by Lori Foster
“Competitions? You mean, you compete against other handlers with their dogs?”
He nodded. “We have to continue training on a consistent basis, to be ready at any moment. This summer notwithstanding, disaster doesn’t typically strike all that often. So we put together competitions to keep the dogs’ interest up. They love it. It’s all a big game to them anyway.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Just the dogs see it that way, huh?”
He just smiled and shrugged.
“Well, game or no game, what you do is very selfless and I’m in awe of it.”
For a moment, just a moment, he thought she was going to touch him. Probably just a hug of thanks or something, but the moment stretched, expanded, became about more than simple appreciation. She looked so damn uncomfortable about it, he couldn’t act on it. So he did what he always did. “Aw, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothing,” Brett drawled, making her laugh, smoothing over the moment. Moments that were springing up more and more often. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to tease them both out of them.
Still smiling, Haley picked Recon’s bowl up off the floor and began scraping the meat and veggie mixture into it.
“There’s enough there for Digger, too,” he told her.
She cast him a look. “And have him expect me to cook for him like this once I get back home again? I said I was handy in the kitchen, not Chef Paul.” She smiled, but he caught the flash of pain in her eyes before she looked away. Most likely because she’d been reminded again that she had no home to return to.
He couldn’t imagine what it was like, feeling so alone and adrift. He’d made a life here, had his work, his friends in the SAR and firefighting community. But he knew that, if it all went to hell somehow, he could always go home again. Back to Baton Rouge, to the loving, steady embrace of his family. He drew strength from that rock-solid foundation, and admired her all the more for thriving without having even the most flimsy of family safety nets to catch her if she fell.
“What did your folks say when you called?” He hadn’t come right out and probed into her family history since they’d last seen each other, but it was obvious from the very stilted conversational tones when she’d contacted them to let them know she was okay that the Brubaker clan wasn’t one big happy family. It killed him to think she didn’t have any support network out there. And yet, she hadn’t made any other calls. Other than to insurance adjusters and the like.
She shrugged now, but it was with a studied casualness he knew belied the real truth. And he wished he’d kept his trap shut and his nose out of her business.
“Glad to hear I hadn’t been dashed against the rocks and swept out to sea,” she said mildly. “Gave them a perfect opportunity to launch into their harangue about my lifestyle choices. Gave me the perfect chance to remember why I needed to relocate three thousand miles away. And we all hung up and resumed our separate lives, smug righteousness intact.”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t know the depth of his sorrow for her, and wouldn’t appreciate knowing he felt it, either. Pity wouldn’t sit well on those slender but oh, so sturdy shoulders of hers.
Shoulders she lifted in a light shrug now. “Yeah, well, we don’t all have Leave It to Beaver families like yours.” She immediately glanced over at him, contrite. “I’m sorry. That sounded really snarky and I didn’t mean it that way. You have a wonderful family and—”
“I know I do. And I don’t take them for granted, trust me.” He found himself badly wishing his ankle would support his weight and hers so he could scoop her up in his arms and take her somewhere where she’d never again, even for a brief moment, look so lost and alone. But since that wasn’t an option, he once again opted for the next best thing to lighten the sudden pall he’d brought into the room. He shot her his most cheeky grin. “But you’ll notice that I moved about half that distance away myself. Even the best of families can be a bit stifling.”
She smiled at him and he relaxed a little, see-ing the humor reaching her eyes again. “Yes, well, you Gannons are an… exuberant bunch.”
“And proud of it.”
“Yes, I recall that, too.”
He watched her bend with the dog bowls— she’d caved and fed Digger some of the mix, just as he’d known she would. Her oh, so in-control exterior might fool some people, but he knew it hid the softest of hearts. He just wondered who’d bruised it so badly. He suspected it was more than her stiff and unbending family tree. And despite the fact that this was probably the worst time to press his own case, he couldn’t just let her suffer inside her own little bubble. Giving her a roof over her head, a calm center in the storm her life had become, was not enough. And this need wasn’t based on his resurgent hormones, or getting her into bed, either. Well, not entirely, anyway.
With her back turned—and the kitchen utensils out of reach—he levered himself out of the chair. When she straightened and turned, he was right behind her. Before she could recover from the surprise, or reach for the nearest spatula, he levered himself up onto the counter, ignored the throb in his ankle and shot her a considering look.
“I don’t want to stifle you,” he started, then stopped. “I want—” He stopped again, shook his head with a little self-deprecating smile. For one of the first times in his life, words didn’t spring easily to his glib tongue. “I want to be smooth here, but somehow, around you, I end up feeling like a sixteen-year-old, lust-crazed goober all over again.”
That made her smile, despite the tension that was once again screaming between them. “Goober?”
He noted she didn’t step away from his serious invasion into her personal space. Which he hoped was a good sign. Now he just had to not blow it. “At the very least,” he said. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to reassure her and, in a way, himself, as well. But he was pushing it pretty hard as it was, so he gripped the counter edge instead. For control, for dear life, he wasn’t sure. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years, and that I was basically on the fringe of your life way back then. But—” He shrugged, helpless for the right thing to say, to explain, so it wouldn’t sound as though he was now a twenty-four-year-old, lust-crazed goober. Which he was, but they could get to that part later. What he wanted, needed, was to secure the fact that there could be a later.
