, “What do you want, Sly?”

  His best friend plopped down on the empty stool next to him. He was still in his full uniform, from his boots to his hat, a speculative expression on his face. When Georgie offered Sly a drink and Sly waved him off, Rick realized he was also still on duty.

  “Shouldn’t you be out on patrol?” he asked.

  “Consider me on patrol and following up on a tip.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Another shove. “I get a buzz that one of my deputies is looking like he’s ready to drink himself into a coma, I’m checking it out.”

  “I’m fine,” scoffed Rick.

  With a quirked eyebrow, Sly took in the six empty shot glasses set on the bar top. As he watched, Georgie slipped over to their side of the bar and placed another in front of Rick.

  “You’re gonna regret that in the morning.”

  Rick knew that. “Sly, I’m already regretting it now. Isn’t gonna stop me, though,” he added before looping two fingers over the glass and pulling it closer to the edge. He kept wondering if he’d find the answers to the troubles plaguing him at the bottom of the shot glass. It hadn’t worked yet, but he could be stubborn, too. He kept looking.

  Once he downed the shot of whiskey, he pushed the glass away. Sly tsk-ing his tongue under his breath reminded him that his pal was still there.

  “Go away. I’m fine. And you don’t have to worry about me driving. Georgie said I could sleep it off in his backroom when I’m done.”

  It shamed him that this wasn’t the first time he went on a bender d
own at Thirsty’s. It was all too frequent in the days after he first returned to Hamlet. He’d gotten better in the last six months or so, and his trips to the bar were nonexistent ever since he started training with Grace. He’d fallen off the wagon and hard tonight. There was no one to blame except for himself.

  To his surprise, Sly seemed to agree. “Drink yourself stupid. Good move, buddy. I guess it’s better than what Grace is doing.”

  “Grace?” When he hit the c in her name, he lisped. Ugh. He was starting to slur, too. Clearing his throat, trying to hide it, he said, “What about her?”

  “I buzzed Maria on the way over. Figured the outsider might have something to do with what’s going on with you. You know what they’re doing? The two of them are in the kitchen, bonding over a pint of rocky road. And that’s after Maria offered her something called tiger tail and the poor girl nearly cried. Don’t know why, but she said for me to tell you it’s your fault and that you’ll know exactly what I mean when I say that.”

  Maria wasn’t wrong. And tiger tail? No wonder it hit Grace hard. It was a reminder of him when she probably never wanted to think about him again.

  Rick hung his head. “Shit, Sly. She asked me to go out for a drink.”

  “Really? Then why are you sitting here like a sad sack all alone?”

  “I didn’t think she meant it,” he mumbled, gesturing toward Georgie for another shot.

  “That’s bull.”

  Was it? Maybe. “Even if you’re right, even if she meant it, it wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to take advantage of her. Something sent her running to Hamlet, and God knows it’s still chasing her otherwise she wouldn’t want to be able to protect herself.”

  “She’s here now. We can protect her, too.”

  “That’s my point, Sly. Whatever Grace is dealing with, she’s scared enough that she doesn’t want to involve anyone else.”