Merida stepped into the chilly house and listened to the silence. She was alone. There were no bad men waiting for her.
That didn’t stop her from peering at the corners as she shuffled around her house. Her breakers must have flipped and she didn’t want to waste time fighting with them when they were just leaving, anyway. The dark did bring back uneasy memories from the basement and getting caught unaware. In a rush she dragged her monster sized suitcase out from her closet and tossed things in without a care for how they were packed so long as they were there.
While she packed she tried to mentally calm herself.
They were going to a hotel. They would have separate rooms. She could still lock herself away and wallow all she wanted. That was her right. Nothing said she had to face Finley and whatever was going on right now. They could wait.
“Knock, knock,” Finley called out.
She dumped her prettiest panties into the suitcase then flipped it shut. “Almost done.”
Maybe bringing them was silly, but right now she wasn’t going to question anything that made her feel better.
“Are you packing to move? Or just be out a few days?”
Merida glanced up at Finley in the doorway. One of the three flashlights she’d set around the room cast enough light on him for her to see him well enough. He’d changed his clothes and washed his face in the short time they’d been apart.
He looked...tired. Exhausted.
“I don’t know. I just...” She shrugged and pulled the handle up.
“Come on.” He reached for the handle.
Instead she took his hand. “I’ve got this.”
He frowned at her, but instead of pushing back he squeezed her hand and led her out of the duplex. It was a marker of just how tired he was, how much tonight had taken out of him, too. This wasn’t just something she’d lived through, it was all of them.
They locked up her place, loaded her suitcase in the back of his truck and got in.
“Any idea where we’re going?” she asked.
“Yeah, I found us a place.” Finley glanced at her. There was meaning in that look.
What did it mean? What did she want it to mean? Was there any chance it could wait until tomorrow?
Merida stared out the window, watching everything pass by in a blur.
They were headed away from the city, out toward the suburbs where the houses were less uniform and more unique. Finley’s phone guided them, giving directions softly.
“How’d you find this place?” she asked.
“Just hopped online. It’s not much further.”
He was speaking literally.
Not ten yards more and he turned into a small lot with only two open parking spaces.
The sign read Bed and Breakfast. There were white Christmas trees on either side. The railings were done up with spruce and more lights. A wreath hung on the door and there were what looked to be electric candles in each first-floor window.
“Fin, we cannot stay here,” Merida whispered. She scrambled for a reason. Any reason. “All these people are asleep.”
“We won’t bother them.” He cut the engine, ignoring her, and got out.
He wanted her to stay at a picturesque bed-and-breakfast? With him?
They had separate rooms, didn’t they?
She teetered on the line. Half of her wanted to hide. The other half couldn’t stand to be away from him.
By the time she got out he already had their bags unloaded.
“Give that to me,” she grumbled and took over her large suitcase.
Finley placed his hand on the small of her back. “Come on.”
He turned her toward a path leading away from the house.
She let him guide her, silently cursing herself for over-packing. They passed under trees lining the property and into the back yard. Another cottage, or guest house, was set up along the back of the property. It was close enough to be convenient, and yet private.
Was it big enough for two bedrooms? Did she want it to have two bedrooms?
They reached the door and Finley punched in a code on the door. She still hadn’t answered her own question.
She stepped inside and peered around while Finley lowered the blinds and drew the curtains.
It was a cute place with a small kitchen and dining table, a sofa and fireplace. There were a few festive touches. Some garland. A small tree. Nothing outlandish. The hall appeared to have three doors. Two bedrooms and a bathroom?
Merida was staring into the dark fireplace when hands gently came to rest on her shoulders. Finley pulled her back to his chest and hugged her to him.
“How are you holding it together?” he asked.
“I’m not sure I am. I think I’m still on auto-pilot.” At least she was in every way except when she was thinking about him. “How’d you find this place? Really?”
“Parents stayed here a few times.”
“It’s cute.”
“It is. Want me to show you to your room?”
Your room.
Not our room.
Was that disappointment she felt?
“Sure.”
Finley took her hand and led her past the kitchen and down the small hall into what had to be the largest room in the cottage. Clearly the bulk of the square footage was given over to the spacious bedroom with its huge bed and cozy, oversized chair for two.
“Wow,” she muttered.
“I’ll be in the next room.” Finley’s voice went strange. Hard. Forced.
Her stomach did a fearful leap and a flash of cold swept through her.
She didn’t like the idea of him that far away.
Merida turned and looked at his stony face. He gave nothing away, and yet, she knew she wasn’t going to feel secure enough unless he was there with her.
“Merida—”
“Fin—”
She chuckled and couldn’t help smiling at him.
Finley took a step toward her, his serious face still firmly in place. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers over her cheek, barely touching her. “What would you say if I slept in that chair? I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”
She glared up at him. “Finley MacLeod, get your ass in that bed. How many bullet holes do you have in you? You are not sleeping in a chair.”
