Teague laughed at something Troy said and then turned to her. “So, I was wondering. Would you mind if I got a ride home with my, uh, friend?”
Erin squeezed her sister’s hand. “Not at all.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Troy.” She got up and skipped back to Lover Boy. Yes, skipped.
Jeez. Ten seconds. That’s all it took for her sister to dump her. She caught the waitress’s eye and gave the signal—a hand swipe in front of her neck—that she’d changed her mind about another drink and was done for the night. Milt, the Crown & Anchor’s owner and prickly bartender, would add the night’s consumption to her open tab. She was pretty sure she owed him about a gazillion dollars by now, but her chocolate-chocolate chip bacon bars made up for some of it. He loved them and she happily baked them for him whenever he muttered he was in need of a cookie fix.
“Since my date just got a better offer, I think I’ll head home.” She left several dollars’ tip on the table and then pressed her hands to her thighs and stood.
“I’ll walk you out.” Troy’s arm brushed hers as he reached her side.
And once again the simple touch sent an electrical current through her. Whatever mojo he had going on, she wished he’d use it on someone else.
They pushed out the restaurant door. Cold autumn air greeted her; the smell of wet leaves and rain tickled her nose. Glancing up, she saw clouds drifting across the full moon. “Could we shoot for Friday night?”
“That’s doable for me. I’ll call my buddy and see if he’s available.”
“What’s his name?”
“Bryce Hood.”
“Bryce Hood,” she repeated. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“It does,” he agreed good-naturedly.
They stopped at her car. He leaned his hip on the rear driver’s-side door while she let her butt and back rest on the driver’s door.
“We should set some guidelines,” she said. “Especially since he’s a friend of yours. I don’t want to hurt his feelings if things aren’t working.”
“Absolutely. But let’s start with a few questions. I should know a little more about Erin Watters so I can fill Bryce in on your virtues. What’s your favorite sports team?”
“I hate talking about myself.”
“Don’t care. Fess up.” He inclined his head and her world went a little tipsy. His soul-searching melted-chocolate eyes were mesmerizing. She reminded herself not to look in them anymore.
“And if I don’t?” she said to the ground.
“I’ll make you,” he teased.
“You can’t make me.”
“Want to bet?” A little more space disappeared between them.
All of a sudden, she wanted to do lots of things with the hot paramedic beside her. None of them good. “I never lose a bet.”
“Favorite sports team,” he repeated, his tone even.
She crossed her arms, pressed her lips together, and lifted her chin. She’d perfected the pose growing up when one of her siblings was pushing for info she didn’t want to share.
Troy’s hands were on her a split second later. She gasped and then giggled and then went into full-blown laugh mode. Because somehow he knew she was ticklish. His fingers hit her sides and she tried to wiggle out of his playful grasp, but he had her between his arms now and she couldn’t escape.
“The Patriots,” she managed to call out.
He stopped, pulled back. Smiled. She forced a frown in return.
“Do you like to be called by a nickname?” he asked, like he hadn’t just groped her into the best laugh she’d had in a while.
“I can think of a few names I’d like to call you right now.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Go for it.”
“How did you know I was so ticklish?” she said instead.
“When I stitched up your hand last month you had a hard time keeping still. Palms are sensitive spots, but I could tell it was more.”
Damn. He was right. He’d tickled her hand like crazy but she’d stayed stoic. Until he’d said it was still bleeding. Then she’d almost passed out.
A few people stumbled out of the Crown & Anchor, the happy sounds inside wafting to her ears before the door closed.
“So, nickname?”
She felt her cheeks redden. She’d had one in college that she’d never told anyone at home about. “Nope.”
“Liar.”
She shrugged.
“Didn’t we just establish I can get it out of you?” He angled himself closer. This more relaxed, playful Troy was very unnerving. What had gotten into him? She started to step away, but he trapped her against the car, his arms braced on either side of her body. “Come on, tell me.”
“No.”
“Chicken.” His eyes glittered. He knew he had her with that description and she bristled.
“If I tell you, then I get to ask you anything I want and you have to answer it.”
“Fine.”
Just blurt it out. She couldn’t believe she was about to tell him. Nerves did a one-two step down her back. Dammit. She never got nervous. “Erin Go Bragh. Or just Go Bragh.”
“Doesn’t that mean Ireland forever? I didn’t know you were Irish.”
“Everyone has a bit of Irish in them, right?” She laid her best Irish accent on him.
“Not buying it.” He stayed put. Why wasn’t he backing off? She needed some space.
Goose bumps skittered up the back of her arms. She pressed her hands against the cold metal of her car.
“Okay, fine.” To her chagrin, she sounded breathy. Worried he’d notice his effect on her, she did a quick mental slap. “In college whenever I drank too much, I had a tendency to take off my bra. I’d slip it right out from under my shirt like it was too tight or something. So the ‘go bragh’ means ‘go bra’ like letting my bra go. It became a joke with my sorority sisters and fraternity friends.”
