18. Luke #2
“You know, moving in the shadows?”
“The back door’s in the alley,” I said, confused by her question.
“But we’re on foot. And”—she motioned at the pavement in front of us, half illuminated by light, the other half cloaked in darkness—“in the shadows.”
I scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Are you and your sister in some kind of feud?”
“What?” I laughed at that, because at the beginning of the summer, the answer would’ve been a resounding yes. “No. Not anymore. But I’m supposed to be on leave.”
“Ah, that’s what they meant when they said you have time for the parade float,” Maggie mused.
“Don’t remind me.”
“So you get in trouble for checking on your family’s bookstore unless you’re wearing a uniform?”
“Security checks on our local businesses fall under the responsibilities of the officer on duty.” I glanced up then down the alley, searching for signs of a patrol car before I stepped out of the shadows and into the light cast above the back door to Brenda’s Book Nook.
“So, technically, I’m overstepping my role.
” Rosalyn would see it that way, anyway.
I rattled the knob, satisfied when it didn’t give, and moved on.
Placing my hand at the small of her back, I guided Maggie back the way we came. Just as we dipped beneath the wooden awning at the west side of the bookstore, she tripped at the transition from pavement to wood plank and stumbled forward.
“Shit! Maggie!”
I leapt in front of her, breaking her fall and nearly tumbling myself. But I twisted my body at the last second, and the log exterior caught my back. I yanked Maggie tightly against my chest, holding her there until everything finally stilled.
“Thanks for that,” she said, her fingers gripping my arms.
“Are you hurt?”
She looked up at me, those blue eyes searching mine for answers I wanted to give but didn’t know how.
“I’m okay, Luke.” She glanced down, then back up at me. “Just need to tie my shoe, apparently.”
She wriggled free of my vice grip and knelt to loop the laces. My pulse was still a fucking mess.
“I wasn’t here when my mom was killed.” I sucked in a deep inhale, still shocked the words had found their way out.
Maggie stood slowly, locking her gaze with mine, but not speaking.
“I wasn’t there, and . . .”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Maggie gently wrapped a hand around my forearm. Even through the cotton of my sleeve, her touch was fire.
I stared at her hand for several beats.
“A drunk driver going a hundred and ten hit her on her way home from a book convention. She died on impact. I wasn’t here.
I was already back at Bragg.” I cleared my throat, focused on her thumb gently caressing the crook of my elbow.
I could stop, and she wouldn’t press me.
I knew that. And yet, I wanted to tell her.
I had to tell. “After that happened, I decided not to reenlist. The former police chief was retiring, and the mayor offered me the position. I separated from the military and moved home a couple months later. I vowed never to let another person I cared about get hurt. Not on my watch.”
“Dammit,” Maggie murmured, shaking her head.
I quirked an eyebrow at her, confused how my confession had elicited that as a response. It didn’t make sense, and yet, it was so completely Maggie.
“I didn’t want to like you, you know.” Her gaze lifted to mine, that floral scent surrounding me like some intoxicating cloud I wanted to live inside permanently. “But you’re making it awfully hard not to.”
I snaked a hand up the side of her neck, cradling her cheek in my palm as my sight locked on her mouth.
Don’t do it.
Maggie’s tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip.
Don’t fucking do it.
Her fingers dug into my arm, squeezing, and the last of my willpower to resist her evaporated.
Fuck it, I’m doing it.
I dragged her mouth to mine, meeting her halfway.
The kiss wasn’t careful or polite. It was days of frustration finally detonating.
I spun us around, pushing Maggie up against the wall as one hand tangled in her hair.
She opened her mouth eagerly against the insistence of my tongue and arched into me as the kiss deepened.
She tasted of chocolate, cinnamon, and a hint of toasted marshmallow.
I officially had a new favorite ice cream flavor.
The gentle scrape of nails grazed my skin as she slid both hands up the back of my neck and into my hair, leaving a trail of heat in the wake of her touch. Our lips moved in a hungry frenzy that ignited every cell in my body. Fuck, I was never going to be the same after this.
I reached a hand inside the flannel jacket she still wore, and she moaned softly as I grazed bare skin right above her hip.
Just as my fingertips dipped beneath the hem of her shirt, I heard the crunch of gravel before I saw headlights. I shot off of Maggie like lightning struck us apart.
“What—”
Two seconds later, a Bluebell Springs patrol car appeared beside us, exiting the alley. Officer Brianna Hudson stopped, rolling down her window.
“Chief, what are you doing out—” She caught sight of Maggie, and a subtle smirk crooked one corner of her mouth. “Never mind. Carry on.” She nodded at Maggie. “Ma’am.”
“Hudson, wait,” I called before she pulled forward.
“Yeah, Chief?”
“Can you give us a ride?”
I ignored the confused look Maggie shot me.
I had to. The kiss—the axis-altering fucking kiss—was a mistake.
A line that was never supposed to be crossed.
I couldn’t walk home with her now. I didn’t trust myself not to leap over that line a second time and drag her right to my bedroom.
And where the hell would that leave us tomorrow?
It was better this way.
“Sure thing, Chief.”
I opened the front passenger door, ushering Maggie in because I sure as hell didn’t trust myself in the back seat with her. She looked at me once more, irritation I wholeheartedly deserved in those baby blues.
Because it was for the best, I donned the stoic mask I so easily wore, and with ice in my tone said, “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re an ass,” she muttered quietly at me before dipping into the passenger seat.
I didn’t argue as I closed the door, because Maggie was right. I was an ass.