She was watching him, confused and a bit wary.
He puffed out his cheeks, ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. Then he looked her square in the eyes and said, “I guess what I’m trying to mumble my way through here is, I still have an attraction to you. And I don’t think it’s any post-adolescent crush. I completely realize that your life is in total turmoil and my bringing this up now is probably one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. And if I’m way off base here, I’ll hate it if I’ve made you feel so uncomfortable you don’t want to stay here, but—”
She did nothing more than raise her hand, but it was effective enough to shut him up. If he wasn’t mentally kicking himself for his totally uncustomary lack of restraint—patience usually being a hallmark of his job—he’d have smiled at how coolly and efficiently she’d handled his rambling confession. She wore the Brubaker in her well. Very well. It was a damn shame her family wasn’t proud of her. But he thought he might have enough pride in her to make up for the whole sorry lot of them.
She studied him consideringly. And he would have paid big money to know what was going through her mind.
“I’m attracted to you, too,” she finally said. And so simply, too. And yet he was pretty sure he heard fireworks, a big marching band and a few rockets going off inside his head. He did, however, manage to keep from clapping in glee like a little kid.
Or ripping her into his arms and tasting her, taking her, right here on the kitchen counter if need be. Until neither of them could move more than their lips, and that would just be to sigh in deep contentment.
That would be wrong. Because, after all, this wasn’t supposed to be about sex. Not entirely.
Still, she’d confessed attraction, so there was hope.
“But—” she went on.
He groaned before he could stop it. He hated “buts.” They were never good news.
She made up a great deal for whatever blow she was about to deliver by smiling at his little outburst.
His dreams crumbling, he decided to spare her the delivery and him from having to hear her say it. “I know, I know. This is a bad time. You can’t even consider thinking about a relationship with anyone. You have a life to rebuild, a future to relocate and I’m an idiot for even bringing this up now.” He tried for the boyish smile, but deliberate charm was beyond even him at the moment. Suddenly this was serious. Terrifyingly, life-alteringly serious.
“Brett—”
Now it was his turn to raise his hand. “Will you at least promise me, seeing as we have some basic chemistry here, that whenever you’re ready… one month from now, a year, five years, ten—” She laughed then and he said, “Am I sounding too desperate here?”
“A little. It’s good for my battered and bruised ego, though, so please, continue.”
“What, you and that soft heart of yours won’t take pity on a guy with a bum ankle?”
“Me? Soft-hearted?”
“You thought you could bury it along with everything else?”
Now she looked at him with a great deal less humor and great deal more wariness.
“I should have stopped while I was only a little behind, huh?” But his charm didn’t work this time.
“What did you mean, ‘bury it like everything else.’ What do you think I’m burying?”
Hell. Now he sighed in disgust, only it was directed at himself. One shot and he’d already blown it. But what the hell, he was in it this far, might as well go ahead and detonate the rest of his one big chance at happiness. Which should have sounded melodramatic and blown all out of proportion. Only it didn’t.
“Okay,” he said, looking at her once again. “I could be totally wrong here, but I sense that you’ve been beaten up a bit. Not physically,” he added when she tucked her beat-up hands behind her. “Emotionally. Your heart. I know your family is rough on you, always has been. And though you don’t say much about them, that’s as telling as anything. You do a really great job of holding it together, despite whatever is happening, even watching half your home disappear off the side of a mountain. And while I guess you probably got that core strength from your family, shored it up in order to get out from under their dominant ways… my guess is that tender heart tucked away there in the middle took a bit more of a personal beating.”
She lifted her chin, a defiant gleam in her eye. “And I suppose you’re the one who’s going to make up for all the wounds and betrayals in my life? Is that it?”
It wasn’t a direct answer, but the message was clear enough. Bull’s-eye.
“I don’t know. I’m admittedly not the greatest catch on the planet. My job mostly keeps me here, in one spot, but because of my SAR commitments, I do get called out on a moment’s notice and can end up anywhere in the country for days and weeks at a time. Or overseas even. I put myself in danger as a regular course of business and asking anyone to share that type of emotional responsibility is something I don’t take lightly and probably a large part of why I stay unattached.”
“But?”
He smiled despite himself, then it faded. “But I look at you and I can’t help thinking you’re the one I let get away. Which is crazy, since I wasn’t the one that had you in the first place. Only… now I feel like it’s my turn. Our turn.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s insane. I’m insane. And it’s not the painkillers, because I haven’t taken them today.”
He gave her a smile that was more shaky than cocky, then took a breath and spit out the rest. “But, as ridiculous as it sounds, given that our reunion has consisted of one terrifying day spent on a mountain that was crumbling beneath our feet, followed by two days packed with the mind-numbing realization of what you’ve lost, and what you still have to face, and all the myriad responsibilities that entails, I don’t want to let you walk back out of my life. I want to help you, be there for you, not let you down. And I don’t know if I can do all those things, be all those things, which is a bit terrifying when spelled out like that.”