His eyes dipped to her chest and God, she felt it as if he’d touched her there. The air crackled with electricity. Two seconds later, he stepped back and his gaze snapped to her face.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“No worries. A girl says ‘bra’ and a guy’s attention instantly goes to her chest.”
“Not okay for a wingman. So, your guidelines?”
“Forget it. We’ll play it by ear. It’s much easier that way.” She couldn’t decipher exactly what had just happened between them, and it bugged her that she’d enjoyed his attention. Any direction she gave him now would probably be clouded by her moronic pleasure. “So, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” she asked.
“What?”
“My question for you is, why no girlfriend?” She’d heard he’d moved back to Cascade to help his family out after his brother-in-law’s passing and guessed between that and work, he stayed busy. But jeez, she didn’t even really like him and looking his way set her on edge. Hot was a major understatement. And through the gossip mill, she’d heard that since Shane was now taken, Troy was the next highly-sought-after bachelor.
As far as she knew, though, he hadn’t even been out on a date since returning home.
“Don’t have the time,” he said.
“You do know you’re a major topic of conversation with the single girls of Cascade.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, creases lining his forehead. “I did not know that.” He looked away.
“That bothers you?”
“It does.”
“I could spread a rumor that you’re gay.”
His attention popped back to her. “And have all the single guys of Cascade talking about me?” A slow smile spread across his face.
Erin wrapped her arms around her middle and laughed until she needed to catch a breath. “A few of them probably already are.”
“I am pretty likable.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Aaannnd that’s my cue.” He stepped back. “I’ll let you know about Frida
y. Good night.”
“Night,” she said and hurried into her car before she did something stupid. Like say he was likable.
…
The next day, Troy walked into Captain Sullivan’s office and took a seat across the desk from the man he respected above all others. “Captain.”
“Troy,” he said with affection, fondness.
“I take it you heard from Dr. Snow.” Or as Troy liked to call her, the White Witch. The woman didn’t have a compassionate bone in her body. Why she worked as a therapist he had no idea.
“She says you’ve failed to show up to your last two appointments.”
“More like decided against.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Captain, the woman—”
“Dr. Snow,” Captain Sullivan corrected.
“Dr. Snow is cold and arrogant and I don’t think psychotherapy is going to help me get over my acrophobia. Especially since I can’t relax when I’m with her. Her eyes are black and penetrating, and she barely blinks—”
Captain Sullivan put up his hand. “Gotcha. You should have come to me sooner.”
Shame climbed up the back of Troy’s neck. He hated being afraid of heights. Hated the fear that had wound its way around his psyche in a tight knot after the accident with Jamie.
He hated that he couldn’t just get over it already. For almost a year now he’d let what happened on that mountain stifle him. He’d missed certain search-and-rescue operations because of it. He’d let panic attacks wake him in the middle of the night. It was time to get mentally tough and kick this phobia out of his head. If he didn’t get his shit together soon, he’d lose his position with the fire department.
“You’re right,” Troy said. “I think I just needed a little break.”
“Well, now that you’ve had one, I’ve got a different solution for you. I need you back in rescue shape and I’m hoping this will do it.” He pulled a sheet of paper out of a manila folder and glanced at it. “The chief came across a notice that he forwarded to me. There’s a local graduate student finishing a master’s program in clinical psychology who’s in need of a subject.”
“Okay.” Troy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Anything sounded better than Dr. White Witch.
“It’s something called exposure therapy.” Captain Sullivan rested against his chair. “I think we’ve got a great opportunity here.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Want to know what it is first?”
Troy straightened. “I guess I should.”
“Exposure therapy slowly introduces the feared situation in order to overcome the original fear. Studies have shown that exposing a person to his fear even one time can cancel the phobia completely.”
“So I’ll be facing heights.”
Captain nodded. “You’ll be facing heights.”
Troy’s heart pounded. Sitting in an office talking about his problem wasn’t doing him any good, and this was what he wanted. To be back out there.
“I’m game.”
“I had a feeling you would be. I’ll let the chief know and get back to you on the start day.”
“Thanks, Captain.” Troy stood. “I appreciate the time you’ve given me to deal with this, and I won’t disappoint you.”
“Son, you haven’t disappointed me yet.”
With a nod and a smile, Troy left the office. He passed by the day room and entered the fitness room for a five-mile date with the treadmill.
At mile four, Oliver came into the room. He hit the mat for some sit-ups. “You have a date in mind for Erin yet?” he said mid-crunch. “And it can’t be you, so don’t even think about taking that short cut to win.”
“No worries,” he semi-choked out. “I already lined up a guy.” He’d called Bryce this morning and they were on for tomorrow night. Troy smiled through his labored breathing. After talking to Bryce, he had a feeling his friend and Erin would hit it off quickly.
“Seriously?”
“And I’m thinking they’re perfect for each other, so have fun in the produce aisle for the next two months.”
Oliver straightened his legs and lifted his arms over his head to stretch. “What are you? The Date Whisperer?”
Troy wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. “Maybe.” He had a pretty awesome success rate with setting people up.
