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  I sucked in an unsteady breath as a balmy breeze tossed a strand of hair across my face. What in the world was happening here? I glanced around the empty parking lot and to the line of cars beginning to stream out of the strip club across the street. “Are you . . . on lunch?”

  “Yeah. I work until seven in the morning,” he replied, and then he moved so quickly, I didn’t register what he was doing until the tips of his fingers grazed my cheek. He caught the wayward hair, and as the breath literally got lost inside me, he tucked the strand behind my ear. His touch, it lingered briefly along the sensitive skin behind my ear, drawing out a sweet shiver.

  My pulse was somewhere in cardiac territory. “What . . . what are you doing here, Reece?”

  A slight smile graced his poetic lips. “You know, I really didn’t know at first. I was out driving around, knowing I needed to take my lunch, and I found myself pulling into the parking lot. And I thought about how we used to do this.”

  My insides got all mushy, because it was dumb, but I was amazed that he actually remembered doing this. Here I was thinking that I was the only person who held on tight to those memories. I looked up at him, feeling dizzy, and it had nothing to do with the heat or his height. “And?”

  “You tired?”

  That wasn’t an answer to my question, but I shook my head. “Nope.”

  His eyes, such a deep blue they appeared black in the low light, fixed on mine. “Well, I got to thinking. Crazy thoughts.”

  My brows rose. “Crazy thoughts?”

  He nodded as his grin went up a notch. “Crazy insane thoughts, such as why can’t we just start over?”

  “Start over?” I was turning into a puppet that repeated everything he said.

  “Yeah, you and me.”

  I’d figured that much.

  “And I think it’s a damn good plan,” he continued, and he was somehow one step closer, which put him as close as Nick and I had been standing earlier, but I’d felt nothing earlier. Now, there was a riot of sensations invading my system, shorting out my nerve endings. “I’m hoping you agree.”

  “What plan?”

  He reached out again, this time fixing my glasses. “Let’s forget about that night. I know we can’t really pretend it never happened, but you said I . . . that I didn’t do wrong by you and I know you wouldn’t lie about that,” he went on, and my heart dropped to my navel. Lie? Me? Never. “But we can move past it, right?”

  “Why?” The question blurted out of me, and one of his brows arched. “No. I mean. Why now?”

  A heartbeat passed. “We were friends, and I’m going to be real up front with you, babe, I miss that. I miss you. And I’m tired of missing you. So that’s the why behind the now.”

  My heart did a round of hopscotch. He missed me? He was tired of missing me? Oh my God. Now my brain was spazzing out. I had no idea how to respond. I’d literally spent eleven months cursing at him and hiding from him, and now I was simply speechless. He regretted that night that kind of didn’t happen, wished it never happened, but he was here, wanting to start over.

  And hope—­oh man, there was a spark of hope in my chest, flickering to life. It was like being fifteen again, when he first smiled at me across the lawn. Or when he used to walk me to class at school. It was like the hug he’d given me upon his return.

  It was most definitely like the night I’d given him a ride home.

  And it was the same hope that I’d thought I’d extinguished over the course of eleven months, but it was obviously still there, blazing through self-­preservation, confusion and the guilt.

  “Is that a good enough reason for you?” There was a teasing tone to his question, one that made me want to smile, but I was floored.

  I needed to tell him what really happened that night. I knew I did, but he wanted to start over, and how could I start over by delving back into the past—­into the night he wanted to move on from the past?

  Reece lifted his hand once more, and this time, his fingers found mine. He threaded them together. My heart was done with hopscotch and had moved on to back flips. Maybe a roundoff. He gently tugged on my arm. “What do you say, Roxy? Eat lunch, dinner, breakfast—­whatever you want to call it at three in the morning—­with me?”

  How could I say anything other than yes?

  Chapter 6

  Sitting with Reece in the all-­night diner down the road from Mona’s was familiar . . . and yet strange. It was like slipping into someone else’s life I was intimately acquainted with.

  The diner was virtually dead with the exception of a table of college guys who were trying not to appear too drunk while in the presence of an officer and a few truckers. Coffee was delivered for Reece and sweet tea for me with a quickness. We’d decided on getting breakfast.

  Things were a wee bit awkward at first. I sat across from him, Indian style, in the harsh overhead lights, my hands fidgeting crazily in my lap. I didn’t know what to say or do, and I kept focusing on the low conversation that crackled through his shoulder radio every five seconds.

  Reece broke the awkward sauce though. “So I saw that Thomas added another piercing to his arsenal.”

  Moving one hand to fiddle with the cool glass, I nodded. “Yeah, he got the eyebrow piercing last week. Every time I see him, I want to take a chain and connect the piercing above his eye to the one in his nose and then to the one in his lip.”

  He chuckled lightly. “I’m pretty sure he’d be down with it. Your dad was calling him ‘Metal Face.’ ”

  I shook my head. “Thomas is turning eighteen in a few months, and he has our parents convinced that he’s going to get a facial tattoo. Something to do with a zipper on the back of his head that starts at the nape of his neck and ends between his eyebrows?”

