Chapter 3
Fiona
It’s so quiet in here you could hear water running if there was any running.
Instead, it’s just quiet. Snow swirls down outside the door and front windows and I shiver, wishing I had my coat.
I know it’s not any colder than it was ten minutes ago but for some reason, not being able to move much and watching all that snow… .it just feels colder.
“Did you ever manage to get out of here?” He asks.
I don’t even bother looking at him. “Unlike you, I really like my home. Storyville is perfect to me.”
Huffing, he fidgets and I see his booted foot moving in my Peripheral vision. The hiking boot is worn and comfortable-looking. And strangely exciting.
I think I’ve lost my damn mind. There is no way that a shoe is masculine and exciting.
“You know, maybe we could call a truce for tonight and just talk. I mean, I know what you think about me and my family. You know what I think about you. So maybe we could just talk. Otherwise, we might have a very uncomfortable and boring night.”
Do you think that you can keep it civil?” I huff.
“I can if you can.”
“Okay.” Pausing, I put one arm down and turn towards him, my eyes drifting down to the way his worn jeans showcase his firm, muscular thighs.
His dark eyes are fixed on me and I find myself trying not to look directly into them.
I have a weird feeling that I could get lost in them for a long time.
He even has long, thick dark lashes that make me want to curse the entity that gave them to him.
I have to wear mascara to get eyelashes that look that good!
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. What happened with your parents? Why aren’t they here?”
My mind freezes remembering that painful night. Turning, I pick at my pale blue cardigan. “They passed away,” I whisper softly, my throat clogging up with tears.
I still can’t think about that night without crying. Sniffling, I put my head on my pulled-in knees.
“I’m sorry. My dad never really mentioned you guys. I didn’t know.”
“That’s alright.”
“It’s not. I’m really sorry…”. He stops and my head pops up. There’s something soft in his eyes that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in a Stephens’ man’s eyes.
“Ummm. I didn’t even ask your name earlier. I’m really an ass.” He chuckles and warmth curls in my belly again, my legs pulling in tight trying to hide whatever’s going on. His laugh is so deep and husky. Sexy.
Scary.
“It’s Fiona. But my friends call me Fee.”
“Can I call you Fee? I’m not sure we’re friends but….”
“How about you can call me Fee tonight?”
“Fair enough.”
“So…Fee. How old are you?”
My lips curl. “Do you even know what you’re not supposed to ask a woman? You go right for the jugular!”
He snorts, his dark eyes twinkling. “You aren’t old enough to have to worry about that. What are you twenty-five?”
“I’m twenty-eight. What about you?”
“Name…Monroe. Age…thirty-eight.”
“Wow. That’s succinct. Monroe Stephens. What brings you back here?”
“Talk about going for the jugular,” he mutters under his breath. He sighs and massages his left thigh. “I was a cop. You know that?”
Nodding my head, I sit forward, enthralled with his big, tanned hand working on his thigh. I can almost picture those hands sliding on my skin, working my muscles.
I jump when he clears his throat. Heat hits my cheeks and I cover them with my hands, hoping he didn’t see.
“I got shot.”
My head whips up, my eyes wide, shocked. “What?”
“Yeah.” His head stays down, his dark hair falling into his face.
“I got shot. There was a robbery at a jewelry store. The alarm was going off. It was the middle of the night and I didn’t wait for backup, just went in.
And I didn’t hear him coming up behind me until it was too late.
Luckily for me he was a lousy shot and he only got me in the leg instead of straight in the head. ”
“Oh my god!” I breathe. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay now?”
His lip curls and he looks up at me, his dark eyes piercing even in the dim red-tinged lighting. “Do you actually care?”
Flopping back, I glare at him. “What kind of question is that? I would never want anybody to be hurt like that! It had to be so traumatic.”
He looks away again, his hand automatically rubbing at his thigh again. “It wasn’t the best thing in the world.”
“I bet. Is that why you left the police department?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a permanent limp. My left leg is damaged and weaker than my right.”
“You can’t do physical therapy and see if it gets better?”
“It’s not going to. It tore up the muscles of my thigh. It’s kind of a mess with scars. Not pretty at all.”
“I bet most women wouldn’t give a damn if you had scars.”
His head whips around and he grunts angrily. “I bet they would.”
“Please tell me that your girlfriend didn’t leave you over that.”
His smile is barely there and there’s no warmth behind it. “Of course not. She was my fiancee.”
“Oh shit. Well, she must have just been an absolute wench.”
Chuckling, he glances over at me again. “I wouldn’t say that. I mean…I don’t care if you do. But I shouldn’t.”
“Fine. I’ll do it for you,” I huff. “She was a wench. Not worth thinking about at all.”
He sits back and grunts and I can’t help the soft, fuzzy feelings that his broken stare makes well up inside me. I want to hug the man so badly. My fingers actually twitch with it.
“So tell me about yourself, Fee.”
Sitting back, I sigh. I can’t not answer. He just told me the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. Surely he deserves just as much.
“I’ve been running the flower shop for ten years.
Right before I was due to leave for college in the fall, the cops showed up at my parents’ house in the middle of the night.
They were gone on their date night. They’d decided to make a night of it in a hotel after they ate at a really popular restaurant a couple of towns over.
I wasn’t expecting them. So I was sleeping. ”
Softly, I say, “the knock woke me up. I saw them outside through the little window in the door and opened it.”
The night was so cold and crisp. Really strange for the summer. I was sleeping in a pair of short shorts and a tank top and the cool air washed over me as soon as I opened it. The blue and red lights on the cruiser washed over the pair of cops outside and I can still see the sympathy in their eyes.
And I knew.
“I’m sorry, Fee. That’s terrible.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Yeah it was.”