Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“What the hell am I doing?” Brian thought, unable to stop touching and kissing Tess on a public beach in front of God knew who.
First, he'd broken the promise he'd made to himself to be friendly but keep his distance.
They still had to see each other at work from time to time, and it was his responsibility to make sure she and Andy had everything they needed while they stayed in the beach house.
After all, they'd only come because he'd invited them.
Then he'd given in and spent time with her instead of avoiding her.
Somehow, the conversation had turned personal.
He still couldn't explain why he'd told Tess about his near-death experience when he hadn't even shared it with his family or his partner.
He hadn't mentioned it to the department psychologist, either, despite being required to meet with one after the shooting.
Yet there he'd been, laying bare the fear and guilt he'd carried since that day.
And what had Tess done?
She hadn't judged him or tried to fix him. She'd simply listened, offered comfort, and pulled him back from a place he'd been trapped in for days. Then she'd kissed him.
At first, he'd resisted. The last thing he wanted was to give her the impression he could offer something he wasn't prepared to give. But her quiet compassion, combined with the feelings he'd been trying to ignore since the day they'd met, had worn down every defense he'd built.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he kissed her again. Unlike the brief kiss they'd shared in the kitchen days earlier, this one refused to end. For those few precious moments, nothing existed beyond the woman in his arms.
A rogue wave swept around their feet, and the shock of the cold water made them jump apart. Tess squealed and hurried back a few steps as the water receded.
Brian wasn't sure what he expected to see on her face, but it wasn't the huge grin and bright eyes looking back at him.
Before he could say anything, she grabbed his hand and pulled him farther up the beach.
“More waves are coming in,” she said, laughing. “Darn, that was cold. How could you stand it?”
If he could have answered honestly, he would've admitted he hadn't noticed anything except her.
From the carefree expression on her face, she didn't regret kissing him, and there was no chance he'd admit he didn't regret it either.
The intensity of the moment had passed, and she seemed content to let it.
She wasn't asking for promises or trying to turn one kiss into something more, the way some of the women he'd dated had.
Those relationships had never lasted long.
As soon as conversations drifted toward engagement rings, white-picket fences, and children, he'd ended things.
Just as he'd done with Tess, he'd always made sure they understood where he stood before things became serious.
A few fun dates and good company were all he'd ever been willing to offer.
Long-term relationships—the forever kind—weren't for him.
While he was happy his brothers had found the women they wanted to spend their lives with, he couldn't picture himself waking up beside the same person for the next forty or fifty years.
However, Tess was getting under his skin in a way no other woman ever had.
He wanted to spend time with her, and not simply because he was attracted to her.
Washing dishes together after dinner the other night—something he'd always considered a chore—had somehow become one of the most enjoyable evenings he'd had in a long time.
And that realization frightened him more than he cared to admit.
He was still out of sorts when she tugged his arm.
“C’mon. Let’s head back to the house. While you fix the railing, I’ll run to the store and then make us lunch.
” Her expression softened. “If you want to talk more about what happened the other day, we can. I’m a good listener, and what you tell me stays with me.
If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.
But my offer stands if you ever need to bend my ear. ”
He swallowed hard before cupping her chin and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Tess. That means a lot to me.”
An hour later, Brian whistled a tune as he packed up his toolbox, the porch railing now secure.
Something had shifted inside him out there on the beach with Tess.
During the walk back to the house, he was close enough to her that their arms brushed together occasionally.
They talked more too—not about the shooting and his PTSD, but general getting-to-know-you things.
He now knew her favorite pizza was meat-lovers with mushrooms, her favorite color was teal, and that she’d always wanted to be a doctor while growing up.
She told him that when she was little, her mother had to constantly restock a first-aid kit kept in the linen closet because Tess loved using the gauze and bandages to care for her “patients”—in other words, her dolls and stuffed animals.
He could totally imagine her doing that instead of having tea parties with them.
