Declan James lost his last ounce of trust the day his wife walked out the
door, leaving him to save the restaurant they built together. Throwing
himself into his work, Declan swears off women—or at least, women
who expect him to stick around in the morning. But when he discovers
a skittish beauty scrounging through the Fireside’s trash to feed her
dog, Declan offers her a job and a place to rest her head. There’s just
something about her that awakens his protective side. And soon, not
even that mangy mutt can stop Declan from caring for her.

After one too many trips to the ER, Trina Wilson finally gathered the
courage to leave her husband, taking only her car and hyperactive
boxer. Unfortunately, life on the run proves harder than she
anticipated—until Declan takes a leap of faith on her. But even as Trina
starts to see beyond his gruff exterior, she can’t relax, even for a
moment. Not with her husband still tracking her down. What Trina
doesn’t know is that in Declan, she has a powerful ally—and, if she
would only follow her heart, a devoted lover.

Prologue
Trina
I left a week ago.
One week of constantly looking over my shoulder while I walked down
the sidewalk.
One week of keeping one eye on the road and one on my rearview
mirror while I drove away from Kentucky.
One week since I had been free, yet I still felt caged.
Antsy.
Paranoid.
Yet in one week, I had learned things about myself I didn't know
before. I was stronger than I thought. I was braver. I was done.
Done being his punching bag. Done being his perfect wife in our
perfect home in our perfect neighborhood with our perfect friends.
I never wanted to be perfect again.
I wanted to figure out who I was now, without him. Without the chains
that used to keep me in my elegant prison—a home that was designed
before I ever entered his perfect little picture, waiting for me to move
into as soon as he slid a giant rock onto my finger.
I would never return.
I just had to make sure he never found me. Because if he did, I knew I
would not survive.

Chapter 1
Trina
The air was crisp, the lingering stickiness of summer's humidity
changing into the first hints that fall was just around the corner. With
one hand on Boomer's leash, I tugged him along the sidewalk,
pretending we were out for a late-night stroll through the cobblestone
streets of Latham Hills.
I hadn't intended to stop so close to Kentucky. Detroit was only a day's
drive from the home I'd fled just last week. But as soon as I arrived
there, intent on heading to Canada and leaving my past behind,
something about the little area on the north side of Detroit spoke to me.
It was old and beautiful, rich with a history I wanted to understand and
explore, and that's what so much of this journey was about for me.
Figuring out who I was and what I loved.
So even though I was close to crossing the border into a new country, I
felt drawn to stay awhile.
Heal.
Wait for the bruises on my cheek to fade, and my ribs to cease aching
when I moved too suddenly.
Then I'd move on to Canada, where, hopefully, Kevin wouldn't be able
to reach me.
"Come on, Boom." I tugged on his leash again and led my boxer into
the alley, where I'd been giving him food from the leftovers of
restaurants for the last week. Leaving my old life with a small supply of
cash forced me to stretch my budget in ways I never had before. Dog
food wasn't expensive in the grand scheme of things, but I only had a
few hundred dollars left and I was trying to save every penny I could.
I'd make it up to Boomer with a bag of his favorite gourmet food as
soon as we got settled somewhere. Besides, he didn't seem to mind
eating leftover burgers from the sports bar that we walked by on our
first day.
I won't lie. The delicious aromas that drifted into the air had called to
me more than once, too. It'd been ages since I was "allowed" to sink my
teeth into a juicy burger, but a good meal was just one more thing I
couldn't afford right now.

It had been gas station hot dogs and pizza slices for me, something else
I hadn't been allowed to eat before. Although now they were something
I didn't want to eat again.
With a cautious glance down the sidewalk, I ensured no one was
watching before Boomer and I headed into the alley. There were lots of
restaurants along this main stretch of road in Latham Hills, but few
alleys where I could hide while I let Boomer nosh on grilled beef.

"Come on, pup," I whispered, and gave another quick tug on the leash.
He followed me eagerly, already licking his chops while his wild tail
flopped back and forth.
My dog could understand basic commands; because of his size, I
worked hard to train him properly. But even at six years old, he still
acted like a puppy most days.
He began to whine with anticipation as I led him over to the dumpster,
where I dropped his leash and told him to sit. He listened immediately,
his tail thumping against the pavement, while I pulled myself up to the
top of the dumpster.
Dumpster diving. If only my mother or Kevin could see me now. I
almost snickered at the idea even as I was grunting.
My required Pilates and cardio routines had done little to build the
muscle needed to lift the heavy metal lid.
With a final push, I used all my strength to shove the top open, cringing
when the metal banged against the brick wall.
I dropped to my feet, waiting for any sign of life as the sound echoed in
the dark, narrow alley.
Next to me, Boomer began to whine, his large, pink tongue drooping
from his mouth. "Hush," I whispered, and gave him a quick, calming
rub. "Just another minute, boy. Now,
stay."
His face rubbed against my thigh and I quickly pushed him away
before I climbed back up on the dumpster and reached in for a bag of
garbage.
Shame slithered through me as I grabbed the first black bag I could get
my fingers on.
A week ago, I was coming home from a manicure appointment and
running twenty minutes late for dinner, and I knew exactly what was in
store for me.
Now, my chipped nails were clinging to plastic bags of garbage. I had
no idea what the future held.
Even with the shame, this life felt better.
The bag slipped from my grip just as I lifted it over the edge and fell to
the ground.
"Crap," I muttered, looking at the mess of spilled garbage at my feet,
and felt my cheeks heat with fear at the small infraction.

I was so tired of jumping at every mistake I made, quickly looking over
my shoulder to see if anyone noticed. If he noticed.
I also didn't swear. It'd been ingrained in me that a lady cursing was
completely unacceptable, even if I used to curse all the time when
Kevin and I first began dating.
He quickly cured me of the horrid habit once we married with a
backhand to my cheek when I yelled "Shit" one night after dropping a
vase.
I only dropped it because he'd yelled at me for not having the dinner
table properly set by the time he came home.
It was the first night he hit me.
It most definitely wasn't the last.
Boomer growled and I quickly squatted down to tear open the bag.
Another shiver of shame rippled through me as I realized what I was
doing, what I'd

become.
Dirt was visible under my chipped fingernails. I tried not to think about
it as I dug through the bag until I found a plastic container filled with
what I assumed was a patron's forgotten leftovers.
I opened it to find exactly what I was looking for.
I reached out to hand it to Boomer when a bright flash of light caught
my attention right before a loud clanging sound reverberated through
the alley.
"What in the hell is going on out here?"
I jumped backward, falling to my backside, and quickly scrambled
behind Boomer.
In front of me, a monstrous shadow filled the doorway just down from
the dumpster.
I couldn't see anything except the black outline of a large figure, but it
was clear he had his hands on his hips.
In front of me, Boomer looked up at the stranger and let out a loose
growl before he dropped his head and went back to eating.
Some guard dog.
I'd have scolded him for it if I hadn't been so terrified about the
stranger, who reached down and picked up something that looked like a
brick.
"I'm sorry," I stammered, and began searching for Boomer's leash, but
he must have been sitting on it.
Typical dog. He wouldn't leave until he was good and ready.
"I'm so sorry," I said again and scrambled to my feet. At five six, I
wasn't exactly short, but I had nothing on the man in front of me. "We'll
go...it's just...he needs to eat, but that's no excuse, I understand..."
My voice trailed off as the man dropped the brick in the doorway,
propping open the door to the restaurant, and stepped into the alley.
"You're the one who's been digging through the crap in my dumpster?"
He took another step out of the doorway. With the light off to his side, I
could just make out his features. Shaved head, tanned skin, sharp
jawline. Big as a truck.
Nothing about this said it was safe for me to be here. I wrapped my
fingers around Boomer's collar, fruitlessly trying to pull him away from
his food. He whined and jerked forward. I stumbled from his sudden

movement and hissed in pain. My other hand wrapped around my ribs
as I flinched. "You hurt?" the man asked and stepped closer.
"Stop." I thrust out my hand and looked away from him and down at
my darn dog who wouldn't stop slurping up french fries. "We'll go, I
swear, and we won't come back. I just..."
Darn it. This was horrifically embarrassing. I never actually planned
what I would do or say if I got caught digging through trash.
Tears welled in my eyes and I shook my head.
If I turned now and walked away, I doubted this mountain of a man
would follow me. Or he would, but if I let Boomer go, he'd slow the
man down.
Not with his teeth and a vicious bite. He'd probably lick the man to
death. Or tackle him,

wanting to play.
My stomach rumbled, practically vibrating off the brick walls, and I
pressed my hand over my stomach to silence it.
"Sounds like you need a meal."
"No, thank you," I said brusquely, and took a step toward the street.
"We should be going."
The man took several steps forward before I could blink. He might
have been big, but he was darn quick, and he was now directly in front
of me with one hand outstretched.
I flinched back immediately, throwing my hand in front of my face
before he cursed.
"Fuck."
I cringed again and peeked at him, looking with one eye through my
separated fingers.
He was standing back with his hands up, palms facing me. Despite his
fierce scowl, he hadn't meant his gesture to be threatening.
Unfortunately, for far too long, I'd been around men who thought it was
okay to intimidate a woman with their size and their fists. It had
become instinct to protect myself, even if it usually ended up getting
me in more trouble.
"Sorry," I gasped when I realized what I'd done.
"I won't hurt you," the man said and gestured toward the door. "Let me
feed you and your dog. He can't come in, but we can tie him up out
here."
I realized my hand was still raised and lowered it to my side, still balled
into a fist, as if I could do damage to this guy.
"Why?"
He rubbed his jaw and shrugged. "Because I can't keep cleaning up my
alley and you apparently need to eat." Then he nodded and pointed at
my dog. "So does it."
"Boomer," I corrected him. It always bugged me that Kevin referred to
my dog as an it. I should have known that a man who couldn't love an
animal could never love a woman properly.
"Right." I saw a flash of white teeth as he smiled, and then it
disappeared. Something about that, the way it seemed he was trying not
to laugh at me, had a disarming effect.

My pulse, which had been elevated since he terrified me by appearing
in the alley, began to slow and my shoulders dropped.
"You're really just offering a meal?" I asked, sucking my bottom lip in
between my teeth. Heat suffused my cheeks when I added "For free?"
My stomach knotted at the thought. I had the money to pay. I just really
needed to save it. Taking off with only a few hundred dollars wasn't the
smartest decision, but I figured the less that was missing, the less
suspicion it would raise, giving me more time to get on the road before
Kevin realized I was truly gone.
"What else would I be offering?" he asked, his brow furrowed. He
dismissed the question with a swish of his hand. "Forget it. You
coming?"
My lips pulled to one side and I looked down at Boomer. The harmless
dog. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and he was panting as if
he'd just eaten a feast. A quick glance at the emptied container told me
he had. Now he was eyeing this strange brute of a man with

excitement. A new friend to jump on.
His eyes were wide and black and his tail thumped against the asphalt.
"Can we keep the door propped open so I can keep my eye on him?"
"Yes," he answered immediately and nodded.
It had become instinct in me to cower from men, thanks to hits I'd taken
from Kevin. But I had stayed and tolerated it for a purpose, all the while
planning to escape when the time was right. I could have been more
frightened than I was of this man and his offer, but his apparent desire
to make me comfortable made me relax.
"Okay, then," I said and began following him to the door.
Once we got there, I let go of Boomer's collar and pointed. "Down."
With my palm out, I said, "Stay," and watched as Boomer listened. "He
won't go anywhere, no need for a rope," I told the man as he watched
from the doorway.
He was so close to the light, I could see him clearly now, and my pulse
began increasing all over again. His skin was tan, his shoulders broad,
which I already knew, but what I couldn't make out in the shadows
outside were the dark-brown eyes and the chiseled jaw and the slight
hint of deep-black scruff along his cheeks and chin. With his shaved
head and large muscles he appeared to be more akin to a bar bouncer
than a restaurant owner. My feet halted.
"You work here?" I asked, looking over his shoulder to see if there was
someone else inside. It suddenly hit me that this could be quite possibly
the dumbest thing I'd done since saying "I do" to Kevin Morgenson five
years ago.
I took a small step back.
The man walked farther into the restaurant, as if to give me space to
make my decision. "Name's Declan James. The Fireside Grill, which
you've been pilfering garbage from for the last week, is mine. I own it
myself and there's no one else here but me. Closed it down a few hours
ago and have been cleaning and waiting to catch the rug rats who have
been messing up my alley."
His lips spread into a smile then. A full one, so wide it stretched his
cheeks and a dimple popped in his right one.
My pulse fluttered for an entirely different reason now, and I
swallowed.

I shouldn't have been noticing this man. First, he was everything I was
trying to get away from, meaning men in general. But secondly, he had
muscles and anger and scowls and fists that looked like they could
break bones.
But he seemed to be doing all he could to set me at ease and for that, I
decided a meal—one hot meal before I left town—was worth the risk.
I'd just get on the road sooner than I'd originally thought, now that
someone could recognize me.
"Trina." I shortened my formal name of Katrina on a whim. I'd always
been Kat or Katrina, but never just Trina. I never wanted to hear the
name Katrina again.
Declan stepped further into the kitchen, giving me plenty of room, so I
exhaled a slow breath and stepped forward into the back of what was
obviously the kitchen and prep area. Stainless-steel counters shined
along the length of one wall and two metal doors were at the far end.

"I'm Trina," I said again when he didn't acknowledge me.
Instead of saying something, his eyes dropped and scanned my body. I
waited for him to finish assessing me, which was what he seemed to be
doing instead of leering.
I knew what he saw.
Not a woman who looked like she should be digging in dumpsters.
More like a woman who belonged at a country club. I was wearing
jeans and a short-sleeve shirt and my favorite pair of Pumas, but it
didn't take a genius to figure out that I was not wearing thrift-store
clothing. Even if I did only pack one bag full of yoga pants and jeans
and tees, leaving behind the dresses and ball gowns, it was still obvious
that my clothes were expensive.
His eyes were blank when they met mine again, though. "Nice to meet
you. Now what are you hungry for?"
He turned and walked away from me, clearly expecting me to follow. I
shot one last look at Boomer.
He lifted his head and stuck out his tongue, panting sloppily before he
yawned and lay back down, closing his eyes.
I shook my head and walked toward the kitchen.

Chapter 2 Declan
I walked away from the woman—Trina—before I did something
asinine like demand she tell me who gave her the fading bruise on her
cheek. I noticed it and felt the overwhelming urge to pummel someone
as soon as she stepped into the light in the doorway of the restaurant.
Figuring she wouldn't like seeing my hands balled into fists, I tamped
that anger down with every ounce of self-control I possessed, and
scanned the rest of her body.
When I did, I noticed several things all at once.
She wasn't homeless.
My ex-wife, Mara, spent enough hours at the salon getting her hair and
nails done, and then bitching about roots showing and chipped polish,
for me to instantly see that this woman lived a lifestyle that Mara had
craved.
Trina's clothes were high-end. No cheap pair of jeans could hug a
woman's hips and thighs, and most likely her ass, as well as the ones
this woman wore.
A flash of her throwing her hand up in front of her face when I went to
stop her from running pierced my mind, and I fought the urge to growl.
No, she wasn't homeless, as I originally assumed when I saw her
crouched over a ripped-up bag of garbage handing scraps to her dog.
She was hiding.
Running.
And for some damn reason, I had an overwhelming instinct to take care
of her. For a meal, I reminded myself.
I had enough shit going on in my life that I didn't need to take on this
additional cause. Saving my restaurant, which hadn't turned a
profitable month all year, was my priority. And while the fall and
football season generally meant more business, I still had more
problems than solutions. I didn't need any more.
"You decide what you want?" I asked, turning on the grill.
Focus. I needed to focus. Feed her, get her out of here, go home and
have a stiff drink, so I could wash away the memory of what I thought
when I first saw her.
Protect her.

