Long Road Home

by Marie Meyer

  He leans in, stopping a finger’s breadth from my lips. We’re so close we share the same oxygen. “Got the number of a good nurse?”

  Uhhh…dead. I’m dead. Heaven bound.

  We’ve depleted our shared oxygen supply. The overabundance of carbon dioxide has affected my thought processes. There he goes with those cheesy pickup lines. And I’m all swoony. Damn you, ovaries! If that line had come out of any other guy’s mouth, I would have given him my single-digit number, as in the middle finger variety.

  “My number?” is all I’m capable of choking out.

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you a good nurse?”

  “Chouchou!”

  At the sound of my nickname, reality smacks into me like a freight train. An overly excited, hyperactive freight train named Dylen. She hugs me, my arms pinned at my sides. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Hell, I can’t even talk, my head is buried between her C cups. I’m tall, but Dylen is friggin’ Gwendoline Christie. Trapped in her hug, I’m the perfect height to receive the grand tour of her lady lumps. Dylen always did have great boobs, but this is ridiculous.

  “Um, Dyl,” I mumble. “Dyl?”

  She squeezes me tighter for a split second and then lets go. “Oh, Ren, thank you! I love you. I’ll call you when I get back from Islamorada.”

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it. Love you, Dyl. Have a great time.” I give her one quick hug and kiss her cheek.

  Before she steps away she whispers in my ear, “He’s more than yummy. You better be getting some fucking dessert tonight.”

  Then with a deft pivot, she’s standing in front of Cayden, drawing him into an awkward hug.

  I open my arms, welcoming Blake. “Take care of her.” I pat his back.

  “Always.” He nods and looks at Dylen, who is already bouncing over to the next couple in the circle. Blake loves that girl, it’s written all over his face. The softness of his stare, the light in his smile, if love could be drawn, captured on paper, Blake would be the poster child.

  “Blake, my man,” Cayden says, holding out his hand. “Congrats.” Blake slaps his palm to Cayden’s and they pull each other into one of those back-slapping guy hugs.

  Once Cayden says his goodbye to Blake he turns to me, all silliness gone from his face. “How are getting home tonight?”

  Hmm. I hadn’t thought that far in advance. I really don’t know. I came in a limo…that’s no longer here. My brain flips through the names of my family—Mom, Dad, Jillian—any of them would gladly come pick me up. “I should probably call someone.”

  Looping his hand around my upper arm, he leads me out of the goodbye circle. “I’d be happy to give you a ride.”

  Do I want him to give me a ride? Yes. In more ways than one.

  Jesus, Ren! The reserved little angel on my shoulder blushes a deep crimson.

  I know, right? I’m surprising even myself. But, the thought of sex and actually doing the deed is as deep as the Mariana Trench. The pressure is too great, and I’d collapse under the weight. I couldn’t do it.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got family who can come.”

  “Nonsense. I’m here, I don’t mind. Let me take you home.”

  Gah! I really do want to go with him. But, it isn’t smart. Cayden Sinclair is a stranger. I don’t do well, alone, with strangers. It freaks me out.

  But he’s a cop. One of the good guys. I bet he’s really, really good. The sultry devil on my other shoulder weighs in. You know you want to.

  I bite my lip. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  His shoulders relax and he grins. “Not at all.”

  “I just need to get my purse.” I point over my shoulder, to the head table.

  “Great. I’ll walk with you.”

  I glance at him as we slip through the dwindling wedding-goers. Dylen and Blake have left, so there isn’t much of a reason to hang around. The usual apprehension I feel when I’m faced with a situation that puts me and a guy alone together, doesn’t manifest. The gut-twisting uneasiness hasn’t reared its ugly head. All night I’ve felt safe in Cayden’s arms. I’d be an idiot if I let this chance pass me by. Isn’t this what you’ve pined for, Ren? A strong handsome man that makes you feel wanted and safe? What are you waiting for?

  Indeed. What am I waiting for?

  I snag my purse from under the table and look at Cayden. Him. I’ve been waiting for him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cayden

  She lives downtown? I’ve witnessed some horrible shit in this city. No way is it safe for a woman to live here, alone. Tension gathers in my shoulders, dreading the fact that I have to leave her somewhere a criminal could all too easily cause her harm.

