Chapter Ten
The next three days flew by, and Moriah found herself settling into an easy rhythm with KC.
In the mornings, they headed down to the beach, where he walked her through basic self-defense.
He adjusted each move for her smaller size, showing her how to use leverage instead of strength—how to create just enough damage to break free and run.
The soft sand made it easier to practice, cushioning her falls when she ended up on the ground.
And she did—often.
But each time, she got back up faster. Stronger. With more confidence.
To her surprise, the movements began to stick. What had felt awkward at first started to come naturally, her body responding without as much thought. By the third day, she could execute several techniques cleanly—almost effortlessly.
The afternoons were spent at the firing range.
KC increased the distance a little more each time, and then showed her how to shoot from different positions—kneeling and behind cover—always reminding her to make herself as small a target as possible.
When he had her switch the gun to her left hand, she’d hesitated, but he’d patiently guided her through it, showing her how to adjust if her dominant hand ever failed her.
She hadn’t liked that thought.
But she understood why it mattered.
Moriah threw herself into every lesson, determined to improve. Each solid hit on the target sent a small rush of satisfaction through her, building confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time. Even Al had started lingering nearby, watching with interest more than once.
“I hope I never run into you in a dark alley.”
Moriah laughed, lowering the gun. “That’s exactly what I thought about you the first time I met you. But now that I know you better, I think you’re a pussycat.”
The sound of their laughter echoed around her, easy and unguarded, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy it.
While she was grateful KC was teaching her how to defend herself, she was also thankful to be exhausted by the end of each day. The past two nights, she’d slept seven straight hours without a single nightmare. Waking up rested and clearheaded had surprised her more than anything.
As busy as their days were, the evenings moved at an easy pace. They took turns cooking and cleaning, talking long after dinner about nothing and everything. Somehow, she’d grown used to having him there. Comfortable. Almost as if they were a couple.
A couple who had never kissed… or even touched.
Not that she would mind.
No matter how much she tried to ignore it, the pull toward him was impossible to deny. More than once, she wondered what it would be like if he closed the distance between them—if he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she forgot everything else. The thought alone made her pulse quicken.
But it didn’t matter.
The attraction felt one-sided. He hadn’t made a move or even hinted that he saw her that way. Other women might have taken that as a challenge, but Moriah had never been like that. She’d always been shy when it came to men. Even in her past relationships, she’d never been the one to take the lead.
And those relationships hadn’t lasted.
More than once, she’d been told she was too hesitant, too unsure of herself. One bad breakup, in particular, still lingered in her memory, leaving behind a sting she hadn’t quite shaken.
The truth was, she didn’t know how to take that first step, to read the moment, or act on it without second-guessing herself. The uncertainty kept her from trying at all.
She let out a quiet breath and stared into the distance.
KC was confident, capable… the kind of man who seemed to move through the world without hesitation. Someone like him would expect the same in return.
And she had no idea how to be that woman, even for a brief moment in time.
Thursday evening was warmer than it had been all week. Dinner was a delicious linguine primavera KC had made from scratch. When Moriah complimented him on it, she was surprised to see the tough-looking man blush. He might have been a little self-conscious, but she found it unexpectedly endearing.
Clearing his throat, he shifted the conversation. “It’s a beautiful night. Are you up for a walk on the beach after dinner? I always need to move around after eating pasta for some reason. The carbs, I guess.”
Not wanting the evening to end, she nodded, swallowing her bite and dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Sure. That sounds nice.”
After dinner, he cleared the table while she handled the pots and dishes.
As she worked, she couldn’t help noticing how easily they’d fallen into a rhythm.
She’d never lived with any of her boyfriends and hadn’t shared a home with a man since her father left when she was young. It felt strange… but also comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Living under the same roof made her aware of him in ways she tried not to think about—the strength in his build, the breadth of his shoulders, the quiet confidence he carried.
More than once, she’d caught herself wondering what it would feel like to reach out and touch him—her fingers tracing along his bicep or the roughness of the scruff along his jaw.
“Are you going to scrub the Teflon off that pan?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice directly behind her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she quickly rinsed the pan and set it on the drying rack. “Sorry, I zoned out. Must be the carbs.”
