Chapter Four
Beau
She’s still sound asleep when I come back from my routine morning run, tangled in the blankets, exhaustion evident in every relaxed line of her body. I don’t imagine my little bird has had any rest since the day I found her. And yet, even in sleep, she appears restless.
I stop to watch her, beautiful under the morning light with the rich tones of her red hair spread across the pillow.
A stray hair, in its deep mahogany, has fallen across her cheek, and I find myself tempted to reach out and gently brush it back, but I hesitate, not wanting to wake her.
The curve of her shoulder peeking from the blanket is soft, and I am reminded yet again how she felt in my arms last night.
She’s so beautiful, even in the quiet moments before the day truly begins. The worry lines I’ve seen on her face since that first day are smoothed out in sleep, and her soft skin tempts me to touch.. Instead, force myself to turn away and head to the shower.
She doesn’t stir when I come back into the room, barely shifting a muscle as I move through my morning routine. I leave her to rest a little longer as I head down to feed the dogs. I make sure to pull the door closed behind me so one of them doesn’t sneak in and wake her.
I want to regret last night. Call it a moment of weakness, one that caught us both hurting, but I can’t bring myself to regret it.
Still, I will admit that I wasn’t at my best last night.
She found me while I was deep in thought over the loss of the man I considered my brother.
The ache comes and goes, but it’s brutal at times.
The memory of the man’s life fading in my arms, the truth in his eyes when he realized he would never get to watch his little boy grow into a man.
Fuck!
I shake my head as my thoughts threaten to shift to what had me drinking alone in the kitchen. Instead, I focus on feeding the dogs, then move on to preparing breakfast.
I’m on my second cup of coffee when Rosalie walks into the kitchen, her hair still damp from a shower and eyes still sleepy when they find mine.
She’s wearing a blue sweater that matches her eyes and shorts that reveal those long, sexy legs I had wrapped around me last night as I ate out her juicy pussy.
“Morning,” she grumbles, dropping onto a stool and reaching down to pet Athena’s head when she nudges Rosalie’s hand.
“Good morning,” I respond behind my mug, watching her. “Did you get enough sleep?”
“I guess,” she says, patting Athena affectionately before turning to me. “Is there any news? About Kristin?”
“I called the detective in charge first thing this morning. They discovered one of the men’s hideouts, but something must’ve spooked them because they left in a hurry, leaving most of their things behind.”
“And Kristin?”
I shake my head, hating the way her head falls in disappointment. I debate telling her the next part, uncertain about giving her any hope, but then again, it’s the only thing I can offer her at the moment. “They found a couple of things, one of which is a purse they believe belongs to your friend.”
She sits up, suddenly alert. “They did?”
“As I said, the men left in a hurry so they didn’t have time to pack.” I set down my mug down and walk around to her, cupping her cheek and stroking her skin, seeking to comfort her despite myself. “It’s only a matter of time before they find her.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because men on the run make mistakes,” I assure her. “I made breakfast. You should eat. You skipped lunch and dinner yesterday.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Indulge me.”
She doesn’t argue and watches silently as I plate a stack of golden pancakes, a few strips of bacon, and a bowl of mixed berries.
I skip the caffeine and pour her some orange juice instead and add a small plain yogurt, before sliding it all over to her.
She stares at the meal for a moment, silence stretching between us before she picks up a strawberry and takes a bite.
“Will you indulge me?” she asks when she polishes off the bite.
“How?”
When those stunning blue eyes lift to mine, it’s like getting punched in the fucking gut. Christ, she’s such a beautiful woman, it takes me by surprise every time I look at her. And it takes everything in me not to go around the counter again and touch her.
Hell, now that I know how velvet smooth her skin feels and the sounds she makes when I touch her, it’s tempting to do it again.
“Why were you out here drinking alone last night?”
I consider brushing off her question or making up something that’ll throw her off, but I hesitate. She’s been nothing but open and vulnerable around me, and while I’m not the type to bare my soul, I imagine it wouldn’t hurt to let her know she’s not the only one haunted by demons.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her, taking another sip of my now cold coffee. “Yesterday would have marked ten years since my former partner and I were assigned to work together.”
