“Why did you decide to go out with that tiny-dicked barista today when you’ve turned him down every other day?”
Her chin jerked back at his bluntness. “He doesn’t have a tiny dick,” she countered automatically.
His expression darkened, and she was reminded of a thunderstorm moving across Lake Michigan. “How would you know he doesn’t?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, careful not to smash her coffee. “How would you know hedoes?”
Then it hit her. That strange, nagging sensation she’d felt for the last week, like someone was watching her. And then more pieces slotted into place. Like his commentmonthsago about her driving. Like his comment about her pets and otherthings she hadn’t paid much attention to until, suddenly, in that moment, it all made sense.
Her eyes widened at the realization. “It wasyou!” She pointed a finger at his face. “You’re the one who’s been following me, making me think I’m going crazy. And not just the last few days, either. Before, too. Before your brother came to town.”
She searched his face, expecting him to deny it. Instead, he remained silent. His jaw clenched. His eyes steady on hers.
Hislackof response was all the confirmation she needed.
“Why?” she demanded, her heart pounding so hard that it drowned out the din of the city.
When he still refused to answer, she grabbed his sleeve and yanked him into the nearest alleyway, away from passersby's prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.
The hum of humanity, traffic, and conversation faded as she dragged him toward the dumpsters at the end of the alley. By the time she stopped, all she could hear were her ragged breaths and the distant rumble of a train.
Now that they were alone, she became acutely aware of him. Of the heat radiating from his body—it rose from his collar as steam. Of the exotic, spicy scent of his aftershave as it wafted in the air between them. Of their connection, that live wire of awareness that snapped taut whenever they were within five feet of each other.
She saw something that made her stomach flip as she searched his gaze. It was a strange mixture of guilt and longing and…something darker. Something she didn’t have a name for.
“Why?” she asked again. Her voice was softer than it’d been on the sidewalk, though it was no less insistent.
Instead of answering, he asked, “How are you?”
She blinked.
“After your injury, I mean,” he clarified. “Have you regained full movement? Are you still in any pain?”
She might have ignored him and demanded he answerherquestion first. But she could hear the deep concern in his voice, see the sharp anxiety in his eyes.
“I’m fine.” She lifted her arm above her head to prove it. “I’m still working on regaining strength in this arm. And my shoulder aches when there’s a change in the weather. But that’s it.”
“Good.” He nodded, his relief clear in the way his shoulders relaxed. “That’s good. I wanted to check in on you after you got back from the hospital. But I wasn’t sure you’d want me to after…the letter. I reckoned we’d put a period on things, and it was best to leave it at that. But I’ve thought about you. Worried about you.”
“We’ll talk about the letter later,” she told him, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. Her breaths were coming short and quick, and her knees felt like they were made of whipped cream. “For now, I want to know why you’ve been following me. And don’t try to say it’s because you wanted to assure yourself I’d recovered. You were watching me before.”
She searched his gaze. But, as usual, his expression told her nothing about what was going on in his head. She realized he wouldn’t answer her when his lips pressed into a thin line.
If he’d been one of her brothers, she’d have given him a titty twister until he relented. But since he was Sergeant Britt Rollins, she satisfied herself by grabbing the collar on his coat and yanking his face down to hers. “Why?” she demanded harshly, her mouth mere inches from his. “Tell me the truth. I deserve it.”
His hands were jammed into his coat pockets as if bracing against the cold—or maybe he was bracing against the information she was determined to drag out of him.
He hesitated for a second more. Then he closed his eyes and admitted lowly, “Because I can’t help myself.” He exhaled, his breath curling in the cold air and brushing against her face as he slowly reopened those whirlpool eyes. “Because you’re in my blood. You’vebeenin my damned blood since the first moment I laid eyes on you. And no matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t get you out.”
Her heart pounded harder with each word. By the time he paused, her ribs ached.
“I can’t get you out, but I can’t have you.” She could see the anguish in him, the way it twisted his delicious mouth. “So…I watch. I watch because it’s the closest I can let myself get to you.”
The ache in his voice meant that it took everything in her not to close the distance that separated them and kiss him. Heavens, how she wanted to. How she wanted to kiss him and hold him and reassure him that whatever was holding him back wasn’t worth the struggle. Assure him that everything would work out if he would just give in.
Instead, a cooler head prevailed. “Explain to me again why you don’t believe in happily-ever-afters,” she demanded.
The muscle under his eye twitched. “It’s not that I don’t believe in them. It’s that they’re not for me.”
