Got it Bad

by Christi Barth

  Okay. This was normal. A man and a woman, just having a back and forth. “What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know how to tell the sheriff the whole of why I want the job, without explaining the piece where I want my law training to not go to waste.”

  Delaney thought back to her interview for the Marshals Service. They’d asked her why she wanted to put her life on the line to defend witnesses who could be criminals. Like Kellan, she’d struggled to find the answer in her prep session with Em since the first answer that sprang to mind was that she had no family to speak of, so better her than someone else.

  Em had refilled her wineglass, and told her to dig deeper. Which is when Delaney remembered how it felt, as a child, to be in the back of a police car with her mother after one of her dad’s violent rages, and finally feel safe. How that had been the greatest gift she’d ever received.

  When she’d told the panel of interviewers that she wanted to give everyone that same sense of safety, she’d gotten unanimous nods of approval.

  “Well, that is only one piece of it. But let’s backtrack and dig deeper. Why did you want to become a lawyer?”

  “I didn’t.”

  How could that be true? Shocked laughter skittered out of her. “Law school isn’t something you fall into accidentally like slipping in the shower.”

  Kellan bumped their joined hands into her hip. “I mean it wasn’t my dream. It was my dad’s dream.”

  “I thought your father died when you were little?”

  Knife sharp, his voice all but cut off the end of her sentence. “Call it what it was. He didn’t die. He was murdered. By Danny McGinty.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said swiftly. Delaney had been there when his brothers rocked his known truths and shared that nugget with him. She should’ve been more sensitive. It hadn’t been nearly long enough, in the grand scheme of things, for him to come to terms with that news. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t want us being cautious with each other. One of the things that makes me so comfortable around you is the fact that I don’t have to hold anything back. I guess that’s what I was pointing out. Don’t sugarcoat it. Don’t pin on your badge and try to soothe your protectee.”

  “Point taken.” Were they working to establish a new normal here? One that included TLC when necessary. Because wasn’t that one of the foundations of a relationship, aka a total dating perk? Seeking and receiving comfort from each other?

  It would be nice to enjoy that, for once. Even if for only a few weeks. Enjoy not holding back the stress of her job, and maybe even being comforted. It would all have to end when the casual, better-be-spectacular sex did, but until then? Why not have it all?

  Delaney reached up to caress his cheek. “Can I soothe you as a woman? One who doesn’t like it when the man she cares about is visibly shaken?”

  That trademark, quicksilver grin of his flashed across his face. “By all means.”

  “You get to be pissed about the murder. You get to be hurt.” Standing on tiptoe, Delaney kissed the outside corners of his mouth, and then lingered in the center. “I get to do what I can to fix it.”

  “Just listening does a lot. Because Rafe and Flynn won’t talk about it.”

  “They’re probably still trying to shield you.”

  “Don’t need it. Don’t want it.”

  How did they not see the fierce independence that burned in Kellan? They weren’t shielding that flame. They were smothering it. Whereas Delaney felt a feminine thrill all the way down her spine every time Kellan revealed his immense depth of inner strength. “I don’t doubt either of those things.”

  “I was almost nine. Dad was a mobster my whole life. I just didn’t know it. What I know now, in hindsight, is that he wanted one of two things. Either he saw the writing on the wall, knew he’d need a lawyer one day and wanted it to be someone he could trust? Or he picked lawyering as the safest, furthest thing possible from McGinty’s taint.”

  Uh-oh. This had all the markings of a tale guaranteed to make her well up. Delaney didn’t cry on the job—and didn’t have patience for anyone who did. But she was clinically incapable of not welling up at returning vets surprising their kids at school and dead parent stories.

  “Did he extract some sort of deathbed promise from you?”

  “No. But from day one, he shoved lawyering down my throat. My first Halloween costume was a tiny set of black judge’s robes. When I wanted to go out and play with my friends, he’d tell me that was no way to get to be a lawyer, and sit me back on the couch to read. There was never mention of playing pro ball in my house, or becoming a chef or a banker. No mention of college, just law school.”

  “I think you’re right. I think he was trying to push you to safety.” She took long sips of her calming tea as they strolled.

  “We’ll never know. But once he did die, my going to law school somehow turned into his legacy. Like I’d let him down if I did anything else.”

  It said so much about Kellan that he’d crafted his life as a gift to honor the wish of a dead man. That took loyalty to one’s family to the extreme—and the Maguire brothers had proven again and again that family loyalty was pretty much their wheelhouse.

  God, how she envied it.

  How she craved having a family that was worth her loyalty.

  Delaney looked over at the shimmering water as they passed an empty lot. Someone must’ve sprinkled wildflower seeds in the spring because they popped up haphazardly between tall swathes of knee-high grass. The natural beauty, the happy vacation murmur of the tourists they passed, and most of all, the big warm hand wrapped around hers all helped to fill the empty hole that seemed to drain her heart whenever her mind shifted to thoughts of her own father.

  Which was not something she’d dump on Kellan on a first date.

  “What you’ve laid out for me is a powerful motivation. Choosing your career to honor someone else makes it a selfless dream. Double points for that goodness. And really, isn’t being a deputy the next best thing?”