  Opening the door of my truck, I help her down. “Thank you, again,” she says. “It was really nice of you to bring me home.”

  I shut the door and the clang vibrates off the dirty concrete. “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”

  Ren bites her lower lip, something I’ve noticed she does when she’s nervous. “Goodnight, Cayden.”

  Damn, I do not want to watch her leave. “’Night, Ren.”

  She turns and steps up on the little stoop outside her building’s security doors. When her hands touch the handle, it hits me that I don’t have her number.

  “Ren!” I call.

  She turns.

  I hop onto the stoop next to her, unsure of what to say, but needing to say so much. Anything to keep her at my side a few minutes more. “I almost didn’t go tonight. But, I’m glad I did.” I scoop her hand in mine. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I met you yesterday. Please, please, don’t make me do the creepy thing and look your number up in the system, down at the station. I want to say I got it the old-fashioned way: by badgering the beautiful woman for her number until she gave it up.”

  “Oh,” she lilts. “I wasn’t aware that was how it worked. Somehow, I don’t think you’ve ever had to do much badgering.”

  “Then don’t be the first, sweetheart.”

  “Got your phone?” she asks, tugging on that lower lip with her teeth again.

  I lick mine, fantasizing about pulling her lip between my teeth. Yanking my phone free of the belt-clip holder, I hand it over.

  Her fingers fly over the screen as she adds her contact info. When she finishes, she hands it back and smiles. “Oh, and for the record, Officer: earlier, you asked if I was a good nurse”—she steps up on her tiptoes, puts her lips to my ear—“I’m a great nurse.” She winks, turns on her heel, and disappears through the security door.

  Umm… I think I’m going to need a great nurse. My heart just quit beating.

  * * *

  I pull my laces tight and stand, kicking my left foot backward, pulling my ankle upward to stretch out my quadriceps. I hold the stretch for a handful of seconds and let go, repeating the motion on the other side.

  Dropping my foot, I hit the pavement, accelerating to a steady jog. The sun beats down and the air is already thicker than MRE oatmeal. I’m glad to get my run in early.

  The morning’s quiet, despite the chatty birds. Last night is on replay in my head. Ren’s lips, her infectious laugh, the way she swung her hips as she walked into her building…kill me now. I hated that she went into that dark apartment, alone.

  Sweat rolls down my temples and I welcome the familiar burn in my lungs. I pump my arms and legs faster, pushing myself. My SWAT physical fitness test is next week and there’s no way in hell I’m backing down now.

  Not a good idea to get involved with someone right now, Sinclair. I need to stay focused. And then there’s Mom. My life is such a shit storm right now. What am I doing thinking I can handle a fledgling relationship on top of everything else? Not to mention the danger that comes with my job. I can’t ask Ren to deal with that kind of stress.

  My brain dials up the feel of Ren in my arms. The silkiness of her skin when I slid the strap of her dress up her shoulder, her slender waist, and how my big hands fit so perfectly around
it, the feel of her thumb caressing the back of my hand as I held her manicured fingers in mine.

  Yep, its official, my body and my brain are damn traitors.

  Pulling in a deep breath through my nose, I try to get Ren out of my head and concentrate on finishing my third mile strong. Focus, Sinclair. You’ve got a lot riding on this.

  But, no matter how much I try to push Ren Daniels aside, the thought of her number stored in my phone back at home is my biggest motivation for running harder, faster, because the second I hit the door, I’m calling her. I don’t know what spell she put me under last night, but I’ve got to see her today.

  I dig deep and finish my third mile, twenty-eight minutes flat. Breathing hard, I shove my key in the door and push it open with a little too much force and it smacks against the wall.

  “Oh, shit!” I reach for the knob and yank it back, running my hand over the wall, inspecting it for damage. I do not have enough time to add home repair to my plate.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I drop my keys on the counter and pull open the fridge. I grab a bottle of water and drain it while I muster the nerve to call Ren.

  Her breath blowing across my ear, I’m a great nurse.

