by Julie Miller
His compliment warmed her. “When Kenny got arrested for arson and eventually sent to prison, I thought my mother would finally see him for the monster he was, we’d mend old wounds and become a family again.” By the time she’d hung up the dishcloth and dried her hands, she’d found the composure to tilt her eyes to Matt’s. “My mother encouraged me to marry Kenny in the first place—and she criticized me for divorcing him and taking his son from him, said that was a mistake I couldn’t come back from. After all, arson is a victimless crime, she said.”
If Matt was a more effusive man, he would have scoffed right then. “Tell that to the people who’ve lost everything they own. Who’ve lost the security of a roof over their heads—or worse, a pet or family member. Whether anyone dies or not, there are victims.”
A fist of some long-buried grief over all she’d lost squeezed around her heart. Some parts of her past were hard to talk about, after all. Leaving the kitchen, Corie went to her sleeping son, sprawled on the couch, looking innocent and secure in a way she could never be. She reached down to feather her fingers through his hair and smooth the wispy spikes off his forehead. “You’d think a parent would do anything to protect their child. I would. I have. My mother’s last words to me were, ‘Go to him and beg his forgiveness.’” Corie shivered as though the air-conditioning had kicked on and pulled the front of her cardigan tightly around her polyester uniform. “He hurt people for a living. He put me in the hospital and kidnapped Evan so I’d go back to him. It took Kenny going to prison for us to get away from him—and she wanted me to beg his forgiveness?”
Without any warning, Matt pulled her into his arms and hugged her. Even with her crossed arms wedged between them, she felt his heat and unyielding strength. For several endless moments, she collapsed a little into the shielding bliss of his embrace. Just as she’d caressed Evan’s hair a minute earlier, Matt tunneled his fingers into the hair beneath her ponytail, lifting its weight from her scalp and massaging the tension there. She didn’t need any words—she could feel his empathy. But he offered her words, anyway. “Not everyone makes a good parent. My birth parents were drunk or high a lot. Mark and I barely had any supervision. I was literally playing with fire the night our house burned down, and they died. They were passed out in the living room. I managed to get Mark out. But I couldn’t get them to wake up. If they’d been better parents...”
“Oh, Matt.” She pulled her arms free to wind them around his waist and hugged him tight. “How old were you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How old?” she insisted, tugging on a fistful of the flannel shirt he wore. “You said you were younger than Evan when you...acted out.”
“Four.”
“Only four?” She found the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear and nestled her cheek there. Her own heart was crying for the child he’d once been. “How frightened you must have been.”
“I’m not trying to compare my pain to yours—or make any less of it. I just want you to know that I understand what it means to not have someone be there when you need them.”
Corie rubbed her nose into the soft nap of Matt’s flannel shirt, inhaling his honest, hardworking masculine scent. Kenny had never simply held her. He’d wanted her on his arm to show her off to his friends and employers, or in his bed for what she’d naively thought was unsatisfying sex simply because she was inexperienced. She’d eventually learned that the sex had never been about her at all, certainly not after she’d given him the baby boy he’d wanted. Holding Matt, being held by him, was a new experience, an incredibly addictive one that she didn’t seem to have any willpower to move away from. Standing in Matt’s arms, his body flush and warm and strong against hers, was like a soothing tonic and a sensual awakening all rolled into one.
“I only wanted them to notice me,” Matt went on, his fingers hypnotically stroking the back of her neck above her collar. “Mark was the baby. He was cute. I was the...extra. Even at four, I knew we weren’t a normal, Leave It to Beaver family.” Her arms tightened as she imagined him as a lonely, neglected little boy. “I wanted them to feel something—fear, panic, maybe a little worry about Mark and me. I wanted to feel something.”
“Like you were safe. Like someone cared enough to stop you from doing something dangerous. You probably blamed yourself for their deaths. They were the adults. They should have taken care of you.”
Some of her hair caught in the stubble of his beard as he nodded. “I thank God every day that the Taylors adopted Mark and me. Alex and Pike, too. We were all in the same foster home. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a family like ours.”
Matt’s lips grazed her hair and Corie wanted to sink into him—hold him like this through the entire night. There was a joke in there somewhere about them both being the offspring of selfish, clueless parents. But a betrayal like that might still be too painful for him to joke about. Wanting to ease his pain—or find solace for her own—wasn’t what their relationship was about.
Or was it? Had fate led her to the apartment across the hall from Matt because he was the rare man who understood what she’d been through? Was she drawn to him because she felt the pull of pain and secrets that resembled her own? Was his reserved, quiet intensity meant to resurrect the confident, outgoing woman she’d once been?
Despite these few minutes of happiness and normalcy and an unexpected desire to take this embrace to the next level, another yawn reminded her of the reality of her life. A wry chuckle shook through her, and she loosened her grip on the back of Matt’s shirt. Feelings for Matt were just a foolish wish at this late hour. “Again, it’s not the company.” She was a little disappointed at how easily Matt let her pull away. But the man was nothing if not imminently practical. She should be glad that at least one of them could show a little sense. “It’s late. I’d better get Evan into his own bed or I’ll never get him up for school in the morning.”
