Hearing his chuckling as he closed the door didn’t help anything. But hearing the decisive click when it closed made her sink against the tiled wall and breathe a sigh of relief. Hornier than a teenager, she needed to stop this flip flopping around like a crazy woman. It was time to shit or get off the pot as her mom used to say. Mom would have liked Raptor. Her dad too probably, or he would have won him over eventually. Shaking her head, she finished rinsing the soap off and climbed out of the shower.
She’d totally forgotten to bring fresh clothes into the bathroom. It wasn’t her usual routine since she lived alone. It didn’t matter if she walked around in a towel. But it mattered today. Ready to kick herself, she pulled open the door enough to peek out and see if he was around. When the coast looked clear, she ran to her room and closed and locked the door, and leaned against it like she’d been running for her life. What the heck was she doing? Laughing until tears poured down her cheeks, she couldn’t believe she just did that. She was thirty-one years old, and definitely not a virgin, so why was she fighting the attraction so hard? And why was she running to her bedroom to hide like a fifteen-year-old?
“Everything okay in there?” His knock made her laugh even harder.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ll be right out,” she said while trying to catch her breath.
“Are you sure? You sound kind of hysterical in there.”
“Yup, it’s all good. Go check on that salad, it might be wilting.”
“Okay good idea.” As he walked away, she snorted. It was the first thing she could think of to tell him to do. Check on salad, seriously? And he did it? Wow. He really did need help with this kitchen skills.
Pulling herself together, she grabbed a pair of yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, then pulled her thick curls into a messy bun. Keeping it up was a lot easier to deal with, and a necessity in the bakery, even if it wasn’t her most attractive look. Chewing her lip, she considered getting out her blow dryer and adding a little makeup. Hearing his footsteps in the hallway again killed that idea. What was he doing? Patrolling the hallway to keep her safe? Giggling again, she pulled open the bedroom door and almost walked headfirst into his wall of chest.
“You do know it’s only the two of us here, right? I don’t think you need to be on patrol.”
“Um, I wasn’t exactly patrolling.”
“No? You checked on me three times in less than a half hour. And unless I’m mistaken you were about to do it again.” Looking sheepish, he gave her a gentle smile.
“You’ve been through hell for the last few days. Give a guy a break for wanting to make sure you’re okay.” Well, when he put it that way she felt bad for saying anything, but only until he opened his mouth again.
“You do know I’ve managed to take care of myself for most of the last thirty-one years, right?”
“You’re that old?” He said what? Oh no he didn’t. That old?
“Did you just say I’m old? Because if you did you better remember to lock your door tonight or you might find yourself knocked over the head with my cast iron skillet.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No? Why don’t you try to dig yourself out of that hole, and I’ll check on the quiche?” Following a few steps behind her, she could almost feel the wheels in his brain turning trying to figure out what to say next. She wasn’t mad. It was funny, and she’d been trying to hold back her laughter knowing she’d put him on the spot. It was nice not to be the one squirming about what to say for a change.
The quiche wasn’t quite done, but it was getting there. Checking on the salad she was impressed at his prep skills, maybe there was hope for him yet. “Nice job on the veggies.”
“I tried, I figured you’d want everything bite size, so I had to cut them down a bit.”
She smiled to herself as she checked the full salad bowl. He’d chopped everything to the same size. It surprised her that he’d thought about what he was doing. The rare instances she’d convinced Jim to help, he’d do just enough to finish and not caring how it turned out. Most of the time she’d have to go back and fix whatever he’d done.
“Good to know we don’t have to start with Salad 101 and go right into cooking eggs.”
“What? I thought you were kidding about the cooking lessons.”
“Nope. Everyone should know how to cook the basics at least.”
“I don’t need to. I’m never home and when I am the last thing I want to do is spend time in the kitchen. I’d rather grab a beer and watch whatever game is in season.” That didn’t surprise her, but she didn’t plan to back down. Although if she was trying to keep him at arm’s length, teaching him to cook and bake wasn’t the way to do it.
“How much longer ‘til that egg pie thing is done? I’m starving.”
“Quiche, it’s called quiche. Not long, but we can have the salad first if you want? Do you want a beer with dinner?”
“Are you going to have one?”
“I’m going to have a glass of white wine. I only keep the beer for guests.”
“Do you have a lot of guests?”
“No, not that it’s any business of yours.” Damn, she’d gone and done it. Got him riled up again. Just when she thought they’d have a peaceful meal and maybe he’d forget about the conversation he’d promised they’d have.
Pulling the bottle of Pinot Grigio out of the refrigerator, she reached for a glass, while she waited for his next question. He surprised her.
“I’ll have wine too.”
Raising her eyebrows, she grabbed another wine glass from the cabinet. Then carried the bottle and glasses over to her small dining room table. It would be the first meal she’d shared with anyone since she moved in. It was kind of nice. Who was she kidding? Having him around was wonderful and exasperating at the same time.
