Blue hesitated, well aware that Chloe was only a few yards away, on the other side of her front door, waiting for him. But Jackson was right. Hanging out with a couple guys who'd been there, who knew this shit, would be good.
Before he could decide, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down, his jaw tightening when he saw it was his boss, Renée. She hadn't been happy when he'd declined his most recent assignment, but she'd agreed to give him a few days off. The fact that she was calling now meant she wanted him back in the field. He thought about how it had been less than twenty-four hours since he pulled a gun on Chloe, and he gritted his teeth. As long as he was still so on edge that he could make that kind of mistake, he wasn't ready to take on the responsibility of multiple lives. But today, with the guys, and the hard labor, he'd made more progress than he had in a long time. So, maybe he would be back soon. Going out with Harlan and Jackson was definitely the faster path toward getting back in the field.
He silenced Renée's call, and shoved the phone back in his pocket. "Yeah, I'll grab a beer with you and Harlan. Sounds good."
Jackson's face lit up. "Great. Let's go." He turned to head back to his truck, but Blue didn't move.
"Give me a second. I just need to tell Chloe that I'm not coming over there." He hadn't even taken a step towards Chloe's house when Jackson spun back toward him.
"What?"
Blue nodded toward Chloe's house. "I was supposed to bring a bottle of wine for a drink with her, but heading out with you guys is a better choice for me. I'll just tell her —"
"Screw that." Jackson scowled at him. "You're telling me that you made plans to meet with her, and you're going to blow her off to hang out with us? What the hell is that all about?"
Blue blinked, surprised by the vehemence of Jackson's reaction. "I'm here to get my shit back together, so I can get back in the field," he said, surprising himself with his honesty. "Getting involved with a woman isn't going to do that."
"No?" Jackson walked back over to him and held up his hand, showing Blue his wedding band. "The best thing I ever did in my entire life was turn myself over to a woman. You think that you can get through this alone? There's nothing as powerful as having someone in your corner who knows how completely fucked up you are, but is willing to stand by you anyway." He held up his hand as Blue opened his mouth, cutting him off before he was even able to speak. "And no, it's not the same thing as your teammates. A woman brings softness and humanity into your life where there wasn't any before. If you have a woman who has been generous enough to offer some of her time to you, you sure as hell better honor that and get your ass over there. Especially Chloe. Emma has told me a lot about her and how hard she worked to help them adopt Robbie and Mattie. That woman's got substance."
Blue tensed, and instinctively glanced over at Chloe's house again. A part of him wanted to do exactly what Jackson said, and haul ass up those front steps. But that was not the path that would get him where he wanted to go, despite what Jackson thought. "Thanks for the advice, but I think I know what I need. She'll understand."
"She might understand," Jackson agreed. "But that doesn't mean it's the right thing to do." He walked over to Blue's truck, peered in the window, then yanked open the door.
Blue watched him, alternating between amused, impressed, and annoyed that Jackson was in his truck. "Hey —"
Jackson emerged holding the bottle of wine that Blue had been chilling. He strode across the lawn to Blue and shoved it in his hand. "Here."
The bottle was cold, and the condensation was slippery as Blue's fingers closed around the glass. The moment he felt it, he was catapulted back to his heightened anticipation when he'd bought it earlier in the day. He instinctively tightened his grip on it.
Jackson nodded and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. "Go over there. See her. You're a damned lucky man to have a woman like Chloe willing to give you a piece of her time. We'll catch a beer tomorrow night."
Blue swore. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."
Jackson pointed at the house. "Go." Then, without waiting for Blue's response, he turned and walked away, heading to his truck, leaving Blue standing in the front yard.
Blue's phone rang again, and he pulled it out. Renée again. Swearing, he silenced the call and jammed the phone back into his pocket. He wasn't ready to go back in the field, but he felt pathetic telling her that his nightmares were too great to make him a worthwhile risk out there.
He hated feeling like this. He hated standing on the sidelines when people needed his help. He couldn't keep doing this. He had to get back. Even if Jackson had taken off, there were other ways to make the evening productive. Tonight would be better spent working out than kicking back with Chloe, and letting his mind go to places he didn't want it to go. Maybe Jackson had rescinded his invitation, but that didn't mean that Blue had to follow through with Chloe.
He'd drop off the wine, explain that he was too fucked up for social niceties, which was true, and then take off. Maybe another day of roofing would clear his mind, and then he could move on, never looking at her house again.
The wine clenched in his grip, Blue strode across the driveway between the two houses and vaulted up the front steps. He took a deep breath, then knocked on the front door. It drifted open under his touch, revealing the same front room where he'd dumped all her bags yesterday. They all seem to be stacked in the same place, with the exception of one small one that she'd apparently carried into another part of the house.
Chloe was nowhere around, but there was a notebook and a computer on the table.
He could leave her a note and take off. He wouldn't even have to see her. Just cut it off for both of them before —
There was a tremendous crash from the second floor, and he heard Chloe yelp.
He was on his way up the stairs before the sound had even faded.