  His eyes widened. “He’s not serious, is he?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think so. He’d have to cut off all those pretty curls, and I don’t think he’d do that. I think he’s just messing with them. Well, for the . . .” I trailed off as a loud thunk traveled across the diner.

  Leaning against the red cushioned seats, Reece tossed his arm along the back of the booth as he glanced over at the college table. Someone had spilled a drink, and apparently it was insanely funny to the entire table, because they sounded like a pack of hyenas. My gaze darted back to Reece. He gave great profile. It was the jawline, I decided, that really just made his face exquisite. Capturing the hard line would be so easy with a stroke of a paintbrush or with charcoal. Ah, I could totally do his portrait in charcoal! Wait. I was pretty sure I’d added the whole “stop painting his face” to the priority list.

  I really sucked at that priority list.

  Reece’s gaze slid back to mine, and I felt my cheeks heat. Because I was totally staring at him, and he totally caught me. The grin that tipped up his lips was full of boyish charm. There was a flutter in my chest. “You’re still taking graphic design, right?”

  Huh? It took me a moment to realize he was talking about college. “Oh, yeah. I’m doing online classes. Only two this semester.” I shrugged. “Those damn classes are expensive.”

  “How much longer do you have?”

  “A ­couple of more years.” I took a drink of tea. Ah, sugar. “Since I’m only taking two classes a semester, it feels like I’m taking the scenic route, but when I’m finished, I’ll . . .”

  “Then what?”

  I opened my mouth, but then I frowned. “You know, good question. I really have no idea. Guess I need to figure that out.”

  Reece chuckled again as he dropped his arm and placed his elbows on the table. “You’re twenty-­two, Roxy. You really don’t need to figure anything out at this point.”

  My expression turned bland. “You make it sound like I’m still in diapers. You’re only twenty-­five.

  Maybe he was right, but there was a niggle of panic in the center o
f my chest. Once I graduated college, would I keep working at Mona’s? Doing web design on the side? Or would I get a “real” job as some ­people, especially nosey ­people, lovingly advised? “I like working at Mona’s,” I announced.

  “Why wouldn’t you? Jax is a great guy to work for,” he said, head tilted slightly to the side. “And you’re good with ­people.”

  I grinned. “I make some damn good tips.”

  His gaze dropped to my mouth and then slowly rose. “I bet you do.”

  A pleasant buzz trilled through my system at the light, almost offhand compliment. Was I that desperate for praise that if I had a tail, I’d be wagging it? Or was it just because it was coming from Reece?

  Thick lashes lowered, shielding cobalt-­blue eyes momentarily. When he looked up again, his eyes practically burned with the intensity uniquely his.

  Oh yeah, it was because it was coming from Reece. Who was I kidding?

  I shook those thoughts right out of my head as I grabbed hold of the paper the straw came in and started tearing it up into tiny pieces. “But how bad is it that I graduate with a degree in graphics and still work at Mona’s?”

  “How bad is it for you to stop doing something you enjoy for something you don’t?” he countered.

  My lips formed a perfect O. Well, when one summed it up like that, it really didn’t make sense.

  “Look, do you remember how badly my stepdad freaked when he realized that both my brother and I had no plans of ever going to college?”

  I nodded. Colton, his brother, and Reece never had any aspirations of being a college grad, something their stepfather, Richard, was not too keen on, considering he’d been all about higher education and law school.

  “And not to this day do I regret never stepping foot in a college. I’m glad I joined the Marines and came back to this,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m satisfied with being a cop, even when there are moments when it’s . . .” A shadow crossed his face, and I held my breath, thinking he was going to talk about what happened—­the shooting that had spun his life out of control for a little while.

  Peeking up at him, I thought about how . . . how cut up Reece was after he was involved in the shooting a year and a half ago. Who knows what he faced at war, and I did know that he’d taken quite the hit while over there, something I didn’t like to think about . . . it was why he came home, but the shooting he’d been involved in as a cop had rocked him hard. While Reece hadn’t pushed me away at that time, it had been Jax who’d pulled him out of the downward spiral.

  “Even when it’s fucking difficult, I don’t regret my choice.”

  For some reason, I was disappointed that he hadn’t mentioned the “difficult” situation. Even though Reece had allowed me to get close to him while he was dealing with that crap, he’d never talked about it, and I guessed he still didn’t.

  “Not everyone has to do the same thing to be happy,” he continued. “It took Richard a while to get over it, but he did. And he’s fine, because he knows Colton and I are happy.” He paused. “And I know your parents wouldn’t care if you kept working at Mona’s or whatever. They just want you to be happy.”

  “I know.” And that was the God’s honest truth.

  Reece reached across the table and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist. Slowly, he pulled my hand away from the pile of paper I was creating. “You know, you don’t have to live Charlie’s life for him.”

  My jaw hit the table.

  “Just because he can’t go to college, doesn’t mean you have to do it for him.” Turning my hand over, he smoothed his thumb along the inside of my wrist. “Charlie would never have wanted that for you.”

  There were many days where I wondered what the hell I was doing or why I was doing it, and Reece nailed it on the head right then, after us not exchanging a single civil word to one another for almost a year. Shocked me right to the core, because there was a part of me that didn’t want to acknowledge why I did some of the things I did.

