Embracing Juliette (Texas Heroes: Station 9 #1)

Chapter 3

3

Dylan

I was drawn to Juliette from the moment I saw her. She was gorgeous with her silky mane of brunette curls, honey brown eyes, and curves that my hands itched to touch. But it wasn’t just that. It was how she bravely tried to hide her nervousness when we were all talking but then totally let go while she played pool with her friend. How, even though she sucked at the game, she tried hard and laughed at herself. She wasn’t sexy in the way you’d fantasize a woman leaning over a pool table could be. No, she was fucking adorable. And damn, the way she got so excited over the littlest win. Her enthusiasm was contagious.

It felt damn good to have all that excitement aimed my way. Her eyes lit up, her beautiful smile spreading across her face.

“Yes!” she nearly shouted.

“Would you like to go to dinner? There’s an Italian restaurant a couple of blocks away. It’s an easy walk, if that’s alright with you?”

“That sounds great. I just need a minute.” She headed over to her friends, whispering furtively to them. Nicky beamed at Juliette, but Jenna shook her head and frowned in my direction. She didn’t look okay with this in the slightest, and I prayed she wouldn’t talk Juliette out of it.

“Everything okay?” I asked when she came back.

“Yeah, I’m good. And she will be, too.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to reassure her that our friends knew each other so we weren’t total strangers, but I stayed silent. Juliette didn’t feel at all like a stranger to me, and it had nothing to do with Cole messing around with her friend.

She flashed that beautiful smile again, and my heart skipped a beat.

We walked out into the warm night together and started down the block toward the restaurant. “I know this was your first time at Nolan’s,” I said. “So, where do you usually go out?”

Juliette’s expression turned thoughtful. “Well…” She paused and slipped her hand into mine like we’d been holding hands forever, and damn, it felt so right. “We spend most of our time at one another’s houses or going out to dinner. We don’t go to bars often. What about you?”

“We go to Nolan’s a lot. It’s close to the firehouse and fairly central for all of us. I’m?—”

Juliette gasped and lurched forward. My free hand shot out to catch her, and I pulled her back.

“Are you okay?” I shifted into paramedic mode as I looked her over for injuries. She seemed alright.

I was suddenly all too aware of the intimate position I’d pulled her into—one hand holding hers, the other holding the side of her face, my fingertips along her jaw, my thumb grazing her soft lips, touching her in all the places I’d spent the last few hours wanting to kiss.

Her lips opened on a soft exhale as though she was having the same thoughts. “I’m okay, just tripped over a crack.”

I glanced down at the sidewalk, trying to find the offending crack, but she stepped away, tugging at my hand.

“I’m fine. Let’s keep going,” she insisted.

We continued walking, our hands gripped tightly, energy crackling between us, something intense that had nothing to do with her almost falling, and everything to do with the intimate way I’d held her moments ago. I let my thumb brush over her knuckles, and she glanced at me shyly, her eyes glimmering under the streetlights. When her thigh brushed against mine, my dick throbbed in my pants. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice, and I swallowed hard, fighting to get myself under control.

After another block of comfortably charged silence, we reached the restaurant. I released her to open the door. “This is it.” I settled my hand gently at the small of her back as we walked in. She glanced back at me with a smile, but as she stepped inside, she tensed, a slight shift of her weight pulling her away from my touch.

The change was subtle, but I felt it crash over her—and between us—like a ton of bricks.

“Juliette? Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” But the smile she gave me didn’t match the one just seconds earlier. This one was fake. And she looked nervous again, like when we’d first met.

I had the urge to close the distance she’d put between us, to wrap my arms around her and ward off the vulnerability that shrouded her. But her body language screamed that she didn’t want that, so I did the exact opposite and took a small step away, giving her the space she suddenly seemed to need.

“Is this restaurant okay?”

“Yeah. It’s great,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

“We can go somewhere else. It’s no problem,” I assured her.

“It’s good. Promise.” She stared at my chin as she said it, her own chin tilted up as though daring me to question her. But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

“Welcome. Table for two?” The hostess’ tone was much too cheery for the way my mood had plummeted.

Shit. We weren’t ready to make that decision. “One minute, please.”