“Brett—”
He held up his hand, stopping her from responding. He had to get it all out in the open. Or he might never get the chance. “Terrifying or not, I’d at least like the chance to try. I mean, with everything the way it is, if we can muddle through all this and discover there might be something worthwhile hanging on to on the other side, then, well… why not go for it, right? Because one thing I’ve learned—and in the most elemental way—these past few months is, you can’t wait around and hope for the perfect time to do what you want to do. Life doesn’t always make that possible. So… so I guess, in addition to babbling like an idiot here, I’m grabbing for what I want now.” He stopped, sighed, took a deep breath… and jumped. “And, Haley Brubaker, what I want, what I think I’ve always wanted, is you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Haley had no words to respond to his declaration. But it didn’t matter. Her heart knew. And so did his.
She leaned into him at the same moment his hands came up to take her. She wasn’t sure who moved first after that, but an instant later she was cradled between his strong thighs, wrapped in those hard arms and her mouth was crushed against his.
And there wasn’t a single other place on earth she’d rather be.
Everything she’d thought she’d learned, every scrap of independence she’d fought so hard for… none of it mattered. Maybe it was because, for the first time in her life, she didn’t need a man for anything. Which, if she hadn’t been completely mindless with desire at the moment, would make her laugh, considering she was homeless, with nothing more than a dog and a handful of clothes to her name. But she’d survive without help, she knew that now. She’d be fine even without Brett’s kindness, his generosity.
No, she didn’t need Brett Gannon. Didn’t need him to make her feel worthy, didn’t need him to make her feel needed.
But, oh, how she wanted him. So much, she burned with it.
He let his mouth drift to her chin, which she lifted, allowing easier access to the tender skin of her throat. She sighed and pushed her fingers through his hair.
He winced, swallowed a little yelp, and she pulled back, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. I forgot about the lump.”
But he was already pulling her back, already putting his mouth on her. Apparently she wasn’t the only one burning up.
“No pain, no gain,” he murmured, making her laugh.
And that was another striking difference. In such a short time, and under the worst possible circumstances, Brett had brought laughter and spontaneity into her life. It was damn seductive. And she gave herself over to it. The thought of his charm and laughter spilling over into their lovemaking made her shiver. Love and laughter. Two things she hadn’t had near enough of in her life. And to share that with Brett? The very idea made her instantly crave it.
She pulled his mouth from where it was making serious inroads inside the collar of her shirt, back to her mouth. Surely he wanted what she now had to have? He was all but consuming her. The very idea of which brought new waves of shuddering pleasure washing through her.
“Brett,” she murmured against his mouth, “I—I—”
He slid his hands up her waist, along her spine and into her hair, holding her head so he could take her mouth again. And again. “Yeah,” he finally said, breathing heavily. “I—I—too.”
He slid off the counter and his body, hard— rigidly hard, in fact—slid down her body, making her tremble. They stood like that, pressed against each other, literally and figuratively wrapped up in each other, looking into each other’s eyes, for what seemed like eternity. A deep, soul-satisfying eternity.
“With everything going on in your life, maybe this isn�
��t the best—”
Haley silenced him with a kiss. It was tender, slow, and hopefully invested with all the burgeoning feelings he was bringing to life inside her. “You said yourself everything happens for a reason. I want this to happen.”
Neither had to clarify what “this” was.
“But—”
She gave a mock groan. “I hate buts.”
He grinned and began to draw lazy patterns on her back with blunt-tipped fingers. It sent shivers of delight all through her. And the frenzied need of moments ago settled into a banked, controlled desire.
They’d get there. She knew that now. And the journey was going to be as deliciously exciting as the destination.
“You’re just seducing me to get me off my feet,” he said. “A very ingenious method of getting your way, I might add.”
She sighed. “You see right through my evil machinations.” She began her own lazy exploration, careful to avoid the lump this time, and smiled into his beautiful, kind face. “We dominant damsels always win.”
He wiggled his eyebrows, making her grin. “Dominant damsels. I’m beginning to see new potential here.”
“Hey, who was the one wielding the spoon earlier? Speaking of which, now might be the time to tell me if you have any other kinky fetishes I should know about.”
“Well, as much as I hate to disappoint you, I generally don’t employ kitchen utensils in my lovemaking. But, as my dog will tell you, I’m a willing student. Easily trained to fetch, cook, clean and—well, I think the possibilities are endless.”
She had to laugh.
He brought his hand up then, caressed her face, and the look in his eyes was so unbearably tender, it tugged a place deep inside her heart. “I just want you,” he said. “However you’ll let me have you.”
“Oh, Brett.” She sighed. It shouldn’t be this easy to dismiss all the defenses she’d worked so hard to erect. She could take the easy excuse, that she was already rocked to her foundation by what had happened over the past few days. But that wouldn’t be true. Not entirely. Brett wasn’t Glenn. Nor was he after her for her money. Which made her laugh. Hell, he couldn’t be after her for anything but herself. She was all she had left.