  Confidence bolstered. That didn’t take long.

  Shooting the empty into the small recycling bin beside the trashcan, I jog down the hallway. In my room, I scoop the phone off my dresser and find Ren’s number stored under the name Speed Racer. She’s got a sense of humor, too. Chuckling, I tap the nickname and wait for the call to connect.

  Two rings. No answer.

  Three…

  My heartbeat kicks up, despite having just finished running three miles.

  “Hello?” a breathy, sleep-laden voice answers.

  “Hi, Ren? It’s Cayden, from the wedding last night?”

  Silence.

  She’s not saying anything. Why isn’t she saying anything? I notice the time on the bedside clock; it’s before eight. I just woke her up. “Shit, I’m sorry, Ren. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She has me so off my game. I can lead a troop of Marines through hostile territory, but when it comes to calling a beautiful woman, I am completely useless.

  “No, no! It’s okay,” she responds quickly, sounding more startled than awake. “Hi, yes, Cayden, how are you?”

  Pissed at myself for being a complete idiot. “Great. Hey, you busy today?” Already fucked this up, might as well dig yourself a deeper grave, Sinclair.

  “Today? Umm…”

  She’s looking for a way to let me down gently. Affirmative.

  “Uh, no. The only plans I have are laundry and an all-day date with Netflix.”

  No plans. She’s not busy. Dammit, I didn’t think this through very well. What the hell should I ask her to do? Dinner and a movie? No, that’s too cliché. I want our first date to be different…memorable. She needs something special.

  I scan my bedroom hoping something will jump out at me, then I see my hiking gear on the closet floor.

  Hiking. Of course. We could do some caching. I haven’t been caching in months and it’s always more fun with someone.

  “Ever been caching?”

  “Um, no?” she drawls. “I mean, I’ve been check cashing before. It’s fun and all, but I’ve never required the help of another person.”

  A laugh rumbles in my chest. “No, caching, as in ‘geocaching.’ When you locate hidden objects using a GPS.”

  “Oh, then no. I have never heard of that kind of caching.” Her voice brightens. Glad she doesn’t think I’m a complete moron. “So, how ’bout it, up for some hiking and geocaching today?”

  She doesn’t answer right away. All I hear is the hum of the air conditioner kicking on. My stomach twists in knots. Shit, I’ve always thought this was the worst part of asking a girl out, waiting for the answer. If the answer is yes, you know you’ve got a chance. If she says no, you feel like a goddamn loser all day. I’m too old for this; I hate feeling like I’m sixteen and asking a girl to the prom.

  “Sounds fun,” she says. “I can be ready by nine.”

  I exhale, running a hand over my head. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up then.”

  Hanging up, I send a quick text to Mom. How are you feeling this morning? Need me to stop by?

  My phone vibrates with an immediate response. Fine. Lacey’s here. Enjoy your day off.

  God bless Lacey. I’m glad she gives Mom someone to talk to; it’s got to be hard talking to your son about your battle with breast cancer. Not that I mind when she does confide in me, but having Lacey around is a godsend for Mom. Call me if you need anything. I mean it. I text back and toss my phone on the bed and hit the shower.

  Knowing Mom is taken care of today is a weight off my shoulders. Guilt won’t eat away at me. Although, it does take a small bite because of Bull, Taz, and Vin. I didn’t leave the Corps so I could chase after women. My boys are going back to that fucking place and I’m taking a beautiful woman on a date. What the hell’s wrong with me?

  Mom is supposed to be my first priority, getting involved with someone is the absolute worst idea. I’ve got work and Mom to concentrate on; there’s no room in my life for a woman.

  Ren isn’t just some woman, though. My brain is miles ahead of the game.

  I peel my sweat-soaked shirt over my head and walk to the bathroom, turning on the shower. As I adjust the temp to near scalding, clouds of steam rise from the faucet. I can hear Ren’s voice, exuberant and sweet. She sounded genuinely excited that I had called, despite waking her up.

  I drop my shorts and boxers and step into the hot stream. The jets spray over my sore muscles and I relax. Just one date. Maybe we won’t hit it off and I can get her out of my head.