He, in turn, told her about things from his youth and his time in the military.
He was amazed by how well she listened and asked questions as if she was really interested in his answers.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman he was with hadn’t dominated their conversation.
Some even interrupted him with comments meant to top whatever story or memory he was relating, which drove him nuts.
Then there were the women who were completely incompatible with him in every aspect except for sex.
That was why he didn’t do relationships.
After a few dates, if they got that far, those women bored him to tears.
He couldn’t imagine a lifetime with any of them, much less dating one for more than two or three months.
But Tess was different. Not that he saw a long-term future with her, but maybe after they slaked the lust arcing between them, they could remain friends.
A few women he’d been with viewed sex and relationships the same as him, and occasionally he would get together with one or another to relieve some stress. They’d be gone before he awoke the next morning, and there were never any awkward conversations or expectations between them.
As he placed his toolbox in the bed of his truck, Tess pulled into the driveway. When she climbed out of the car, his pulse quickened as memories of their kiss on the beach came rushing back.
She opened the trunk and pulled out several shopping bags, prompting him to push those thoughts aside and hurry over to help her.
“Here, let me get those.”
He took the bags from her, then grabbed several more from the trunk, leaving the oversized pack of toilet paper for her to carry.
Following her up the back stairs, his gaze drifted to the gentle sway of her hips, and he silently reminded himself to keep his attention where it belonged.
She looked entirely too good in a pair of jeans, and his imagination threatened to wander in directions it shouldn't.
By the time they reached the last few steps, he was fighting to regain the self-control he'd always prided himself on.
In the kitchen, he hefted the last of the grocery bags onto the counter, but his focus wasn't on the cans and cartons—they could have been bricks for all he cared.
Every brush of her hand against his drew his attention right back to her, and the memory of that kiss lingered far longer than it should have.
He'd told himself a hundred times that he didn't do relationships, that Tess Bingham was the last woman he should complicate his life with.
But standing there, watching her tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as though nothing between them had changed, he knew he'd eventually give in.
The frightening part wasn't how badly he wanted to kiss her again.
It was realizing one kiss would never be enough.
And wouldn’t his family laugh their butts off if they knew what he was thinking right then?
“Hey, Bing! Did you hear me, dude?”
“Huh?” Andy mentally shook the sexy thoughts he’d been having about Kelle from his mind and stared at Jimmy Merrick, who wore a “Hello, anybody home?” expression.
Instead of calling him by his first name, Jimmy decided to use the shortened version of Bingham, and Andy kind of liked it.
“Uh, sorry. I spaced out there for a few. What did you say?”
He cocked his head toward the hardware store’s front door. “I asked if you want to go across the street with me to get some pizza at Basil’s. I’m hungry, and Dan just got back from Bonnie’s shop. We get a forty-five-minute lunch.”
It’s lunchtime?
Andy glanced at the analog clock on the wall behind the checkout counter—it was almost one p.m. He’d followed Jimmy around all morning, learning what the job entailed.
The twenty-year-old had worked for Dan Malone for three years and was a nice enough guy.
He was patient with Andy and didn’t seem to mind when he occasionally needed to repeat instructions or remind his trainee what aisle something was in.
“Uh, yeah. I’m starved. Pizza sounds great.”
Less than ten minutes later, they sat at a table in the pizzeria, each with three slices and a twenty-ounce bottle of Coke.
Jimmy was halfway through his second slice before he stopped inhaling it.
After a gulp of his soda, he asked, “So, who’s the girl who put that goofy expression on your face a few times today? ”
Andy’s eyes widened, and he almost choked on a bite of pizza before he managed to swallow it. “What are you talking about?”
Jimmy grinned. “Dude, I’m only a few years older than you. I know what it’s like to be distracted by someone you’re interested in, even when they’re not around. So, what’s her name? Or his name? If you’re into guys, that’s fine. Doesn’t matter to me either way.”