When she didn't answer, I twisted my neck to see her hovering by the
doorway. She was keeping an eye on the door to the alley and her dog,
as well as me.
I didn't blame her for being scared of me. Women either wanted to fuck
me or skip to the other side of the street when they saw me coming. I
couldn't help it. I'd been addicted to

sports since I could walk and throw a ball. Four years of college
football only increased my love for being in shape. The few minor
bodybuilding competitions I did after I graduated cemented it. Lifting
weights and working out relieved my stress. I carried enough on my
shoulders on a daily basis that lifting was no longer a hobby, but an
obsession.
"I can get you a menu," I told Trina when she didn't answer me, just
sucked her lip between her teeth.
"Salad," she muttered and blinked. "No, wait." I tried to keep my
expression blank while she chewed on that damn lip. Not because it
was sexy, but because between the lip biting and the fidgeting she was
doing with her hands, I could tell she was still nervous. Over a damn
meal?
With a nod, she looked at me, meeting my gaze for the first time. "I
want a burger. With cheese. Two slices.oh." Her face lit up, her smile
widened.
I felt like I'd just been punched in the gut.
"And with fried onions."
"Onions?"
Her head snapped back at my question and that lip found its way
between her teeth again before she looked away. "I mean, if that's okay.
Or if it's too much work, I'll just take the
salad."
Her shoulders slumped as she turned back toward the dog. I got the
feeling that request was about way more than food.
I watched her as she shifted on her feet, eyes focused on the door like
she was ready to make a run for it, but then her fingers brushed against
the yellowish bruise on her cheekbone.
Something inside me ignited, like a lit match had been thrown on a fire.
"Trina," I snapped and then inhaled a breath, blowing it out slowly as
she turned my way.
"I'll cook you whatever you want," I said, trying to soften my deep
voice, even though inside I felt like boiling over. It was a damn burger.
This stranger shouldn't ignite something like this inside me. But damn
it. She'd been beaten, that much was obvious.
And I was beginning to think she'd taken more than a physical beating
if her fidgeting and uncertainty was any indication.

I quickly walked away from the stovetop, hoping like hell she'd stay
where she was when I moved toward the office. I grabbed a spare
barstool and carried it back, setting it down close to her, but trying to
respect her personal space.
She jumped as the wood scraped on the cement floor and her hand fell
from her curly blonde hair. Not platinum blonde and obviously fake
like Mara's was. Trina's was darker, but with streaks of light that told
me she didn't just get her hair highlighted...she spent a large amount of
money on it.
My curiosity about her was piqued.
"Have a seat," I said, keeping my voice soft. "If you want a salad I can
make that. But if you want a burger with extra cheese and onions, it's
honestly no big deal. I told you I'd cook you a meal and if that's what
you want, that's what you'll get."
My eyes dropped to her throat as she swallowed, and then my gaze
zeroed in on one small

mole she had right at that tender, fleshy area at the base of her throat. I
pulled my gaze away from where I could see her pulse thumping.
"That's very kind of you." Her voice was raspy, still quiet. All her
earlier confidence had dissipated into the air and, damn it, for some
reason I wanted her to get it back.
I slid a menu onto the countertop near her before I walked to the
refrigerator and took out everything for the burger she'd requested.
While I was inside, I also threw together a salad because hell.maybe
she really liked salads, too. Although I doubted it. Something told me
she lived on vegetation because she thought she had to.
She was fairly tall and thin, and she didn't need to lose weight.
When I got back to the work area, Trina was sitting on the stool,
absentmindedly tapping her fingertips on the menu, while one of her
feet bounced up and down on the lower rung of the stool. In the few
seconds I watched her, I could tell that she was singing a song in her
head before her lips began moving. A soft smile graced her lips before
she noticed me and jerked her head up.
Her smile disappeared and I had to, again, fight the urge to scowl.
I set down a garden salad. "Here's the salad if you want it. Help
yourself."
She stared at it and her top lip curled.
I looked away before she could see me smile.
I knew she hated salads.
"This is delicious." Trina made another moaning sound that seemed to
tumble from deep in her throat with every bite she took.
It was the kind of sound that could drive a man insane. That's what it
was doing to me, even though I was trying to fight it.
It wasn't even purely sexual, although the way her full lips pressed
together as she chewed made me think once or twice—or a dozen times
in the span of a few minutes—about what her lips would look like
pressed somewhere else.
But I was a guy, and that was a natural reaction to have with a beautiful,
albeit injured, woman sitting in front of me, moaning over food I
prepared just for her.
She hadn't spoken since declaring my burger delicious. I tried to give
her the space and quiet she clearly needed, but it wasn't easy. A

thousand and one questions raced through my mind as I turned off the
grill and spent the last several minutes cleaning it all over again.
When the quiet, pleasured groans began, I went to the fridge to cool
down before I decided to make her a sandwich for tomorrow. Having a
feeling that the greasy burger with extra greasy onions was an
indulgence she rarely enjoyed, I whipped up a grilled chicken Caesar
wrap for her. It was probably nothing like the fancy food she usually
ate, but I bet it was healthier. While she pretended not to watch my
every movement, still keeping her gaze divided between my general
area and where her dog was still lying in the doorway, I took her lunch
for tomorrow into the office and slid a twenty-dollar bill inside, along
with a note telling her to get her dog some food.
I brought it to her and tapped the closed Styrofoam lid. "Food for
tomorrow."

"Thank you," she muttered, staring at the small, white container.
As she took another bite of her burger, the questions in my mind began
to overwhelm me and I turned to her, resting my ass against the counter
behind me. I flipped the towel onto my shoulder and curled my
fingertips around the countertop edge to try to look less intimidating.
"You been on the road long?" I asked, unable to keep the tightness out
of my voice.
The burger froze an inch from her mouth as her eyes widened.
She blinked and shook her head. "No."
Looking away while she chewed her food, frustration began to bubble
inside me. It shouldn't matter.
It shouldn't bother me that Trina didn't want to talk to me.
It was none of my business.
Yet, she was here, accepting my help, at least for a meal. "Do you know
where you're headed?"
She nodded and some of the knotted tension inside my chest began to
loosen. At least she had a plan.
Or she was lying to me, but considering she met my gaze dead on, I
doubted it.
"I don't really want to talk about it." She wiped her fingers on a napkin
before taking a sip of the water I had gotten for her while her food
cooked.
When she finished eating, I took the completely emptied plate back to
the dishwashing area. By the time I returned, she was already at the
back door, one hand scratching the area between Boomer's ears and the
other holding the food container I left for her.
With my keys in my hand, I began turning out the kitchen lights until
there was only the light on right by the back door.
When she jumped to her feet, eyes slightly widened again, I spun my
key chain around my thumb before catching it in my fist. "I'll walk you
out."
"You don't need to."
She reached down and took a hold of Boomer's leash. He groaned,
stretching his front legs and sticking his butt in the air before doing the
same with his hind legs. He moved with a lazy manner, so very
different than the excited dog I saw earlier.
"Come on, Boomer. Let's get going."

He followed her lead and they began moving, not waiting for me to
close the door behind me and lock it. She was at the street by the time I
caught up to her. Without speaking, I fell in step next to her and
watched as her lips twisted into a pout.
"I meant it when I said I'd see you out."
"You did." She turned away from me and gestured to the alley. "And
now we're out."
I huffed. "I meant I'll walk you to wherever you're going. A woman,
even with this beast of a dog, shouldn't be out this late alone."
It was well after midnight now and the streets were pretty much
deserted. Latham Hills was typically a safe area, but that didn't mean it
was smart for a woman to be alone.
She picked up her pace and I rolled my lips together to stop from
smiling. Something told me she wouldn't like the fact I found her
bravery amusing.

"My car is just up here." She pointed, defeat in her tone.
I looked to where she pointed and saw a shiny, black Audi parked
beneath a streetlight. It was an older A5 convertible with the top up.
When it was bought, it had to cost more than just a pretty penny. The
fact this beautiful but beaten woman drove a sleek convertible didn't
surprise me, and she showed no embarrassment when she beeped the
locks, the lights flashing and the sound echoing in the quiet air.
Everything about her—her money, her bruise, the fact she was hiding
from something, or someone, most likely—told me to walk away. I had
done my good deed.
My heart didn't get the message my brain was shouting because I found
my mouth moving and listened to myself ask, "You need a place to
stay?"
Her shoulders tightened and her back straightened. "I thought the
burger was free." Her tone was accusing and she stepped away from
me, putting space between us.
I held my hands up, fighting a smile. She couldn't be assuming what I
thought she was. "I just meant a safe place to lay your head. I've got an
extra room, and I don't fuck where I shit."
Her face twisted into confusion. Perhaps disgust. That was pretty blunt,
even for me.
"I mean, I don't have sex in my house. Ever."
"Ever?" Her brows jumped up her forehead and her eyes widened.
That time, I did laugh. "Not since my ex-wife. Call it baggage or
whatever. My point is, I don't bring women home to have sex with, and
I'm not that kind of man. You'd be safe there."
I hadn't even had sex in the six months since Mara left. Hadn't felt the
desire to, either, but the rule about not fucking where I shit had been
arbitrarily created in my mind, should the desire ever present itself.
Mara had figuratively stabbed me in the chest with her stiletto heel on
her way out the door, leaving only a note written on her personal
stationery. It was stationery she'd had since before we married and
she'd never ordered new stock with her married name. Apparently her
stash got low, and it was either order more with my name on it or leave.
She clearly chose the more convenient option.

I was in no place to consider putting myself back in that situation, and I
figured when I did start wanting to screw everything that moved in a
cliched rebound maneuver, women wouldn't enter my home.
"I'm at a hotel."
I pulled out my wallet and removed a business card that had my cell
number on it, holding it out for her. "This has my number and you
know where I work. If you need anything while you're in town, call
me—or if Boomer needs a yard to run in."
Her eyes flicked down to her dog and I saw her consider the idea for a
brief moment.
She licked her lips when she looked back at me, taking the card before
stepping away. "Thank you. But we're good."
I shrugged and slid my hands into my back pockets. "Your call."
"Thank you, again, for the dinner." She held up the container of food I
gave her. "And for
this."
"Anytime."
As soon as I spoke the word, I realized I meant it.

This woman was a puzzle and she had secrets. I didn't really care.
I watched her climb into her car, shoving Boomer into the backseat
before he quickly climbed over the console and took a seat in the front
passenger side. I couldn't help but brush my finger along my bottom lip
when she pulled into traffic.
Her hand lifted in a quick but hesitant goodbye, and I mirrored her
movements before my finger settled back on my lip.
I wanted to help this woman.
There was something about her vulnerability, despite trying to be
strong...it called to something inside of me.
Something my dad taught me when I was a kid and drilled into me as I
grew up.
Men were protectors.
We may fight each other, but we didn't fight our women. We protected
them and cherished them and honored them.
And I knew, as Trina's headlights faded away when she turned right at
the next corner, that she hadn't had that.
At least, not for a very long time.

Chapter 3 Trina
Despite my recent past, I knew not all men were like Kevin.
I knew that just because I married a man who ended up being a
monster—a man who hid his lies behind a perfect smile—it didn't mean
there weren't still good men in the world.
Some were decent. They had to exist.
Some loved their women and their wives. My father, as misguided and
distant as he was, never spoke an unkind word to my mother or myself.
He certainly never raised his hand in anger. In fact, he was so
levelheaded that I don't think I'd ever even heard him raise his voice in
anger.
Except for the time I snuck out and took his brand-new Mercedes for a
joyride just weeks after getting my license. My high school friend
Kelly and I ended up wrapping that beautiful piece of steel around a
telephone pole when, driving way too fast, I slid through a puddle that
was deeper than it appeared, broke too hard, and popped a curb.
That night was the first time I heard my father shout, and even then it
was, "My new car!" When he turned to me, fists at the back of his neck,
a vein pulsing in his temple, I cowered behind the wrecked car and
stared at the man in awe as he took five cleansing breaths. Then he
lowered his hands and, with disappointment clear in his eyes and his
voice, asked, "Are you okay?"
He pulled me into his arms, held me way too tight, and made me
promise I'd never break the speed limit again. Or steal his car. Or sneak
out.
I would have promised him anything that night.
In fact, I did.
I promised him I would always listen to him. So when he introduced
me to Kevin Morgenson, son of Kentucky's beloved Senator
Morgenson, at a fundraising benefit, and insisted we were perfect for
each other, I didn't think twice about it. He wanted the best for me.
I was sometimes thankful that he passed away before he could see what
my relationship turned into.
I learned after I said "I do" that there were strings attached when you
became involved with a senator's son, one who had his eyes on his own
campaign in the near future. You stopped being a woman. You began
being a possession.

Even before the first backhand to my cheek, I was exhausted from
trying to maintain a

facade.
At the Fireside Grill, slightly lost inside my own head, eating dinner in
the kitchen of what appeared to be a typical sports bar, I felt more like
myself than I had since I was twenty-one years old, when my palm slid
slowly into Kevin's and we shook hands, and he said his first hello.
I didn't realize how much I had changed, how much of myself I lost in
the last eight years. How I had become someone I barely recognized
when I looked in the mirror. I wondered if that's what Kevin had
planned.
Small, insignificant changes over a long period of time, to erase the
woman he'd dated all those years ago.
He wanted me to stay home and raise our children someday, and
frankly, I thought it was a great idea.
I'd never wanted anything more than to become a mom.
I'd never seen a bigger purpose in life than raising a tiny, helpless infant
into a person of character and strength, who would then pour their
goodness into the people around them.
Some thought the idea of being a stay-at-home mom was antiquated.
I believed it was honorable.
So when Kevin and I were married, I saw no problem with quitting my
job at a public-relations firm in the heart of Louisville, despite the fact
that I loved my coworkers and my boss and my work.
When Kevin suggested I begin working out to occupy my time, and
perhaps volunteer at the hospital, I saw the value in his suggestions.
When he ran his hands through my hair and smiled with a wistful look
on his face one night after we'd made love and whispered, "I wonder
what you would look like as a blonde," I wanted nothing more than to
give him what he wanted.
But when I came home late one night after going out for drinks with
some other volunteers at the hospital and hadn't had time to prepare his
dinner, his glass of scotch flew by my head right before his hand
connected with my cheek, and I knew nothing would be the same
again.
He stole my hopes and my dreams with one slap.
When I went home the next day to cry on my mother's shoulder and ask
for advice, she dealt a crushing blow when she admitted to me that
she'd just been diagnosed with leukemia. Because of my parents' poor

retirement planning, she didn't have any money left to cover her
medical bills.
She begged me to stay with my husband in order to help her.
Naive and desperate, I wanted to believe Kevin when he apologized,
wrapped me in his arms, and promised it would never happen again.
But Declan, the man who assessed me and stood away from me tonight,
careful to stay out of my personal space as soon as he clocked the
bruise on my cheek and glanced away, didn't seem to be that sort of
man.
His offer to feed me, and taking it upon himself to make me a lunch,
suggested the same.
The fact that he walked me to my car and offered me a place to stay
confirmed it.

He was not a man like Kevin—who was truly no man at all. Declan was
better.
He appeared to be a man in every sense of the word, completely insane
physique aside. Not that that wasn't enjoyable to look at, with his tight
shirt stretched so thin across his back I could see his muscles flex with
every movement.
Plus, I had never seen a man's backside look so good tucked firmly into
a pair of faded and well-worn jeans.
Perhaps if I were more daring, if I didn't have so many secrets and so
many piles of insecurities built up inside me, I would have taken him
up on his offer. If I was staying longer, if exhaustion wasn't soaking
into my limbs from the delicious and belly-filling food, I might have
considered it. As it was, I only planned on staying in Michigan another
night, since Declan could now identify me if it ever came to that.
I had already wasted enough time, but I had been enjoying my time in
Latham Hills. I liked that I could walk the streets and browse through
shops without a timeline because I needed to be home. For the first time
in years, I was enjoying myself, despite constantly feeling like I had to
look over my shoulder.
It was time to go, though. In a week, Kevin would know I hadn't gone
to the spa I told him I was going to, and he'd realize I wasn't returning
home. He'd come looking for me then, and I wanted to be long gone
before he did.
With a new plan solidified, I pulled into my parking space at the
Extended Stay Lodge on the northern fringe of Latham Hills. It was a
ramshackle place with chipped bricks and old paint peeling from the
outside walls.
The interior wasn't much better, and I desperately wanted to go
purchase my own set of sheets.
I still held out hope, though, that I would soon be in a new place, an
apartment slightly better than the hotel, so I saved my money.
I might not own anything besides my dog and my car and the few
belongings I brought with me, but I did have a brain and a college
degree.
I did have a plan on how to start over once I was in Canada, far past the
border.

