Wiping all worry from my face before I turn around to face him and Sanders, I turn back to his bed. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
It’s nearly midnight before I pull into my driveway, and the lights are still on. Resting my forearms on my steering wheel, I look at the little house my mom loved. When she wasn’t on tour, she would come here to rest and spend time with my dad.
He was the homebody, and she was the free spirit. They loved each other so much that it was easy to be who they were without impacting their marriage. No matter what, they were each other’s home base.
Before she died, I always told myself that I wouldn’t settle for anything less than the kind of love they shared. But she died seven years ago, and none of my relationships have been anywhere close to that. I know most of that is my fault.
When I turned thirty-five last fall, I started to accept that maybe it wasn’t in the cards for me. Maybe the job is supposed to be my focus.
Until Kinley walked into my life.
Her free fucking spirit and her cocky fucking attitude, unashamedly being who she is, have me rethinking everything. I’ve been fighting my attraction to her, but then she had to paint that picture. It was more than just the gesture, it was how easy and innocently she gave me a small part of herself, that was just a peek of the woman she is underall that sass and thick skin. I’ve never felt with another woman what I feel for her.
Fuck me if this couldn’t be the worst timing. I’ve put two years into this case, I have to see it through. Just this one. Then I can shift my focus to her, to see where this can go.
I don’t think my heart has beat this hard in my chest since Ranger School, but I have to do it. I have to back off and let her know that everything that happened today should not have happened. I need to focus, especially now.
After what Conway told me today, after they almost killed him. Things are getting dangerous, and I need to make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. Even her.
What if she were pegged as a weakness for me? If I let myself get close to her, how could I focus on the job of keeping her safe when she’s such a distraction? All it would take is missing one little thing and I could put her, and others, lives in danger.
If anything like what happened to Conway happened to her, I don’t know what I would do. I don’t think I could forgive myself if anything happened to her because of me.
My chest is squeezing so tight, it feels like a vice has attached itself to my ribcage. Setting my chin on my forearm, I tell myself there will be time for other things after I get through this case. I can make time for her. For us.
I could lose her.
With a deep fucking breath, I open the door and get out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KINLEY
SWAN FELLasleep on the couch hours ago, not long after he face-timed with his daughter to tell her goodnight. I feel bad for keeping him away from his family, but he told me if he weren’t here with me, he would be wherever Abbot is.
I’ve read the same few pages in this book so many times in the past hour, and I still don’t know what I’ve read. All I can think about is Abbot holding me to him, how he felt against me, and the incredible orgasm he gave me before he left.
Each time I think about what would have happened if he hadn’t left, my whole body clenches with need. My panties have been wet since he left.
Something I keep thinking about is the fact that he ticks off so many of the boxes required for someone I would take seriously. He’s protective, considerate, honest, and he’s super fucking hot.
Not to mention I’m constantly thinking of him.
This might sound game-ish, but I don’t care, I like it when a man knows what he wants - he’s dominant and persistent enough that when I push him away, he pushes back. I like that.
A key in the front door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I lower the book to my lap as it swings open and Abbot walks in. Something about him is different. I scan him from head to toe, tailored-to-fit khaki pants, cream-colored button-up with the sleeves rolled up his hot forearms, ever-present holstered gun under his arm, badge on his belt.
He looks the same, but something feels different.
It looks like he’s had a rough evening. His hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and he looks… sad.
My first clue that something is not right is that he looks in my direction, but not in my eyes. He never avoids my eyes.
Swan snorts as he wakes up and sits up on the couch, wiping his face. “Well? Is he okay?”
As he pushes the door closed, Abbot nods his head. “Yeah, the doctors say he’ll make a full recovery, but it’s just going to be rough for a while.”
“What happened? Was he able to tell you?”