  Or why I didn’t do other things.

  His thumb made another swipe, drawing my attention. The pads of his fingers were calloused, telling me he used his hands a lot. The contrast of the roughness to the smooth movements and his words had me squirming in my booth.

  Before I could think of a response suitable to that statement, our food arrived and he let go of my wrist. But when he did, his fingers were slow to leave my skin, trailing over my hand and the length of my fingers. Unable to stop it, I shivered.

  The topic of conversation changed to a much lighter one. “So how long do you think Jax is going to be up here before he takes his ass back down to Shepherd?” he asked, digging into his biscuit drowning in gravy.

  I laughed as I picked up a slice of turkey bacon. “Nick was wondering the same thing. Jax is supposed to be back home middle of next week, but I doubt he’d make it a whole week without running down to see her.”

  “I don’t either.” His grin was just too much. “Man, he’s got it bad for her.”

  “They’re good for each other.”

  “True,” he agreed. “Jax deserves it.”

  When we finished eating it was close to four, and Reece had to go back on duty. He took care of the check, ignoring my protests with a mischievous grin that made me feel sixteen again.

  He walked me to my car, parked next to the cruiser. “I’ll follow you home,” he said, opening my car door for me.

  I blinked. “You . . . Reece, you don’t need to do that.”

  “I’m back on call. If I get one, I can take it. And it counts as patrolling, so it’s no big deal.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye. “It’s late. You live alone. I’m going to follow you home and make sure you’re safe. Either you can be okay with it or I can follow you like a total creep.”

  My brows shot up.

  That damn grin was back as he dipped his chin. “Don’t let me be the creep.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “Okay. Follow me.” I started to slide into the seat and glanced up at him. “Creeper.”

  His answering chuckle had me grinning and then had me wanting to bang my head off the steering wheel the short drive to the Victorian. What was I doing? Why was I all happy and fuzzy? Just because he wanted to start over didn’t mean anything other than being friends. And that was totally cool, and I guess it was also cool to be . . . happy about that and letting go of the anger and all the messy crap that surrounded that night. I could totally do the friend-­zone thing with him.

  As long as he stopped grinning at me like he was, and touching me. Friend zone meant a no-­touch policy.

  When I parked at the curb, the cruiser was right behind me, and I wasn’t entirely surprised that, when I stepped out of the car, he was already out of his, waiting for me. “Walking me to the door?” I asked, slinging my purse over my shoulder.

  “Of course.” He closed the car door for me. “After all, I’m all about protecting and serving.”

  I lifted a brow.

  The scent of the late-­blooming roses Mrs. Silver took care of filled the air as Reece placed his hand on my lower back, steering me up the old cobblestone walkway to the front porch. The weight of his palm seemed to sear right through my thin shirt. The whole no-­touch policy went right out the door.

  The lights were off in the Silvers’ and James and Miriam’s place, but a small yellowish glow radiated from the apartment above mine. I really needed to introduce myself. I added that to the ever-­changing priority list.

  Stopping in front of my door, I fished out my keys, desperately wishing I didn’t notice how his hand still remained on my back or that we were standing so close, his right thigh almost brushing my hip.

  I glanced up at him and drew in a sharp breath. Out of all the things streaming through my head, I couldn’t pull out a single coherent sentence.

  “See
, you safely made it to your door,” he said, his tone light.

  My skin felt too warm in the balmy air. “Thanks to you.”

  “I’m good for something.”

  “You’re good for a lot of things.” For some reason when those words jumped out of my mouth, they sounded a lot more perverted than they did before I spoke them.

  In the dark, I could barely make out his expression, but he shifted so that we were face-­to-­face. Doing so caused him to drag his hand from my back to my hip. “Ah, Roxy, I wish I could say that I believed you knew just exactly what I was good at, but I can’t.”

  Ack! Okay. The words really did come off perverted-­sounding, because he was talking about that night, and we were supposed to move on from that. But we were right smack-­dab in the middle of that mess. And my tongue got completely out of control. “You were good,” I said, remembering the way he’d kissed me. Drunk off his rocker or not, the man knew how to kiss. “I mean, really good.”

  Those damn lips curved up, getting my lady bits all kinds of excited and wishing he’d move his hand a few inches to the left and down. “Now, Roxy, I thought it was nothing to write home about?”

  I had said that. And I also realized we were thinking about two very different things. Kissing versus sex. I really needed to tell him what happened. “Reece, I—­”

  “There’s something I want to be up front about,” he said, cutting in. He dipped his head so that when he spoke, his breath danced along my cheek. “I told you that I missed you and I was done missing you.”

  My brain emptied. “Yeah, yeah you did.”

  “But that’s not the only thing,” he explained while my heart started to pound. “Obviously there is something between us. Drunk or not, that night would’ve never happened if there wasn’t.”

  “Wait. You said you regretted that night. That you—­”

  “Yeah, I wish that night didn’t happen, Roxy. Only because I want to remember the first time I got inside you. I want to recall every second of thrusting into you, inch by inch, and commit that to memory, babe. That’s why I regret it and fully plan on rectifying that situation.”