It was that thought that made my lips tilt into a smile as I pulled a
snoring Boomer from the front passenger side of the car.
Grunting as I tugged, I looked up at the hotel and froze just as Boomer
let out an annoyed yawn.
"Shh," I hissed and looked back up at the second-floor walkway. All
the rooms could be entered from the outside, and I quickly counted the
doors from the stairway inward, hoping I wasn't seeing what I thought I
was.
The door to my room was ajar and a low light leaked from the opening.
Ice flooded my veins and I shivered.
"Boomer," I whispered and gave him a firm tug on his leash, pulling
him out of my car.
I looked around to see if there was anyone outside, or any cars that
looked like they didn't belong, but I couldn't see anything out of the
ordinary. The same run-down vehicles that had been there all week
were still there. My car was the only one that stood out.

I swallowed while I watched the blinds in my hotel room for
movement. I already knew the front office was closed. I had no one to
ask to check on my room for me.
The business card that Declan handed me just a while ago was in my
back pocket.
He seemed like the kind of man who would come to a woman's rescue,
but if there was someone inside my room, it could take Declan too long
to get to me.
Besides, he was a nice stranger, but he was still a stranger. I couldn't
pull him into my drama.
Deciding against calling a man who just fed me a meal and offered to
help, I dug through my small purse to find the pay-as-you-go phone I'd
picked up from a RadioShack just before the Ohio border. No one had
the number and I hadn't used it yet, but I knew it wasn't smart for a
woman to travel alone without an emergency phone.
I felt the cool plastic with my fingertips and pressed it into my palm,
before my shoulders fell and I dropped it back inside my Michael Kors
bag.
If Kevin or someone he sent was inside my room, getting the police
involved would only create more trouble for me.
My heart thumped wildly and I could feel my pulse beating in my
wrists and at the base of my throat. I had waited by my car for what felt
like hours to see if I could detect any movement in the lit hotel room
before making the trek up the metal outside stairs, careful to step
slowly and not make a noise.
The person was either still as a statue or the room was empty.
As I reached for the door with one hand, the thought briefly flickered
through my mind that perhaps I didn't lock the door on the way out.
This hotel was so old it didn't use plastic key cards, but regular locks.
Yesterday, I went for ice and didn't lock my door.
Perhaps I had done the same thing again.
Yanking my hand back from the door, I stayed out of sight and closed
my eyes, trying to remember how I'd left it earlier.
But no, I vividly remembered turning back to lock the door. Boomer
had caught sight of a pigeon at the end of the walkway and tugged so
hard on his leash that I had to yank him back.

"Okay," I whispered, wishing that Boomer had a mean streak to him.
Something more akin to an angry rottweiler than a dopey boxer.
His tongue hung out of his mouth and he slobbered.
I shook my head. "Some guard dog you are," I muttered and pushed
against the door with my free hand. It creaked as it opened, and I stood
against the outside wall waiting for any sign of life inside.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I took one large step and stood
directly in the doorway, quickly surveying whatever I could see.
I gasped as I took in the room. It could have been declared a disaster
area.
The mattress had been flipped over and all the bed coverings were
thrown on the floor. My

duffel bag, which had been at the side of the bed, was now emptied, and
my clothes and meager belongings had been tossed all over the place.
Little hairs stood up on my arms and the back of my neck as I took a
slow step inside the room.
"Hello?" I called out, glancing behind the door and then toward the
bathroom. The door was open and the light was off.
Someone could still be hiding, so I left the door to my room wide open
and took another step inside. If someone came out of the bathroom, I
wanted to be able to escape quickly.
Dropping Boomer's leash, I moved toward the small table at the side of
the bed. His ears perked up as he sat, back straight, and my lips
twitched. The crazy dog must have sensed my tension because he was
as alert as I'd ever seen him.
"It's okay, Boom," I whispered and watched his left ear twitch in
acknowledgment. With another look at the bathroom, I slid open the
drawer.
My heart sank straight from my chest, down my body, and into the
horribly worn shag carpet beneath my feet.
"Crap," I muttered, feeling tears well in my eyes.
They spilled down my cheeks before I could wipe them away. My
hands shook as I opened the cover of the Bible in the drawer. I already
knew what I would find.
Or wouldn't.
I never should have been so stupid as to leave my things inside the
room.
Because where I had stored my passport and my remaining cash except
for the twenty dollars I had in my wallet, there was nothing.
"Ugh." I flipped down the front visor and cringed at my reflection. A
night of sleeping in the car, if you could call all the tossing and turning
I did sleeping, left my eyes red and swollen.
It also could have been from the tears I shed off and on throughout the
night.
After realizing that everything I needed to get to Canada was gone, I
quickly threw the rest of my belongings in my bag, and took off from
the hotel. I drove around the Detroit area for hours, alternating between
tapping my thumb on the steering wheel and chewing the side of my
thumbnail.

Eventually, I pulled into a park near Latham Hills and flicked the
business card I removed from my back pocket.
Declan James.
Owner of The Fireside Grill.
One helluva decent cook.
And hopefully, the decent man I assumed him to be.
Although my ability to judge someone's character was highly
questionable, given who I had married.
It didn't matter now, though.

With the sun beginning to rise, I was now parked outside the Fireside
Grill, debating what to do for the next several hours until it opened.
I barely had enough cash to get breakfast, and there wasn't enough
change in my cup holder for a decent cup of coffee.
Without a shower, my hair was soon going to be a greasy, tangled
mess, and no amount of dry shampoo, which was packed in my duffel
bag, would tame it.
This was certainly not how I wanted to look when I took Declan up on
his offer.
But I had to.
I had no other choice. No other options.
Perhaps if he could give me a place to crash for a night or two, I'd be
able to think clearly and figure out what I needed to do next.

Chapter 4 Declan
Friday mornings were my busiest mornings at the restaurant. That
morning, I was more tired than usual as I sifted through my accounting
program, doing payroll.
I fully understood how to cook a burger and take care of a kitchen and
keep a restaurant stocked with alcohol and food, but payroll was a
bitch. All of this office shit I had to take care of myself until I could hire
someone to do it for me made my head pound like I'd spent all night
with a bottle of tequila in one hand.
The headache was worse today, though, and it wasn't just from payroll
problems and a printer that was currently refusing to print the checks
correctly. I needed to upgrade to direct deposit, but again...expenses.
"Fuck it," I muttered and dropped my head into my hands, elbows
propped on my desk. Rubbing my head, I squeezed my eyes closed and
tried to erase the memory of Trina—and the way she looked so
vulnerable as she pulled away from me last night—from my mind.
It'd been a fruitless endeavor ever since I climbed into the cab of my
pickup and made the short drive home.
I pressed my fingertips against my closed eyes, trying to push her out of
my memory, but when I opened them, I saw the stool she'd sat on and
the menu she'd perused and tapped with her finger.
Pushing back from my desk with more force than necessary, I snagged
the inventory clipboard hanging from a nail on the wall, and decided
payroll could wait.
I needed to be focused and I was anything but.
"Hey, Declan," one of my prep cooks, Matthew, called out as I walked
by him.
"Yeah?"
He tilted a green basket in my direction and frowned. "Almost out of
tomatoes."
I made a grunting noise and scribbled a note on the spreadsheet in front
of me. We didn't have enough to last us the day if I was judging
correctly. "I'll get you cash and you can head to the store to pick some
up."
Matthew's eyes widened briefly with concern before he set the basket
back down. "Sounds
good."

Normally, I had the art of inventory and ordering down to a science, but
there were always weeks where something randomly came up short.
If only I were psychic and knew what customers would order. I never
would have guessed we'd have a surge in lasagna orders this week. I
chalked it up to fall setting in, and the cooler

days and chilly nights making more customers want comfort food.
Then I made a note on the inventory sheet and I wished I could hide in
the dry-foods closet until the Friday afternoon lunch rush, when I could
lose myself in cooking instead of planning and worrying.
"Come in," I called out when I heard a knock on my office door while I
sealed the last payroll envelope. After finally fixing the printer jam, I
was now officially caught up on paperwork.
"Declan?"
I looked at Emily in the doorway as she stuck her head in.
"Yes?"
"There's someone here to see you."
Her blonde brows knit together and she opened the door further.
Stepping in, she looked back toward the kitchen doors before lowering
her voice. "She, um...well. I don't know who she is. She won't tell me."
Trina.
I pushed back from my desk and got up, then led Emily out of my office
with my hand on her lower back as she turned. "Thank you, Emily. I've
got this." "Um, she looks not okay."
My gaze cut to hers and I stopped walking. "What do you mean?"
Emily had been at Fireside from the beginning. She was much younger
than me at only twenty-two, and worked as a hostess and waitress to
help pay for college. She was always on time and responsible, and was
the kind of woman who would stop on the side of the road to pick up
stray animals.
Or people.
I saw her worry for Trina increase with every passing second.
"Is she hurt?" I asked and looked out through the small glass window in
the kitchen doors at entrance to the dining area.
As I expected, Trina was in the entryway, hands clasped in front of her.
Her eyes roamed the area without stopping. Without really knowing
her at all, I could tell she was tense from the flickering of her eyes and
the tightness of her shoulders.
"She has a bruise," Emily whispered, looking toward the cooks, who
were efficiently preparing late lunch orders.
"I know. I saw it."
"You know her?"

"Met her last night," I replied, walking around her. "She's the one who's
been making a mess in the alley."
I heard Emily's shocked gasp as I pushed through the doors. The sound
grabbed Trina's attention and her head snapped in my direction.
For a moment, all I could think about was why she was here. Why did
she walk away from me and everything I offered her the night before,
only to return looking like a rumpled mess?

That same strange sensation I had last night sparked in my chest when I
reached her. "What happened?" I snapped, and cursed myself when she
flinched.
Taking a step back, Trina's gaze flickered around the restaurant before
coming back and meeting mine.
"I, u m . " She paused and sucked her lip between her teeth, worrying
her flesh before letting go. "I thought maybe you could help me." Her
voice was soft. Meek and scared.
It made me want to growl like a fucking animal.
I almost did when her eyes became wet with unshed tears.
Without thinking about scaring her, I wrapped my hand around her
bicep and pulled her toward the bar.
She flinched from my quick grip and I let go, feeling like a grade-A
asshole. "Sorry. I think we should talk by the bar. There's less noise."
And more privacy, because it was empty, which wasn't rare early in the
afternoon.
It'd be packed on the weekend. Detroit doesn't have the best NFL team,
but fans were still rabid. And that was a tame description when it came
to the U of M and MSU fans that flocked to bars to watch the two
college football teams battle it out. With Detroit being just far enough
away from Ann Arbor and Lansing, a lot of people in the area didn't
make it to the games as much as they wanted to.
But they did appreciate my ninety-six-inch projection television on the
far wall of the bar.
It was the best place in town to watch a game, and one of the only
reasons I hadn't gone bankrupt yet.
"Charlie." The young bartender looked up and grinned when I called
his name. "What can I do for you, boss?"
I nodded my head toward Trina. "Get lost and give me five minutes out
here."
He frowned, but the kid was too friendly all the damn time to care that I
just kicked him to the break room. "You got it," he said and tossed his
towel by the sink behind the bar. "You want privacy with your lady
friend, I'll let you have privacy."
The sexual innuendo laced in his voice was as obvious as the sky was
blue.
I felt Trina's embarrassment heating the small space between us.

"Get the hell out of here or you're fired."
"You threaten me with that at least once a week." He walked away and
let the hinged panel of the bar slam down, instead of closing it slowly.
One more thing I could fire the guy for.
Except women thought he was cute and he knew how to flirt. It was
good for tips and business.
Plus, I actually liked the little shit.
"One of these times I'm going to mean it."
"Promises, promises," he sang teasingly as he walked away.
Shaking my head, I couldn't suppress a small grin. I gestured to Trina.
"Have a seat and
talk."
She listened and something inside me liked the fact that even if I scared
her some, even if she was uncertain, she still listened without
challenging me.

There was a time when I liked that about a woman. Someone who
trusted me. Not only with her heart, but her body.
But that was a long time ago and I had learned too much about women
since then.
Mostly that they held on to their bitterness and concealed it behind
happy smiles well enough that you never knew anything was wrong
until they decided to strike.
Then you were filling out divorce paperwork and discussing how to
move on from a decision you had thought was permanent.
And u;ou;...that was a pathetic leap to somewhere I never let myself go
anymore.
Shaking my head, I slid out a stool next to Trina, then pushed it back to
put more space between us.
"Where's Boomer?" I asked when Trina let too much time pass and
hadn't started talking.
This close to her, I could see more than just dark circles beneath her
eyes. Her skin was pale and makeup-free, making her healing bruise
seem even worse. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail high on her head,
but still fell well past her shoulders.
It was messy, as if she threw it up in a hurry.
"He's outside. Out back, actually." She jerked her head away from the
television showing an afternoon talk show and cringed. "I didn't think
you'd mind. But he'll stay there. He's tied
up."
I waved her off. "He's fine. I'll have someone bring him some water in a
minute."
She responded with a twitch of her lips, and her shoulders relaxed. She
blew out a breath between pursed lips, and when she spoke again, she
shocked the living hell out of me.
"I thought I could take you up on your offer."
My eyebrows lifted. "Offer?"
"Last night. You offered me a place to stay. I'd like to accept as long
as...you know...you meant the other thing you said."
Her cheeks pinkened and she looked down at her lap.
I had to fight back a laugh. The "no fucking where I shit" rule.
Of course.
"Why?"

Another beat of silence that lasted too long. She twisted her fingers
together, cracking her knuckles, and said nothing.
"Trina. If you need help, you've got it. No strings, I swear, but I need
something from you here, too."
Her head snapped up. "Like what?"
"Like some honesty. What changed between last night and this
afternoon?"
Her gaze darted around the room again, and I stiffened for a worst-case
scenario.
Like, the asshole who beat her had come back. Why else would she
come to me?
"A sudden change in plans," she finally said, giving me a truth that
dripped with hidden secrets. Which would normally be fine, but.
"If you're pulling me into the middle of some domestic drama, I think I
have a reason to

expect the truth when I ask for it."
My tone was firm. Deep. My voice a bit raspy. I got a flash of the last
time I told a woman to get on her knees for me, using that same voice,
and then another memory as the thrill of her obedience washed over
me.
My skin began to prickle with heat at the thought, at the memory,
something Mara never appreciated.
I tried to push that thought away, to focus on the woman in front of me.
The abused woman.
Reality splashed over me like the old ice-bucket challenge.
She nodded and licked her lips. When she opened her mouth to speak,
her words came out in a barely audible whisper. "I've been planning on
heading somewhere far away...where doesn't matter, I don't think." She
arched a brow and paused. I waved a hand telling her to continue.
Where she was going didn't matter. "Last night I got back to my hotel
and it had been trashed. All my cash and my passport were gone."
Her chin trembled...and fuck...
"So," she said, fighting the tears filling her eyes. "I need a place to
crash. Somewhere for a few days so I can figure out what to do next."
"Did you call the police?" I asked, and watched the blood drain from
her cheeks.
"No. No cops." "Trina—"
She lifted a hand and stopped me. The seriousness in her expression
was the most confident I'd seen her yet. "No, absolutely no cops. I
can't."
I raised my hands in surrender. "That's all you need, then? Just a place
to crash? How will you get money?"
She shrugged and her lips twisted. "Haven't figured that out yet. But I
will, and I swear I won't be an inconvenience or any trouble. Honest."
As much as I wanted to believe her, I couldn't.
She might not have planned on being any trouble for me, but I had the
sinking feeling I was about to walk into a situation that would end up
being one huge disaster.
Not just because she was clearly running from someone, but because of
how she made me feel.
Tempted. Aroused.
And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

But even knowing I was about to jump straight into a heap of trouble I
didn't need, I still found myself grinning softly, and said, "Told you last
night. Anytime you need help, I'm
here."
"Your place is really nice," she said as she walked in. Next to her,
Boomer was on a leash, his tail whipping back and forth with
excitement.
"It's not much," I admitted, dropping my keys into a ceramic bowl
Mara had picked out and

left behind. Purple fucking flowers. I hated the thing, yet hadn't gotten
rid of anything she bought yet.
Not for sentimental reasons. There was nothing sentimental about my
feelings for Mara. I hadn't had the time.
Seeing another woman walk into my home for the first time in six
months made me want to find the time.
Why? Who the fuck knew? I sure didn't.
She turned and looked at me, and her wistful expression and soft eyes
tightened my chest into knots. I knew exactly what she saw, because
my home was like most of the homes in Latham Hills, especially those
closest to the downtown area.
It was a small, three-bedroom two-story. It was also old, with curved
and arched doorways and cramped, small rooms. Open-concept wasn't
a thing back in the late forties when the house was built, so all the
rooms were walled off.
"Backyard is this way." I pointed past the living room and all the
decorations that Mara had bought, thinking that if I sold everything, I
could probably pay the lease on Fireside for at least two months. The
woman had expensive tastes and had never adjusted to a tight budget. I
allowed it because it made her happy.
At least I'd thought it did.
When I reached the sliding-glass door, I pulled open the vertical blinds,
the clatter of plastic on plastic the only sound in the room until Boomer
began to whine and press his nose against the glass. I flipped on the
outdoor lights and slid the door open.
"It's fenced in," I said, watching Trina try to maintain control of her
excited dog. "And the gates are padlocked. It's safe for him."
"It's beautiful." She bent down and unclasped Boomer's leash from his
collar. He sat at the door, whining for his freedom, but waited for
Trina's command before he took off.
Her soft laugh filled the air. "Thank you for this." She turned to me
with an appreciative smile. "It's been a long time since he's been able to
run free."
"Yard's small." I shrugged and slid my hands into my back pockets.
"It's perfect." She turned to look out back and I took a minute to figure
out what she saw. The yard was small, but mostly private. In the back
corner, I had a small triangular area of pines and other bushes that not

only offered privacy, but a spot for the fire pit I built last summer when
Mara wanted to roast marshmallows.
She refused to do it over our charcoal grill, so I spent the weekend
building her her own private area in the backyard.
I'd feel like a pussy for it now, being so whipped, but my dad would
still do the same crazy shit for my mom if she looked at him the right
way, asked him in the right way.
The problem I had, that I'd learned since Mara walked away, was that
she didn't look or ask the right way—the right way being nicely. She
just demanded and nagged until it got done, erasing the joy of
providing something for her that would make her happy.
I shook my head and stepped back from the doorway as Trina slid the
screen door shut.
Outside, Boomer barked.
"I'll give you a quick tour if you want," I told her, and headed toward
the kitchen.