“I don’t think Erin’s going to be as easy as you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s got walls, man. Sure, she’s fun and spontaneous. Friendly. But she’s looking for that one flaw to shoot a guy down.”
“All I’ve got to do is find her a guy she wants a second date with. This challenge has nothing to do with getting her to fall for someone.” A sharp pain sliced through his side so he dropped his speed to a walk.
Oliver jumped to his feet. “I said dream guy.”
“What?”
“I said find Erin’s dream guy, but you know, I’m feeling generous so let’s just say a guy she wants to keep dating.”
Shit. He had said that, hadn’t he? “All right,” he grumbled.
“So you up for a little boxing?”
Troy pressed the red stop button and eyed the hundred-pound bag hanging from the ceiling across the room. Hitting something sounded like a great idea. “Yeah, I’m up for that.”
Chapter Three
“One more time. Pretty please with an Oreo cookie and sprinkles on top.”
Troy tucked the bed covers around his niece, Amelia, and bent to give her an Eskimo kiss. “Add gummy bears and you’re on.”
Amelia giggled. “Oreo cookie, sprinkles, and gummy bears on top.”
“Okay then.” He opened Goodnight Moon and for the third time that night, he and Amelia read her favorite bedtime story. When finished, he kissed her forehead.
“Love you, Uncle Troy.” Her sweet four-year-old voice—four and three-quarters if you asked her—filled him with affection every time he tucked her into bed.
“Love you more.”
She snuggled into her pillow with her worn and ragged teddy bear and Troy heard her quiet sounds of slumber before he’d even flicked off the light switch on the wall.
When he’d moved back home to help his sister, he’d never anticipated falling for his niece as hard as he did. He’d visited, but Amelia had eyes only for her dad. Now that Jack was gone, she’d placed that devotion on him, and he took it very seriously.
Her affection was part of the reason he’d turned down the numerous date offers he’d received. She deserved his full attention when he was off duty. And if he did find someone he liked enough to spend time with, he’d want to introduce her to his family. If things didn’t work out, could Amelia handle it? She was a little bundle of open energy on most days, not at all shy, with a tendency to latch onto whoever or whatever was in front of her.
He walked downstairs and into the kitchen where his mom and sister were sitting at the center island and laughing about something. The joyful sound filled his chest with warmth. He’d only started hearing it recently. Losing Jack had shed such a profound sadness over his family that he’d worried they’d never recover. But every day seemed a little better than the last.
“Don’t you look handsome,” Bree said.
“Are you finally going out on a date?” his mom asked, her thin face lighting up at the prospect. She’d been suggesting her friends’ single daughters left and right lately, telling him he spent too much of his time off with his family, but he hadn’t wanted to be anywhere else.
“Just dinner with Bryce and another friend.” Was Erin a friend? She sure as hell was something, since he couldn’t get her out of his head. He kept hearing her laugh, smelling her amazing scent, remembering the curve of her body beneath his hands when he’d tickled her.
“Does this other friend have a name?” Bree asked.
Troy braced his hands on the granite-top kitchen island across from his sister and mom. He really didn’t feel like telling them about the dare Oliver had thrown down. And if h
e mentioned a woman, they’d most likely rush to matchmake for him. The only name that popped into his head, though, was the truth. “Erin.” At their depleted shoulders, Troy realized his good luck at avoiding further pestering. They thought Erin was a guy.
“Did you know Amelia wants a purple bike with pink flowers for Christmas?” he asked before he let his guilt talk him into correcting their assumption.
“I did.” Bree tilted her head and studied him. Yeah, his twin sister knew there was something more going on. “She also wants a fair maiden pop-up castle so she can put it in your living room and have sleepovers with you.”
“She can do that—”
Bree put her hand up. “I know she can do it anytime, but it’s important to me that you have your own space.”
He lived all of two hundred feet away in the guesthouse, but spent most of his time here in the main house. After Jack’s death, Bree had sold their home and moved in with Mom. They’d asked him to take the guesthouse and he’d thought it a good idea, too.
Troy had no idea what a fair maiden castle looked like, but he was buying one for Amelia.
His sister narrowed her eyes before her features relaxed and she said, “I’m leaving on Monday for Vancouver.” Bree was the West Coast account manager for a pharmaceutical company and traveled several times a month.
“Okay.”
“Think you could take Amelia shopping for a Halloween costume while I’m gone? She wants to be a princess.”
“Sure.”
“She wants a man’s opinion so she won’t go with me,” his mom said.
Troy choked. “She said that?”
Bree sighed. “She’s got a friend at school this year with two older sisters and she’s hearing all sorts of things.” His sister covered her face with her hands. Her next words—“I’m so not ready for anything boy-related”—came out kind of garbled.
“Hey.” Troy circled the counter and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re in luck. As the uncle I can plant plenty of boys are horrible seeds so she wants nothing to do with them.”
Lifting her head, Bree said, “That would be great. Thanks. Would you mind filling in for me as library volunteer on Tuesday, too? Mom’s got an appointment.”
Wild About Her Wingman Page 3