He followed her with the salad. “You know, I didn’t mean you were old. It just came out wrong. I thought you were barely into your twenties, you look very young.”
“Nice try.”
“Seriously, angel. I figured you were way too young for me.” Raptor grabbed her hands and stopped her from heading back to the kitchen. He tilted her chin up, so she had no choice but to look into his hazel eyes. “You’re beautiful, amazing, and I want you in case you haven’t already figured that out.”
“You want me?” her voice came out in a high squeak. He grinned, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t lesson.
“Yes, angel. And for as long as I can have you. I know I should wait until you’re not my client, but I’ve been searching for you for two long years already.”
“You have?” Why couldn’t she make sentences longer than two words?
“Yes, I have. I’ll explain everything if you let me. Just know that I’m serious, I want nothing more than to make love to you. I will wait until you’re ready but don’t doubt for a minute that I want to make you mine.”
She must have looked like she was impersonating a fish. Her mouth opened and closed while she tried to come up with something to say, but he saved her. Before she could utter a word, his lips took hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. He pulled her close and crushed her against him leaving her no doubt that he’d meant what he said if the erection pushing against her belly was any indication.
The passionate kisses made her knees weak, and she grabbed his waist to keep from falling.
***
If he didn’t stop now, he’d carry her down the hall to her room. Killing him as it was, he had no choice. He’d just made her a promise to let her set the pace. With a groan that echoed through his body, he released her lips and took a step back.
“I’m sorry. I just got done saying I’d wait.”
“It…it’s okay, really. I just…”
“I think the egg pie might be burning.” You can take the man out of the military but not the military out of the man. In this case, always aware of his environment and any changes.
“What?”
“Dinner
?”
“Oh no.” She ran into the kitchen and opened the stove with him following closely on her heels.
“It doesn’t look too bad.”
She gave him an ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ look while shaking her head. “Damn. I don’t remember burning anything since I was ten.”
“I bet we can just cut off the crispy edges and it’ll be fine.”
“It’s egg based, it will have absorbed the burnt flavor.”
“How about we give it a try? I’m game if you are?” She didn’t look convinced, but in the end, their hunger won out. It had accomplished one thing, he might as well have dumped ice water on them. The mood was toasted.
Chapter Nine
“This is pretty good.”
“Quiche. It’s not a hard word.”
“It’s weird though. Didn’t there used to be a thing about real men not eating it?”
“Yes, but you’re eating it, and if earlier was any indication, you are definitely a real man.” In his head, he did a fist pump, maybe the mood wasn’t completely lost. They still needed to have the talk about all the issues she’d been having. It sucked that he wasn’t any closer to any answers. Hank texted while she was in the shower to let them know that the sheriff hadn’t come up with any answers or finger prints. With no help there, they were still at square one.
“Well, it’s good.”
“It would have been better if I hadn’t burned it.”
“I think I might have helped with that.” There was that blush again, she was just so damn cute when her face was awash in red.
“True. You did distract me.”
“And I am looking forward to the next distraction, but first we need to talk about what’s been going on.”
“Do we have to?”
“I’m afraid so. You probably know who it is but don’t realize it yet. I hope by asking the right questions, it might trigger something.”
“Okay, but may I have more wine first?”
“You don’t have to ask me.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been awful bossy.”
“No, angel, not bossy, protective, there’s a difference.”
“If you say so,” she said and pushed her lower lip out in a pout. But she couldn’t keep it up and giggled. Between the wine and exhaustion, her defenses were lowered, and it would make hopefully make her more open to his questions. But watching her nibble on her lower lip was driving him crazy.
They cleaned up the dinner dishes and tossed the rest of the quiche in the trash. He poured them another glass of wine and carried them into her small living room. Thinking it would be wise to give them each some space, he sat in one of the arm chairs across from the sofa. Rori carried one of her pink and black bakery boxes, and he swore he started salivating as soon as he saw it in her hands.
Holding open the box she offered it to him. “The little squares are petit fours, like little layer cakes with raspberry jam between layers of yellow cake and covered in fondant, umm icing. There are also mini-cream puffs and eclairs, and chocolate brandy balls. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I brought some of each.”
Grabbing a petit four, he popped it into his mouth. If he kept this up, he’d gain ten pounds in no time. But damn it would be worth it. “Delicious, thank you.”
“Another?”
“Not right now. I know you’re trying to delay the discussion but the sooner we get this over with, the faster you can get some rest.”
“Are you sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“I want to get out in front of this before the next thing happens. To do that I need more information.”
“Very well. What do you want to know?”
He took out his phone and opened the note app. “When did you open the bakery?”
“A little over a year ago.”
“And when did the trouble start? Was it right away?” Damnit, she was nibbling on her lip again. He stood up in the guise of reaching for his glass, but he needed to adjust his junk to get the circulation going again. He was going to have permanent zipper marks soon.