She gave another glance at the dog running in the backyard. I didn't
hide my smile as I watched Boomer jump into a small spread of dead
leaves and roll all over them.
With a wave of my arm, I gestured toward our right. "The kitchen is
that way. You saw the living room and we're in the dining room.
Follow me and I'll show you your room."
I heard her soft steps tapping on the tile floor behind me as I headed
toward the staircase. It turned halfway up the stairway and when I
reached the corner, I looked over my shoulder to ensure she was still
following me.
"You okay?" I arched a brow. Her bottom lip was sucked between her
teeth again and there was a rosy glow to her cheeks. When her eyes met
mine she glanced at the floor and nodded.
I frowned at her sudden nervousness. She was probably
second-guessing if this was the best decision.
Because of that, I stopped at the doorway closest to the stairs and
waited for her.
"You can sleep here." I reached forward and opened the door, but I
stayed in the hallway. The room wasn't much. A small double bed with
a plain, white comforter. The walls were a pale yellow and the bed
frame was some gray metal thing Mara bought. The room was totally
girly, but this was where my parents usually stayed when they came up
from their retirement home in Scottsdale, Arizona.
The roof slanted on the far end where the bedroom window overlooked
the backyard. I rarely came in here because I had to duck almost as
soon as I was fully inside. Since Mara moved out, the door to this room
had stayed closed.
Her chest brushed against my shoulder as she leaned forward, and a
small electric jolt buzzed along my skin when she stepped past me.
I took a step back into the hallway and gave her space to look around.
As she did, her eyes softened. That wistful look was back after she'd
spun in a complete circle and stood in the middle of the room, looking
directly at me.
"You have the best home ever."
She couldn't possibly mean it. She probably grew up in mansions with
servants...probably a lot like my buddy Tyson's girlfriend, Blue, whose
dad was a legit mafia king, until Tyson put the asshole in jail. But I still

found myself nodding my appreciation before I gestured down the
hallway.
"My room is at the far end of the hall. I have my own bathroom, so you
can have the one in the hallway. Between us, there's a third room that I
use as an office. You can use the computer if you want, but ignore the
mess."
"I'm sure it's not too bad."
"Sure." I shrugged and slid my hands into my front pockets. "If the
equivalent of a grenade exploding in a nine-by-nine room could be
considered not too bad, I'm sure it's fine."
Her lips twitched at the edges. It was the first hint of a smile I'd seen on
this woman since I'd met her. I wanted her to keep it, even though I
knew I was about to make it evaporate.
"Trina," I said and stepped forward, resting my shoulder against the
door frame. "Do you want to tell me who hurt you?"
I was right. Her smile vanished along with the softness in her eyes.
She blinked and looked away before shrugging. "Someone who I will
never let do the same

thing again."
Her voice quivered, belying her feigned strength and courage. It didn't
matter.
I didn't have to know who hurt her to admire her. She was strong
enough to walk away, to decide enough was enough. This could have
been the first time it happened, but I doubted that, too.
Somehow, this pulled me to her. Even knowing that letting this woman
into my home was going to be a complete mind-fuck, it still didn't
change the fact that the more I saw her, the more I wanted to learn.
I wanted to know who hurt her so I could beat the living shit out of
them, even as my brain screamed at me to stay far, far away.
She was exactly like Mara.
A woman used to having everything and doing nothing to work for it.
As I felt my lip curl into a sneer at the thought of my ex, I forced myself
to remain calm.
"I need a drink. Want anything?"
"Water. Thank you."
I nodded toward the stairs. "Come on down when you're ready."
"How long have you lived here?" she asked, sitting down on the living
room couch. Boomer had curled up over her feet on one of the cushions
after I'd assured her I didn't give a crap if the dog got up on my
furniture.
The first time he jumped up, her face paled as she pushed him off to the
floor.
The second time it happened, she visibly stiffened when I caught her
gaze.
Based on the terror flashing in her eyes, I realized this was most likely
considered a punishable offense by the person who had beaten her. I
also figured, based on the tan line on the ring finger of her left hand,
that that person was her husband.
I actually didn't want the slobbery, shedding mess of a dog on my
couch, but I assured her it was fine.
Mostly, I was damn tired of her flinching and cringing away from me.
I'd buy a fucking better vacuum to get rid of the dog hair if I had to.
"A few years. Mara and I . m y ex," I clarified, when she arched a brow,
"bought this house just before we were married two years ago." I

pressed my water glass to my lips and took a sip. "She took off just over
six months ago."
"Is she coming back?"
I snorted. "Not bloody likely. She's back in Chicago trying to find a
sugar daddy." "Oh." Trina drew the word out and looked away, as if
lost for words.
I didn't blame her. I didn't talk about Mara to anyone except for maybe
Tyson and Aidan. Our other friend David was in the middle of finishing
up his ER residency at a hospital in Chicago, so he was too busy to talk
to any of us frequently, although he did know that Mara
left.

We got drunk one night via Skype on one of our infrequent nights off
and toasted heartless women. David's own girlfriend since college had
recently broken up with him after deciding that she was tired of being
alone all the time.
Not that he blamed her. Being a resident was hard work.
He put in even more hours than I did in the restaurant, and I knew Mara
got sick of being alone all the time, too. The difference was that I
thought this was something we were building together, but apparently,
I was wrong.
Someone banged loudly on the door, making both of us jump at the
sudden sound.
Sitting on the couch, Trina's fingers dug into Boomer's fur, and her eyes
shot wide open.
"I'll get it," I said and pushed up off the chair. "But, Trina." I waited for
her to look at me as I walk past her. "While you're here, no one will hurt
you. You have my word."
"Thank you," she whispered and I looked away, frowning while I tried
to figure out who could be here.
"Aw, hell," I muttered and dropped my head back as I reached the door.
"It's fucking Friday and I totally forgot."
"What does that mean?" Trina said from behind me.
"You'll know in just a minute."
Because it was Friday night at nine o'clock, and I'd promised Aidan that
his son Derrick could crash at my place. At thirteen, he was old enough
to stay alone at his own house for the night, but Aidan still wasn't
comfortable with that.
And since Aidan rarely dated, too busy being a single dad and owning
his own construction company, I always let Derrick stay here on the
nights I was off from the restaurant—which was about as often as
Aidan dated.
"You ready for company?" I asked Trina, turning to see her standing
behind me. "Because shit's about to get interesting."

Chapter 5 Trina
Interesting?
I didn't have time to consider what Declan said when realization began
to dawn as he opened the door.
He had a date?
My jaw dropped at the thought of a woman coming to get him for a
date, then that idea was blown to smithereens as soon as I heard
masculine voices drifting inside.
"I totally fucking forgot, Aidan."
"Jesus, Declan. Watch your language."
"Not like you don't say it, Dad."
Dad?
I moved away from the entryway as the door widened and Declan
stepped back, still explaining. "The last few days have been crazy and
I've got some company."
"You've got a date?" the older male voice said. Something inside my
chest warmed and flipped at the question.
I wasn't on a date. Neither was Declan.
"No," Declan said, "A friend.staying for a while."
"I know all your friends, Declan," the male voice continued to say as he
pushed his way in. I saw a flash of dark brown appear from behind
Declan's shoulder and then those eyes widened. I could barely see him,
but based on the way his eyes then crinkled at the edges, he was also
smiling. "Well, hell. I don't know this friend though, do I?"
"Watch yourself," Declan growled, his voice low and thick.
His friend's eyes darted to Declan before he nodded once. The smile
disappeared as Declan took a step back and waved them in.
"Trina," Declan said as the guy and his son—a teenage son—walked
in. The boy had a bag thrown over one shoulder and his eyes were
glued to Declan's. "This is Aidan and his son, Derrick. I feel like an
ass—"
"Language," Aidan interrupted.
"Heard it all from you," Derrick muttered, his lips twisting into a grin.
Side by side, the two guys look almost like spitting images of each
other. Derrick was lanky, a young boy growing into a man, whereas
Aidan had filled out.much more nicely.

He was attractive in that blue-collar, hard-worker kind of way, and his
smile was friendly

when he held out his hand.
"Trina, huh?" He grinned. If I were that kind of girl, or looking for that
kind of guy—or any guy—I might have felt that smile down to the tips
of my toes. "Didn't know Declan had company tonight, but it's nice to
meet you."
I shook his hand, much less tentative than I would have for Declan. My
eyes shot over to see him standing with his arms crossed over his chest,
his gaze fixed on where Aidan's hand was wrapped around mine.
I yanked my hand out of his grip and stepped back, nodding. "Sorry. I
was sort of—"
"A last-minute surprise," Declan said for me. "And I'm sorry. I totally
forgot about tonight," he finished, turning back to Aidan.
Aidan gave me a look I barely caught before meeting Declan's gaze. "I
need to cancel?"
"You okay with Derrick hanging out here tonight?" Declan turned to
me and I frowned, uncertain why he was asking. It was his house.
"Want you comfortable," he explained, his voice lowering, although
there was no point. Aidan and Derrick both gave me a strange look that
I felt more than saw.
"It's fine," I muttered, taking a step back into the living room.
And it was. In fact, it was better. A teenage boy in the house meant
Declan and I wouldn't be alone, and while I saw and felt that he was a
decent guy, and so far had treated me with care, that didn't mean a night
alone with him would be comfortable.
"I can go."
"No," Declan said, pinning me in place with his voice. "You stay. And
if you're okay with Derrick being here, he'll stay, too. This happens
sometimes when Aidan has a date."
"I can reschedule," Aidan chimed in, although the way he said it said he
wouldn't be happy about doing it.
"You don't get out enough."
Aidan smirked. "Pot meet kettle."
Something simmered between the two of them as they stared each other
down. The tension sparked and crackled, and I jumped when Derrick
dumped his bag on the hard floor. "You got pop, Declan? Because
Dad's all out and I'm thirsty. I'm also ready to kick your ass tonight."

At my expression, whatever that might have been, Derrick simply said,
"Call of Duty. It's a game we play when I'm here." He walked by me,
disappearing into the kitchen, and shouted loud enough for us all to
hear, "Although it's a bunch of crap because I am thirteen and old
enough to be on my own for a night."
"Yeah," Aidan muttered, grinning at his feet. "Except I remember what
I was doing when I was a few years older and since Derrick there is the
result, no way in hell is he ever staying alone."
Aidan looked so young that I'd figured he must have been a young dad,
but at that surprise, a laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.
Both men looked at me. Aidan shrugged his shoulders, unashamed of
his actions or the result, and Declan's eyes went soft, soft in a way I
didn't fully understand. This whole situation was overwhelming and
awkward. "All right," Aidan said, clapping his hands.

That must have been what finally got Boomer's attention, because all of
a sudden he barked and I heard his paws hit the floor.
He rounded the corner, his tail wagging like it did when he was excited,
and before I could stop him, his front paws were on Aidan's chest,
shoving him back into the front door. "Holy fuck," Aidan gasped, his
hands immediately flying up in the air. "I'm so sorry," I gasped, and
tried to jump toward Boomer to grab his collar.
Declan beat me, his large fingers wrapping around Boomer's collar
before I could get to him, and something about that quick motion made
me snap.
"Get off him!" I shouted, and lunged forward, somehow shoving
Declan out of the way. "Get your hands off him!" My hands wrapped
around Boomer and I yanked him down, pulling him to my side.
When he was back at my feet, I heard a harsh whisper. "What in the
hell?"
"Cool it, Aidan," Declan said.
He crouched in front of Boomer, hand out, palm up, completely
nonthreatening.
"Trina." I didn't catch the concerned tone in his voice. All I heard was
my name, and I knew my dog had done something wrong. Again.
I flinched and curled myself around the animal when a shadow fell over
us. I pressed into Boomer's fur harder until Declan whispered, "It's
okay, babe."
Babe.
That one word echoed inside my head and I realized what I'd just done.
I'd just made a complete fool out of myself.
Blood rushed from my face and I stepped back, protecting Boomer at
the same time. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, my limbs beginning to
shake. "I don't know...I just saw you reach for him..."
Tears blurred my vision and before either man said anything, I gripped
Boomer's collar and turned to rush him outside.
I completely ignored Derrick, who I barreled past on our way to the
sliding door, but once the door was opened, I shoved Boomer through it
and then my back hit the cement wall. I slid down until I was sitting on
the cold cement, my feet pulled up to my backside. I dropped my
forehead to my knees while my body shook and trembled.
Would I ever stop being so afraid all the time?

A shiver rolled through me when the quiet latch of the sliding door
disengaged and opened.
I sensed Declan step outside and felt his body lower down until he was
crouched low, next to me.
When I turned my neck, resting my cheek on my knees, he was
squatting down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, looking
out at the yard where Boomer was trying to catch the bugs that flew
near the solar lights around the fire pit area.
"I made a fool of myself in there."
He said nothing, just watched my dog with a blank expression. The
only indication he

heard me was a slight tic in his jaw.
"It's just a dog, Trina. And it was just an accident. No harm done."
I thought of how I must have looked when I shoved Declan's hand off
Boomer's neck, crazed about my animal because someone touched
him. "I'll leave if you want. You were kind to give me a place to crash,
but I don't know you or your friends, and it's probably not smart
Without looking at me, Declan interrupted. "I'm going to be straight
with you."
I flinched and pushed myself to my feet. Declan mirrored my
movement, taking a step to the side and putting that distance between
us that I appreciated.
Was he aware he always seemed to give me more personal space than
should be necessary?
"I've gathered from the faint tan line on your ring finger there"—he
stopped and pointed to my left hand—"that you're either married or
very recently separated. I'm also guessing that the asshole who put that
ring on your finger is responsible for the bruise on your cheek, and I'm
willing to bet it wasn't the first time he did that. But because of that, you
need to know that I have never.would never.raise my hand to a woman
or an animal. Especially over something as pointless as a dog being a
dog, which means he might do something stupid. I wouldn't do that,
and my friends wouldn't do that.
"I also wasn't bullshitting you when I said you're safe here, so if you
want to fucking leave, I can't stop you. But don't do it because you're
afraid of being in these walls.
"Now, I'm going to go blow shit up with Derrick on the PS4. You're
welcome to join us or watch. If not, you can go take a bath or a shower
and relax, or do whatever the hell else it is you do when you want to
just chill out."
Chill out.
I couldn't remember the last time I did that. And a bath sounded
heavenly.
Still, I found myself saying none of that. Instead, my mouth moved
before my brain could catch up and I blurted, "You swear a lot."
My mouth dropped open, awareness that I'd just corrected him hitting
me. Kevin wouldn't stand for that, and I stepped back, bracing myself,
when Declan smiled. If he saw me flinch, he chose to ignore it.

