Chapter 4
FOUR
Miles
Whatever has grabbed Chloe’s attention on the screen of her phone is not as okay as she would like me to think it is. A hint of sadness clouds her eyes, pulling the corners of her mouth downward. After my world imploded, I’ve made it a point to be observant as hell, and I have no doubt there’s more to her sudden shift than what she’s giving me.
“Chloe?”
Her delicate shoulders rise with a deep breath, and she schools her features. “Sorry. Um, I guess I’m fine to stay for a bit.” Flipping her frown, a polite smile flashes across her face before settling to a neutral expression. She reaches for her nearly empty wineglass and swirls the pale gold liquid around the bottom, directing all of her focus on it.
With her hair pulled off her face, she’s all big blue eyes, thick lashes brushing against her cheeks with each blink. Absently, she pulls at a loose black curl that escaped its confines and tucks it between her lips.
Blake slides the door open, pulling her attention back from wherever her thoughts ran off to.
I pick up the bottle from the table and hold it up to Chloe in question.
She passes me her glass, asking, “What about you, Miles? Are you a native Virginian? Are you on Blake’s team? Wife? Kids? Or just hiding in plain sight, ready to swoop in and save the day?”
Wine sloshes into her glass as I stiffen slightly, caught off guard by her questions. Thankfully, Chloe’s got her back to Blake because, no matter what the guy thinks, his poker face has gone to shit. He knows how I ended up here and that this was never in my plan.
I huff out a laugh and shake my head, making sure to catch Blake’s eye so he knows to lock his shit down. I’m not talking about Aly, about what I had, and how it’s no longer mine. We’re not going there. “I’m from the Midwest, a small town in?—”
“Please tell me you’re not from Kansas,” she says, mirth dancing in her eyes, all hints of sadness melting away.
Our fingers brush as she takes her wineglass back. Electricity, chemistry—whatever it is, I feel it zinging through me from even the briefest of touches.
“Iowa, but close enough.” This isn’t the first time I’ve fielded this question. “And I was a SEAL, but I left the glitz and glamour of that life behind. Fire Born Security has been kind enough to let me keep my superhero status, so now, I get to sit behind a desk and just pretend to be as badass as Blake. All the glory, none of the risk.” I nod in Blake’s direction.
Thankfully, he just presses his lips together, giving me a tight nod in return. Subject officially closed.
“So, Virginia, by way of Iowa cornfields instead of Kansas. Do you miss Midwest living?” Chloe asks. “We spent a little bit of time out there before… before settling in New York.” As if realizing she said more than she’d wanted to, she brings her wineglass to her lips and turns her gaze out to the ocean.
We. She said we , but there’s no wedding ring in sight.
So much is not being said in this conversation. Probably more than what’s actually being vocalized, and it is way too heavy for dinner with friends. A casual, accidental dinner at that. At least, I hope it’s just casual and not a fucking setup.
Blake wouldn’t pull something like that, but I wouldn’t put it past Erin. She’s the one with access to my employee file. She’s the one who knows all of my secrets.
“There were other stops along the way,” I say, watching her for… what? A tell? Some hint at what she’s holding back?
We just met, and I’m already invested. Maybe too invested.
“Life happens whether you’re ready for it or not, right?” There’s resignation in her words.
Isn’t that the truth?
The door slides open, and bowls, plates, and other crap are balanced high in Erin’s arms. Tyler follows with more, but when he turns to close the door, he bumps into his mom, sending a bright orange bowl cascading toward the deck. I lunge out of my chair and snag it before it hits the boards.
“Thanks, Clark,” Erin says. She obnoxiously bats her lashes and adds, “You’re my hero.”
Yep. Saving salad with a single lunge. If only everything were that simple.
We fill our plates, and conversation swerves toward safer, lighter subjects. When Chloe’s napkin drops onto the plate in her lap, I stand, take her plate, and head into the kitchen. I throw away trash, rinse dishes, and load the dishwasher with as much as I can.
Before I start in on washing what’s left, I do a quick check of my phone and see a text from Chance. He laughed and avoided when I reminded him of dinner tonight at the Amarre’s. Said he already had plans. Evidently, new ink was preferable to dinner with friends.
Erin’s voice drifts in as the door slides open. “Yeah, I get it. But sometimes, you need to ask for help. Jake’s too young, and maybe your dad doesn’t need to be lifting stuff and climbing ladders, you know? It’s no problem to send Blake or Tyler—hell, there’s an office full of men at Fire Born. I’m sure we can find some muscle to help out when you need it,” Erin offers.
“I’ll think about it. Maybe save my phone-a-friend for when something really big happens. Thanks for dinner, the wine, all of it. This was great. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed doing things like this. A little adult conversation goes a long way.” Chloe smiles when Erin pulls her in for a hug.
“Anytime,” Erin says before turning her attention to me. “Miles, stop that. You don’t need to be in here, cleaning up.”
I drop a few more pieces of silverware into the dishwasher. “No big. You fed me, and Lover Boy helped me out with Maggie. It’s the least I can do.” I dry my hands on a towel and close the dishwasher door.
Chloe’s brows are pinched together, and her head tilts to one side when I meet her gaze. Quick as can be, she looks away and focuses on Erin.
