Blind-Date Bride (10 page)

He was not a man ever carried away by his feelings, so what was happening to him?

“What’s Marcus up to today?” Her question was light and simple, on the surface.

Just the way he wanted to keep things. Except for the stubborn feelings he couldn’t seem to control. Thick, lustrous rays of sunlight followed her as he held the door. Overhead, the bells chimed more sweetly, as if just for her. The mild spring day felt joyful and the images of his morning’s work faded from his brain. When he
wanted to reach out and take her hand, he settled for walking alongside her instead.

“Marcus is at a friend’s house.” He opened the passenger door for her, offering a hand to help her up. “Something about a basketball challenge and a video game medley. At least he’s out of my hair.”

What he meant was, he was glad the kid had friends, the good kind that were a help to him. That he was fitting in well here when the move had originally been traumatic.

“It has to feel good to see him thriving.” As if she understood him, she settled on the seat as if she belonged there. “Not many men your age would take on a teenager.”

“Teenagers don’t scare me. I’m tougher than I look.” What he wished he could say was, he’s my brother. I would trade my life for his.

Her gaze softened, as if he knew that, too, as if somehow she could see behind the tough exterior and hard-earned armor. He’d never felt so exposed, never felt as understood.

“I’m not at all surprised,” she said with an adorable grin. “You look as if you could take on any wrong and win.”

“Nah, that’s a superhero. I tell you what, I might not win but I give it my best shot.” If he kept gazing at her, he was going to lose all possession of his senses. He was going to start believing in goodness again and that she was someone he could trust when the chips were down.

He couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from reaching out and brushing at a strand of hair, which had tumbled across her eyes. He couldn’t stop the tenderness wrapping him up in knots. Her hair rustled like silk against his callused fingertips, her skin like fine satin.

This is not going to work out, Decker, he told himself.
But did that stop him? No. Not one bit. She gazed up at him wordlessly, and he felt lost in her gaze. Lost in those innocent violet depths and her beautiful goodness.

Being with her made his shadows less. His hope more. Overwhelmed by tenderness, he leaned closer. Time slowed, her eyes widened, his pulse flatlined. And in the space between one breath and the next, he leaned nearer, treasuring the tickle of her hair against his jaw and her delicate intake of breath.

Would she move away? Or say no? Or boot him out of her way? To his surprise she didn’t. She laid her hand on the center of his chest, a cherished warmth above the place where he had once been so cold. There were no more excuses. No more jokes to crack. Distance vanished between them, and he felt vulnerable. Armor down, he pressed a kiss to her satiny cheek. He felt her smile and her happiness.

The earth shifted beneath his feet. Barricades built along ago began to crumble inside him, places he had never intended to let anyone in again. But he couldn’t help it. As he straightened, and the cool March wind eased between them, he realized he was smiling, too. He didn’t know how to tell her what she meant to him, or that he was in, all in. He wanted this to work. The way her hand lingered on his chest for a moment longer before falling away told him she might be feeling the same. Afraid to trust, but unable to hold back her heart.

He shut her door and circled around the truck, taking comfort that at least they were in this together.

H
appiness hugged her from the inside out. Bree couldn’t stop it. She pulled her new ten-year-old economy sedan into the vacant spot in the carport and clapped her hands. She had her freedom back. And her ability to go to and from school, work and church without relying on her sisters or her bike.

A knock rattled her window. She pulled out her keys, grabbed her purse and unlocked the door. Max towered over her, balancing the bags of food and the drink container and still managing to open her door. “How does it feel to have wheels again?”

“Too good to be true.”

“Believe it. It’s true. Paul’s a friend from church. His grandmother can’t drive anymore, and I know she took good care of it. You got a great deal.”

“Thanks to you, which is why dinner should be on me.”

“Not a chance, pretty lady.”

Her face heated. She was blushing again. He had that effect on her. He made her feel like a new-and-
improved Brianna McKaslin. He made her forget everything she usually worried about. Suddenly she was walking at his side heading for the front door without remembering climbing out of the car or standing on her own two feet or even shutting the car door. Did she lock it? Who knew? That she had forgotten to double check was a sign. Max’s kiss had caused her to lose every shred of common sense.

She unlocked the front door and trailed inside, flipping on lights. “You have to remember we are on an extremely small decorating budget. And we’re not too tidy. We are when we aren’t in school. But when classes are in session, there’s not enough time for everything.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He followed her into the entry hall and pushed the door shut with his elbow. “Typical student apartment, if you ask me.”

“Yes. You aren’t allowed in the kitchen, though. Brandi left the dishes all over the place. It was her turn to clean up last night. So why don’t we go straight to the living room?”

“Sure thing.”

She couldn’t get their kiss out of her mind. The side of her face tingled, sweetly with the memory. She had never known that a man as tough as Max could be so tender.

Now how was she going to keep counting up all the ways he wasn’t right for her? How was she going to stop from falling head over heels, one hundred percent in love with him?