"Yeah, babe, I do. Probably a fuck of a lot more than I should, but I
gotta be honest. If my mom hasn't broken me, my brother, or my dad of
that habit since the day I was born, the chances of it stopping now are
about zero."
He winked, and something warm blanketed my skin.
He was teasing me, or taking the time to explain something, and he had
a point. I learned the hard way men didn't change no matter how badly
you wanted them to.
Still, I had another brain-to-mouth malfunction when I suggested, "You
could start a swear jar. Especially when Derrick is here, since even
Aidan says he doesn't want you cursing around him."
He threw his head back and laughed.
The sound was rich and deep, and that warm blanket wrapped around
my skin, heating me further, in a way I hadn't experienced in possibly
ever. I looked away, afraid he'd see me

blushing. He just shook his head and walked away.
"You want to start me a swear jar while you're here, go for it. I'll do one
better," he said and looked at me over his shoulder in the doorway. The
light from inside the house hit his face, making him seem bright. "All
the money you collect, you can take with you when you fucking leave."
My lips twitched when I realized what he'd done. "That will cost you a
dollar."
"No shit?"
"That's two," I whispered, feeling my lips stretch in a smile. It was
genuine and real and felt foreign on my own skin.
"Well, hell," he said and turned to walk away. "I'll need to hit the damn
ATM tomorrow."
He gave me one last look as my smile grew.
"Those aren't really so bad," I told him, knowing exactly what he was
doing. He was finding a way to give me money without me having to
ask...which I wouldn't, anyway. "Is Aidan gone?"
"Yeah. Derrick will take the couch tonight, which works because we'll
be up late playing games. Like I said, you can join us or not, whatever
you're comfortable with. Aidan will be here tomorrow around nine to
pick him up."
He stepped inside, closing the sliding door behind him, once again
giving me space.
I turned back to Boomer and looked up at the dark sky that held the
slightest haze of clouds. I wondered what my life would have been like
if I had seen Kevin for the kind of man he truly was before we were
married.
Would I have been able to have a man that seemed as kind as Declan,
willing to hang out with his friend's teenage son while the dad went out
on a date? Would I have had the small but warm house that felt cozy
and lived in, instead of massive and sterile like mine?
I felt like I'd lost my time. I would never know, because there was no
way I would ever truly be free of Kevin.
He would never grant me a divorce, regardless of where I ended up.
At least not without a fight, and he had the resources to make that fight
nearly impossible for me to win.
Which left only one option—I had to figure out a way to get myself
someplace safe, where he couldn't find me...

And figure out a way to live the rest of my life alone, knowing I'd lost
out on the dreams I'd had since I was a little girl.
I sat up with a start and my hand flew to my chest. My heart beat
erratically against my mostly healed ribs. There was only a slight pain
from the sudden movement as my eyes took in the strange room.
I wasn't in my bedroom. I wasn't in the hotel. I was in a bed that was at
least a thousand times more comfortable than that ratty, lumpy
mattress.
After taking several breaths, I remembered where I was.

Declan's house. He was essentially a stranger with a wicked scowl and
large muscles, but with a kind voice, which I figured could sometimes
be scary too, if he wanted it to be.
Not that I had seen or heard that.
With my heart rate slowing, I tried to remember the dream that caused
me to wake up so abruptly. As I tried to grasp it, I came up short.
I was left with the lingering sensation of fear, and an echo of a woman's
voice screaming "Never again!" but that was all I could recall.
It took me several more moments to realize Boomer was no longer in
the room with me, even though the door was still closed. I also caught a
quick whiff of bacon, and heard masculine voices downstairs.
I didn't know whether to be scared that someone had been in my room
and took Boomer out, or grateful that for the first time in a week, I
didn't wake up to my dog licking me to consciousness.
Digging through my bag, I pulled on a pair of pink-and-blue pajama
pants and threw a baggy but comfortable sweatshirt on over the pink
cami top I slept in.
After using the restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, I headed
downstairs, walking slowly and focusing on the noises coming from
the kitchen.
"She's pretty, though," I heard Derrick say. My feet paused before I
turned the corner into the kitchen.
There was a clink of silverware before Declan replied, "She's a friend
and in trouble. I'm just helping."
"Yeah, but my dad says you haven't been out since Mara left, and now
you got a hot chick in your house."
Before Declan could respond to that, I hurried into the kitchen, hoping
that my cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt. "Good morning!" I
chirped, and glanced around for the coffeemaker.
"Hey," Declan said from his chair at a small two-person table in the
tiny eating area.
He shot Derrick a quick glare, and I watched as the young teenager
shoveled his mouth full of eggs before he grunted a hello in my
direction.
I shook off the unease of the conversation they were having and asked,
"Do you have any
coffee?"

"You bet." Declan pushed back from the table and walked the short
distance to a corner I hadn't been able to see from the doorway. When
he turned around, he handed me a simple black mug and stepped back.
"There's more bacon in the pan on the counter," he said, gesturing
toward the stove. "Do you take cream or sugar?"
"Black is fine," I muttered, still not fully awake. "Where's Boomer?" I
asked when I saw two bowls on the floor by the fridge, one filled with
water.
A strange warmth fluttered in my chest as I realized Declan had fed and
taken care of Boomer, something Kevin never did, and made clear he
never would. If I wanted to bring the damn dog into the house with me
when we were married, he wasn't doing a damn thing to take care of it.
His words, not mine.
"Outside," Declan said as he sat back down at the table. "He was
whining when he heard

me up this morning, so I let him out so you could sleep. Figured you
needed it." My mouth went dry for a moment before I found my voice.
"That was nice of you. Thank
you."
He seemed to understand more about my situation than I had told him.
Perhaps he had some uncanny sixth sense. Perhaps he was a secret
superhero. Whatever it was, it started that strange, warm, fluttering
feeling all over again.
I filled my mug and stood in the corner of the kitchen chomping on a
piece of bacon. We all ate in a silence. It felt strangely comfortable.
Watching them give each other a hard time while they played
videogames last night probably helped. I had enjoyed watching Declan
playfully shove Derrick around when the kid beat him, or toss him a
high five when he did something great. Declan might be large and
muscled and intimidating on his own, but when he was sitting
cross-legged on the floor next to the young teen, he radiated excitement
and friendliness. Probably why I wasn't scared, knowing he'd been in
my room this morning.
From the short time I've known him, he seemed to be a man worthy of
trust and honor.
A knock from the front door jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked
at Declan.
"Probably my dad," Derrick said, and grabbed his plate from the table.
Just as he was sliding it into the sink, Aidan's voice bellowed from the
front of the house.
"Hello? You losers up yet?"
"In here, Dad!" Derrick tossed me a smile as he headed out of the room.
"I'm going to go grab my stuff. Thanks for the games last night, Declan.
Nice to meet you, Trina."
"You too," I mumbled, my coffee mug pressed against my lips. I
watched him go and then watched as Declan rose from his chair.
"I'll be back in a minute," he said. "You can hang back, but there's
something I'd like to talk to you about once they're gone."
Unease swirled in my gut at his tone. Not demanding, but serious.
I watched him leave the room, knowing whatever he had to say was
something I wasn't going to like.

Chapter 6 Declan
Damn, she was pretty. Even thinking it might make me an asshole, but
as she sat across from me in the living room, clearly uncomfortable
with the conversation we were about to have— one that needed to
happen—I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty she looked when
she was still half-asleep.
Freckles dotted her nose, making her seem more innocent and naive
than I knew she was. Legs that were every man's wet dream.
A chest that was just the perfect, small handful, and lips that could
make me think only one thing—how good they would feel stretched
around my dick.
I scooted forward, unable to tear my eyes away from Trina's pretty
body and her hesitant look. She wasn't beautiful in a glamorous way, it
was more in the sweet, Southern way.
Based on her accent, I assumed that's where she was from.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to forget my obvious physical
attraction.
I had told her the truth. She was safe in my house and I wouldn't touch
her. I had to stop looking at her that way.
"We need to talk," I said and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my
knees.
Her lips pressed together and she looked away.
I continued, for my safety as well as hers.
"You know I want you here and I want to help, Trina, but there's a few
things I need to know."
Her eyes fixed on mine and her arms crossed defensively over chest.
"I need to know if you're in trouble," I began. "And before you jump up
and assure me you can leave, I want you to think about one thing."
"What?"
"Where are you going to go without any cash? I mean, you can sell
your car. It'll give you a nice safety net, but I'm guessing you don't want
the paper trail that will follow, and then how are you going to get
anywhere?"
"You just have this all figured out, don't you?" She looked away and
that niggling feeling that I was being an asshole returned, but there was
too much at risk here for me to stop.

"I've asked a woman I don't know, who could be some major scam
artist or in huge trouble with the law, into my home. I'm doing this
taking the chance that you're neither of those things, but you have to
understand why I need to know, Trina. I would have asked you this last
night when we were talking, but Derrick was here and it wasn't the right
time."

I forced my voice to soften and leaned back in the couch, hoping I was
showing her that I wasn't a threat. I didn't mean to turn the tables on her,
let her think I'd brought her into my home out of the goodness of my
heart just to trap her, but I hadn't said anything that wasn't true, either.
"I'm not in trouble with the law," she whispered, and sucked her lip in
between her teeth. "Just running from the man who hurt you?"
She nodded and her chin quivered. I closed my eyes and imagined
finding the prick, throttling him with my bare hands, and then beating
the shit out of him so he felt more pain than he'd ever inflicted on this
woman.
The strength of the protective instinct I was feeling was scary. Even
around Mara I'd never felt the overwhelming urge to pummel some
asshole for looking at her the wrong way. I had a feeling that the first
leering glance some guy gave Trina, he'd have my fist in his face before
he could blink the vision of her cute, tight ass out of his thoughts.
"My husband," she admitted, eyes blinking rapidly. I had figured that
out on my own last night. "I left him a week ago."
"Is he going to come looking for you?"
Another chin quiver, another bite down on her lip as she refused to
meet my eyes.
"Not trying to hurt you, Trina. Not trying to push you, either, but I
know someone who might be able to help you."
Her head jerked and our gazes met. "Who?" she drawled, slowly and
suspiciously.
"I got a friend, Tyson Blackwell. He lives in town now, but he works
for the FBI."
"No." She jumped to her feet. "No cops. No law enforcement of any
kind." Shaking her head wildly, she paced toward me and pointed. "I'll
leave. I don't know what I'll do without the money, but you have a
point. I do need to get rid of my car. I'm not sure how yet, but I'll figure
it out. You've been kind, I swear. But this...this isn't going to work."
"Woah." I stood and held my palms out, eyes wide. "I don't know what
just brought that freak-out on, Trina, but are you forgetting some
asshole not only broke the law by almost breaking your face, but you've
also had shit stolen from your hotel? You don't think those things are
connected? I'm just suggesting having Tyson look into it."
"They're not connected."

"How can you be so sure?"
"Because." She laughed coldly and sat back down. As I watched her try
to get comfortable, I returned to sitting on the couch. "Because I left a
note for my husband telling him I went on a spa trip." Her eyes
flickered to mine, but the look I returned showed how confused I was.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer...sadder. "It's what I
usually do...well...after... when I can't be seen in public. He's not even
expecting me home until tomorrow."
She sucked her lip between her teeth and I knew we both realized she'd
said too much.
What in the hell did this guy do, where his wife had to leave town when
she was too bruised to be seen in public?
Something important, that's what.
I didn't let on that I thought there was anything strange about what she'd
said. Instead, I asked, "He hasn't tried to call?"

"Don't know." She shrugged. "I threw my phone out before I crossed
the city limits, and I bought one of those pay-as-you-go ones before I
left the state, but he hasn't done that in three years, so I'm not sure why
he'd do it this time."
"What was your plan when you hit the road?"
"Canada," she whispered after a prolonged silence. "Figured he can't do
anything to me if I leave the country."
I arched a brow. "But he can if you stay here?"
Her face paled before she sighed. "I'm guessing it's not lost on you that
I come from money," she stated, almost as if she hated it. I wondered if
it was the money she loathed, or her circumstances. Perhaps it was the
loss of money that made her lips twist with disgust. "My husband is
important and powerful, and has an incredibly wide sphere of
influence. He'll be able to find me wherever I go, which is why I was
planning on crossing the border. At least there, his influence is less."
The demand to know what her prick of a husband did for a living was
on the tip of my tongue.
"And you won't let me ask Tyson even to just check and make sure he's
not looking for you? It could buy you time to stay put and make some
money before you head to the tunnel," I said, referring to the Windsor
Tunnel, the way most people got to Toronto from Detroit.
"I think the less people who know, the better."
"For who?" I demanded, my frustration leaking through in my tone.
"For him or you?" "Both," she snapped, and stood up.
"You ever hear about the Mafia family, the Galeckis, that were arrested
in Detroit this past summer?" Confusion flared in her eyes, but I kept
speaking. It was on every news network, national and worldwide, for
weeks. There was no way she hadn't heard. "Tyson was responsible for
that. His girlfriend, Blue, is a Galecki, and they dated—have a longtime
history between them—but they dated while Tyson worked that case
and she never found out until she had to. Tyson can be circumspect,
Trina, I promise."
"You're friends with them?" she asked, recognition widening her
pretty, brown eyes. "And she goes by Blue, now?"
"Long story." A grin twitched at the edges of my lips, because, yeah, it
was a strange-as-hell nickname. But it was also because she refused to

go back to ever being called Gabriella again, and her middle name,
Bluejay, was something she'd always loved.
"I won't force you," I lied. I was calling Tyson the minute I could. She
might hate me for it one day, but I wanted to protect her and Tyson
could help.
Her eyes flicked to Boomer, passed out on the floor. Apparently, the
big brute of a dog could only hack chasing squirrels in my backyard for
so long before he was drained of all
energy.
"I'll think about it," she conceded.
"Good. It's all I ask." I slid my hands into my pockets and let her think I
was giving up. "Now, I have to get to Fireside this morning and start
getting ready to open up. You want to come hang out there today or
stay here?"
Or take off?

We were both thinking about her doing that.
My breath caught in my throat while I waited for her to decide. Why
did I want this woman close to me?
It made no sense, I just knew that's what I wanted.
"Can I come with you? Maybe help out or something? I think I'll drive
myself crazy if I'm here all day with nothing to do."
A thought came to mind and I grinned. "How good are you with
computers?"
"You're a fucking genius," I told Trina. Her eyes sparkled in a way I
hadn't seen before.
As if she had to summon the strength to sass me, she bit her lip before
saying, "I think you're up to ten dollars now."
I grinned. Last night, when she'd looked terrified at the realization she'd
talked back to me, I couldn't help but make a joke to ease her fear. The
thought that she hadn't been able to speak her mind unnerved me,
further increasing my rage toward whatever asshole had been married
to a sweet piece like her and abused it.
My old man always said you could take the measure of a man by who
he chose to stand by his side.
I'd never doubted that saying until now. Trina seemed like a hell of a
woman, and proved it all day as I showed her my accounting software
and the piles of shit on my desk. Within hours, she'd whipped my office
into shape. I planned on paying her for her time, even if I couldn't
afford it.
"Saturday nights are busy nights," I said as a knock came on the office
door. Moving to open it, I looked back at her. "You'll hear a lot fucking
worse before the night is over." Her lips twitched, like she wanted to
add up my tally, but stayed silent.
Emily stood on the other side of the door, cheeks flushed and eyes
wide. She was early for her shift, which wasn't a surprise, but her pale
skin concerned me.
"What is it?" I asked, opening the door further and letting her in. When
she caught sight of Trina sitting at the desk, her eyes widened further.
"Trina, Emily. You two saw each other yesterday," I said by way of
introduction. As soon as both women said hello, Emily turned to me.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you," she said, her hands twisting together.
"But I just found out my older sister is in labor. Her baby's coming

three weeks early and her husband is still deployed. My mom is stuck at
work, so my sister is headed to the hospital on her own."
"Go," I told her, not needing hear any more. "We'll figure it out."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded and waved her toward the door. "Do what you have to do.
Don't worry about it." She nodded quickly and exhaled."Okay. Thank
you, Declan. You're the best." "Just go help your sister."
She turned around and hurried out of the kitchen, hitching her purse
over her shoulder as

she walked away.
"Shit." It was thirty minutes before her shift started and it was going to
be hell finding a server to replace her on such short notice. Our
afternoon server, Maggie, had to head home soon to be with her kids
before her husband left for his night shift at one of the auto plants, so
she couldn't stay.
A snicker behind me caught my attention.
"So, now that we know you're good on computers," I asked, grinning,
"any chance in hell you know how to take orders or seat people?"
Trina rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from the desk. "When I
suggested hanging out here today, I didn't realize I'd be put to work."
It was the first time she'd outright teased me.
"I'll pay you. Plus you'll get to keep whatever tips you make."
"It's not a hardship, Declan. I did do some waitressing in high school,
so I'm sure I can figure it out."
Pressure eased from my chest at her words. I turned to call out to
Maggie.
"Mags!"
She slid an order of food onto her large tray and smiled at me. "What's
up, Dec?"
Trina followed me to the counter. "Trina's going to help on the floor
tonight. Any chance you can show her the computer system and a menu
before you go, to give her some time to get comfortable?"
She smiled easily. "Of course. That's not a problem at all."
While Fireside Grill hadn't been turning a profit over the summer, I was
fucking lucky as hell that I had great employees. All of my people were
hard workers and genuinely friendly.
"Sound okay to you?" I asked, turning to Trina.
"Yeah." Her eyes drifted down the length of Maggie's petite but curvy
frame before she looked at me. "I'm not sure I'm dressed right, though."
She had a point. Her green tank top and black yoga pants weren't
exactly Fireside Grill material.
"I've got more shirts in the break room. I'm sure one them will look fine
with your black pants."
"Okay, then." She turned to Maggie and smiled. "Show me what to do."
"Is working in a restaurant always this exhausting and painful?" Trina
asked as she stretched her back, hands low on her hips.