“I didn’t know cops stayed partnered that long,” she comments, cutting into her pancakes and taking a big bite, humming at the taste. Maybe her appetite is finally coming back.
“They don’t, not always.”
“You must’ve worked well together.” I watch her drizzle syrup over the pancakes and dig in.
“Kristin and I have only known each other for two years, but it feels like we’ve known each other our entire lives.
I hope we’re just as close after ten years.
” She takes a sip of the juice to wash down the pancakes before turning back to me.
“Why couldn’t you sleep? Do you miss being a cop and working with your partner? ”
“He’s dead.”
Perhaps there would have been a softer way to say it but there is nothing soft about death. Definitely not in the way it found Eric, yanking him away from his wife and their little boy.
“Beau…”
“About a year ago, we responded to a robbery call that went bad fast. Eric and I split up when we shouldn’t have.
We thought we could cover more ground and keep the suspects contained until backup arrived.
” I drink more coffee, grimacing at the taste now that it’s cold, but it helps with the dryness in my throat.
“Instead, we walked right into an ambush. By the time I got back to him, he’d been shot.
His vest seemed to have caught one round, but another hit where it shouldn’t have. ”
Rosalie’s fingers tighten around mine, her thumb brushing across my knuckles.
“He collapsed,” I continue. “I tried to put pressure on the wound while I called for an ambulance, but it was too late. He was gone before any help could arrive.”
“Beau, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Is that why you quit being a cop?”
“Would you move back into your house if your friend never came back?” The question lands like a slap, and regret hits me instantly. I tighten my hold before she can pull away. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry for that. It was uncalled for.”
“She’s coming back.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
She lets out a shuddering breath before nodding.
“I couldn’t go back,” she admits. “I guess I would do the same as you, if I had the money for it. Buy a house in the middle of nowhere and live a solitary life. If something ever happened to Kristin, I wouldn’t know how to go back, rejoin society, and trust strangers again. ”
“I understand loss, Rosalie.” Despite my better judgment, I circle the counter and stop next to her.
“I lost my parents when I was only a boy, so I thought I understood loss. I’ve been on the receiving end of it, so I know how it feels, but watching it destroy someone else was a whole different monster.
He had a wife and a son, and his death devastated them. ”
This time, she reaches up to cup my jaw, her fingers stroking my beard. “It devastated you too.”
“It did,” I say, allowing myself to lean into the touch of a woman I have no right to want. “I never want to go through that again or put someone I care about through that.”
“Caring sucks,” she says. “I think about Kristin when I open my eyes, and I worry endlessly about her. Is she safe? God, she must be terrified and sick. She’s allergic to fish. What if they feed her something with fish in it and—”
I kiss her.
Perhaps it’s not the right response to someone hurting, but she leans into it, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and meeting my lips with need.
I taste the tears on her lips, reminding me of my own grief.
That ache that lies beneath my ribs flares when memories of the day Eric died surface, and I push them away, refocusing on the woman in my arms.
It’s a kiss meant to distract, to comfort, but it quickly turns heated as I back her to the kitchen counter, attacking her mouth like it holds the very breath I need in my lungs. It’s last night all over again, except I’m sober this time and I’ll be damned if we do this in the kitchen.
“Stop me,” I rasp as I grip the back of her thighs and lift her into my arms, carrying her out of the kitchen. “Stop me, little bird, before it’s too late and I am balls deep inside of you.”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, sweeping her fingers through my hair and gripping tight, pulling our foreheads together. “I need this too much. Don’t stop.”
We’re doing this for all the wrong reasons, I know it, and it’s clear she does too. Hell, for two people who understand the danger that comes with caring too much, we sure aren’t doing a great job of fighting the connection between us.
But I can’t bring myself to care.
Still, I wonder if I can make love to this gorgeous woman and keep a part of myself separate. If and when she has to leave, everything will go back to normal. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“This can’t be more than what it is,” I say against her lips, forcing myself to be honest before this goes any further. “Rosalie—”