Chapter 9
If Chloe were a performer in a circus, then the position she was in would be fantastic, easy to extricate herself from, and not remotely dangerous. However, given the fact that her athletic achievements primarily consisted of being able to make it from the fridge to the couch with a full gallon of ice cream, the fact that she was hanging from a hole in the ceiling by her fingertips with the ladder sideways on the stairs beneath her, was not a positive moment in her day.
Chloe dug her fingers into the wood, grimacing as she tried to pull herself up into the attic crawl space. Of course, nothing happened. She hadn't been able to do a pull-up when she was in third grade gym class and weighed about sixty pounds. There was certainly no damn way she was going to do a pull-up now that she was closer to the weight of an elephant than a child.
"Chloe!" Blue's voice echoed from the downstairs, and she suddenly heard him thudding up the stairs.
"Blue!" She couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice. "I'm upstairs! Help!"
Her fingers started to slide off the wood, and she grimaced, using all her strength to try to hang on.
"Shit, Chloe!" She heard him behind her, but before she could think about the fact that her bum was probably at face level for him, his arms wrapped around her waist, taking all the pressure off her fingers.
She immediately let go, sliding down into his arms. Her body slid tantalizingly down his chest as he lowered her. Chills raced over her at the feel of his arms around her, and the easy way he supported her, as if he were completely oblivious to her expertise at walking around carrying gallons of ice cream.
Her feet touched the floor, but for a split second neither of them moved away. She just stood there with her back against his chest, his arms around her waist, not quite able to drag herself out of his grasp. He didn't let go of her either.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, his breath drifting over the side of her neck.
"Fantastic." Her voice sounded a little bit more...breathy...than she intended. Standing there in his arms, she suddenly became aware of exactly how sweaty and stinky she was from a day of working on th
e house. Her grand plan of not showering so she could use it as an excuse to tell him that she just didn't have time to kick back and relax with a drink suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea.
Now that he was behind her, his arms around her waist, she didn't feel quite as inspired to drive him away with her odoriferousness. In fact, she was completely self-conscious at exactly how unkempt she was. Reluctantly, she stepped away from him, not sure that having her sweaty back pressed against him was exactly the impression she wanted to make.
She turned to face him, shoving her hands in her back pockets. The moment her gaze settled on him, her heart started to thud. His navy tee shirt was covered in grit. His faded jeans were dirty. His boots were equally as well used. His face had been bronzed by the sun, and she could see a ring of his tan line around the collar of his tee shirt. He smelled of sunscreen, hard work, and the faint scent of aftershave, as if it had barely hung on after a long day of work. His green eyes were vibrant and intense as he studied her, making all of her womanly parts shiver in anticipation. He looked utterly masculine, rough, and delicious.
He grinned. "Hey."
She could not keep the smile from spreading across her face. "Hey, yourself." In his hand was a bottle of white wine, which he'd somehow managed to hang onto during his heroic rescue of her.
The condensation on the green glass made it clear that he had somehow kept it cold all day. Her heart tightened and she glanced at him. "You brought the wine?" When he hadn't come over at six, or at six fifteen, she had come to the conclusion that he had made the same evaluation as she had, and had decided not to come. As she'd been pouting around the house, she'd become more and more pleased with her decision not to shower and not to prepare for him.
But now he was standing in front of her with the wine. He had really decided to keep their date all along?
He looked down at the wine, his brow furrowed, as if he hadn't remembered that it was in his hand. He stared at it for a long moment, so long that she began to wonder what exactly the issue with the wine was. And then she realized she had been correct. He hadn't actually meant to come with the wine. Heat flared her cheeks, and she lifted her chin. "Oh. You were just going to drop it in the front room and bail, weren't you? You changed your mind when you heard the crash?"
Blue ran his thumb over the glass, clearing a trail in the condensation. He took a deep breath, then raised his gaze to hers. "Yeah, but now that I realize that you're in such danger all alone in this house, I kind of feel like I should stay around and make sure you don't set any ladders at the top of staircases anymore."
Her heart thudded, but she kept an impassive expression on her face. "Well, I'm actually not really in the mood for a man who thinks that I'm too inept to be safe when I'm alone in my own house. I don't want someone to rescue me from ladders. I want to be able to save myself."
His eyebrows shot up. "Keeping people safe is kind of my thing. It's what I do."
"And it's very admirable," she agreed. "But my current mission in life is to rescue myself, although I do appreciate the fact that you kept me from falling down the stairs and breaking my neck. That would have been a distinct impediment to my self-empowerment and independent life, so I do appreciate that."
His eyebrows seemed to go even further up on his forehead, and the corner of his mouth started to twitch. "Well, to be honest, I'm taking kind of a hiatus from rescuing people right now. I actually changed my mind about wanting to stay for that drink when you smiled at me after I saved you. That seemed to be good enough reason for me, but I wasn't sure it was a good enough reason for you, so I made up the 'needing to keep you safe' thing."
"My smile?" Her resistance to his charm and deliciousness faded instantly. She scowled at him. "Dammit. I really love that reason."
He grinned. "Then why do you look so cranky?"