She let out a groan that made me think of a handful of things I could do
to get her to make that sound somewhere else. Some of them involved
the use of my hands.
I hadn't been able to stop myself from thinking those thoughts all night
long.
Watching her working, smiling at customers, and eventually, giving
my head cook, Javier, a bunch of crap for teasing her about one of her
messed-up orders, made me admire the hell out of Trina.

She had worked her butt off. Now, at just after two in the morning,
except for Javier going through his closing duties in the kitchen, we
were the last people here.
"You get used to it," I muttered, before moving to the next table as we
got ready to close.
She helped place another chair on the tabletop so when Maggie opened
in the morning, it would be easier for her to vacuum and get the floors
cleaned.
"I haven't worked this hard for years." She grunted as she lifted a chair.
I ditched my own table to help her when I saw the exhaustion in her
limbs.
"What'd you do before?"
I let the question casually slip out and continued to flip chairs onto
tables, waiting for her to answer. I acted like it didn't matter if she
answered me, although for some reason it did—I actually wanted to get
to know her.
"Public relations and marketing," she finally said.
I froze, chair halfway to the table, and looked at her.
She did that bottom-lip-chewing thing and turned away.
"Did you like it?"
"I guess. I mean, yeah, I enjoyed my job, I just never really wanted to
work for a living."
The thought made me scowl, which I tried to hide. Mara had always
said the same thing. She wanted to be a stay-at-home wife. The hard
labor of the restaurant was too much for her.
The life we'd talked about starting was too much for her.
I closed those thoughts down. There was no point in comparing the two
women. Already Trina had shown herself to be a harder worker than
Mara ever was.
"Why did you quit?"
"My husband thought my time was better spent at home," she finally
mumbled after another strained silence.
This time when I looked at her, she didn't seem worried or fearful, just
sad.
An ache pinched my chest and I forgot about the next chair I was
reaching for.

I walked toward her slowly, giving her time to know I was coming
closer. When I reached her, I placed my hand on her shoulder.
Warmth spread from my palm on her skin all the way up my arm to my
chest, forcing me to take a breath.
She tightened her shoulders, but didn't pull away.
"I might not know specifics, Trina, but I think you walking away, you
making this choice for yourself to be safe, is quite possibly one of the
strongest fucking things I've ever seen a woman do. You should be
proud of yourself."
She chuckled softly and shook her head. "Thanks, Declan."
I squeezed her shoulder once and dropped my hand before I did
something stupid. Like run my fingertips down the inside of her arm,
touching her soft skin until I could feel her pulse racing at her wrist.
Or leaning in and brushing my lips against her cheek, where the bruise
was just barely visible through her makeup.
"We should head home," I said, hearing the gruffness in my voice.

It couldn't be hidden. I had just gotten turned on by touching her
through the fabric of her shirt. My body reacted like I was a teenager
who couldn't keep his pants zipped.
Whatever was happening with me needed to be shut down.
Immediately.
"Yeah," she said, shaking her head as if she were clearing a haze.
"Boomer probably needs
to eat."
"I bought him food this morning," I told her as we headed out of the
dining area and back to the kitchen. The lights were off over the grill,
which told me Javier was long gone now.
"You did?"
The surprise in her voice made me turn to look at her. "Dog needed to
eat, Trina. What'd you think I fed him?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Eggs?"
My lip curled as I bit back a laugh. "Not sure I want to be cleaning up
egg vomit."
"You're probably right." She walked up to me, and this time she
reached for my hand. Her petite fingers curled around mine and she
squeezed once before letting go. "Thank you. You've been really kind
and I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you."
I licked my lips, dropping my gaze to her plump and perfect ones. I
could definitely think of a way she could make it up to me.
Asshole.
"Don't mention it." I turned around and walked to my office, where I
made quick work of shutting down the computer, grabbing her purse,
and turning out the lights. When I met her at the back door, uncertainty
flickered in her eyes as she glanced away from me. Her cheeks were
pinker than they should have been and I had to bite back a groan.
And I knew in that moment that the trouble of having Trina around just
got a hell of a lot worse.
Because I wasn't only attracted to this woman, physically... I actually
liked her. Wanted her.
She was quite possibly the worst thing I could want right now.
But I also recognized, as the corners of her lips turned into a soft smile
and she looked at me as if I were the only one who could keep her safe,
that while she might be wrong.

She was also right.
I didn't want to just keep her safe from her asshole husband.
I wanted to make sure no one hurt this beautiful and kind woman ever
again.

Chapter 7 Trina
I should have returned home from the Arizona Spa three days ago. If
Kevin didn't know I was gone before, he certainly knew now.
My stress levels were through the roof, and as each day went by, I
found myself looking over my shoulder more often, becoming jumpier
at every small sound.
I searched the Internet repeatedly to see if there was any mention of my
name or his. I knew that if he suspected I'd left him, he would have kept
it from the media, but the fact that he wasn't in the media at all made me
more nervous than not. It was only a year before the presidential
election. Presidential hopefuls were campaigning, traveling the country
and attending state fairs all over the Midwest. While candidates didn't
generally come to Kentucky's state fair, we got a fair share of
conservatives trying to push their agendas and slogans and basic
political fodder down our throats at this time of year.
Kevin was usually swamped, attending press conferences and
meetings, as well as rallies and dinners.
That I hadn't seen him in photos from any of them concerned me.
It had also been three days since I started working and helping Declan
at Fireside Grill. The work was often mind-numbing, but I found my
body sore in that good, hardworking kind of way when we left the
restaurant after closing up.
Sometimes I helped him with his computer system, and not only did I
figure out his payroll system, I simplified the process and made it more
user-friendly. I also spent time getting Declan caught up on all of his
filing and accounting for the quarter.
I planned on tackling his filing system, because trying to slide receipts
and invoices into his current system—which lacked any true
organization—almost caused more than one migraine.
Sometimes he called me out of his office and had me work a few tables.
Sometimes I helped the bartender on busier nights, even though I could
only help with bottles and drawing drafts. Other times, I worked at the
hostess station. Emily was still out, spending time with her sister, who
had not only delivered three weeks early, but had had a complicated
delivery. Emily wanted to spend as much time with her sister and new
niece as possible. Declan told her to take her time and be with her
family, and that I would help him out in the meantime.

I didn't truly believe he needed me at all, but the fact that he was giving
me jobs where I could pocket cash was wonderful.
Surrounded by people who had no idea who I was, what my past was
like, or what I was running from, I was beginning to relish living
without constantly wondering if every move I

made was being judged or criticized.
But at all times, in the back of my mind, was the niggling whisper
warning me that I needed to leave soon. Unfortunately, every day I
spent at Fireside, around Declan, not to mention his friendly staff and
even friendlier—and generous—customers, I listened to that voice less
and less.
It wasn't possible for me to stay in Latham Hills forever. It was
probably the worst idea ever. Yet I hadn't been able to bring myself to
leave, either. "You going to be okay here, on your own?"
I was sitting on the couch and the question startled me. I jumped.
I twisted around to face the stairway Declan had just descended, and I
watched as he twirled his key ring around his thumb. Next to me,
Boomer's head jolted up. He sniffed and then began panting before he
leapt to his feet and trudged over to Declan.
Not only was I not excited about leaving anytime soon, I suspected
Declan had been providing Boomer with a plethora of treats over the
last few days. Every time he entered the room, Boomer was right there
at his feet, sitting patiently in a way that was rare for him.
Perhaps leaving the stress of our home had been good for him, too.
I ignored the way this made my chest feel warm and tingly and nodded.
"I'm just going to take Boomer for a walk and then chill out here. Get
caught up on my television."
At Declan's insistence, I wasn't going in to Fireside today. He
demanded I put my feet up and rest. After years of having no one care
about me or my needs, I decided to ignore the warm tingle that sent to
my chest, too. Declan was becoming dangerous for me, for reasons
antithetical to the reasons Kevin was.
My lips twitched as I watched Declan scowl. "I don't like the idea of
you out walking by yourself."
"It's not even dark out." It was only three in the afternoon and night
wouldn't fall for hours. I would have thought that after being controlled
for so long by Kevin, this over-protectiveness would bother me.
Yet, with his concern, that silly warmth suffused my blood and made it
pump a little faster.
"You've got the phone numbers for Fireside, right? And my cell?"
"Yes." I waved him away with a quiet laugh. "Go to work, Declan.
We'll be fine."

His lips pressed together as we stared at each other, neither one willing
to back down, before I finally saw the fight leave him.
"Fine." His shoulders dropped and he reached for a North Face jacket.
"But call me if you need anything. Or if something happens."
"I will. Promise."
I wouldn't, but the small lie seemed to make him feel better. With a
quick brush against the top of Boomer's head and a command for him
to take care of his mama, Declan gave me a quick wave goodbye and
headed out the door.
Once he was gone, Boomer let out a sad, high-pitched whine.
"Come here, boy," I said and slowly got to my feet. I'd been sitting on
the couch reading a

book for the last few hours and my legs were cramped from the
position. "Let's go for that
walk."
"Woof!" His tail thumped against the floor and he began jumping
against the front door.
With another quiet laugh, I grabbed Boomer's leash, slipped on my
shoes, and headed out for a quiet walk in the brisk afternoon air.
It surprised me how fast fall hit in Michigan. In Kentucky, the weather
stayed in the eighties through most of September, sometimes into
October. But the temperatures had been in the low seventies, and last
night I heard on the news that the leaves of the trees would be changing
their colors soon. It seemed as if everything weather-related here
happened a few weeks earlier than I was used to.
"C'mon, Boomer." I tugged on his leash, getting him next to my right
hip where he generally walked with ease, and we headed out. We
walked for almost an hour, while I kept track of streets and turns so I
could find my way back to Declan's without any problems. The last
thing I wanted to do was get lost. When we returned to Declan's house,
my limbs ached with the immediate aftereffects of a decent workout.
My shirt stuck to my back, slightly damp from sweat, and while I
chugged a bottle of water, I watched Boomer lick his water up from his
bowl as if his very life depended on it.
"Woof!"
I laughed softly. Drool dripped from his jowls, making me crinkle my
nose. "Gross," I muttered and patted him on the head. "I'm going to
head up and take a bath. You take care of the house while I'm gone.
Deal?"
"Woof!"
I was curled on the couch, in what had become my standard position,
resting against the right armrest. Next to me was a plate of nachos I'd
nuked in the microwave and a glass of red wine.
My body was slightly tender from the workout, yet relaxed from the
combination of the long bubble bath and the wine I'd been sipping
while I flipped through channels.
As I was flicking through the numerous sports stations, my finger
paused on the channel button when I saw a familiar football stadium.

The University of Kentucky's Commonwealth Stadium was on the
screen, shown in all its beautiful glory.
I wasn't raised to be a football fan, but somewhere along the way, as
happens to most people born and bred in Kentucky, a love for the
Wildcats got into my blood. It was in part because that's where I went
to college—to my mother's chagrin, because she attended the
University of Louisville, Kentucky's greatest rival. That was how my
family started our playful football rivalry.
It might also have been because those were the last pure, good, happy
memories I had of my mother and father, before he passed and my heart
began to ache.
My college years were the last years of my life when I felt free, and as I
stared at the television screen, watching the game between the Wildcats
and the South Carolina Gamecocks begin, I let the roar of the crowd in
a stadium that seated almost seventy

thousand crazed fans seep into my soul. Memories of a life when I was
carefree and full of joy came rushing back.
Like sorority rush week.
That first week of classes as a freshman, when the campus felt too
large, and I walked around feeling more lost than ever. Yet it hadn't
taken long for that campus, and the dorm room that I shared with a girl
named Rachel Evans—a girl who chose a competing sorority house,
which pitted us against each other from the very beginning—to become
my home.
I cried at the end of my freshman year when I had to go home for the
summer. I had wanted to stay on campus instead of going back to my
hometown, a hometown that had always been good to me. I hadn't
wanted to leave the security and connections I'd found on campus.
And when I returned for my sophomore year and moved into my Alpha
Chi sorority house, it was with a larger smile and a confidence I'd never
had before.
I grew in college. I became stronger, more assured of myself. I learned
how to handle drunken assholes and escape parties without being taken
advantage of. I learned the meaning of overnight cram sessions and
showing up for finals with eyes feeling like they'd been scoured with
sandpaper.
I learned who I was.
And somehow, just a year after graduation, I threw that girl away and
became someone I never wanted to see again.
A forceful puff of breath left my lips as I shook off memories that came
after all the good times.
I didn't want to think about Kevin.
Not in Declan's home, where for the first time in my life since those
college days, I finally felt safe again.
With a quick shake of my head, I clicked the button on the remote,
changed the channel to the movie station, and settled in to watch Sweet
Home Alabama for the umpteenth time.
I was just getting to my favorite part, where Reese Witherspoon walks
into the small-town bar for the first time in her quest to get a divorce
from her husband, when my phone began to ring with a shrill tone.
Everything in me chilled as I pulled my eyes from the television screen
and stared at the light flashing on my cellphone.

Declan was the only one who had the number. His cell and the number
for Fireside were the only numbers programmed into it.
I didn't even know why I had it sitting next to me instead of tucked
away in my purse where I usually kept it.
I must have tossed it there after my walk.
It vibrated and rang again, and I reached out to grab it.
It was just a wrong number.
The thought didn't bring me comfort as I pressed the Connect button
and lifted the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

A deep, familiar chuckle echoed through the line and my blood turned
frigid. "Hello, Katrina. Surely you didn't think I wouldn't be able to find
you."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. I knew this whole time that I was fooling
myself.
I jerked the phone away from my ear, hit the End button, and threw it at
the wall. It bounced off, undamaged, luckily, but I started shaking,
terrified.
I stared at the phone as if Kevin himself was going to materialize
through the plastic contraption, and another tremor vibrated through
my body.
"Holy shit," I gasped.
He had done it.
How did you even get the number for a phone bought at a random
RadioShack? Security cameras? It didn't matter now.
I pushed myself to my feet and rushed upstairs, running like the flames
of a fire were nipping at my heels. I vaguely heard Boomer thumping
up the stairs behind me, but I paid him no attention as I reached for the
bag I'd stashed at the bottom of the closet. I began tossing all my
clothes inside, ripping them off hangers and letting the hangers fall on
the floor in a pile. Then I hurried to the bathroom where I scooped all of
my bathroom supplies into my arms and rushed back to the bedroom.
I had to get out of there.
Canada.
I'd continue with my original plan. With the couple of hundred dollars
I'd made in tips, plus the car I could eventually sell, I had enough to get
another trashy hotel room.
I just had to say goodbye to Declan.
The thought made me pause as I dumped my bathroom things on top of
the clothes in my
bag.
I didn't have to say goodbye to him. I could just leave.
I had known him a week and didn't owe him anything.
But he was so damn nice to you and the least you could do was call him
so he didn't worry.
And he would worry.
I knew it.