Merida prodded his shoulder.
He winced and grabbed her wrist.
She started, remembering too late which shoulder it was that had been hurt. “Wrong shoulder!”
“Point proven,” he mumbled and lifted her hand to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles.
Her whole body warmed and she had to wonder, what kind of hell she’d just crawled into?
“Okay. Well, then.” She pulled her hand away and drew herself upright. “Get in bed. Go on.”
Unlike him, she was still dusty and gross.
“Yes, ma’am.” Finley nodded his head and turned toward the bed.
She watched, a little amazed that he marched away and did exactly as she said. Of course when he reached to unfasten his jeans she bolted into the bathroom. Her earlier glimpse of Finley naked didn’t quite count. She’d been overwhelmed and everything happened so fast.
Merida blew out a breath and turned toward the mirror. It was the first look at herself she’d gotten since changing out of her soaking wet clothes. It was weird to think that she’d looked better as a drowned rat than she did now.
The bathroom had one of those huge showers that could fit five or six people. She stared at it longingly before accepting that she just didn’t have the energy for a shower. Instead she unearthed her fancy face soap, toner and moisturizer set, a present from her best friend Melody. Boy was Merida going to have a story to tell her after tonight.
She splashed water on her hair, washed her face, brushed her teeth and dug out something to sleep in. It wasn’t sexy, just a pair of pink shorts with donuts on them and a matching camisole.
Merida was who she was.
She zipped up her su
itcase and hauled it into the bedroom only to find Finley facedown and passed out, one boot still on.
He’d given everything tonight.
Carefully so as to not wake him she got his boot off and tucked him in bed, turned out all the lights then crawled in on the other side. Tired as she was, she lay there looking at the dark shadow of his form.
He already had her heart. Now she owed him her life. What else did he want from her?
8.
Thursday. Bed and Breakfast, Seattle, Washington.
Finley rolled over, putting his back toward the window on his side of the bed.
He wasn’t ready to be awake yet. He’d slept maybe four hours, probably not even that, and he wasn’t keen on being awake yet. Especially when awake meant he would need to figure out what he was going to say to Merida.
Despite telling himself to go the hell back to sleep he cracked one eye open. Just one. He wanted to steal a glimpse of Merida relaxed and asleep. Last night he’d passed out before she’d come to bed and woken up swathed in darkness. He’d wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was really there, but he hadn’t been willing to wake her.
Instead, he saw rumpled sheets and a pillow with a head-sized divot in it.
He sat up, going from groggy to awake in seconds.
Those men.
Had they been working alone?
Were there more?
Had they come for Merida?
And that was when he heard it. The soft sound of water from the bathroom.
She was safe—and taking a shower.
There was no going to bed after an adrenaline surge like this.
He swung his legs out of bed and flexed his toes. Pain shot up his left calf but he ignored it. The graze wasn’t as bad as it looked, but he was still careful putting weight on the leg as he got to his feet.
Finley peered out of the bedroom window on the backyard.
Nothing was out of the ordinary.
He didn’t know what last night was about or if the danger had passed. That was half of the reason he’d wanted to keep close to Merida. The rest was all selfish.
They hadn’t touched. He hadn’t held her. But she’d been there. On the other side of the mattress.
It felt like they were each holding their breath. He’d have liked to talk last night, but they’d both been about to drop. In the end sleep seemed the wiser option.
He crossed the bedroom pausing at the door only to flip on the switch that fed the fireplace. Merida had seemed fascinated last night. Maybe she’d like a fire this morning? It was chilly enough to need it.
Finley took another step and he was in the small hall. If it could be called that. He braced his hands on the doorframe of the bathroom and stared. Normally he tried not to, but he was done hiding his attraction to her. She’d kissed him. She’d pushed for sex over talking. He didn’t want to walk that back or settle for something else.
He wanted what he wanted.
Her.
Merida scrubbed at her face with one of the washcloths. She hadn’t yet noticed him, which was nice.
She must have been up for a while. Her hair was wet, likely from a shower and she’d changed into a pair of yoga pants and a thermal long-sleeved shirt with snowflakes on it. She swiped the rag down her neck.
Their eyes locked in the mirror and she froze.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d have liked. Too rough. He needed to be smooth.
What the hell was he thinking?
He was a mechanic.
She worked security on a global scale.
“I’m almost done in here and I’ll be out of your way,” she said.
“Take your time.” He let go of the doorframe. This morning he’d move to the other bedroom.
He was an idiot. This was why he’d never made a move before. He’d realized how mismatched they were. She deserved better. More than him. Someone who could have handled last night better. He was sure he’d done a dozen things wrong, he just couldn’t get around her.
Merida washed her hands then draped the rag over a bar.