Instead of stopping to think about what that look might have meant, I edge toward the door and add, “I’ll grab a few more things from outside and then take off.”
I want a minute with Blake, let him know how much I appreciate his help with my truck. And that if he gets a call to help out a dark-haired math teacher, I’m here for it.
“Don’t you dare,” Erin says, stopping me in my tracks. “Tyler and Blake can get the rest. Make sure Chloe gets to her car okay, and we’ll call it good.”
I raise an eyebrow at Erin’s nudge. Because by the sly smirk she’s sporting, that’s exactly what she’s doing. Giving me a push that I sure as hell don’t need. Hell, I’m not sure I’m even ready for it. But I’m no fool, and Erin throwing her don’t fuck with me look is all it takes for me to concede.
“Will do. Tell Blake thanks again for me,” I say, pulling my keys from my pocket and walking to the front door.
I hold it open for Chloe, and whether I’m ready to move on or not, I can’t help but appreciate the way her skirt hugs the curve of her ass as she descends the stairs. And those calves? I don’t know how the hell she can walk in those heels, but they are doing the Lord’s work, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks.
The lights flash on her vehicle, and at the click of the locks opening, I lengthen my stride, so I’m there to open her car door.
“Thank you.” She settles her giant bag on the passenger seat, giving me another nice view of that ass.
She’s like fucking pinup art, and I have to bite back a groan and look away before I start popping wood.
Unfortunately, when I lift my gaze, I’m met with a shit-eating grin on Erin’s face. I’m busted, bigger than shit, checking out her new best friend. Yep, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ve been set up.
The front door closes, leaving me standing in the middle of the street, watching this gorgeous woman shift into the driver’s seat. She pulls the safety belt across her, clicking it into place. I’d be lying if I said I don’t notice the way the strap hugs her body, nestling into the valley of her chest.
“You good?” I ask, stepping to the side to put the car door between us.
Chloe nods. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you again.”
“I had a good time tonight. Drive safe,” I say and shut her into the deep red SUV tapping the roof twice in quick succession.
As I step back to watch her drive away, the light of her turn signal flashes way too fast. I wonder if she knows she’s got a bulb that needs replacing. For a hot minute, I consider popping back inside and letting Erin know about the failing bulb, but I decide to just go home instead. I can tell her tomorrow at the office.
I crank my vehicle to a start and listen to the engine. Blake knows his shit when it comes to old engines and restorations, picking apart whatever issues might cause a stutter, a cough, or a hiccup. And now that he’s stroked Maggie’s ego, she’s purring in a way I’ve never been able to get her to. I shoot him a text, thanking him and letting him know about Chloe’s taillight, adding in that I’m available to lend a hand if she calls and needs anything.
I slip my truck into gear and take off toward home. Whatever the issue was, Blake worked his magic, and now, she’s sliding through her gears like she’s eager for it.
Maggie has been the only woman in my life—the only dependable one—for a while. We’ve spent some serious time together, but she barely even registers in my mind as my thoughts drift back to Chloe and her pinup curves. I don’t care what branch of service decorates a man’s uniform; pinups and nose art from old World War II planes are where it’s at.
By the time I walk through the door of my apartment, I have a ridiculously clear image in my head of Chloe perched on Maggie’s hood, looking all kinds of sexy. I should shove the objectifying thoughts away. I really should.
Instead, I shed my sweaty, sandy clothes and climb under the hot spray of the shower. In my mind, her cardigan is busting at the buttons with a flash of red lace peeking through. I picture the way her fitted skirt skimmed every glorious curve, especially the pop of her ass from the lift of her shoes. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my dick, giving it a firm tug as I imagine sexy-as-fuck seams up the backs of her stockings. I stroke two, three, four more times and then grunt out my release, almost embarrassed with how fast I blew my load. Before I even mentally got her undressed.
With steam swirling around me and hot water sluicing down my body, I finish my shower. I dry off and pull on some athletic shorts.
I grab a water from the kitchen and scoop some ice cream into a coffee cup. SportsCenter is already queued up on the TV when I hit the remote. Basketball stats scroll across the bottom of the screen as teams and players are analyzed to death. I pick at my ice cream, trying to make it last but failing miserably. By the time the announcers are done with their predictions on the next handful of basketball games, my cup is empty.
NHL standings lead to baseball chatter, and then I’m done. I shut things down, draining my water bottle at the same time. My dishes clatter as I load them into the dishwasher.
When I finally crawl between the sheets and close my eyes, my brain whirs, picking up speed instead of allowing me to drift off. I’m stuck in this weird place, not entirely single like Chance, not living the family life like I had planned. My ties to my past are holding me captive, not letting me move on. I loved Aly with all my heart, but there’s no way I could have stayed with her. Not after what she did.
The next hour is spent trying to shut down my thoughts, but it’s useless. I lift my head from the pillow and stare at the drawer next to my bed. The prescription is in there, every single pill accounted for, except one.
My doctor prescribed them for nights like this, where my body is tired but my mind doesn’t seem to want to stop. It worked the one time I took it, but I’d rather not do that again. Not now. Not when things have been going so well.
Instead, I turn over onto my back and take that first cleansing breath. I blow it out, completely emptying my lungs, and then slide into the rhythm of box breathing, controlling my emotions. Clearing my mind.