Irresistibly Mine

by Stephanie Rowe

  She was startled by his perceptiveness. For a split second, she was tempted to sit down and pour everything out to him, but that urge was immediately crushed by a lifetime of defensive instincts. She tensed instinctively. "Why does everyone assume something is wrong?" she said, instinctively trying to deflect the inquiry. Even as the words tumbled out, she cringed inwardly at how rude she sounded. Blue was the one person in the store she felt comfortable with, and she couldn't even manage to handle his inquisition with grace? Apparently not. "Maybe I'm fine. Did it ever occur to you that I was fine?"

  His eyebrows shot up. "No, it didn't, actually."

  She blinked at his honest answer, and then, as always seemed to happen around him, she felt the inane urge to smile. "Well, you should work on expanding your world view then."

  "My current world view keeps me fully occupied. I have no room for other ideas in my brain."

  She laughed then, some of her tension easing away. "That's such a limited mindset. How can you live like that?"

  "Because I leave room only for the shit that doesn't wreck me."

  "Oh." She fell silent, the weight of his words settling down upon her. "That's an interesting approach. Can you teach that to me?"

  Something flashed in his eyes, something dark and intense that made her belly tighten. "Maybe."

  They both fell silent, and suddenly she became aware of all the other people in the room, people who were still chatting, living, breathing, laughing, somehow continuing on with life despite the fact that her world was hovering in a fragile, vulnerable state.

  She cleared her throat. "So, what are you up to today? Anything interesting?" Even as she asked it, she inwardly rolled her eyes. What kind of boring, meaningless chat was that? Blue wasn't the kind of guy to waste time on meaningless chatter, and quite frankly she didn't really have time for it either. Plus, it didn't matter. What she really wanted to say was that she was swirling and lost and the only place she felt grounded was with him, so would he please come sit at that abandoned knitting table and pour his energy into the room as she searched the Internet for job postings.

  And maybe each time she sent a résumé, maybe he would kiss her. Or even just touch her arm. Just slide those decadently seductive fingers through her hair, and over her shoulder, just to remind her what it felt like to be touched.

  But how could she say that? It sounded stupid, and way too pathetic and needy. Besides, even thinking those thoughts made her feel incapable of handling her own life, and the entire point of her coming out to Birch Crossing was to find her own strength so she would never have to rely on anyone else again. It was time for her to stand on her own feet and ditch the idyllic romantic notion that someday there would be a support system in her life that she could count on.

  So, instead of pouring out all the emotions tumbling through her, she just stood there, waiting for his answer, like some dimwitted female who didn't have the ability to have an actual, meaningful conversation.

  Once again, Blue didn't appear to care or notice her complete lack of social graces or complexity. "I'm helping out a friend of Harlan's," he said easily, his gaze settling on her face. "He needs some help on a construction project. One of his guys was called off for a family emergency, and they're behind." Blue cocked his head. "Funny thing," he said, sounding like what he was about to say was anything but funny. "Turns out, the address he gave me is on your street. It's the house next to yours. I'll be there all day working. You planning to be home?"

  An image of Blue standing on a roof, bare-chested, with sweat trickling down his back as he drove nails into the roof popped into her mind. Heat immediately flared her cheeks, and she jerked her eyes away before they could wander down to his chest and visualize what it would look like in the bright June sun.

  She cleared her throat, and shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "Yeah, I'm going to do a little unpacking and organizing, and start putting my résumé together. Why? You want to stop by for a drink after you're finished?" Oh, God. She hadn't really said that, had she? But she had.

  What was wrong with her? That was twice in twelve hours that she blurted out a random comment involving him that she really hadn't wanted to put out into the world. First, her announcement to Emma about how they had kissed and made up, and now inviting him into her house, when he was sure to be sweaty, tired, and deliciously male? She was pretty certain that an invitation like that in no way supported her plan to become independent, self-sufficient, and man-free.