“I’ll carry him.”
Corie retrieved her coat and gathered up Evan’s belongings while Matt picked up the sleeping boy and carried him to his bed across the hall. Something primal and utterly female stirred in Corie’s womb at the strong paternal image of Matt gently placing her son in his bed. He took equal care setting Evan’s protective dragon on the headboard shelf and hanging Evan’s coat on the back of his chair while she tucked him in. After turning on the night-light, she followed Matt to the front door.
The hot firefighter next door would make a wonderful father. She had a feeling Matt would be good at a lot of things, because he was patient and observant and supportive and caring. Protecting others seemed to be hard-wired into his DNA, and that chest, those arms, that butt in a pair of jeans and...oh, hell. She might come with some extra responsibility and emotional baggage, but she was a healthy, needy, grown woman whose hormones had gotten a hold of her.
Matt turned in the hallway. “I’ll wait until you lock the dead—”
“Thank you for everything tonight.” Corie might just be making the biggest mistake of her new life when she braced one hand against his chest, slid the other behind his neck and stretched up on tiptoe to capture his mouth in a kiss. She darted her tongue out to taste the firm line of his bottom lip, then felt it soften when she tugged it between her lips.
And then she realized he wasn’t touching her. Her fingers were clutching the straight line of short, ticklish hair at the back of his head and his hands were fisted at his sides. Although she’d elicited a brief response when she’d suckled his lower lip, he wasn’t kissing her. And she didn’t think that husky huff from his chest was a groan of ecstasy.
Corie quickly released him and retreated half a step as the heat of embarrassment crept up her neck. “I’m sorry.”
His fingers pulsed against his palms. “I said you didn’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Just because my brother and Amy can’t keep their hands to themselves doesn’t mean I expect you to�
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“No, you said I needed to tell you when I wasn’t comfortable with something.” Her embarrassment gave way to a burst of anger, then settled into confusion. “It’s a thank-you kiss, Matt. I didn’t suck up my courage and pretend to kiss you. I wanted to do that.” Nope. Here came the embarrassment again. “Unless you aren’t okay with that? I mean, I know I’m out of practice, but when I kissed you at the bus stop, you sort of kissed me back. And the way you held me in your apartment, I thought...” She raked all ten fingers through hair, pulling out most of her ponytail. “Was I taking advantage—?”
“No. You can kiss me or touch me any time, any way you like.” He almost sounded angry as he dipped his head toward hers and ground the words through his teeth. He snapped up straight, as though the vehemence of his response surprised him. He glanced away for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he looked back to her. “That didn’t come out right.” His hand batted the air and she could see him warring with whatever words he was having trouble expressing. He batted the air again, and then he feathered his fingers into the hair she’d pulled loose and the internal debate seemed to resolve itself when she didn’t pull away from his touch. He smoothed the hair behind her ear and settled his hand against the side of her neck, easing her own uncertainty. “I would like to kiss you again sometime.” His tone had quieted to that sexy, deliberate timbre that told her he was saying exactly what he was thinking. “For real. Not for show. Not for any reason other than... I want to kiss you.”
Well, as declarations of desire went, that was hot. And it was really good for her ego to know they were on the same wavelength, after all. She smiled and reached up to touch his handsome mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He just wanted her to know that she could move this budding relationship along at whatever pace she needed to—but that he was interested in pursuing it. She hoped he understood that she was interested, too, and that he didn’t need to be shy about voicing his feelings with her. Maybe he’d also learn that giving in to his impulses didn’t mean he’d frighten her the way Kenny had. Corie drew her hand down his chest before pulling back to the door. “Good night, Matt.”
He touched the corner of her mouth and traced her smile with the tip of his finger, sparking an electric current that curled through her all the way down to her toes. “Good night.”
When he nodded and pulled away without a kiss, she tried not to be disappointed. As she closed the door and leaned back against it, she reminded herself that she wasn’t the only one who might be cautious about putting themselves out there. Matt had held her and touched her and listened and shared and awakened her heart. She closed her eyes and smiled. Good grief, she was falling hard for that one. She was feeling hopeful that she could have a normal life one day. Maybe she could even have that loving husband and big family she’d always dreamed about.
“Mom?” She opened her eyes to the shadowy darkness to find Evan stumbling into the living room.
“Hey, little man.” Corie hurried to meet him and gently turn him back toward his bedroom. “What are you doing up?”
“I wanted to make sure you were home, and you were okay.”
Corie nearly stumbled over the threshold as her heart seized up with his concern for her. Maybe normal was never really going to be an option for them. Not as long as Kenny Norwell had this influence over their lives.
“Yes, sweetie, I’m okay. Matt said you are, too.” Now that he was partially awake, she helped him pull off his jeans and slip into his pajamas. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”
He reached up to touch his dragon before climbing into bed again. “I really like Matt, Mom.”
She pulled up the covers. “I like him, too.”
“His grandma bakes cookies, and I made a new friend. Gideon doesn’t go to my school, but we built a castle together. Can he come over and play sometime?” The big yawns she’d had over at Matt’s were contagious. Evan seemed determined to get all his words out before he drifted off to sleep again. “Mark’s funny. He calls Amy Red because of her red hair, and Pike calls Alex Shrimp because he’s short...” Another yawn indicated this conversation wouldn’t last long. “Oh, and Matt won the ax-chopping contest.”