  “You think my dad would be okay with this choice?”

  “Absolutely. I think you’re still honoring him. It’d be smart if you shared it at your interview. Just, you know, leaving out the part about the mob.”

  “Natch.” A wink paired with his fast grin this time. But it vanished before Delaney could even smile back. “Going to law school made my brothers so proud. If I become a deputy, will they still be proud of me?”

  “Kellan, of course they will. You could put cockroaches in their Christmas stockings and they’d compliment you on finding a gift they never would’ve guessed. You can do no wrong in their eyes.”

  He shrugged those big wide shoulders. “They’ve spent their whole lives dodging and/or reviling the cops. Looking at the entire profession from behind . . . what’s the opposite of rose-tinted glasses?”

  “I don’t know.” Delaney tickled her fingers across his ribs. “Skunk-stained?”

  “Gross. Well played, but gross. And don’t think for a second that I enjoy being up on a pedestal. I wouldn’t mind if they took me off it. I just don’t want my new career choice to split us apart.”

  “You haven’t told them yet?” Delaney thought the Maguire brothers were open books to each other. Aside from the whole lying about the mob for over a decade thing . . .

  “Nothing to tell, yet. Not until I get the job.”

  My, how his tune had changed. “The job you assured me not five minutes ago was a done deal?”

  Kellan pulled her off the sidewalk, over past a small park with benches and greenery filling out underneath the pine trees. It was quaint and cute—but not as much so as Bandon. Delaney was falling for the Maguires’ new town every bit as much as she saw them doing so.

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. Then he licked a wet line following the curve of it to end in a sharp tug of his teeth on her lobe. “Different crowd, different show.”

  Oh, but he was nimble
. But Delaney had a sidestep of her own to take. “Your brothers will never do anything but love you wholeheartedly. Is there a chance they’ll be disappointed by your decision? Unlikely. But even so, here’s a radical thought—it doesn’t matter. You have to make the best choice for you, for your own life.”

  “It sounds selfish, put like that.”

  It was time to vent a little of what she’d been holding in all these months. Because it had been burning inside her, ever since that first real connection she’d made with Kellan on the street when she’d just been a woman talking to an interesting man.

  Delaney bit her lip. She slipped her hand from his and widened her stance a little, as if bracing for a fight. The Maguires had each other’s backs, and it was possible what she was about to say would piss Kellan off mightily. But he’d just said they needed to be open and not sugarcoat things and it was worth the risk.

  “Rafe was the selfish one, destroying the life you knew, the life you’d built, without consulting you. Witness Protection is a big deal. It shouldn’t be inflicted on someone without their knowledge or consent.”

  His head tilted, his expression an unreadable mask of blankness. “Didn’t know that was a rule.”

  “It isn’t. Not officially. But I feel it strongly. And I’ve felt strongly, since the day Rafe walked into the Chicago field office and asked for immunity in exchange for protection for all three of you, that he didn’t have the right to make that choice for you.”

  Kellan pulled her wordlessly beneath the cover of an old-timey white gazebo. He moved so quickly that she stumbled a little, her stiletto heels catching in the uneven floorboards. Delaney pitched toward him. She dropped her empty mug, her free hand bracing on his chest. Kellan used her momentum, spun them to the wide post in the corner. His other hand tunneled through her hair.

  Then he kissed her.

  Fiercely.

  Roughly.

  With so much desire that it made Delaney’s head swim.

  She’d thought he’d kissed her before. She’d thought she’d felt the full force of his lust, the full impact it had on her want for him.

  She’d been wrong.

  This was a hundred times more. More hot. More tingling. More exciting.

  More toe-curlingly fantastic. Because yes, her toes were curling beneath the thin straps of her sandals. Had that ever happened before? Delaney didn’t know. Delaney couldn’t really think. She could only feel.

  Feel the leashed strength vibrating in his thighs.

  Feel the heat of his skin burning along hers.

  Feel the thick hardness of his cock pressing against her belly.

  Her fingers fisted around the silkiness of his green polo shirt. Where their hands joined, they gripped each other so hard that her knuckles ached.

  Delaney didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want to let up the pressure even a little. That pain, along with the burn of his stubble scraping against her cheek, the dull ache where her calf pressed against what must be a bench—all those things just added to her heightened senses. Because Kellan’s onslaught kicked each of her senses into overdrive.

  She smelled the wet tang in the air, overlaid with the sweetness of fresh waffle cones at the ice cream store across the street. Heard the steady, dull rush of the river, the lap of it against the shore, the squawk of a cluster of ducks somewhere between them and the water. Tasted the herbs of her tea mingling with the faint, salty tang along Kellan’s tongue. Her nipples, hardened to painful tautness, rubbed against the unlined lace of her “date” bra.

  Most of all, Delaney saw Kellan.

  She saw the brightness of the early evening sun casting a halo behind his dark head. She saw the azure flecks that rimmed his pupils. The pale corona of blue that she could almost float in. That she wanted to stare at forever to see deep behind the quick smile and automatic friendliness to the intense soul of a man who struggled to balance the love in his heart with what his brain knew to be right and just and fair.