  Blue stared at her for a long moment, tormenting her as her question hung out there unanswered.

  God, this was just going from nightmare to worse nightmare. Embarrassed, she shrugged and started wheeling her cart away. "Silly question. Neither of us are that social, and I don't even have anything to drink at the place. All I could offer you would be tap water, and who wants tap water? Have a good day–"

  "I'll bring wine."

  Chloe froze and looked sharply at Blue, her fingers tightening on the handle of her cart. "What?"

  Blue was watching her intently, so intently she felt the heat from his gaze searing her skin. Well, not literally, but for the first time in her life, she understood exactly where that kind of poetic description might come from.

  "Which do you prefer? White or red?" He cocked an eyebrow, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. "Or would you prefer more of the beer that we sampled last night? It's kind of a specialty brew, and I'm not sure I'm high enough on the totem pole to get any more of it, but for you, I'd be willing to try."

  Heat rippled down her spine and over her arms. Although his words were about beer, the tone of his voice and the intensity of his gaze when he'd made the offer made her feel like he'd just offered to track down a one-of-a-kind jewel in the depths of the Amazon jungle if that would make her happy.

  She cleared her throat. "I prefer white, but really, you don't need to—"

  "What time?"

  She swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Um, around six maybe?"

  "Six sounds great." He nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it. Have a good day, Chloe."

  "Yes. You too." She couldn't quite keep from gawking as he moved past her, striding to the back of the store to get his coffee. What was she doing, inviting him over for a drink? And what was he doing accepting her offer? He was in town hiding out at Harlan's cabin, and she was in town trying to rebuild her life from the ashes of complete wreckage. Seriously.

  Maybe his plan included lounging about in abandoned, dust-covered Victorian homes that were utterly charming while sipping white wine with emotionally stunted women, but her life plan definitely did not have space for drinking wine with a decadently sensual man who carried guns, lurked in dark cabins, and kissed like his life depended on it. Inviting him over was so not in accordance with her plan to be independent, get a job, find a place to live, and start her life over.

  She should stop him. Recant her invitation. Tell him that drinking alone was a better choice for both of them. But she didn't. She just stood there, her fingers still tight around the handle of her cart, watching him walk away, unable to keep herself from noticing that she really, really liked the way his jeans fit.

  God! What was her problem? She —

  He glanced back at her as he picked up his coffee cup, catching her right in the middle of gawking at his ass. His eyebrows shot up, and she ducked her head, horrified to be caught gaping at him.

  Clearly, she was not in any shape to handle being in public, since her basic social decorum skills seemed to have abandoned her completely. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she tightened her grip on the shopping cart, and plunged down the aisle, grabbing things off the shelves. Between Blue and everyone else, suddenly she just wanted to be gone.

  She'd just reached the milk, when she felt the heat of his presence behind her. She didn't even need to turn around. She just knew he was there. She froze, afraid to turn around, afraid of how much she wanted to turn around.

  "Chloe." His breath was warm against her neck, an
d his voice was low and deep, making chills race down her spine.

  She swallowed and turned to face him. He was close, closer than was quite proper, closer than a random stranger would stand. She knew it would be appropriate for her to step back and put a socially acceptable distance between them, but she didn't. She stayed right where she was, and so did he. Too close, and yet, in some ways, not nearly close enough.

  "Yes?" She bit her lip, half hoping he was going to cancel tonight. At the same time, she wanted desperately for him not to rescind his acceptance. God, she didn't even know what she wanted.

  He hesitated, his gaze wandering over her face, as if he were trying to memorize all her features. "I don't think I should come over tonight."

  Disappointment flooded her, but she nodded. "I was thinking the same thing." When his eyebrows went up in surprise, she hurried to try to explain. "It's just that I recently got out of an eleven-year relationship. I'm not interested in dating. I'm not interested in dessert. I'm not interested in falling in love." When his eyes narrowed, she rushed on, wanting to get it all out before he could finish his rejection of her. "The only thing that I'm interested in is being single without a guy anywhere in my life, unless he is going to install high-speed Internet in my house."