  But my head offers other thoughts, Yeah right, Sinclair. You lost this war when you pulled her over on Friday.

  * * *

  I pull up to Ren’s apartment building downtown and kill the engine. Stepping out of my truck I stare up at the old warehouse, which had been converted into one of those ultra-swanky loft apartments. It’s not quite as menacing in the daylight. Less Gotham City, more St. Louis. Still, I’ve always been more of a country guy. I’ll take lots of land, fresh air, and the sounds of nature over sirens, smog, and thirteen hundred square feet of living space any day.

  A car comes peeling around the corner and the driver lays on the horn. Glancing over my shoulder, I slam my door closed and press my body close to my truck in the nick of time. I get a good look at the driver who flicks me off as he speeds away. Dick. He nearly ran me over and almost made my door his hood ornament.

  I squint, trying to read his plates, but he’s down the street faster than Vin Diesel. I shake my head and round my truck, stepping up onto the sidewalk. Asshole. I may have not been able to catch his plates, but I hope there’s a cop up the street waiting to nail his ass.

  At the entrance to Ren’s building, I pull open one of the glass double doors and locate Ren’s last name on the nameplates. Pushing the button to the left of her name, I wait. A crackling, electronic buzz sounds, followed by Ren’s garbled voice, “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ren. It’s Cayden Sinclair.” I let go of the button to hear her response.

  “Yay, come on up. I’m on the third floor, apartment three fourteen.”

  The door clicks.

  Yanking it open, I find the elevator bay to the right and press the up arrow.

  When the elevator doors open on Ren’s floor, I follow the signs to her apartment. It’s like living in a hotel, complete with a faint chlorine scent.

  Metallic gold numbers are nailed to her front door: 314. I knock and my nerves kick into overdrive. This is more stressful than being called into the captain’s office on a day when he hasn’t had his morning coffee. What if she regrets accepting my invitation? What if hiking and caching aren’t her thing? What if she hates it? What if she thinks I’m a complete tool? Oh, shit, why didn’t I just go the dinner-and-movie route?

  The door pulls back and Ren is standing on the othe
r side. The sides of her dark brown hair are pulled back leaving bangs covering her forehead. All the heavy makeup from yesterday is gone. Her skin is fair and pink, a natural blush highlighting her cheekbones. And her dark eyes…God, her eyes…they’re so big. A man could get lost her eyes, and I very much want to be that man. Ren Daniels is stunning.

  “Good morning,” she says. If you could hear a smile, Ren’s voice is what it would sound like—sweet, and warm, a light breeze sweeping over freshly mown grass on a spring day with birds chattering nearby.

  You’re a goner, Sinclair, my inner voice notes. Yes. Yes I am.

  “Good morning, Ren,” I reply, at a loss for more words.

  She glances downward. I follow her gaze. She wiggles her toes inside her mismatched socks. “Come on in. I just need to put my shoes on.” Ren steps aside and ushers me inside.

  “Thanks.” As I pass her, I catch a subtle tropical scent mixed with the hint of baby powder, very feminine and utterly intoxicating. Goddamn, this woman is too much.

  Ren shuts the door and walks over to the bar stool, scooping a lime-green Nike running shoe off the hardwood floor. She plops down and fits her foot into the shoe, deftly tying it and moving onto the next.

  “Sorry, I’m running late.” She stands, shoes tied, hands on her hips.

  Now it’s her body I can’t keep my eyes off of. The hot pink straps of a sports bra are visible beneath her blue tank top and her skintight black shorts hug her hips and backside in the most delicious way. “No problem.” I’m in no hurry, sweetheart. We can stay here all day long.

  I’ve never been the kind of guy to objectify women, but damn, I want to pin her to the wall and touch every curve her little outfit is showing off. Shit. How am I going to get through this date with my sanity? She’s already driving me crazy.

  The bright pink lettering on her shirt catches my eye: Nurses make it better.

  Oh, sweetheart, your shirt does not lie.

  Ren grabs her keys off the counter and turns, our gazes locking together. “So, what’s this geo thing we’re doing today?” She walks in my direction, toward the door.