  Delaney was hit with the certainty that she never wanted to look away. Never wanted to distance herself from the smart, complicated, thoughtful man he rarely showed in entirety to the rest of the world.

  Kellan’s tongue danced along the inside of her mouth, his hips moving in a rhythmic echo. His hand caressed down her neck, down over her shoulder to graze the side of her breast. Instantly, Delaney arched into his palm, wanting him to press harder. To take more. But all she got was a small squeeze before his hand continued its slow slide down her body.

  His thumb bumped along each rib, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Fingers spread wide, they dug in to the high curve of her ass where it hit the railing. His knee lifted, sweeping her legs across his. Effortlessly Kellan shifted them from standing to balancing Delaney across his lap as he sat on the built-in bench.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

  “You’re welcome? I mean, with that kind of thanks, you are really, seriously welcome.” His heartbeat thudded against her bare arm. “But for what? Because I want to do it again.”

  Reaching up, he cradled her face in his palms. “Thank you for seeing my side of it. Thank you for seeing me as a man with choices that deserve to be respected. Thank you for understanding. Nobody else has. Nobody else has even come close. I didn’t even realize how much I needed that until you said the words.”

  A warm rush of caring radiated from her heart. She couldn’t, wouldn’t hide it. Or worry about it. About how not-casual this all felt. About how right it had felt to share such a serious discussion. About how right being with Kellan felt.

  “I meant them. I am on your side.”

  “Team Kellan, huh?”

  “I think not. That makes us sound like some horrible reality TV show love triangle.”

  “You’re right. I can do better. Got a pen?”

  Huh. Guess her purse had slid to the floor of the gazebo at some point, too. Delaney snagged it with her fingertips and handed him a deep green rollerball. Because even field notes deserved a little color.

  Kellan leaned over to the bottom of the slats that encircled the gazebo. He drew a heart and put D+K in the middle of it. And Delaney’s own heart melted.

  “I’m not the focal point. We’re the team. Together. You and me, figuring out what matters, figuring out how to be with each other, how to be there for each other.”

  “That is beyond romantic. It is ridiculously romantic.”

  “Too much?” He hovered the pen right over their initials, as if willing to scratch them out.

  Delaney snatched the pen. “Not at all. Just because I’m carrying two firearms doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good romantic gesture.”

  “Then let’s go have dinner while we watch the sun set. Tell each other silly secrets. Laugh. Drink some wine.”

  “You mean have the most perfect first date ever?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then I’m going to tell you a secret right now.” Delaney put her lips right on his ear. Whispered, “Mission accomplished.”

  Chapter Six

  Kellan had been in some great theaters in Chicago. He’d laughed at Shrek’s fart jokes under the golden dome of the Cadillac Palace. Come up with the idea for a trip to NYC after watching Rent at the ornately gilded Ford Oriental.

  A trip to the theater, complete with a swanky dinner and champagne at intermission, added up to a night guaranteed to get a date to put out. And yeah, he was secure enough in the size of his dick to admit he liked the shows, too.

  Bandon was a whole different playing field. He knew it wasn’t Chicago. Knew making comparisons was pointless. But every once in a while, the vast differences between his old home and his new one really jolted him.

  Like right now. Sitting in the Cranberry Community Playhouse on vinyl seats that squeaked every time his ass twitched. Instead of the usual big red velvet drape across the stage, Bandon had a white one with gigantic red cranberries painted in the center.

  But he didn’t even roll his eyes. Progress, ri
ght? Kellan just snickered and snapped a quick pic to text to Delaney.

  K: Points for consistent branding? Or demerits for being cheesy as fuck?

  D: OMG. That’s . . . uh, not exactly elegant? Where are you? I mean, Bandon, obviously. And my vote’s for cheesy.

  K: Agreed. Demerits appropriately awarded to my new hometown. And I’m fulfilling my duty by sitting through a town meeting about the Cranberry Festival.

  D: As your government-appointed handler, I applaud your willingness to participate.

  K: How about as my

  Kellan’s thumbs froze, right above the screen. His what?

  His girlfriend? That was pretty fucking weighted down with both meaning and expectations. Friend? Not enough to go with the hot kisses—or the surprisingly deep feelings—they’d shared. Hookup? Not yet, damn it. He lived with his brothers. Delaney lived two hours away. That made getting to a mattress logistically tough.

  Solving that problem was high on his to-do list.

  K: How about as my personal handler?

  He hoped she’d appreciate the double entendre. And that it would make Delaney think about putting her hands all over him for the rest of the night.

  Rafe knocked his elbow off the armrest. “Pay attention,” he whispered. “You’re up.”

  Shit. That had been his name Floyd just called. Kellan stood as a stack of papers got handed down each row of the auditorium. To avoid looking at Floyd in his god-awful fishing hat, bristling with lures even though he clearly wasn’t about to hop on a boat, Kellan grabbed a sheet.

  “What you’re looking at is a mock-up of this year’s Festival brochure. If you flip the page, you’ll see the same basic design incorporated into the website’s home page.” At the last second he stopped from mentioning Sierra’s name as the artist. Since she’d only agreed to do the beautiful refresh of the logo if he promised not to give her credit. Weird.