Was it too late to go back to their corners?
She turned toward him, but didn’t look at him. Not his eyes at least. She stared at his chest. His hear took a sprinting leap at his ribs.
He loved her so much it hurt.
Did he really think they could go back? Did he want to? But how could they go forward?
If only life were as simple as the quiet moments last night. When they were a team. Because that he understood. He and Merida balanced each other. They worked well together and he wanted to keep doing that. But not in a combat situation. That part of his life was done. Sure, he’d protect what was his, but that was different. That was an emergency. Not his normal.
Finley took a step toward her. He had to or else his heart was going to break a rib. One step became two and then Merida was there. He slid an arm around her waist. The slightest pressure had her leaning into him and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She buried her face against his good shoulder, but didn’t squeeze. No, he did that, holding her as tight as he dared. Which wasn’t very tight. They were both a mass of bruises, cuts and wounds. The best stocking stuffer would be wound care gel this year.
He turned his head a bit and breathed in the smell of her shampoo and soap. In that moment he was glad she’d packed her whole house. The normalcy of her scent and feel chased away some of the worry and deep down he knew that for every reason he had why this wouldn’t work there were at least two why it had to. And it began with one simple fact.
He loved her.
Finley stroked his hand down her back and stared at their reflection in the mirror, how she fit against him with her head just under his chin.
“Merida?”
“Hm?”
“We need to talk—”
“Do we have to?” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
He pulled back just enough to look down at her. “Yes.”
She leaned against the vanity. “Okay.”
He caught her hands before she got away from him completely. “I think we need to talk about last night. Before we went to your office.”
She shifted from foot to foot and once more looked at his chest instead of his face. “Things got out of hand...”
“Did they?” He braced his hand on the vanity and leaned down so she had no choice but to look at him.
Under normal circumstances she had an excellent poker face. It was one of the reasons he’d never known if he should make a move. She never let anything slip. But she had, and he’d gotten a glimpse behind the mask.
She’d wanted him, and never once when he’d kissed her since then had she turned away from him. That gave him hope to go out on a limb.
“I don’t think things got out of hand. I think we’ve been playing at friends for too long when we both want something more.” He began to sweat despite the chill. God, he hoped she wanted the same thing he did. “I want more.”
Her head snapped up and she stared at him, her eyes so large and dark he could have lost himself in them.
He licked his lips and kept going. “It’s been damn confusing. Part of me wants you. The other part of me doesn’t want to lose what we have. You’re important to me, Merida. You know that, right? I’d die for you.”
“I don’t want you to die for me,” she blurted and he realized she was shaking.
He grasped her by the shoulders and slid his hands up and down. “Hey, it’s okay.”
She sucked down air and leaned into him again so their bodies almost touched. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You haven’t. You won’t.”
“I’m a mess, Fin...”
“I don’t care. I’m a mechanic. You run point for a global security firm doing God only knows what.”
She frowned up at him. “Why does that matter? I like that you’re a mechanic. My dad retired so he could work on cars. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
He didn’t care if she was a mess, whatever that meant. And she didn’t care if he was just a mechanic. What she wasn’t doing was denying the fact that they both wanted something more.
Finley slid his fingers along her face. He hated all the scratches, but he loved how strong she’d been. How she’d fought to survive. He’d learned a lot about the kind of woman she was under all of that. Merida wasn’t someone who ran when things got tough. She rolled up her sleeves and waded farther in. That was the kind of partner he wanted in life.
“I’m in love with you, Merida,” he whispered.
She blinked and her lips parted.
It wasn’t what he’d planned on saying it just seemed like the right thing to go with.
Honesty.
He loved her.
They’d spent a lot of time together. They knew each other inside and out. In many ways they’d been in a relationship without the physical aspect. He sure as hell only had eyes for her. The only thing that mattered now was what happened next.
“Fin... I...”
“If I could go back, I think... I’d slow things down last night. I’d have told you before we got hot and heavy so you knew what you were in for when—”
“Will you shut up?” She huffed and glared at him. “Can a girl get a single word out?”
He couldn’t help but laugh and tug her closer.
Merida stared up at him, serious now.
“I think I’ve been in love with you since the day you crawled into that manhole to save the baby ducks.”
Finley opened his mouth then closed it.
He vaguely remembered that, only because he’d ruined his boots.
Merida had only been his neighbor for a few weeks at that point, and she’d already been in love with him?
“We hadn’t even spoken,” he said.
She shrugged. “I’m sorry, were you expecting rational?”
He held onto the automatic answer of, Yes.
Finley wanted her to be irrationally in love with him. Crazy, madly, deeply. He wasn’t going to question how or when. If it was baby ducks or the first oil change, he’d take it. Because it meant she was in love with him, too.
Spirit of Danger (Body of Danger, #2) Page 10