“The what?” Alarm flared but quickly went away because Evan was out, no doubt finally relaxing and dreaming happy thoughts judging by the smile on his face. Corie leaned over to give him another kiss. “Good night, little man. I love you.”
She turned out the bedside lamp and left the door slightly ajar. It sounded like he’d had a grand adventure with Matt and his family tonight. There was definitely a little idolizing going on there. But she couldn’t blame him. She seemed to have a thing for the firefighter next door, too.
As she headed down the hallway to her own bedroom, she heard one of the neighborhood cats who prowled the fire escapes looking for handouts or a warm spot to curl up scratching at her window. At Evan’s insistence, she’d stuffed some old towels inside a box and set it on the fire escape to give them a bit of shelter from the cold. Sometimes, she had leftovers from the diner she set out for them. It was the closest thing to a pet the landlord allowed them to have.
“No leftovers tonight, sweetie.” Corie folded up her work sweater and set it on the quilt beside her while she untied her shoes and toed them off her feet. Even through the blackout drapes that covered her window, she could hear how agitated the cat was, meowing and hissing and bumping into the discarded chair she’d set out there to anchor the box and keep it from blowing away. “What in the world are you so fired up about?”
Corie padded across the room in her stockinged feet. But before she reached the window, she heard another sound from out in the living room. A soft knocking at her door. Three taps, a pause, three more.
She glanced at the late hour on her alarm clock and tensed when she heard three more knocks. Hurrying straight to her coat on the rack where she’d hung it beside the door, she once more reached for her pepper spray.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Corie?”
Her breath rushed out in a gust of relief at Matt’s deep-pitched whisper. She slipped the spray back into the pocket and swung open the door.
“You didn’t lock your dead bolt. I was waiting—”
Corie threw her arms around Matt’s neck. “Thank you. For so many things, thank you.” Her toes left the floor as Matt wound his arms behind her waist and straightened, completing the hug. Her toes were still dangling in the air as she leaned back against his arms and grinned. “Ax-chopping contest? Seriously?”
“Oh. That.” Her feet hit the floor and she was no longer cinched against him as he tried to apologize. “My brother and I were taking down a wall. Ev wasn’t in the room at the time—”
“It sounds like a manly man thing that humans with testosterone enjoy more than they should. But I know he was safe. I feel safe with you, too—emotionally, physically.” She shrugged, not coming up with enough words to explain everything she was feeling. “Firewise. Otherwise.” She felt giddy, partially with relief that there was no intruder at her door, probably with fatigue, possibly because of all the new emotions swirling inside her. “I like you, Matt. I know my timing isn’t great and inexplicable things are happening around us, but I do. Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked, wanting these weird, wonderful feelings she’d discovered tonight to continue.
He propped his hands at his waist and gave her the matter-of-fact answer she was getting used to. “I work the late shift. Won’t get home until eight or nine.”
The giddiness fled, and she felt deflated. “I’ll be at work by then. Well, thank you again for watching Evan tonight. I promise I won’t bug you every time I—”
His big hands framed her jaw, and his lips covered hers, silencing her apology with a kiss. He’d cut her off midsentence, and she was surprised to realize she was okay with that. Her gasp of surprise was swallowed up by the pressure of his mouth gliding
over hers. Matt’s tongue slipped between her lips, but she was already opening for him, already answering him. She was already grasping fistfuls of his shirt and T-shirt and the hard muscle underneath and pulling herself into his kiss.
Matt sifted his fingers into her hair and cupped her head, tilting it back to ravish her mouth. He moved forward, backing her against the wall beside the door until she could feel the pressure of his thighs against parts of her body that hadn’t felt anything remotely thrilling like this for far too long. The heat of his body trapped her there, consuming her the way his mouth was consuming hers.
Although it had been a teasing joke earlier that night, Corie thought of molasses in the very best of ways. Matt’s kiss was slow and smooth, addictively sweet and very much worth the wait for him to take the initiative in expressing his desire for her. Every taste, every exploration was as deliberate as his every thought.
But with a groan of regret that matched her own, Matt lifted his head, ending the kiss. They were both breathing erratically, the proud tips of her sensitized breasts brushing against his chest with every exhale. She was vaguely aware of his arousal pushing at the front of his jeans, just as she was aware of the heavy, weepy center of her wishing this had been more than a kiss. She had been too long without a man. She had been forever without the right man. Oh, how this man made her feel—physically, emotionally—every scary, delicious way she’d long forgotten she had the right to feel.
His dark eyes replaced the intensity of his kiss as he studied her face, keeping them linked together with his gaze. He watched her hair as he brushed his fingers through it, trying to smooth it back into place until he finally pulled the band from what was left of her ponytail and let her hair fall over her shoulders.
His voice was a husky whisper as he gently pried her hands from his shirt and slipped the rubber band into her palm. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She nodded at his promise because she couldn’t quite find the breath to speak. “How late is the diner open?”