I turned to Juliette, leaned in so only she could hear, and tried not to be distracted by her sweet, exotic scent—coconut and some other kind of fruit. “Whatever you want is okay. Want to do something else?”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine. But what could I do? I wasn’t about to make a scene. I wasn’t going to call her out on her obvious lie. Hopefully, she’d be comfortable once we were seated and it was only the two of us again.

I turned back to the hostess. “Yes, please.”

Juliette followed stiffly behind the hostess as she led us through the crowded restaurant. The hostess stopped at a table for two, and Juliette nearly ran into her. I carefully reached out and grasped her shoulder to steady her, but she stiffened further at my touch.

Dammit. What the hell changed in the last few minutes?

I stepped back and pulled out her chair. She dropped into the seat, and I hesitated, unsure what to do. She looked back at me, a fake smile sullying her beautiful mouth. I tried to push her chair in, desperate to make her comfortable, literally and figuratively, but she looked at my hands on the back of her seat and up at me, her stiff posture not granting permission for that, so I took my seat across from her.

I pretended to study the menu, offering her semi-privacy as she spent an inordinate amount of time and effort arranging her napkin on her lap. Long, awkward moments passed, and she still hadn’t looked up, nor had she pushed her chair in.

I didn’t know what the hell was happening, but she couldn’t hide her discomfort, and that was the last thing I wanted. I couldn’t think of anything I’d said or done in the short time since she’d walked from Nolan’s holding my hand and practically skipping in her eagerness. But something had obviously happened.

“I should’ve asked earlier. Please tell me you like Italian food?”

“Yes!” Her shout drew the attention of the family at the next table. Her face flushed a deep red. “I like it,” she continued in a near whisper. “It’s my favorite.”

I knew that’s what she said, but it sounded more like itsmafvrite— one slurred sound, no spaces, no distinct words.

“It’s my favorite, too. I make a mean lasagna,” I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

She hummed a sound of acknowledgment as she looked around the restaurant, obviously avoiding looking at me. She adjusted her carefully arranged napkin, dropped it on the floor, quickly picked it up, and placed it on her lap again. All with her chair still away from the table.

“Hey, Juliette?” I didn’t want to end our time together like this, but I had to offer.

She looked up and leaned forward, her arms raised like she was planning to lean her elbows on the table, unaware of how far her chair was from the table. That was awkward, I suppose, but not enough to explain what happened next. She didn’t pull her chair in, nor did she settle in where she was. She didn’t look at me, laugh at herself, or show any voluntary reaction. She just froze, her eyes wide in her suddenly pale face.

“I hafta go bathroom,” she mumbled, still not looking at me, then popped out of her seat and rushed back towards the entrance.

She was so freaked out, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she continued right out the door. But she pulled up short halfway across the restaurant and scanned the room.

Was there someone here she didn’t want to see? An ex, maybe. She was looking around everywhere except in my direction. I followed her gaze, hoping to spot him. My hands fisted. If someone was bothering her, I’d teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget any time soon. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone though, and the only people watching her were those at the table she’d stopped next to, who were eying her with open curiosity.

Her eyes caught the restroom sign on the opposite side of the restaurant. Her shoulders dropped before she rolled them back, lifted her chin, and all but marched back across the restaurant. She passed our table, without even a sidelong glance in my direction, and nearly tripped over the leg of a chair. She caught herself just in time, then continued to the bathroom without slowing.

I didn’t understand what had her acting so spooked, but a part of me admired her determination in the face of...something. The other part was just confused.

If I hadn’t been with her the whole time, I might’ve thought she got drunk on the way to dinner. Hell, maybe she snuck something, because I didn’t know how else to explain the sudden personality change.

How was this the same girl who’d laughed and jumped and cheered just for making contact with a ball? Who threw her arms around my neck and pressed her curves against my body when I helped her sink a ball, and smiled like she’d won the damn World Series when she pocketed two balls? We’d spoken for hours with no problem, but now she couldn’t string two words together?

The waiter came, and I asked for a few more minutes. I looked around again, searching for anyone that appeared overly interested in our table or the ladies’ room, but no one did. The only people around were talking boisterously among themselves or eating food that looked delicious and smelled even better. I hoped when Juliette returned, enjoying the food might help her relax. I checked my watch for the third time. How long should I wait before checking on her?

