Shane loved all the seasons. They marked time. Reminded her she was alive. She loved the traditions each season delivered, and she was quick to create new ones, with friends and colleagues.
She breathed in deeply, loving the smell of the wet asphalt mixed with the tang of the wet wood and leaves of the oak and aspen trees. She often walked to work except during the winter. She savored the movement and the silence of the streets as she walked home to the small house she’d recently purchased on Church Avenue. The walks helped to clear the work chatter from her brain. Marietta always felt safe, even tonight as she’d flirted with the hot but broody former soldier. She tried to push him out of her mind once again, sighing at the effort and her lack of discipline.
Deputy Logan Tate cruised by and paused. He rolled down his window. “Need a ride home, Shane?”
“Nah. I love the rain.” She reluctantly drew her arms back to her sides and looked at Logan instead of the sky. She probably looked a little woo-woo to the upright officer of the law, but his photographer wife Charlie had definitely softened many of his hard edges as had fatherhood.
“Sure? You’re soaked.”
“I’m warm enough,” she said, not wanting to give any of her neighbors any topics for gossip if Logan dropped her off on the quiet street. They already obsessed about her job, late hours, lack of a husband or kids. And since the probability of kids for her was one in some fantastically high number, she didn’t see the purpose in a husband.
Maybe. She knew enough to never say never, but of all the magic she’d seen in childhood—the orange-red glow of a rising Strawberry Moon, the feel of the ocean waves under her surfboard during her teens in Southern California, the first green poking up from the wild flower seeds she’d planted, the way the light would catch the iridescence of the red head of an Anna’s hummingbird as it drank nectar from a trumpet creeper vine—she couldn’t believe that she’d be blessed with a child.
She didn’t deserve to be blessed.
Logan waited, his chivalry and responsibility warring with her independence. Shane smiled and waved and then crossed to First Street. The deputy waved back and drove off. Humming one of the Adele songs Riley had sung tonight—‘Turning Tables’—Shane hadn’t even made it a block when she felt the hair rise on the back of her neck.
She spun around. It was him. He stood by a gleaming motorcycle under a gold light. Black bike. Black leathers.
“It fits your vibe to lurk in the shadows,” she said, loosening her body, but rising a little onto her toes, arms free, even though she didn’t feel a threat from him.
He noticed her change in stance. A smile tipped his lips, and the change in his face was breathtaking.
“Good move.” His voice was smoke and gravel and her tummy hummed in hope. “You have some instincts of self-preservation. Not trying to hide tonight. Wanted to make sure you got home safe. It’s after midnight. Should have taken the ride from the cop.”
“How’d you know I didn’t drive?”
He hesitated. She braced for the lie.
“There were only a few cars in the employee parking lot, but none that looked like one you’d drive.”
“What do you think I’d drive?” she asked intrigued.
“Sporty but practical. You’d want something with storage because you look active. I’d say smaller SUV-type car. First guess a Jeep. You’d want a bright color judging from the shirt you had on earlier, but you’d tell yourself you should be practical so I’m thinking a brighter blue. But the cowboy boots could mean smaller truck.”
Surprise tinged with admiration filtered through Shane. She loved private guessing games about people. She was already racking up impressions about him.
“Not bad. I wanted the orange Gladiator, but I need a top for cargo so I went for a Jeep since I play upright bass and gig a bit and can’t transport it if it’s raining. I went with Hydro Blue.”
This time the smile lit his eyes so that they looked silver. God, he was beautiful in a hard and rough masculine way. And haunted though he wouldn’t admit it.
Not your job anymore.
“Your bike’s sweet, but not any more practical than me walking in the rain.”
“I have skills.”
“So do I,” she said softly, enjoying their byplay and vain enough to enjoy the fact that while all the other women in the bar had struck out tonight, he wanted to walk her home.
But he’d known her name, so she couldn’t get too comfortable.
“Head home. I’ll follow at a discreet distance.”
“Like a dad?” she teased.
He jerked a little before he covered it. “Don’t know,” he admitted, his voice a little rougher now. “I never had one.”
Why had he told her that? Suspicion edged out curiosity again.
“I had a great one. Still do. The best. And he wouldn’t want me leading a stranger to my home.”
“I’m not wild about the idea either,” he said, surprising her. “Here,” he offered and wheeled his bike slowly toward her. He held out his ID. “Take a picture of my license and the license plate on my bike. Text it to a friend, and I’ll follow you to your street—won’t look at which apartment or house is yours.”
“Why?”
“Because I had a great mom and she taught me how to do the right thing.” His gaze shuttered. “Didn’t always do it after I lost her, but I got back on the right path at eighteen when I enlisted in the army.”
She felt his energy dip. He’d lost his mom young, it sounded like. And he’d never had a dad. Shane was lucky. She still had both of her parents and four sisters.
But I won’t move back home.
For a moment guilt pressed on her chest, tangled the air in her throat. She’d always been so tight with her family, had always been in the middle of everything, but she was too different now to go back.
Shane glanced briefly at the license—Washington State. Yup. That’s where the special forces base was. For a moment she didn’t want to look at his name. Keeping him anonymous made their little back-and-forth more exciting. She liked the way he looked at her—like she confused him, and he was hungry.
I’m starving.
But her dad had trained her too well. Her gaze lit on his name. She tilted her head, indicating he could follow.
Would he truly walk behind her like some chivalrous knight from a long-ago era?
“I’ve never seen a woman walk in the rain like you,” he said, closer now. The gravel in his voice raised the goose bumps on her skin that had nothing to do with the rain.
She turned around, walking backward so she could watch him. “I love the rain. I love the snow. I feel like it washes me clean.”
He didn’t respond, and her gaze lit on his mouth—sensuous for such a hard man. The fire in her core flared hotter in interest.
“You don’t seem much bothered by the rain either.”
“The weather stopped bothering me a long time ago. Part of the experience.”
“You on leave or out for good?”
“Doesn’t feel good yet,” his voice rumbled after a long pause.
Shane’s heart pinched.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.