by CP Smith
His voice, when he finally spoke, was a deep, rolling thunder, menacing, in a tone that left no question of his anger. “You wanna give the lady some privacy?”
Sage looked down at her shirt when she caught the direction his focus had landed and quickly covered her breasts with her arms before turning to grab a towel.
Chester turned his back on her, and Shane leveled his friend with a murderous look. Chester heeded his warning, mumbling, “I’ll wait inside,” leaving him alone on the deck with Sage.
A spark of jealousy reared its ugly head once Chester left, and he asked accusingly, “You always change in front of strange men?”
Caught off guard by his anger, Sage widened her eyes at the bite in his voice and then narrowed them.
“I was in the hot tub and he asked me to come inside. I asked him to turn around while I got out and he did.”
Shane looked over his shoulder and glared at Chester through the window. It looked like he’d be adding a second topic of conversation to his list of shit to set straight with the man.
“All right, but explain to me why you were in the hot tub in the first damn place if you knew a man was on his way over?”
“Listen, Sergeant, I don’t like what you’re insinuating. I didn’t know that—”
“Shane,” he corrected. He didn’t want to be referred to as Sergeant, not by anyone, least of all her.
“Fine. Shane . . . Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot earlier and I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know, but please don’t come out here—”
“Why’d you come to Trails End?” he interrupted. He didn’t want to think about the why and how of her and Chester alone on the porch, he wanted to know why the hell she came here in the first place. That question had been nagging him all the way to Maxine’s cabin. Why, if she was in trouble, would she look up a man she didn’t know instead of heading to her family or the authorities?
She hesitated when he asked, and looked down at her feet. After a moment of pause, she squared her shoulders, lifted her head, and answered with a casualness that didn’t ring true, “I was in the area and remembered you lived here. I thought I would pop in and thank you for—”
“Don’t say it,” he clipped short. He couldn’t handle her thanking him for anything to do with her sister. He was too riled up.
She took a few deep breaths after his outburst, nodded, then continued. “As I was saying, I was in the area and thought I’d stop in and say . . . hi.”
The word liar bounced around in his head, and he grew more pissed off.
“Maxine says you’re runnin’, that some person is after you, and your first thought was to contact me. A man you don’t know.”
“I already went to the police and they can’t do anything to help until this person makes a move. I left town hoping my departure might calm things down. Then I found myself in your neck of the woods so I thought—”
“Bullshit,” Shane bit out, his voice hard and unyielding. “Trails End isn’t on the way to—or from, for that matter—anywhere . . . So, I’ll ask again, why are you here?”
“I wanted to say thank—to say hi.”
“You wanted to say hi to a man you don’t know while you’re runnin’ scared?” he sarcastically accused.
She’d held his eyes until then, but when he called her bluff, she looked away. She was lying and she knew he knew it.
Twelve months of breathing and eating the guilt over her sister’s death had worn his control thin. And today of all days, she showed up with no forewarning, kicking him in the gut with her presence. Therefore, he didn’t have the time or inclination to be patient with her. Wanting the truth, he moved toward her and got right into her space, using his size once again to intimidate her into telling him the truth.
“You came here hoping I would help, didn’t you?”
When her eyes widened and she looked away, he had his answer.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded.
Her head came up immediately, and she looked at him. He could see color warming her cheeks and her pale-green pools were bright with unshed tears. She licked her lips again. A nervous habit, he decided, but the effect was still the same. Hunger set in, his blood began to burn, and his cock ached.
“Answer me,” he demanded, his attention dropping to her mouth.
“Yes.”
“Even though you don’t know me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Emma Jane said you were the bravest man she’d ever met.”
A direct hit to his soul.
Shane closed his eyes and hung his head.
“She said you cared more for the men who were injured than your own safety. That—”
“Don’t,” Shane grit out.
“But you need to know how much she admired—”
“Jesus, I don’t want to hear this,” he hissed.
“Trust me, Sergeant. My sister knows a good man when she sees one. We both do. Please don’t beat yourself—”
Shane couldn’t bear to hear another word. His only recourse was to shut her up, so he grabbed her neck and slammed his mouth over hers. She gasped when his lips met hers and he took full advantage. Anchoring her mouth to his with the scruff of her hair, Shane bent her head back so he could control the kiss. Her hands were pinned to his chest, but as he deepened the kiss, they moved up and wrapped around his neck. Warmth crawled up his spine and settled in his chest, replacing the constant ache he’d grown used to feeling inside.
He lost himself in the taste of her lips and the feel of her soft curves pressed against his body. Lust pumped through his veins in primal need. A need that spoke of claiming, of possession. The taste of her—sweet, sultry, all woman—drugged him, and he drank deeper until the need to rip the clothes from her body consumed him.
Tearing his mouth from hers, Shane buried his head in her neck, determined to take his fill of her sweet scent. She whimpered, “Shane,” as he ran his tongue along her neck, but something about the way she pronounced his name reminded him of Sloan and he froze. Realization of what he was doing crept in and he pulled back, abruptly setting her aside, regretting the loss of her warm body wrapped around his instantly.
