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No matter how much I try, I can’t seem to relax. Then suddenly, a shadow passes by my front window. I shriek and shrink in the corner of the couch. I’m screaming so loudly that I hardly hear Caleb calling my name.
“Gwen, it’s me! Let me in.” He pounds on the door, making it rattle. I race to the door, yank it open, and run right into his massive chest. It’s like hitting a brick wall. I stumble, but Caleb’s hands reach out to steady me. He forces me back into the house and gathers my shaking body into his arms. With a glance around the room, he takes it all in, assessing the scene.
He shuffles me over to sit on the sofa, handling me with care and pulling me down onto his lap. When I push at his chest and try to get up, he holds me steady.
“Stay put, baby,” he says smoothly, like he’s soothing a frightened doe. “What you went through today was rough. It’s normal to feel uneasy. Scared, even.” His low voice is almost melodic. He cradles me in his arms. I’m ashamed to say I let out a little whimper. His fingers comb through my tangled mess of hair, and his lips lightly touch the top of my head.
“I am scared,” I mumble against his shirt.
“Yeah, baby. I got that. I’m here now. You don’t need to be afraid anymore,” Caleb says. Maybe I’m crazy, but I don’t feel quite so frightened. I’m so tired, I let my lids flutter closed. Just for a minute, I tell myself, then I’ll gather the courage to let him go home.
THREE
My Zaira
CALEB
When I’m finally convinced that Gwendolyn is in a deep sleep, I carry her to her bed. I feel a sudden sense of loss when I let her go. She looks peaceful. It’s a nice change to the frantic expression she wore earlier.
I hate that Gwendolyn went through that today. She’s a soft little thing, both inside and out. She fit so perfectly in my arms; I didn’t want to let her go. Even after what she’d been through, her tender heart made her ask about how Malcolm was coping with the pain of losing his son.
I knew it would catch up to her eventually. I’d been watching from my window, and the moment I saw the lights go on, I knew there was a problem. I wrestled with my conscience. I’ve got no claim on Gwendolyn, but every time I’m near her, I struggle between wanting to kiss her stupid and wanting to put a For Sale sign on her lawn to stop her from driving me mad.
To be perfectly honest, the problem is mine. My little neighbor is sweet and kind. She bakes cookies and plays with the kids on the street. One time when the kids needed an extra player for stickball, they knocked on Gwendolyn’s door, and sure enough, she came right on out to join them.
She’s everything I didn’t know I wanted in a woman. Beauty and intelligence, I’ve had that. Gwendolyn is gorgeous but doesn’t realize it. That’s part of her allure. She doesn’t dress to show off her curves, but I know they’re there. I love the way her skirt moves along her legs when she walks across the room, or the way her blouse pulls against her chest, like when she was passionate and told me off earlier, all to save the man who held her hostage.
Gwendolyn has fire in her soul. She believes that people are good at heart. It’s refreshing, even if it’s a little naïve. Then again, in my line of work, I’ve seen a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been in law enforcement too long and it’s making me doubt humanity. Then you find someone like Gwen and know that people like me have to be around to protect people like her.
I turn off most of the lights and make myself comfortable on the couch. It’s small and doesn’t fit my over six-foot frame, but it’ll have to do. I don’t want Gwendolyn waking up in the night and going into a panic. I leave the light on in the hall so she can find her way to me if she needs to.
Sleep doesn’t come easy. I keep thinking how lucky we were that Malcolm Taylor was easily moved by Gwendolyn. Maybe because she could relate to his plight. I didn’t know that Gwen had a kid that passed away. I remember her saying that Zaira was three when she died. I look around the room and on the side table find a photo of Gwendolyn and a toddler who must be Zaira. They look a lot alike. It must have devastated Gwen to lose her.
There seems to be more to Gwendolyn Honeyton than meets the eye. My little doe has an inner strength I could never have imagined and the resilience to come back from the loss of a child. I’m done resisting my attraction to this woman. It’s time to see where this goes between us.
* * *
Gwendolyn
I wake in my own bed. That means that Caleb must have put me here. I was a mess last night, and when Caleb showed up at my door, I practically lunged into his arms and held on for dear life. He was very gentle with me. He held me while I trembled in his arms and told me over and over that I was safe and that everything was going to be all right.
I swear I closed my eyes for just a minute, and the next thing I remember, I’m in my bed. It was nice of Caleb to come over last night. I’m sure he was checking in to be a good guy. It’s probably part of his training.
Still, the way his arms held me made me feel warm and safe. I remember his hard body and laying my head on his chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt cared for. When life took a turn for the worse, I wanted to give up. I almost did, but the promise I made to Zaira kept me grounded. I finished school, finally, then went to work in the library.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I got the job. I had to leave Nebraska and everything I knew, but it was the right move. I go back once a year. It’s my way to honor my parents and Zaira. I’m the only one left of my family, and I swore I would make them proud, and this job is the fresh start I need to do that.
I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for the day. Thank goodness it’s Saturday and I’m not due to go into the library this weekend. We have several part-time assistants who take the weekend shift, but once a month, I jump in to help out.
Most people think that being a librarian is as easy as helping people to find books, but it is much more involved. I’m solely responsible for balancing the budget, scheduling, and all the day-to-day operations of the library. It’s chaotic and oftentimes difficult, but I love it and couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Mom used to take me to the library every week. Our family didn’t have a lot of money, but borrowing from the library cost us nothing, and I could lose myself for hours in a good book. Dad worked in construction and was the hands-on, fix-it guy. He worked long hours, especially in the summer months, but when he was home, it was all about me and Mom. That is until Zaira came along, and then my baby sister was the apple of his eye.
Mom and Dad went through every baby-name book until Mom stumbled on the name Zaira. It means little flower or blossom. Mom fell in love with the name, and it just seemed to suit her. Our little blossom. I wasn’t jealous. We loved Zaira, and I was all grown-up and didn’t need taking care of. It was natural that Dad was spending all the time he could with her when he wasn’t working. Our neighbor Mrs. Hatch was a godsend. She and I looked after Zaira until she was old enough for day care. That didn’t last very long because as Zaira got weaker, she was with me all the time.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see Caleb’s large body on my teeny-tiny couch. He stayed! All night.
He’s still fully dressed, except for his boots, which have been set to one side. The blanket I had originally brought out for myself is falling off him, and three-quarters of it is on the floor. His sexy, messy hair lies on my pillow. My pillow!