"Because if I had realized that we were actually going to have a drink, I would have showered at least within the last twelve hours, preferably within the last two." She touched her ponytail, grimacing when she realized that the cowlick on the top of her head had made a nice lump. God. She wasn't even wearing makeup. "I was planning on telling you that I was too busy to take a break, and using my lack of shower as proof that I had no time."
He grinned wider. "Did I mention that your honesty is sexy as hell?"
Her cheeks suddenly felt hot. "No."
"It is." He stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat from his body. "Here's the thing," he said, his voice suddenly lower and rougher, sliding over her skin like a caress. "I think you're sexy as hell with that dust on your cheek and the streaks of sweat over your chest." He brushed his index finger lightly over her collarbone, and she inhaled sharply, her entire body tightening at his touch.
God, why did such a little thing feel so good? Was she really that touch-deprived, or was it just him? "That feels amazing," she whispered.
"Yeah?" His smile became less amused and more thoughtful as he traced his finger along her shoulder. "Your skin is soft. I like it."
She swallowed, unable to stop the racing of her heart. "Thanks."
He pressed his finger against the pulse hammering in her throat, and his green eyes seemed to darken. "Nervous?"
"No. I was just doing stair runs before you got here. That's why I'm so sweaty, too."
He completely ignored her fabricated excuse. "Why are you nervous?"
"Because the last thing in the world I want is to be interested in a man, so the fact I like your touch kind of terrifies me."
He was silent for a moment, considering her words as he continued to rub his fingers gently along her neck, watching the play of his fingers across her skin. Finally, his gaze returned to her face. "I had been planning to tell you that after last night's issue with the gun, that I was too screwed up for a drink. I was going to tell you that I was heading home to work out until I was too tired to think about anything except crashing. So yeah, I get it. I wasn't expecting your smile to ground me, and I sure as hell wasn't expecting for it to feel so damn good to feel your skin beneath my fingers."
She swallowed. "Isn't this the same conversation we had this morning at Wright's?"
"Yeah, kinda. Except this morning, I wasn't tracing circles along the bare skin of your chest. That raises the stakes, at least for me." As he spoke his fingers swept lower, brushing the edge of her tank top.
His fingers weren't exactly on the swell of her breasts, but they were heading in that direction, and a part of her wanted to encourage him to continue right along on the path it was on. The other part of her was absolutely terrified of how she was reacting to him. "So, do you want to leave?"
"Nope. Not a chance. But I am completely fucked up."
A nervous giggle escaped her. "Are you trying to scare me off?"
"Yep. I'm not man enough to do what's right, so it's up to you." His gaze rose to hers again, his green eyes blazing so intensely that her legs almost started to tremble. She'd never been around somebody as intense as he was. Ronald had been so consumed with work that half the time he barely seemed to even be aware of her presence, even when they were having a direct conversation.
Blue was completely different. It was as if he was pouring every last bit of his mind and body into their discussion. She felt as if he heard every intonation of her voice, as if he read every nuance of expression on her face, as if he thought about every word she spoke. She had never felt so noticed in her life.
He trailed his finger down her arm. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked. His question was casual, oh so casual, but she heard the edge to his voice. It was subtle, hidden beneath the layers of warmth and intensity, but there was definitely a vulnerability, as if her answer mattered significantly to him.
"No. I don't want you to leave at all."
His hand stilled on her elbow, and his fingers tightened ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. If she wasn't so completely focused on his touch, she probably wouldn't even have noticed it. She had a feeling that Blue was high
ly trained to conceal his emotions, and probably tried not to even have them at all. The fact that her answer elicited an instinctive, physical response from him was exhilarating.
"I would like very much to stay." His voice was low and rough, making shivers race down her spine.
She cleared her throat, trying to reclaim her energy that seemed to have poured into him. "I'm not going to have sex with you, though. It's just a drink. Just to be clear."
He grinned, amusement flickering through his eyes. "Sweetheart, the last thing that I would've been expecting was for you to have sex with me tonight. Hell, both of us can barely manage a drink, let alone physical intimacy. It's all good. A drink, conversation, a break from our lives. Does that work for you?"
"So, you don't want to have sex with me? Is that what you mean?" Dammit. She felt no relief at his statement. She just felt disappointment.
His eyebrows shot up. "You were hoping I'd say I want to rip your clothes off?"
"What?" Heat shot through her at his comment. God, yes, of course she wanted that. It sounded fantastic. "No, of course I didn't want you to say that. That would be horrible to get naked with you." When his eyebrows rose even further, she grimaced. "Well, I mean, not that you're repulsive or anything. When I said I didn't want to have sex with you, I meant that it was a generic state of mind that I'm in regarding physical intimacy in general, not specifically a rejection of you. I just…" Her voice faded at the growing amusement on his face, and she realized what a complete lunatic she sounded like. "Oh, never mind. I'll just go grab some wineglasses and we can sit out on the back porch—"
Blue slid his hand behind the back of her neck, and pulled her close. Her breasts were suddenly against his chest, and his rock-hard abs were pressed against her belly. "Chloe," he interrupted.
"What?" She could barely whisper out the question, her entire body completely focused on the feel of being pressed against him.
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