Sage staggered when he let go, looking helpless, reminding him further of her younger sister, making the ache return, slamming into his chest like a freight train. He knew then he’d screwed up. He should have stayed away. Now the taste of her lips would haunt him as well.
“Your sister’s faith in me in was unfounded. I’m not who you think I am,” he said without feeling and then turned his back to leave.
“Bullshit,” she shouted though her voice trembled with emotion. “Tell me, Shane. Tell me what happened that makes you think you let Emma Jane down!”
Shane twisted at her plea and saw tears running down her cheeks. At the sight of her anguish, he was unable to keep the truth from her. He’d done enough; he might as well rip the Band-Aid off and set her straight so her perception of him was clear. He was no hero.
“Emma shouldn’t have been there,” he began. “She wasn’t cut out for war. I knew this and should have recommended her for a transfer, but I didn’t.” Now that he’d started, he wanted to cut his confession from his soul and lay it bare in front of her so she could tell him what a bastard he was. “If I’d followed my gut, she’d be alive today. As I said, your sister’s faith in me was misguided. I’m not who you think I am.”
Now she knew the ugly truth.
Sage was silent, her breathing shallow as she digested his admission. He held his breath while he waited for her recriminations and blame to begin. Instead of screaming, though, she turned her back on him and her shoulders shook. He could hear her all but silent tears, as he stood there motionless. He started to reach out to her but dropped his hand. He was the last person she’d want to comfort her. Instead, he turned and left Sage to her grief, erecting another wall to block out her tears so he could breathe.
If he’d been listening, though, i
nstead of building that wall, he would have heard her tear-choked voice mumble, “You’re exactly who I think you are.”
When he entered the kitchen, his attention on Chester the whole way, Maxine asked with concern in her voice, “Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” Shane answered then ordered, “Outside,” to his friend.
He heard the back door open as he kept moving toward the front. He didn’t turn back to see if Sage was all right, and he didn’t wait to see if Chester followed him out the front door. Her tears were still echoing in his head, and he needed space before he put his fist through a wall.
When the door finally closed behind him, he turned to Chester and let loose his anger and frustration.
“You’re gonna listen to what she has to say and then you’re gonna do everything in your power as the chief of police to keep her safe. Do I make myself clear?” he clipped short.
“That goes without question,” Chester replied.
“You’re also gonna keep your fuckin’ eyes to yourself,” Shane rumbled low in a warning.
“That might be hard.”
Shane’s head jerked back as if he’d been punched. Deciding Chester must not have understood him clearly, Shane moved in closer and got right in his face. Chester didn’t budge. He stood his ground even though it was clear Shane was on edge.
“I saw that,” Shane replied sarcastically, his eyes lighting with fire. “But you’re gonna do it anyway or I swear to God you’ll answer to me.”
Chester finally swallowed and looked away.
Shane took a deep breath to control his anger and continued so he could leave quickly and end this night. “This bastard isn’t gonna stop, not if they harassed her for months. You need to be focused on that and not on her ass.”
“Leaving her ass out of it for a moment,” Chester answered, still not cowering to Shane’s mood, “I agree they aren’t gonna stop. But let’s assume for now they didn’t follow her here. She’s safe for the time being, but I’ll contact FPD and see if they’ve had any other reports of harassment. If someone is pissed off at Sage—”
“Miss Sloan to you,” Shane interrupted.
Chester grinned.
“If someone is pissed off at Miss Sloan for a ruling that she and others made, she’s not the only one who might be in danger. We might get lucky and whoever this is will trip up with someone else.”
“I don’t like the idea of assuming she’s safe just because she’s here. Don’t slack off hoping FPD does their job. Be vigilant, Chester.”
“You know I’d take that as an insult if we weren’t friends and I didn’t know you were looking out for the woman.”
“Take it however you want, just do your job,” Shane bit back.
“Speaking of my job, are we done here so I can go inside and interview the victim?”
“Yeah, just remember what I said. Eyes on the job and not on the woman. She’s been through enough.”
Chester stared at Shane for a moment, then he looked back at the cabin.
“You know, she’s an attractive woman, seems mellow enough, not prone to hysterics,” Chester stated. “Maybe she’d be willing to make Trails End home for the right man.”
“Nothin’ is gonna happen between us, so get that out of your head.”
Chester grinned slowly, and then he asked, “Who said I was talking about you?”
Chester’s meaning nailed a direct hit to his gut, and he scowled.
“Don’t piss me off.”
“I’d say you’re already there, my friend.”
“Yeah? Then trust me, you don’t want to make it worse,” he warned.
“Christ, Shane, you know as well as I do that the men in this town are gonna stand up and take notice of a woman like Sage. If not me, then it’ll be someone else,” he explained and that settled in Shane’s chest like a lead ball, feeding his anger. Before he could reply, however, or put a fist to Chester’s jaw, Maxine’s door flew open and Martha came bursting out.