Finally, she returned, that fake smile plastered on her face, the golden rays that glimmered in her brown eyes now replaced with a dull flatness I hated.

She sat, and this time immediately pulled her chair in.

“Hey, you okay?”

Her face held a hint of a real smile. “I’m good,” she said, but it was whispered and slurred.

The silence stretched on as she studied the menu and I tried to figure out my next move.

The waiter returned. I ordered cioppino, and Juliette pointed to something on the menu.

“Porchetta. Yes, ma’am,” the waiter said, and Juliette’s face flushed again.

Fuck. Did she not like this food? Maybe she couldn’t read well or had a learning disability and that’s why she’d nervously pointed instead of reading the menu?

I was grasping at straws, but I was desperate to understand how she’d changed so much so quickly.

“So, how do you like being an occupational therapist?” We’d touched on that earlier and it seemed like a safe question.

“I, uh—it’s good. Did you always, um, want to be a fireman?”

Well shit, that was a loaded question. I wasn’t ready to share that baggage on a first date, and especially not when we seemed unable to carry even a simple conversation.

“I’ve loved everything about firefighting since I was a kid.” That was true even if it glossed over the years I’d wasted my parents’ hard-earned money on college tuition and a pointless wedding, then tried to pretend I was happy with Kayla and my nine-to-five job as a banker before finally following my dreams. It had destroyed my marriage when I realized I loved firefighting more than my wife...or at least that’s how Kayla saw it, and thank God she did, because that’s when she finally showed me her true colors.

“That’s good. I...uh, I like being an OT. The kids I work with are great. I mean, they’re difficult, but I love them,” she rushed out. “One of my kids, he tied his shoes for the first time last week after we’ve been working on it for two years. He was so excited, and I cried.” Her words were choppy, slurred, and disjointed, and the flow of the conversation was awkward, but at least she was talking.

“And, um, yeah, it’s good,” she continued. “Do you, uh, like being a fireman?”

“I love it. I work with great people, and I’m proud of what we do. Every day is interesting and different.” I tried to think of an easy topic. “Did you grow up around here?”

“I grew up, um, just outside San Antonio. What about you?” Her words were barely intelligible, and her hands and voice trembled.

Fuck. I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her everything was alright. I wish I’d chosen a restaurant that was quicker. I wouldn’t insult her by leaving before we were finished, but it felt like I was torturing her here.

“I grew up in Canyon Lake, about an hour north of here. My brothers—Eli and Max—and I had fun there, getting into plenty of trouble, and now the three of us live in the city. My parents still live in the house we grew up in, so we go up there pretty often.”

She seemed more relaxed now that I was doing the talking, so I kept going. “Max has two little boys. Drew is eight and Jackson is four. They’re awesome.”

I told her the story about when Max, Eli, and I went kayaking up by our parents’ last month, while the boys watched from the shore. Just as Max and Eli were navigating a tight turn past the dock, Jackson screamed like I’d told him to do, and just as I’d hoped, Eli and Max spun so suddenly towards them, mid-turn, they’d both capsized into the freezing early-spring water.

Juliette laughed! Thank fuck.

For a moment, she looked like the girl at Nolan’s and not the wide-eyed, frightened girl with the fake smile who’d come to dinner.

Once again, my chest squeezed at the depth of the protectiveness I felt towards her.

I’d been enamored with her from the moment I met her, but it was the pool cue incident at Nolan’s that had really solidified my feelings. Jumping up and down, her tits and her curls bouncing, her smile huge. I fucking loved how happy she was. So much enthusiasm over such a simple joy.

Until the damn cue stick hit the ceiling and her face fell, tears flooding her eyes. I’d felt the loss like a punch to the gut. Something I’d never experienced before had me wanting to do whatever it took to put that smile back on her face. I tried to show her that she wasn’t the first person to do that, but she’d given me a tight smile and her eyes stayed sad, the golden glint having faded away.

So we’d continued our game, and I’d flirted outrageously, saying and doing cheesy stuff, anything to bring the smile back. Finally, she’d laughed and her eyes had sparkled again, and I felt ten feet tall.

I was hooked. I wanted to make this girl happy all the time.

I wanted that even more with this shit-show of a dinner.

So I kept talking. I wanted her to smile again, and I wanted to be the one to make her smile.