“What’s it like having a twin?” He set the food bags and drinks on the scarred coffee table and moved a stack of books aside to make room for the drinks. He nodded
toward the framed picture collage on the wall of her and Brandi together.

“I always have someone who understands me perfectly. She’s my best friend.” Bree settled onto the couch. As long as they spoke of simple things, she would be okay. “She’s my constant support. Our lives aren’t as similar as they used to be. I went into the elementary teaching program and she went into the secondary, so we don’t cross paths like we always used to.”

“You used to do everything together?”

“A habit from the crib. We were always together when we were little. We still like the same things, do the same things, watch the same TV shows. It’s second nature.”

“Must be nice to have someone so close.”

“I can’t complain.” Why was her pulse skipping beats? He moved to the couch and sat on the cushion beside her, his big presence dwarfing her. Her palms went damp. Her brain turned to mush. Little wishes fluttered within her, new and joyful. Wishes that had everything to do with the man at her side.

“I think this is yours.” He freed a cup and set it on the table in front of her. It sounded as if he meant something else entirely.

“Yes, it is.” She did, too. Afraid to say more and yet wanting more, she took the straw he offered her with whispered thanks.

“Let me say grace.” His hand found hers and held on tightly, his rough-warm fingers entwined with hers. It felt romantic sitting at his side, holding his hand and feeling the peace of prayer and the grace of the moment descend.

Show me the way, Father.
She bowed her head,
watching Max through her lashes as he did the same.
Show me what I do not know.

A soft joyfulness came to her soul like the kindest song. Reassured, she closed her eyes and let her fears come down.

“Dear Lord…” He began the blessing. She liked the way reverence enriched his voice. He was a deeply faithful man. “Please bless this food and our fellowship. We’re asking for Your guidance in our lives and that You lead us to Your purpose, Lord, and strengthen us. Amen.”

“Amen.” Bree opened her eyes, and all she saw was Max. There was no easy humor to hide behind, no wry joke or distance of any kind. She saw him without shields. Just Max, steel and vulnerability.

“You have a trial coming up fairly soon.” He unrolled one of the bags and handed her a cheeseburger.

“In eight weeks. I’m trying not to think of it.”

“Are you getting more frequent nightmares?”

“I don’t want to say yes, but, well, yes.”

“You want to be stronger than that.”

He understood. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and a surprising amount of tension went with it. She took a fry from the tub he set out. “When you told me that you’d been shot, I should have realized. You went through post-traumatic stress, too.”

“Roger that. I still struggle with it from time to time.”

“And you feel that’s weakness.”

“It’s certainly not something I like.” He reached inside the last bag for his hamburger, paper crinkling, his stoic veneer falling away. “That time I told you about with Nancy’s boyfriend, it was the first time I was in real danger. No doubt about it, I thought I was going to die.”

“Sure, because you were shot.”

“True.” He unwrapped the burger, staring at the silver paper, lost in thought. “He wasn’t alone. He had two buddies with him. They waited until I was in my carport. With a cement wall on one side, the house on another, I was essentially trapped. I couldn’t get around the car, they were coming from behind me up the driveway. It was pitch-black out, rain falling like hail. That’s why I didn’t see ’em coming. They were waiting for me, no doubt about that. I remember hearing Manny calling out my name, and that’s all the time I had to react. I was hit before I could pull my service revolver. I fell. Never knew concrete could be so hard. Rain was falling sideways, pounding me and I saw the three of them strolling closer to finish the job.”

“That had to be terrifying.” She went pale, as if she were imagining the scene, or maybe remembering what it felt like to think she was facing the last minutes of her life.

He knew the cost of what violence did to people. He saw it all the time in his line of work. He’d experienced it personally more than once.

“I was fighting as hard as I could to stay focused. I couldn’t move. All I could think was that I had to get my gun, it was my only chance, but I blacked out. “Grim, he remembered the rain staining his face, the grit of the concrete against his cheek, the fiery pain and his heavy, unresponsive body.

“You were lying there unable to defend yourself.” Compassion had never looked more authentic. “What happened? They obviously weren’t able to—”

She couldn’t say the word, bless her.

“No,” he said gently. “They weren’t able to finish
what they started. God must have been watching out for me because my neighbor came home, drove into the shared driveway and I’m told, because of the storm, hit one of the perps. Not bad, just enough to send him flying a few feet. He got up and ran off with the others, and Melvin, a World War II vet, managed to keep me alive until the paramedics showed up.”

“God bless Melvin.”

“Exactly. I adopted Mel after that. We spent a lot of time together, watching old war movies and playing chess and Scrabble. When he passed a few years later, it was like losing a grandfather.” Remembering Mel was an old wound, too, but at least he didn’t have to think about those moments lying helpless on the ground, unable to do more than blink and breathe. “It took me nearly a year until I was back to full speed.”

“You’re very good at that, you know.” She set her chin, as if she thought she had him all figured out.