It was that whisper of conscience inside my head that made me head
toward the phone in his bedroom.
I'd ignored this room since I'd been here, and yet now, knowing it was
the only time I'd be inside his room, I couldn't stop my gaze from taking
in everything.
A rich-gray comforter flung haphazardly over the pillows, blue walls
that almost looked gray. They weren't too dark or too girly, but the
perfect masculine blend. It matched the rich, dark wood of his
headboard, nightstands, and dresser.
Clothes weren't strewn all over the floor, but they spilled over a hamper
in the corner of his room just outside a door, which I assumed was his
closet.

He was clean. Not stuffy and precise, but clean and picked up.
A lump lodged in my throat as I moved on what felt like wooden feet to
the far side of his bed, where a landline phone rested on the nightstand.
I'd heard it ring in there before, the only way I knew there was a phone
in his room.
My fingers shook as I reached for it and dialed the number to Fireside
before I could second-guess myself.
It was after seven and the dinner rush wouldn't really have started yet,
but I still didn't expect him to answer.
He had to be busy.
I only needed to push the Call button on the phone to speak to him. Or I
could leave.
I glanced out his window, saw his fenced-in backyard, and tears
pricked the corners of my eyes.
I'd enjoyed being here. This small house felt like more of a home than
the mansion I'd lived in for years with Kevin.
Thinking his name sparked me to action.
I pressed the Call button and my stomach rolled with nausea while I
waited for someone to answer.
"Thank you for calling the Fireside Grill, how may I help you?" a perky
voice answered, and I instantly recognized Maggie. She always
answered the phone the same way.
"Hey..." I paused and cleared my throat, willing myself to speak
without emotion. "Hi, may I please speak with Declan?"
"Certainly," she chirped. "May I tell him who's calling?"
"Trina," I whispered. "It's Trina, Maggie."
Her voice softened. "Oh. Are you okay? He said you were staying
home tonight."
"I'm fine, please. I just...I need him." I blinked rapidly and cleared my
head. "I mean, I need to speak with him."
But I did need him.
The reality slid inside me and around me, making me shivery with fear
and warmth at the same time.
In less than a week, I'd become dependent on another man. Only more
reason to leave. "Trina? What's wrong?"

Declan's deep and demanding tone snapped me back to the present. I
was still reeling from the realization that I might need Declan too
much, that the only words I could think of to say were.
"He's found me."
"We'll be there in five minutes."
I shook my head, barely registering his words. "I'm leaving, Declan. I
just...I wanted to say thank you."
"Don't go," he snapped, and I heard him bark at someone in the
background, the command

muffled by the receiver. "We're coming. Don't you dare leave before
we get there."
He hung up before I could answer, and I was left staring out the
window, somehow unable to move.
We?
Who in the heck could he possibly mean?

Chapter 8 Trina
I should have been gone before he returned home. I didn't know if it
took me longer than five minutes to gather the rest of my things and
carry my bag downstairs, as well as collect all of Boomer's things, or if
Declan moved with supersonic speed when a woman was in trouble.
Regardless, as I zipped my bag, Boomer next to me, his tail thumping
maniacally on the carpet at my heels, I heard the front door burst open.
"Trina!" Declan yelled my name at the same time he appeared in the
living room.
He stopped suddenly and my fingers froze on the zipper.
My jaw dropped open and I stood up. "You didn't have to come home."
Home. It wasn't even my place.
I'd become too attached, too secure.
I leaned down and finished zipping the bag, stopping only when his
hand covered mine.
"Don't go," he said quietly, almost a whisper, but not quite. "Tell me
what he said."
I shook my head and then jerked my chin up when movement behind
Declan caught my attention.
"Who are they?" I asked, pulling my hand from Declan's grasp.
He looked behind him, and my eyes followed his until I was looking at
a man in dark-blue jeans and a black T-shirt that almost matched his
dark hair. His blue eyes were fixed on me with unspoken and unknown
intent, and as I took in the handsome, incredibly muscled man, my gaze
went to the woman next to him.
He had one hand in a front pocket, and she slid her hand through the
crook of his arm and pressed closer to him.
She was beautiful, with inky-black hair that fell down past her breasts,
and wore a simple, light-blue dress that hit her just below the knees,
with sleeves that came down just past her elbows. She was elegant and
casual, and as I lifted my eyes to hers, she seemed friendly.
Her blue eyes narrowed as her lips spread into a cautious smile.
"Hello. I'm Blue."
It took only a moment for me to recognize the name, and my gaze
snapped to Declan, turning into a scowl before I turned back to the
other man.
Tyson Blackwell and Gabriella Galecki.

FBI agent and ex-Mafia princess.
I hadn't forgotten what Declan said about them. I also remembered the
news story being

on television for weeks. "You're law enforcement," I said to Tyson.
"Tyson Blackwell," he said, "I'm with the FBI. And you're running
from an abusive husband."
He stated it so simply. He knew.
My eyes flicked to Declan's. "You said you wouldn't tell him."
Blood boiled in my veins. As if Boomer could sense my anger, or my
fear, he got to his feet and for the first time in my life, backed up against
my hips. He let loose a low growl, his eyes directly on Tyson.
I reached out and rested my hand on Boomer's head, letting him know it
was okay.
Of all the times for him to turn into a guard dog.
I almost laughed, but the room was too tense, the air too thick.
"I need to go." I looked Declan in the eye, letting my feeling of betrayal
show in my gaze. I let him see the pain I felt that he'd done this. I felt no
victory when he flinched.
"I think he can help you," he said, making no apologies. "I wouldn't
have told him if I couldn't trust him implicitly. And Tyson and Blue
were at Fireside tonight when you called."
"How convenient."
Declan shook his head and took a small step toward me, but stopped
when Boomer let loose another warning growl.
"Don't do this, Trina. You don't have to run, not tonight. Let us help
you."
"Why would you do that?"
He shrugged, as if he were uncertain, but when he spoke again, his
voice sounded almost sad. Resigned. "I just have to."
I saw the honesty in his expression, mixed with his own confusion. My
heart rate began to slow.
As much as it'd be the best decision to grab my bag and walk out that
front door, I hesitated.
This man made me feel safe.
"We're on your side," Blue said, stepping in front of Tyson. "Please. I
don't know what you've been through, but no woman should be afraid
of her husband." She shook her head and pressed her lips into a frown.
"I'm sorry you're scared, I really am, but we're only here to listen.
Tyson has said he'll do everything he can to keep you safe."
Reality pressed down on me, forcing me to face the facts.

If Kevin knew where I was, I only had a small amount of time to find
somewhere else to stay. I needed to ditch my car first, and it was too
late now on a Saturday to do anything about
that.
I also had to get a new phone number.
It'd take me until Monday to get a different car.
I felt my window of opportunity closing with every passing breath,
leaving me with no other choice.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
My gaze went to Declan's and his shoulders sagged with relief.
Pulling in a fortifying breath, I took my hand from Boomer's head and
gave him a soft pat. Then I looked at Tyson. "What do you need to
know?"
I held the stem of a wineglass gingerly between my fingertips and
stared at the crisp red wine, trying to figure out how to piece together
my story. I went from being no one to someone, and hated every second
once I got there.
Some people would look at me and think, Poor little rich white girl.
On paper, I had it all.
In my heart, I'd been waiting for the moment when my mom was
healthy enough to return to work, so she could take care of herself. Not
that we had contact anymore. She was the one who encouraged me to
stay with Kevin and for that—for not being the mother I needed when I
needed her—I doubted I would ever forgive her.
Memories of my earlier days with Kevin flashed through my mind as I
took a small sip of my wine before dragging my tired eyes to Blue.
For some reason, it felt easier to tell my story to her.
Declan was sitting next to me, one arm thrown over the back of the
couch, his hips turned toward me. His arm behind me made me feel
protected. Safe.
Across from us, Tyson was sitting next to Blue. They leaned forward
with anticipation, Tyson's brow furrowed in concentration, as if he'd
remember every word I spoke without needing to write a single one
down.
"I was born into a family with a father who became a self-made success
in Kentucky," I began. "His business became so popular that he also
became a huge donor to political campaigns. It was at one of these
campaign fundraisers that I was introduced to Kevin."
I paused and pulled in a shaky breath. Behind me, Declan's hand fell to
the back of my neck, and through my hair, draped over my shoulders,
his hand squeezed me, encouraging me.
Warming me in ways it shouldn't. Not then.
I blinked several times and focused on Blue. With a small smile, she
nodded, giving me the courage to continue.

"My husband is Kevin Morgenson. He's the son of Senator
Morgenson."
At their blank expressions, I almost laughed. Liberal Yankees.
We were only ten hours away, but a far cry from the conservative and
Republican South, where the Morgenson name was revered, whispered
in awe when any of them, myself included, walked into a business or
home.
I hated the name.
"Kevin's father, Kevin Morgenson Jr., has been a state senator for thirty
years. He has held his position longer than any other senator south of
the Mason-Dixon line."

"Shit," Tyson muttered and his lips twisted to one side. "Which
explains why you want to head to Canada."
I raised a shoulder and dropped it. "Kevin, both of them, but my
husband in particular, have a strong influence all over the country. I
figured if I could leave the country, then I'd be safer."
"From what?" Tyson asked and lifted a hand, when a low growling
sound emerged from Declan. "I need to ask, man. I know what you've
told me, but I gotta know the story, too."
A sudden desire to soothe Declan's bubbling anger suffused me. I
placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed.
It was the first time I'd touched him.
Heat from his strong, firm, and muscled leg seeped into the skin of my
fingertips, singeing them. Before I could move my hand away, Declan's
other hand covered mine. He didn't squeeze it. He pressed his hand into
the back of mine as if he wanted to mold my skin to his.
I tried to push down the emotions it brought forth in me, the comfort it
caused to boil in my own veins. I dragged my eyes off of our hands and
back to the couple across the room.
When I did, another soft smile tugged on Blue's lips. That time, though,
it was because she was staring at our connected hands.
I tensed under Declan's touch and cleared my throat.
"The first time he hit me it was because I'd gone out for drinks, lost
track of time, and hadn't prepared his dinner on time."
"Asshole," Declan muttered, his muscles tensing beneath my hand.
"There were too many to count after that," I admitted, feeling the
familiar shame weighing down my shoulders. I pulled my gaze off of
Blue's sympathetic expression and focused on the glass of wine in my
hand. I twirled the delicate stem with my fingers and tried to find the
desire to continue.
To them, I was a beaten wife. A woman who knew better, who knew it
would continue and stayed anyway. I didn't even want to know what
they thought of me.
I hadn't had time to consider it further when Declan squeezed the back
of my neck again and leaned forward, his lips almost at my ear.
Then he whispered, in the softest, deepest, and most rumbly voice I'd
ever heard. "There's no judgment here, Trina. And you can stop at
anytime."

Trina.
He didn't even know my name.
"Katrina," I whispered, forcing myself to turn toward him. Our lips
almost brushed and I pulled back, but his hand on my neck stopped me.
A slight hint of a grin twitched at one corner of his lips.
"I hate the name," I told him.
He leaned forward, pulling me to the side and closer. I fought a shiver
when I felt his breath along my jaw before it moved back to my ear.
"It's beautiful."
Then he let me go, and I was left wondering how I could bottle that
ragged, deep, sexy voice so I could pop it open and have him speak to
me like that every night before I went to sleep,

and remember how he was looking at me right now. As if he meant
every word.
I lost my fight with the shiver and let it flow down my spine, feeling
heat hit my cheeks.
A throat clearing caught my attention and both of us snapped our heads
in the direction of the noise.
Blue was no longer looking sympathetic, but amused, and Tyson no
longer looked concerned, but angry.
It was that expression that spurred me on. In part because I didn't want
Declan's friend mad at me, if that was the cause of his sudden shift in
demeanor.
Also because I was angry. And I had every right to be.
The people closest to me, who loved me, let me down.
It'd been the kindness of strangers in the last week that showed me what
a life without the Morgenson name attached to it could be like.
And it was so much better.
It was a life I realized I wanted to keep.
"My name is Katrina Morgenson," I told Tyson. "I'm sure if you pull up
my medical records you'll find various hospital stays all over
Kentucky, and when I say all over, I mean everywhere. I wasn't
allowed to go to hospitals often. I was usually treated at home with a
paid-off doctor, but when I did go, Kevin always made sure to give
some excuse, some reason we were in town, and I never argued."
"Why?" Tyson asked, although the question was a surprise.
I rolled my slumped shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "After
my first beating, I went home to my family. My father had recently
passed away and while I was crying on my mother's shoulder, she
declared that I should return home and find a way to not upset
Kevin."
"Jesus Christ," Declan muttered.
I ignored him and continued. "I didn't know it at the time, but learned
later that while my father was wealthy, we weren't millionaires, or
anywhere close to the same league as the Morgensons. And on top of
finding out my father's business was actually going under, and his heart
attack might have been 'self-induced' "—I paused and used air quotes,
because while it was never determined, given our personal financials

and those of the company, it was highly likely that my father had taken
his own life—"my mom had just been diagnosed with leukemia."
"And she had no money," Blue filled in, figuring it out quicker than I
would have anticipated.
"And Kevin did," I replied, nodding confirmation of her assessment.
"You stayed to take care of your mom even though she sent you back to
be with that monster."
"And when she received her six-month clearance, just less than two
weeks ago, I declared myself done. Figure I've done my daughterly
duty." I let the silence, the weight of that statement, settle around
everyone.

Blue grinned at me. "You might be the strongest person I've ever
freaking met."
Despite the heaviness in the room, despite the fact that Kevin could be
outside the house that very minute, and despite the fact that I'd shared
more in the last hour than I ever had with anyone in my entire life—and
I was still not certain it was a good decision—I threw my head back and
laughed, while Blue joined in. Next to me, Declan chuckled and pulled
me closer to him.
And it felt really, really freaking good.
I wrapped my hand around the warm wrist as my back was lowered to
the warm, plush bed I'd been sleeping on for the last several days.
With my eyes still closed, I knew Declan was pulling away from me.
He'd just carried me up the stairs after I fell asleep on the couch. After I
told the rest of my story to Tyson, including specifics I'd never wanted
to mention to anyone, I had leaned my head on Declan's shoulder and
closed my eyes while I listened to Tyson, Blue, and Declan murmur
quietly.
He felt warm and safe. The gentle brushes of his thumb on my shoulder
sent tiny tremors through my body.
I tightened my grip on his wrist.
"Please," I muttered with a garbled voice. "I don't want to be alone. Not
tonight."
"Trina." His voice sounded strained as he pulled his wrist out of my
grasp. He brushed hair off my forehead in a way that made me lean into
his touch. So soft. So gentle.
So much the opposite of how I'd been touched for the last several years
that I felt my body craving that tenderness even though I knew I
shouldn't desire it.
"Not sure that's a good idea," Declan said, his thick voice a bit raspy.
"Please," I whispered again, opening my eyes to see him. The outline of
his body was barely visible in the darkened room, and slightly blurred
because of my sleepiness.
After what seemed like several minutes passing, Declan finally
nodded. I shifted on the bed and then watched as he fumbled with the
button and zipper of his jeans. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to
me, and removed them.

The bed dipped as he lay down next to me, his T-shirt still on, and
rolled toward my side. One of his arms slid under me and he pulled me
to him until my head rested on his shoulder. His hand settled on my
lower back, and I felt the warmth of his light but still possessive touch
soak into my skin through my shirt.
His other hand rested on his stomach.
Closing my eyes, I shifted my body against him, trying to get as close
as possible. His whole body was tense, rigid.
My body felt like it was waking up for possibly the first time.
We lay there silently while tension rippled in the air around us, both of
us feeling it, neither of us acknowledging it.
I had almost been lulled back to sleep by the slow movement of his
chest as he breathed, when he turned his head toward me and brushed
his lips across my forehead.

"Go to sleep, Trina. We won't let him hurt you."
I pulled in my last deep breath before sleep claimed me, and fell asleep
knowing that Declan believed his own words 110 percent.
I fell asleep cradled in Declan's embrace, feeling safer with this
almost-stranger than I had since the day I said "I do."
I fell asleep with my life a mess, my future unclear, but I knew one
thing for certain. I never wanted this feeling to fade.
Ever.
But when I woke up? I was all alone. Just like always.

