Chapter Twelve
When Bree stepped out the back door of the Sunrise later that evening, Tanner was waiting. He took Beth’s carrier from her, leaving her with only Christian. They were almost getting too heavy for her to carry both of them in their carriers. Soon she’d need to purchase a double stroller.
There were a lot of things she’d put off purchasing, not knowing how long the twins would be hers. If Melissa was successful, it would only be a couple more weeks.
If Melissa wasn’t successful... Bree had no idea what was in store for any of them.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Tanner.
As they walked toward her apartment on the outskirts of town, Tanner told her about his day. Then another funny story about his family—this time about how he broke a window in his parents’ house while competing with his brother, Noah, for who could twirl the baseball bat around the most times.
Tanner had won. But they’d both spent their entire spring break doing chores to pay for the window.
“How about you?” he asked. “Got any brothers or sisters?”
“No, no siblings for me. My cousin, Melissa, was the closest thing I had to a sibling.”
“Did you two ever do anything stupid to get in trouble?”
Yeah, right now. The kind where they’d both be dead if the Organization found out Melissa was trying to shut them down, and Bree was not only alive, but doing whatever she could to assist Melissa.
But she just shook her head. “No, I moved away before either of us got to the rebellious age. And I’ve always been more of a keep-your-head-down kind of girl.”
“Ah, smart. If I’d been like you, I would’ve gotten into a lot less trouble.”
“Seems like you’ve done okay.”
His gorgeous grin had her almost forgetting how to walk. “Depends on who you ask. Linda Dugas might say otherwise.”
“Linda Dugas from the Sunday School frog incident?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I should’ve known you were too smart not to remember. Yes, Linda eventually forgave me for said frog incident. She and I even dated for a few months in high school.”
“It didn’t work out between you two?” The thought of him with someone else shouldn’t bother her at all. Who he dated in the past or might date in the future was none of her business. She refused to even acknowledge her clenching stomach.
“No. We both went off to college. She met some accountant or something, fell madly in love and moved to somewhere completely insane like Philadelphia.”
She couldn’t stop her own chuckle. “Philly. Yeah, man, some people just go hog wild.”
“Yes! See? I knew you would understand. Why would anyone ever want to leave Colorado?”
“Why indeed?”
He nudged her with his shoulder. “How about you, anybody special in high school or college?”
She wondered what he would say if he knew she’d never finished high school, much less gone to college, but that she had an IQ higher than ninety-nine percent of the world’s population.
Yet another thing that made her abnormal.
“No, I pretty much kept to myself.”
Fortunately, before he could dig into that information, they arrived at the apartment. Risk Peak wasn’t that big, even walking.
“Thanks for your help. You know you don’t have to do this every day, right? I mean, what are the chances of something happening between here and the diner? It’s probably not necessary.”
She took Beth’s carrier and handed him the key, as had become their habit, and waited as he checked out the tiny apartment for possible intruders. A moment later he was back. Her apartment wasn’t that big.
“All clear?” she asked.
“Yep.” He took Christian’s carrier this time, the baby thankfully asleep, and followed her inside.
“I just feel like I’m wasting your time. I know you have a lot of responsibilities, and walking me from one safe place to another safe place down a perfectly safe street seems like a waste of taxpayers’ money.”
Tanner set Christian’s carrier down on the table and gently unbuckled him. “Playpen?”
“Yes, please.” So far, Tanner had been the only one who had the magic touch with Christian, able to soothe him and, more importantly, move him from the carrier to the playpen that served as his crib without waking him up.
Watching Tanner’s big hands carry the baby so tenderly and securely, his attention entirely focused on the tiny body in his care...
Her breath caught. If Bree had ever let herself dream about what the perfect future would look like, this would’ve been it. A strong, gorgeous man, holding a child with such care and concern.
But these weren’t her children. And he definitely wasn’t her man.
And letting herself dream was only going to make all of this so much worse when she finally woke up.
Bree moved Beth into the playpen next to her brother. That little angel never made a peep, even though her big eyes blinked open once before closing again.
She closed the door to the bedroom and walked with him toward the kitchen.
“Like I was saying, it’s not a good idea for you to walk me home.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We’ve gone from ‘probably not necessary’ to ‘not a good idea’ in under a minute.”
“I just...” She let out a sigh. “You’ve just got to have better things to do than to walk here with me every day. Dan could do it, or that other deputy...”
“Ronnie.”
“Yeah, Ronnie. He could make sure I was okay.” Her voice was getting a little loud and higher pitched, so she forced herself to rein it in. Why was she getting upset when making this simple request?
Tanner leaned against the wall with one shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. His head tilted to the side as he studied her. “Do you lie when we talk, Bree?”
“What?”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “Just wondering if you tell me the truth when we talk. I know there’s stuff you don’t tell me, and while I don’t like it, I do understand. Like today, when I asked if you have brothers or sisters and you said no, was that the truth?”
“Yes.”
“So you tell me the truth when you can?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. But I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Twenty-four. Teal. Strawberry. Venice. A Wrinkle in Time. Security gate guard. The Matrix.”
“What?” Was he having some sort of nervous breakdown or something?
Tanner pushed off from the wall and took a step closer. “Ballerina. Dogs. And, quite unfortunately, in my opinion, pop.”
She stared at him, brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.” It was like some sort of code that seemed familiar, but that she couldn’t decipher.
“Your age. Favorite color. Favorite flavor ice cream. The city in Europe you’d most like to visit. Your favorite book as a child. The worst job ever. Best movie.”
“I—”
He took another couple of steps until he was standing right in front of her. “What you wanted to be when you grew up. Which is better, dogs or cats. And favorite genre of music. Sadly.”
These were the things they’d talked about on the way home from the diner each night.
“Every day I can get the answer to one question out of you. Sometimes one and a half.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I walk you here because, yes, I want to make sure you’re safe.
But also because each day I get to learn something about you I didn’t know the day before.
And that is very definitely not a waste of my time. ”
“Oh.”
His fingers trailed down her cheek. “I know all those little things don’t make up the whole of who you are. But I still want to know them. And hopefully you’re learning about me as well...although not all involving frogs and Linda Dugas.”
He bent down until his lips were hovering just over hers, his other hand coming up to cup her other cheek. “Walking you home is the highlight of my day. So don’t try to give my job to someone else.”
She was completely lost in those brown eyes. “Okay.”
And then he kissed her.
His lips were soft against hers. Light, feathery brushes, but definitely different than the brief kiss of camaraderie he’d given her when they’d been hiding out in the bathroom in Denver.
When he began to nibble her lips gently, her eyes slid closed with a sigh. Her hands came up and wrapped around his wrists at her face, and she leaned into him.
But all too soon, it was over and he was pulling back, giving her a moment to regain her bearings.
“Thank you for allowing me to walk you home, Bree Daniels. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And without another word, he was gone.