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Here’s the fire Major was referring to this morning. Luckily, I came prepared. I pull out my phone and hit send.
I’m taking you to lunch. We need to talk about last night. I’ll be waiting after your yoga class.
Less than three seconds later, her phone chimes, and she scowls at me as she digs it out of her bag. “I’m not sure I want to talk about last night.” She slumps, her spark and irritation dying out.
“We’re talking about it, but I’d prefer we don’t do it with the idiot peanut gallery watching on. Knowing Major, he probably has a listening device set up.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“So jump in the truck and let’s clear the air.”
“How about we never speak of it again and forget it ever happened? It was not one of my shining moments. It’s none of my business what you do in your personal life.”
Her voice drops low. I immediately pick up on the hurt in her words, and move into action. In a second, she’s in my arms and I’m stomping to the passenger side of my truck. She lets out a little yelp when I haul her onto the seat and slam the door, jogging to my side.
“Buckle up,” I instruct, pulling out of the parking lot.
“What about my car?”
“We’ll come back for it.”
“I’m not exactly dressed for lunch.”
She’s perfectly dressed, but instead of telling her, I decide to set things straight.
“Glen Bates is an arrogant prick with a big mouth and nothing else to back him up. He’s been a pain in the ass since the first day in the academy. His type is straightforward. High-society shithead raised with a silver spoon. Give him the chance and he’ll tell you how special he is. My guess is he has no interest in being a cop, but he wants the power behind the title. He doesn’t have what it takes to handle the badge.
“He tried to buddy up to us and we edged him out. He didn’t like being snubbed. Since he thinks his shit doesn’t stink, he became a passive-aggressive pussy. About that time, the rumors started. Unlike a lot of those guys, chasing women and talking about our conquests isn’t our gig. We socialize little outside of ourselves and don’t feel the need to explain. I can’t speak for what Ford, Major, and Talon do every minute of their days, but women aren’t parading through our house—ever. Ford’s parents are loaded and make their money in real estate. They develop communities all over the place. Having a community in Nashville was a coincidence. Also, a convenience. Hence the mansion on the hill. The four of us moving in together may seem odd to some, but we don’t give a fuck. The house is huge, we have our privacy, and even if we had our own places, we’d probably still be together.”
“I don’t think it’s odd,” she says shyly.
“Glad to know.”
“I think it’s outstanding.”
I glance across at her and see her eyes are full of sincerity and shining brightly. “You think it’s outstanding that a group of grown men live together?”
“I do. I’ve worried about you for a long time. You’ve never really had a home. The environment you grew up in wasn’t healthy. Then you travelled the world with the Marines, never settling down. I can sleep easy at night knowing you’re in a place that’s beautiful, safe, and filled with people you care about. That’s why I went snooping. A part of the reason was the stupid rumor, but the larger part was to see where you are living. I needed to see for myself.”
My gut twists at her raw honesty and the wounded demeanor Major was referring to.
“I’m good, Harley. You never need to worry about me.”
“I’m still embarrassed.”
“I wish I was there. Talon says the best part was the wrestling match with Jewls.”
“Men are ridiculous.”
I pull into her complex and turn the corner to her apartment, spying the delivery propped by her door.
She doesn’t notice, gathering her things and jumping out. I follow her closely and know the minute her breath hitches.
“What is this?” Her eyes dart between the floral arrangement and me.
I shrug, handing them to her and sliding the card into her palm.
I’m Sorry.
Two words… The most important two words I owe her.
Silence hangs between us, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are shining a deep, bright blue. “You’re sorry?” Her question comes out raspy, her voice loaded with emotion.
“I am.” There is much more to say, to explain, but the timing isn’t right.
She launches forward, throwing her arms around my neck. I return the embrace, squeezing tight.
“The last time you gave me flowers was the night I forced you to take me to your senior prom.”
“Having the most gorgeous date at the dance was no hardship.” The prom was all her doing, and I hated the thought of attending. But her excitement made it worth it.