“Good at what?” He took a bite so he wouldn’t have to say more.

“I don’t know if it’s avoidance or denial.” She shook her head, scattering tendrils of gold bangs, which fluttered softly against her face.

He resisted the urge to brush her hair from her eyes. Something down deep, call it instinct, wanted him to be nearer to her. To bridge the distance he kept between him and everyone. It would be easy right now to give in and accept her sympathy and her friendship. But he held in his emotions out of habit and the need for safety.

“Probably both,” he answered. “It was the first time I was in trouble. Not the last.”

“Let me guess. You avoid dealing with it or thinking
about it. You put it on the back burner and do what has to be done in your life.”

“True. It’s working so far.”

“You must have nightmares, too.”

“It’s not so bad these days. I’m not a beat cop anymore. Detective work is harder in some ways. I see tragedy every day, but I’ve only been shot at once since I got promoted.”

“I see that wry grin. Just once doesn’t make it any easier.”

“What are you trying to get at, pretty lady?” The compliment made her blush.

“Only that it’s normal to cope with the trauma after the fact. When I was in the middle of that chaos with guns firing and those meth guys shouting crazy awful things, there was no time to put in perspective what was happening. I was in the moment, that was all, trapped like everyone else in the kitchen.” She bit her bottom lip, vulnerable but strong, too. “You’ve been there more than a few times.”

“Except I had training, experience, a revolver and back up. Never underestimate the importance of good buddies who come when you call.”

“You’re going to have to cope some time.”

“Who says I’m not coping? I see the world as it really is and people as they really are.” He’d never been more honest with anyone. The experiences had made him hard, tough as nails. He’d learned to be realistic, to accept the fact that there was dark and injustice in this world. It was how he fought against it, solving crimes, methodically piecing bits of information together. His world had become black and white and all the shades of gray in between.

“Max, all it took was one moment. It happened so fast. I nearly lost my life—everything—that night. I wanted to live so badly.”

“That’s why you fought hard to recover.” He knew what that was like, too.

“Yes, I fought as hard as I could. There were surgeries and rehabilitation.” She left so much unsaid, but her voice thinned, tremulous with remembering. The memories changed her, making her luminous and achingly real. “When I woke up in the hospital, I had never been so grateful for anything. I still am.”

Her words touched him, hooking deep. Sitting beside her in this room surrounded by frilly eyelet pillows and family pictures on the wall, with children’s books stuffed into the bookcase and lying out on the coffee table, it was a world apart. A tenacious innocence in spite of what had happened to her. He set down what was left of his burger, shifted on the couch and drank her in. She was like golden sunlight shining into his life, shades of color come to his heart. Everything his battered soul yearned for. Everything he was afraid to believe in.

“When I finally came home from the hospital, I was afraid to go outside.” She blushed a little, as if admitting that embarrassed her. “Anything could happen to derail my life and hurt me. Car accidents. Carjackers. A blood clot. Another robbery.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I went out anyway. Because I realized that there is more good in this world—in people—than bad. That is something I will not stop believing.”

Respect crashed through him with tidal-wave force.
She looked willowy and fragile and far too altruistic to have this happen to her. Worse, she had run straight into danger to resuscitate a shooting victim. Juanita Morales had still died, but he knew things the newspaper didn’t. That Brianna had not stopped giving life support until she had fainted from blood loss from her own bullet wound.

He braced hard against it, but emotion came anyway. A new wave of affection powerful enough to knock down his every resistance. The unbreachable walls that had always separated the real part of him from everyone else crumbled like clay. He fisted his hands. He was drowning in a kind of tenderness too enormous to name.

Then the cynical part of him won out. He blinked, trying to bring his thoughts back into focus, back to black and white. She
had
to be too good to be true. After all she’d been through, where was the anger? The disillusionment any crime victim had the right to? And what about her car? Wasn’t she upset some joker had stolen from her? What about outrage and the need for justice? “When I look at you and what you’ve been through, I can’t help noticing. You’re not angry. You’re not bitter.”

“Sure. I’m furious that someone decided three restaurant workers’ lives were more important than the few thousand of dollars they hoped to get from the safe. I’m angry about the loss of life and destruction two men caused. I lost months of my life.” Her chin went up, but there were no tears, just strength. Indomitable steel. “I’m angry that I feel wobbly, that I’m afraid of the dark and that I have to relive it all over again for the trial. But it’s not always going to be this way. Those gunmen don’t have to change how I see the world or how I see myself. That’s what I’m fighting for.”

Tears glistened in her eyes but did not fall, the only sign of what this conversation cost her. That beneath the layers of her smiles, her gentleness and her steel remained a pain that may never fully leave.

“I see how hard you are fighting.” Captivated, that’s what he was. Amazed. Enthralled. In love. He cupped her face in his hands, ready to wipe away those tears should they fall. Wanting to take away her every pain, comfort her and make sure she would never hurt like that again. Commitment to her pounded through him with immeasurable power.