“Let’s get a move on. Sage isn’t feeling up to answering questions right now, and I got an early morning.”
“Guess I’ll be back tomorrow, then,” Chester mumbled with a grin, throwing out, “Later,” and flicking a two-fingered salute at Shane as he walked to his car and folded in.
Shane watched the cruiser’s taillights until they were gone, his jaw working overtime as he clenched his teeth. He needed to get out of there before he made things worse for the both of them.
Looking back at the cabin before he left, he caught Sage watching him from the window. Their eyes met and held, and he forgot to breathe. A small, sad smile finally pulled across her lips and she raised her hand to the window. Watching Sage, he remembered the way her mouth had opened for him as if she’d done it every day. He also remembered the way her body felt warm in his arms, the sweet taste of her lips, and the scent of flowers in her hair. The urge to walk the few feet to Maxine’s door and claim that mouth again was strong; instead, he tore his attention from Sage and mumbled, “Christ,” before turning and heading for his truck.
Fate was laughing at him now. The first woman to make his blood burn with hunger was the one woman he couldn’t have. Whether or not Sage could forgive him was irrelevant, she would always be a constant reminder of how he failed a nineteen-year-old kid.
Three
I’m Confused
The sun rose at four oh six. I knew this because I’d watched it rise above the trees in all it’s aggravating splendor. So much had happened in the few short hours since I’d arrived in Trails End that I couldn’t sleep and the constant sun wasn’t helping matters. I kept dissecting my interactions with Shane, his admission and belief that he was at fault for Emma’s death and the look on his face when he left. Guilt is such a powerful emotion; one I knew well. I still carried guilt that I couldn’t protect my mother and sister from Richard even though I was a child when he came into our lives. So I understood better than most that Shane’s belief that he was at fault was a cross he’d have to bear until he let it go.
Coupled with the fact I believed he was suffering from PTSD, I knew when he admitted what he perceived to be his fault in her death, it was his road to travel alone. I wanted more than anything to help him, but for a majority of veterans, conventional therapy to combat PTSD did not work. After meeting Shane, I could see why. The strong-willed ones, the leaders among men, view it as weak to seek help, and they cope the best they can. That’s what Shane’s been doing, and because of this, nothing I said—or anyone else, for that matter—would speed up the process until he was ready to see the truth. Emma’s death was a byproduct of war, nothing else.
But hearing the sorrow in his words, knowing that he’d been beating himself up for a year and that my coming to town unannounced had made it worse, killed me. I don’t know what I was thinking coming to Trails End. Why I thought a man I’d never met could help me, I’ll never know. Though it did prove one thing, you shouldn’t make rash decisions when you’re stressed. When you do, you wreak havoc on those around you and end up kissing a man you barely know.
Not that the kiss was a bad experience. On the contrary, it was the best damn kiss I’d had in my life. So good I could barely stand on my own two feet when he pushed me away. And because of that kiss, I was confused about what to do. I’d felt a connection when our lips met. I knew he did as well when he’d tightened his hold and buried his face in my neck. Nevertheless, when he left last night, it seemed like he was saying good-bye. So that left me with one question rolling around in my head all night. Should I stay or should I go?
My gut told me that I would be a constant reminder to Shane about Emma if I hid here until I could return home. That it would force him to come to terms with his guilt or make it worse. I just wasn’t sure which, but it was more than likely a little of both.
I’d also be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that a tiny part of me hoped whatever passed between us might be real, and he’d kiss me again.
Due to my
stepfather’s abuse, I never felt safe around men. Other than Jerry, who was no threat because he was weak and selfish, my experience was limited because of my uneasiness. However, the fear that generally accompanied being around an unknown male vanished when I was near Shane, and I couldn’t ignore it.
With all that rolling around in my head, it took until morning light, well, mid-morning light, to conclude I would stay and play it by ear. Maxine might be right when she said I might be the only person who could help Shane. However, attracted to him or not, kiss or not, I owed him for taking care of Emma.
I heard Maxine approaching as I gazed out the window, daydreaming once again about Shane, and I turned toward her voice as she entered the kitchen. She was on the phone, not paying attention to her surroundings, just talking away.
“Workin’ on it, but he isn’t takin’ the bait like Maximilian did. He’s stubborn to the core. Pigheaded. If I were his mother, I’d be damn proud, too . . . Yes, I know I can’t force these things, Martha. Do I look like I was born yesterday? . . . Jesus, don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question,” she replied as she filled her coffee mug. “We stick to the plan. You make that call first since I can’t, then call around and keep me up to date on his location. Got it? Right. Check in with you later,” she ended then hung up and turned toward me, gasping when she found me at her kitchen table.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that. I . . . I have a heart condition.”
“I’m sorry,” I tried to appease. “Sounds like you’re having trouble with someone?”
“Uh, yeah, with, uh, with Cowboy,” she replied.
“You’re having trouble with a cowboy?”
“No, with a bear.”
“With a bear?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m confused.”
“You’re confused?”
“That’s what I said.”