Page 47 of Hearts at War

I groaned as I walked toward the bar to meet with Gavin. Any time I thought of the memory of Heather in bed with me, I struggled to erase it.

She was so warm, soft, and fitting against me like she was molded to match me. Her hair was softer than I could’ve imagined, carrying that damningly sweet hint of vanilla. For as spicy as her attitude could be, that sweetness was a hell of a taunt.

No. She’s right. Never again.

I hated that she’d reacted so rashly to get away from me. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for her rejection. But because she’d moved so erratically that she damn near tumbled off the bed head-first and got hurt. Maybe the tangle of sheets and the blanket broke her fall.

Heather told me that she wasn’t interested. She’d explained that as bluntly and directly as I had told her that I was done with women. Neither of us were putting ourselves out there. I was unavailable, and she’d expressed the same about herself.

But putting ourselves in the same bed...we’d gotten a little clumsy.

But if she doesn’t want to go looking for a man, why’d she kiss me again?

I couldn’t get far with putting all the blame on her. When we both woke up to the feeling of each other’s lips, we were equally shocked. I saw it in her eyes. She hadn’t planned on it, and with the jerky movement away from me, I deduced that she’d been under the spell of sleep, just like I had been. She’d been acting halfway unconscious, in that gray area of the time between sleep and being awake.

But I wasn’t any better. I’d kissed her back. We’d moved at the same damn time, not ready to be done with one kiss.

I didn’t want a woman in my life, and that made it all the more fucked up when I had to admit I was addicted to the thought of kissing her again.

“Roarke,” Gavin said as I walked over to him. He was already seated at the bar. ESPN was on overhead, but as I headed toward the vacant stool next to him, I scowled and shook my head.

“Hell no. I’m not sitting here and watching that crap.”

He chuckled. “It’s not Shanahan’s fault.”

“The hell it isn’t. If he had McCaffrey—”

Gavin held up his hand, laughing. “Easy, easy.”

I laughed along with him, sitting down and rolling my eyes. It didn’t take much to get me going about the only team I’d ever been a fan of. And once I started, there was no stopping me. Many nights had evolved into hours of only talking about the current NFL seasons, which sometimes got too heated when others chimed in with their opinions.

“Y’all feeling better?” I asked him as the bartender slid over my regular beer order.

“Yeah. Finally.” Gavin sighed. “The flu is brutal this year, man.”

All his kids had it. Then Wendy. His immune system was holding on for the last leg of that relay. All week, he was out of work.

“That’ll help,” I said with a glance at his whisky.

As if to prove my point, he coughed. “That’s the goal. Wendy’ll pick me up after she’s done at the salon. She’s there now.”

I nodded, sipping my beer. That part of being in a relationship was something I missed. Having a partner to rely on for the simple, little things, like having a designated driver if I wanted to drink a little more than usual.

Not enough to convince me out of being a bachelor though.

“Speaking of,” he said, furrowing his brow. “When she parked up the road, closer to the salon, I saw that dude again.”

“What dude?”

“That tall guy.” He narrowed his eyes, pensive. “He seems weird.”

“What are you doing, trying to take Marty’s job?” I chuckled. “The flu messed you up to make you wanna patrol town now?”

“He stood out,” he argued.

“Because he’s different?”

“Well...” Gavin shrugged. “Yeah. We notice when strangers come into town.”