  "I appreciate your honesty." The corner of his mouth turned up. "In return, you should know that I haven't dated anyone in about eleven years because I hate dating. I hate relationships. I hate the complexity of owing anybody anything, when all I really want to do is go on missions and rescue people. I've always been antisocial and fucked up, and I'm even more so right now. So yeah, tonight would be a bad call for both of us, because I have no damned idea how to install high-speed Internet."

  She lifted her chin, fisting her hands by her sides. "Excellent. I'm glad we both agree that you shouldn't come over tonight."

  "Me, too." He stared at her for a long moment. "So, I'll be there at six."

  She grinned. "See you at six."

  Chapter 8

  It had been the best day he'd had in a long, damn time. Blue dragged his wrist across his forehead, wiping away the streaks of sweat mixed with sawdust. He'd developed a few good blisters. Every muscle in his body was tired. Even his feet were beat. He'd been up and down the ladder dozens of times, relocating the heavy bundle of shingles to the roof. Each bundle had to weigh a couple hundred pounds, and he carried every single one that the crew had used.

  He was physically done, too damn tired to hold any stress in his body at all. It felt awesome.

  He stood up, one foot on either side of the roof, the peak reaching up to about the middle of his calves. From his vantage point, he could see over the trees to the lake that Birch Crossing was built around. There were boats shooting around. Jet skis. Water skiers. A whole bunch of people with nothing better to do with their day than to play on the water.

  He didn't want to be out there. He wouldn't know how to sit on his ass in the sunshine with no goals at all, but there was something about watching everybody enjoy themselves, and a sense of peace settled around him.

  Maybe it was just being out in the hot sun, pushing his body to the limit, without having to worry that someone was going to die if he didn't do his job right today. No one was going to come after him with a gun. He wasn't going to find some kid huddled in the corner of a cement shack, long past hoping that anyone would ever track him down and save him from the hellhole.

  Today had been about asphalt shingles, roof nails, shooting the shit with a bunch of guys whose biggest concern was whether their water heater was going to go out, whether they really needed a new snowmobile for the winter, or whether their wives were going to let them sneak out of the house to watch the Red Sox play the Yankees on Friday night instead of going to a baby shower for a friend.

  It was normal life shit. The kind of stuff he never thought about. The minutia he didn't personally want to bother with, but it was an oasis to be surrounded by that kind of talk, talk that wasn't life threatening or intense. If each guy he'd been working with didn't get a single thing he wanted, each of them was still going to sleep in a bed, and everyone he cared about was going to be fine as well. It was simple, basic, and relaxing as hell. It was a reminder of why Blue did what he did. He tried to bring this kind of life back to the people who'd been stolen from their own lives because someone wanted money, revenge, or power.

  He took a deep breath, and let his gaze wander to the house next door. Chloe's temporary abode had a roof that needed some work. He could see the patches from where he was standing, as well as the missing bricks in the chimney. But he could also see the bright pink flowers on the bushes that surrounded the front door, the flowers that she had admired so much that night they'd driven up.

  His gaze had been drawn back to those flowers multiple times today. He never noticed flowers. He noticed shadows, places where people with guns might be lurking, or spots where kidnap victims might be stashed. Flowers were irrelevant to his life, and he only paid attention to things that were relevant.

  Except for Chloe's flowers. She'd pointed them out, and suddenly, for no apparent reason, they'd become relevant to him. He liked the shade of pink. He'd noticed that the color changed over the course of the day, as the sun travelled from one side to the other. He'd observed that even the small breeze made the petals flutter. When he'd been on the ground, he'd watched the bees enjoying them, and he'd thought about how important flowers were to bees. For them, flowers were the life-and-death importance that drove Blue through his days.