“Umm, I can’t remember exactly when I thought most of the stuff was just coincidence.”
“Like what? Try to remember, anything will help.”
“Let’s see, I had the grand opening in April, just before Easter and it went off without a hitch. I was still getting this place updated, so I was traveling back and forth to my parent’s house.”
“Okay, good. Now think, what was the first thing that wasn’t right?”
“In June, I started having trouble receiving my deliveries.”
“You couldn’t place the orders?”
“No. I’d make the orders like I had been all along, but they’d get canceled. It was frustrating. There’d be days I had to run to the grocery to pick up what I needed.”
“Did it happen a lot?”
“For a couple of weeks, then I changed suppliers and things straightened out.”
“No trouble with deliveries after that?”
“No, that stopped, but then there was all the car trouble, flat tires, dead battery, I had the garage on speed dial until I moved in here. Then I started getting phone calls all hours of the day and night. I’d just fall asleep, and the phone would ring. Originally, I had the bakery phone ring up here too. I shut the phone off after the second night of calls. But that was such a teenager thing to do, I didn’t give it much thought.”
“Is it still going on?”
“It changed from just hang-ups to harassment. The voice is disguised, I couldn’t even tell you if it’s male or female, but they’d say horrible things.”
“Like what?”
“Calling me a whore, telling me I should have been the one to die instead. Things like that.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“No, why would I?”
“Why wouldn’t you, that is the better question. And you’re still getting the calls?”
“Every day, until yesterday. I just realized we didn’t have any calls on the bakery line yesterday.”
“That is weird. But then why would it start after you’ve been back for almost a year? What triggered it after you opened the bakery?”
“A reporter from a Bozeman TV Station interviewed me after they found out I’d survived the Paris terrorist attacks. They wanted to know everything about me, of course. And they highlighted the bakery. It got really crazy after that for a while.”
“When was this?”
“June, before the issues with the deliveries started.”
“Did the caller ever mention the TV interview?”
“No, I don’t think so. But it kind of went viral on Facebook. I was getting orders from all over the country until I explained I wasn’t set up to handle that type of business.”
“This is good. We know the when and the trigger. Now we need to find out the who and the reasoning behind it. What bothers me is the reference about you dying. Are you sure they said instead?”
“Yeah, it’s what they said. It tore me up inside. My parents had flown to Paris to celebrate my graduation from the Cordon Bleu. Jim proposed only moments before all hell broke loose. If it weren’t for me, they’d still be alive.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled over to run down her cheeks. It was his undoing.
“No, angel, you’re wrong. Shit just happens, this world is fucked up. So much hatred, too much hatred. I saw it every day for the last ten years. You are in no way to blame; the terrorists are at fault. No one should have died or been injured.”
He hadn’t even realized he’d moved from the chair to the couch until he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped her in his arms. He had enough to go on for now. Tomorrow he’d start digging.
Chapter Ten
“I’m sorry.”
“Again, you have nothing to be sorry for, angel. You were just an innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time. As were your parents and Jim. Too much of this is happening all over.”
“I know, but...”
“Shh, no buts.”
Wrapped in his arms, she finally stopped shivering. Not that she was cold, it was from trying to hold back the tears. She’d forgotten about the TV interview and phone calls. How could she just forget? Especially when that night was crystal clear, every detail permanently etched in her memory.
The pounding of his heart beneath her ear helped to ease her tears. Concentrating on the steady rhythm, she took a few deep breaths, and the tears stopped.
“Better now?” Raptor asked. Being cocooned in his embrace was like being wrapped in a big warm blanket. Her eyes were getting heavy, and she yawned.
“Yes, just tired.”
“My poor angel, I’m sorry I made you remember everything. But it’s the only way to try to figure this out.”
“I know. It’s just hard, I do better when I just keep it all buried.”
“Keeping it locked away is the worst thing you could do. You need to give yourself permission to heal, to live again. I don’t know about Jim, but I can guarantee your parents wouldn’t want you feeling guilty.”
“You’re right. Neither would Jim. He was so full of life.”
“Oh, one more thing, then we’re getting you to bed. What was Jim’s full name?”
“James Marshall, the third I think. His family was old money, and they hated that he didn’t follow in the family business.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“Nope, he wouldn’t talk about his family or the business. I never even met them.”
He pulled out his phone and made a notation, but she was too tired to try to read it. Then he stood with her in his arms.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed.”
“I can walk.”
“Yes, you can but humor me. Don’t worry I’m not going to take advantage of you, we already went over that.”
She believed him and snuggled closer. He had to be strong carrying her size fourteen butt around. At first, she was self-conscious, but he didn’t seem to be struggling under her weight at all.
Brotherhood Protectors: Guarding Aurora (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Beyond Valor Book 6) Page 6