Chuckling, he dropped the sponge into the sink. “Well, now that everything is clean, are you ready for a walk?”
“I think so. Just let me grab a sweatshirt in case it gets too cool before we get back.”
A few minutes later, they walked along the shoreline, where the waves slid up over the sand with the pull of the tide.
The sky had darkened, though a faint ribbon of orange and gold still lingered in the west. The moon hung high above, casting enough light to guide their steps around scattered shells and the occasional piece of driftwood.
Both were barefoot, their pant legs rolled to keep them from getting soaked as the cool water lapped at their feet.
The sand beneath them was firm, making the walk easier than farther inland.
They strolled along the shoreline, talking about nothing in particular as they passed a few others out for the evening—joggers, a couple of surf Fischermen, and people walking their dogs. Suddenly, KC stopped and caught her arm, bringing her to a halt.
“Wha—”
“Look!” he said. “A shooting star.”
Following his gesture out over the dark ocean, Moriah spotted a streak of light racing across the sky. She watched, captivated, until it disappeared beyond the horizon.
Her breath came out in a soft rush. “Oh, my God. I’ve never seen a shooting star before. It was incredible.”
He smiled. “I’ve seen a few, but it never gets old.”
They started walking again, though Moriah kept glancing upward, hoping for another glimpse. “Does that happen here often? I’ve spent most of my life in the city—” She caught herself and quickly amended, “in several cities, where you’re lucky just to see the stars through the haze.”
When he didn’t react to her slip, a brief surge of tension eased within her.
“I’ve seen a few here. But mostly when I’ve been overseas with the team.”
That caught her attention. This was the farthest she’d ever been from Chicago, while he’d been all over the world. “What’s it like?”
He glanced at her, brow furrowing. “What’s what like?”
“Being in a strange land. Fighting the bad guys and risking your life for your country.”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his shirt. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it like that. It’s my job. Someone has to do it.”
“I guess so.” Sensing he wasn’t eager to linger on the topic, she changed direction. “We’ve gone pretty far. Should we turn around and head back?”
Without answering, he lightly took her elbow and guided her into an about-face toward the house. Her pulse quickened at the brief contact, and she couldn’t help wondering if he felt it too—the faint spark that seemed to travel down her arm to her fingertips.
His hand dropped away a moment later, and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed… or relieved.
Get a grip. The last thing you need is to be attracted to this man.
By the time they reached the house, she almost had herself convinced.
Moriah sat on the couch the next morning, tying her sneakers, when KC stepped out of his bedroom. He wore his usual training clothes—black sweatpants and a military green T-shirt—but somehow still managed to look… distracting.
His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it after a shower, probably following his morning run. Clean-shaven, his face looked smooth enough to tempt her to reach out and see how soft it really was.
She tightened her laces instead.
He crossed the room, seemingly unaware of where her thoughts had wandered. “All ready?”
“Yup.”
“Tonight, I thought we could meet my uncle at Sassy’s instead of having dinner here.
It’s a great little restaurant in town. We’ve been going there since I was a kid.
Sassy’s real name is Sara Parnell—a very nice lady.
Her daughter and son-in-law took over after she retired.
Tonight is their famous ‘Friday Fish Fry Night,’ and I try not to miss it when I’m in town.
And, no, I don’t suggest you try to say that ten times fast.”
A laugh bubbled up—something that had been happening more often lately. “I’ll take your advice, and that sounds great, especially since tonight is my night to cook.”
He let out a soft snort. “Well, truthfully, I wasn’t looking forward to doing the dishes either.”
Feeling more carefree than she had in months, she followed him out the door and down the steps to the patio.
A short, wooden pathway threaded through the dunes and out to the beach.
Striding halfway to the water before he turned around to face her, KC explained that he would approach her from behind and grab her as if he were an assailant.
He wanted her to use everything she’d learned in the past few days to escape from him.
He glanced up and down the beach. “Just making sure no one is around. I wouldn’t want anyone calling the police, thinking that I’m attacking you for real.”
Her smile slipped. “No, that would definitely not be a good thing.”
Because if someone called the police… everything would unravel.