  Her flowers had become relevant to him, and he felt like his understanding of the world and its nuances had become deeper, merely because of Chloe's delight at seeing those pink blossoms.

  Maybe that was part of the reason it had been a good day. Because he'd noticed Chloe's flowers.

  He scanned her windows, trying to catch a glimpse of movement inside. There were a few times today, when he'd looked over, he'd seen her walk by one of the windows, carrying a load of clothing, a cardboard box, and even what appeared to be a lamp once. She'd never looked over at him, but he had a feeling that she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers. There had been something about the stubborn set to her jaw as she walked past the window that had made him think that she was exerting all her will not to turn her head and peek out the window to see what he was doing.

  Three times, she'd run out the door and walked down the street, reappearing a while later with a bag full of something she'd bought. Each time, he'd watched her the whole way down the sidewalk, and he'd known exactly how many minutes it had taken her to return.

  He'd tried to tell himself that his observation of her movements was just habit from hours of vigilance in tracking patterns of the guards before he invaded a camp...but he was lying. He was watching her because she fascinated him. The one time she'd looked up and waved at him, he'd been grinning about it for the next hour and a half, even when he'd slammed a hammer onto his thumb and damn near broken the thing.

  And now...it was time to go over there for that drink.

  There was no watch on his wrist, but his internal clock knew damn well what time it was.

  It was time for him to climb down the ladder, grab a clean shirt from his car, walk up her stairs, and knock on her door. In fact, he should have done that fifteen minutes ago, but he was still on the roof, stalling.

  He wanted to be over there. He wanted to be cracking open the bottle of wine that had been packed in ice in a cooler in his truck all day. He wanted to be listening to the sound of her voice, marveling at how expressive her face was, how utterly unable she was to hide what she was thinking. He wanted to slide his hands through her hair, tug her gently to him, until his lips descended upon hers. He could still remember exactly what her lips tasted like. Vanilla. A hint of cherry. Innocence and sensuality at the same time. He wanted to feel her body against his, to experience the way her touch and her kiss poured light into the darkness of his soul.

  But every time he thought about kissing her,
it made him remember that moment when he'd pointed the gun at her horrified face, reminding him that he had no business dumping his shit into her life. Especially when he was going to be leaving town in a day, or maybe two at the most. He wasn't here to get involved with a woman. He was here for one reason, and one reason only: to get his shit together so he could get back on the job. Not the construction job. The job that made a difference. The job that had been driving him since that hellacious day that had changed him forever when he was fourteen.

  Going over to see Chloe would be a mistake. She twisted things up inside him, and made him think and feel. She was a distraction, the kind that tormented him, interfering with his need to have a clear and focused mind. Hanging out with the guys and carrying asphalt shingles had cleared his head in a way nothing else had. For the first time since the shit had gone south a month ago, he felt like he could think, and thinking made him realize what a mistake it would be to march up the front steps of Chloe's house and knock on the door, no matter how much he wanted to.

  "Hey!" Jackson Reed, the owner of the construction company, shouted up at him from the front yard.

  Blue looked down at him, dragging his gaze off Chloe's house. "Yeah?"

  "Call it a day, Carboni. Time to pack it in."

  "Yeah, right." Blue shot one last glance at Chloe's, and then made his way across the roof to the ladder. He was on the ground in a moment, landing beside his boss.

  Jackson tipped his faded Red Sox cap back. "Some of the guys are heading out to grab a beer. You want to come?"

  Blue glanced over at Chloe's house again, indecision warring at him. "I don't know —"

  "It'll be good for you. Beer and burgers will clear any man's head."

  Blue directed his gaze to Jackson. "My head's plenty clear."

  Jackson looked right at him. "I was in the Army, so I know what I see in you. You're not fine, and that's cool. Hard labor is a decent start. Tossing back a few beers with someone who's been there is a good thing, too." He jerked his head toward his truck. "I'll give you a ride, and drop you back here later. I think Harlan's going to meet up with us as well."