Chapter 9 Declan
I hadn't slept since Trina curled herself into me and fell asleep quickly
after. I hadn't been able to close my eyes without feeling pure rage.
I could only take so much time being next to her, breathing in her soft,
clean scent, and touching the delicate curves of her body.
I had to fight the urge to run my hand down her side, feeling her curves.
My fingers itched to explore her body, to travel beneath the layers of
clothing separating my skin from hers. Between the warmth of her
body, the slow rise and dip of her chest, and the way she had practically
pleaded with me to stay with her, I couldn't stop having inappropriate
thoughts of inappropriate things I wanted to do to her.
Hours after she fell asleep, her quiet, little puffs of breath hitting my
chest and driving me to the brink of doing something insane—like
waking her up and covering her skin with kisses —I finally pulled
myself away from her, careful not to wake her, and got the hell out of
there.
Making only a whistling noise to get Boomer's attention where he slept
on the floor by Trina's side of the bed, I shut her door quietly behind us.
For a dopey-looking dog that generally seemed to care only about
chasing squirrels and filling his stomach with food, he guarded her
well.
As Boomer trudged behind me, the sound of our steps on the carpet the
only noise in the house, I carefully made my way through the darkened
living room and into the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee, knowing that
if I hadn't fallen asleep yet, I most likely wouldn't at all.
Scratching sounds came from behind me and I looked to see Boomer
clawing at the sliding door. I opened it just enough for him to slip
through and flicked on the backyard porch light so I could see him. My
yard was fenced, but the fence was only three feet high. If Boomer was
ever motivated enough, he could easily clear it. As I closed the door, I
jumped back from the quick rush of cool air breezing inside, chilling
me to my bones.
It was September and already getting too cold for shorts. It was times
like this I thought my parents had it right. Move south. Visit the North
to escape the dastardly evil summer heat down there, but avoid the
snow at all costs.

Thinking of my mom made me grin. I hadn't talked to her much
recently and I knew she'd have a lot of opinions when she learned I'd
invited a woman into my home.
She never liked Mara, but never said anything. It was simply obvious
with her quiet hums of displeasure, or the looks she'd shoot my dad
when Mara and I were around them. At the time, I figured it was just
because I was the baby of the family, the last to settle down, and my
mom was having a hard time letting go.

Now I knew it was just her sixth sense about the eventual destruction of
our relationship. Moms really did know everything.
Except for Trina's.
My lips curled into a growl as I walked back to the kitchen and filled
my coffee mug with fresh coffee.
That woman. What I wouldn't give to demand she apologize to her
daughter for forcing her to live through something so vile. She had
thrown her daughter to the wolves for money, and I found it difficult to
summon any compassion for her, even if she did it because of her
illness.
My mother would never do anything like that. She'd given up her
career to stay home and raise us as soon as my older brother was born.
She lived through raising two boys—two hell-raising, football- and
hockey-playing sons—with a husband who was just another large kid
to take care of. Yet she never seemed to mind. In fact, she always said
that looking back, the best days of her life were when her laundry room
was overflowing with sweaty socks and piles of sports equipment.
If my mom were to get sick like Trina's had, I had no doubt she'd move
heaven and earth to see that my brother and I were taken care of, even if
it was at her own expense. She was just that kind of mom.
If it wasn't so damn early, or the middle of the night in Arizona, I'd pick
up the damn phone and call her just to let her know how much I loved
her.
Yeah...I might be a bit of a mama's boy.
That was only because she showed her family what love was.
I was an idiot who settled, far too soon, for a woman I let pull the wool
over my eyes because her pussy tasted sweet.
I sneered and looked outside to see Boomer meandering back to the
door. I met him there, quickly slid the door open, and closed it behind
him when he came in. He gave me a dopey look. I swear he was almost
grinning as I fed him.
I left the kitchen to the sounds of Boomer slopping up his food while I
went to the living room and turned on the news.
But as hard as I tried to erase the thoughts about what Trina told us that
were still clamoring inside my brain, it was entirely futile.

I had completely misjudged her when I first saw her and when I first
invited her into my home. Even with the fading, fancy hair color and
the polished, manicured nails, she was nothing like Mara.
Trina might have had money, but the more she spoke last night, the
more she seemed to loathe her wealth. At the very least, she despised
what it could do to people.
I should have known from the first night I saw her.
No woman who looked like her, who had the money she clearly did,
dug through a dumpster to find her dog dinner.
Now that I knew the truth, had seen her for who she really was, I wasn't
sure I could stay away.
I was definitely sure I didn't want to.

There was something about this woman, with her southern drawl and
kind eyes, that made me despise any man who would lay his hands on
her.
She was the kind of woman you cherish.
The kind of woman you wanted to protect.
And hell if I didn't want to do both of those...while also acquainting my
hands with her soft and curvy flesh.
I didn't even care if it was the right time to start something with her. She
had loads of baggage I would need to help her unpack, and that had
nothing to do with the duffel bag she was trying to haul out of here last
night when I returned home.
But as I sat and stared at the early-morning news broadcast, not actually
hearing anything I was watching, I no longer gave a shit.
No good relationship was without its share of troubles.
We'd just have to fight our battles early on and hope for smooth sailing
later.
My breathing was ragged when I finished my morning run. I had used
all the frustration inside me and pushed myself harder and faster than I
usually did. It was necessary, and the results were worth it.
I no longer felt like slamming my fists into something hard and
unforgiving as I unlocked the front door to my house.
Before Trina, I would have left it unlocked.
Since Trina began staying with me, I was doing a lot of things
differently.
Like keep her safe, as if it were some inherent instinct inside of me.
Knowing the truth about who she was, where she came from, and what
she'd endured only strengthened that desire inside of me.
Fortunately, she told us that Kevin had only called her phone number
and goaded her by asking if she really thought she could run away from
him. Since she also told us that she had ditched her old cellphone and
bought the pay-as-you-go phone before she left Kentucky, there was
still a good chance he didn't have a clue where she could be.
I'd managed to get her to agree to stay until Tyson could look into
things a bit further, to figure out if Kevin really knew where she was.
I was careful to open the front door quietly, in case she was still
sleeping. It was early, before seven, and I'd learned that Trina was not a

morning person. She often zombie-walked her way down the stairs
around nine.
Between the stress she was under and being at Fireside until the early
morning hours, I figured her body needed to adjust to a new routine.
Plus, I suspected sleeping in wasn't possible for her before. From what
she'd said, she had been expected to wait on her husband for every one
of his needs and wants or face the consequences.
I believed her, too. Not only did she not have a reason to lie to us last
night, but the fear in her eyes was evident as she relived some of the
times where Kevin used a hand, or foot, to

reprimand her.
The thought made me growl and, at the last second, I thrust the door
open harder than necessary, making it bang against the wall.
I cringed at the sound and then at Boomer's bark as he barreled around
the corner from the kitchen straight into me.
His front paws hit my chest, forcing me to brace myself to keep from
taking a step back.
"Boomer!" Trina shouted from the kitchen.
"I've got him," I called back. With my hand on the top of his head, I
gave him a playful shove. "Down, boy."
"Woof!"
His tongue lolled to one side of his mouth as he pranced in place,
waiting impatiently for me to shut the door. When I turned back to him,
dropping my phone, earbuds, and keys on the small table with the ugly
purple bowl, I rubbed his head again. "I've already fed you," I told the
dog, and walk passed him.
The rich scent of bacon assailed my senses and my stomach growled. I
generally had a protein shake before I headed out for my run and
workout, but this morning I had extra adrenaline to burn off and I didn't
waste the time.
I was not only starving, but sweating like a beast.
The shower could wait, I decided as I headed toward the kitchen.
When I got to the doorway, I was stunned speechless when I saw Trina
at the stove, frying bacon wearing a tight, fitted tank top and a pair of
even tighter shorts. She twisted to place bacon on a plate, and I could
see her leg muscles flex.
Words lodged in my throat. She was sexy. Curves and muscles in all
the right places. My fingers itched to trace the line of her exposed
collarbone down her arms to her fingertips to the inside of her wrist
where I wanted to feel her pulse. Would it race as fast as mine currently
was?
"Good morning," I barked out, sounding rude and rougher than normal.
"Morning," she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on her task.
Bacon grease spit into the air, and I knew she was concentrating, but I
still scowled when she refused to look in my direction.
It had been a couple of days since I'd seen that tightness in her
shoulders, or the way she avoided me.

"You okay?" I asked and walk past her for a fresh cup of coffee. The
pot was full again, which meant she recently brewed some more. "You
had a rough night last night."
I watched her back.
"Yeah. Sure." She paused and looked at me over her shoulder. "Why?
Did I say anything?" I sipped my coffee and shook my head. "No. Do
you normally?"
She turned around and I watched as one shoulder lifted then fell.
"Sometimes." She reached out and turned off the burner, plating the
rest of the bacon. "Bacon's ready if you're
hungry."
Still without meeting my eyes, she wiped her hands on a towel and
turned to leave the

room.
My kitchen was small and U-shaped. With one adult, there was barely
room to move around. With two adults and a large oaf of a dog, we
should have been tripping over each other. Instead, she was trying to
keep as much distance as possible between us.
"Trina?"
She paused but still didn't face me.
My brows knit together as I tried to figure out why she was avoiding
me. Whatever the reason, I didn't like it. "You avoiding me?" "No. Of
course not."
Her cheeks flushed pink and her gaze dropped. The involuntary actions
belied her words and I set my mug down, taking a step toward her.
"You embarrassed about last night?" I asked.
"No. I don't care that you know about Kevin."
"I'm not talking about Kevin, sweetheart," I whispered, and unable to
stop myself, I lifted my hand to press her hair behind her ear. Small
bumps prickled on the side of her neck and I watched her body's
reaction to me, even as she tried to fight it.
But she was fighting it.
Which meant the attraction wasn't one-sided.
Something warm, like pride, or the thrill of a victory, surged inside my
chest.
"I'm talking about me sleeping next to you in your bed."
She made a choking sound and looked toward the dining area. Away
from me.
I didn't know if I should push this or not, but I did. I didn't think it was
embarrassing at all that not only did she need me last night, but that
she'd had the guts to ask. She might have been half-asleep and not fully
aware of what she was doing, which might be a blow to my ego if I
believed it.
Luckily, I have a large ego—among other things.
"Why should that embarrass me?" she asked, her voice slightly
scratchy. The pink was back in full bloom on her cheeks and my hand,
which had been resting behind her ear, moved until I brushed her
cheekbone with my thumb.

"It shouldn't," I told her. "And if you're embarrassed, or upset that you
woke up alone, it's only because you felt so good in my arms and next
to me that I had to leave before I did something we might regret."
"You..." Another garbled sound escaped her throat before she looked
up. "What did you
say?"
I chuckled softly, just once, and slid my hand down to cup the side of
her throat. My fingertips pressed gently into the skin at the back of her
neck, holding her firmly.
"I'm attracted to you, Trina, and I like you. I also know you had a lot of
emotional stuff to deal with last night, and you have to deal with your
husband, too. I'm not pushing anything"—I paused and grinned—"yet.
But I want you to know that I want to explore something with you, and
lying next to you all night, your warm, tight body against mine, not

pushing you into something you might not want, or might not be ready
for, had my self-control at its limit."
She blinked several times and her lips parted.
She looked so damn cute, so utterly confused. I had the urge to kiss her.
Here. Now. But I didn't.
I took a step back and then another before I turned and reached for my
coffee. When I looked back at her, she was finally snapping her mouth
closed.
I shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "Just think about it. Let me know
what you decide. No pressure."
A bit of gentle nudging in the right direction—my direction—might
occur, though. After several beats of silence, she muttered, "I need to
shower." She walked away and I couldn't help chuckling while she did.
"Woof!"
I looked down at Boomer sitting at my heels. His tail flopped against a
wooden chair leg and his big dopey eyes were fixed on mine. He almost
looked like he was smiling.
"Yeah, I know, boy. I think she likes me, too."

Chapter 10 Trina
"It's completely packed out there," I said, brushing stray hairs off my
sticky forehead. With the sudden rush of afternoon customers—most of
them men drinking beer as if Prohibition began at midnight—and the
heat from the kitchen, my black Fireside Grill shirt was sticking to my
back and my makeup was smearing more every minute.
I looked like a wreck.
I felt even worse, in that bone-numbing sort of way. I was exhausted.
"It's football Sunday," Declan said, shaking his head even though he
was smiling. He'd been doing that all day.
Flashing me an impish grin whenever he caught me looking at him.
Which, admittedly, had been a lot. I was still trying to figure him out,
flesh out his motives, or a fuller understanding of what he meant this
morning.
I had felt so flustered as I walked away from him, and so distracted in
my shower, that I nearly forgot to wash my hair. Fortunately, since
we'd opened this morning, the crowd had been nonstop, coming and
going and needy. These football fans were so very stinking needy. All
of the activity kept my mind from lingering on the tender way Declan
brushed my hair behind my ear this morning, or the simple way he
stated that he was attracted to me.
Me? The woman who was not only still healing from physical bruises
but was an emotional basket case?
If he was attracted to someone like me, he had a few screws loose, as
my nana used to say.
"People should be at church and brunch," I muttered, letting my
southern accent flow nice and strong. "It's the Lord's day. Don't you
Yankees know that?"
Declan threw his head back and laughed, taking a quick break from
flipping beef patties on a full grill.
These football fans could eat and drink in serious quantities.
"I've never seen anything like it," I said and punched in another order
for nachos and buffalo burgers. There were three computers in the
restaurant where we could make our orders, but I was using the one in
the kitchen. I needed a quiet place to get some space, away from all the
mayhem going on out front.

No one had complained, either, even though I didn't think it was
common for servers to use it.
"Wait until hockey season strikes," Declan replied, "You haven't seen
rabid fans until we

have a bar full of Red Wings fans."
My nose scrunched up. Hockey wasn't my thing. At all. It always
seemed so unnecessarily violent, what with men being tossed into walls
and beaten with sticks.
"Yeah. We'll see," I whispered, more to myself than Declan. Come
hockey season, I might be in another state. Or another country.
Despite my agreement not to do anything rash last night, after Tyson
assured me that he would spend some time looking into Kevin and see
what he could find out about him looking for me, I hadn't altogether
dismissed the idea of just taking off.
My cellphone seemed to burn inside my back pocket. I tried not to
check it to see if Kevin had tried calling again, but I couldn't help
myself. His phone call last night reminded me that there really was a
risk to staying.
Now I wasn't only risking myself, but Declan.
Yet seeing Declan this morning, admitting that the reason he left my
bed last night was because it was too hard for him to not touch me, lit a
small spark inside me.
Desire.
That was what I felt when I looked at him. I couldn't remember feeling
anything like that since perhaps my wedding night with Kevin, when I
still thought I was Cinderella and my Prince Charming had just slipped
the glass slipper onto my foot.
I certainly quit desiring anything to do with Kevin weeks later, when he
hit me for the first time. Not that his physical desire for me waned any.
I shuddered at the thought, and then jumped when Declan's hand
reached out and slid along my shoulder.
"What just happened?"
"What?" I asked, turning to face him. At the same time, I took a step
back, moving away from him. His hand hovered in the air before he
crossed both arms over his chest. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you just turned white as a ghost." His eyes narrowed and I felt
my pulse kick up in my throat.
I swallowed and squeezed my eyes closed. "Nothing. I was just
thinking."
His lips pressed together, forming a tense, straight line as he evaluated
my truthfulness.

"About?"
"Nothing, Declan. I swear." I lifted up my order pad and nodded toward
the kitchen door. We were too busy for either of us to be standing
around chatting. Plus, I wanted to avoid this particular conversation for
as long as humanly possible. "I need to get back out there and
help Katie."
"You'll tell me later."
"Let it go," I said, pleading with my eyes. He wouldn't. I already knew
it. If there was one thing I was beginning to learn about Declan, it was
that he took protecting someone to extremes.
He nodded once and his arms dropped to his sides. "For now, I will. But
you'll tell me, once I've earned your trust."
That small, impish grin came back, along with a sparkle in his
rich-brown eyes, like he'd

already decided he knew he was going to get it, and he didn't care how
long it took.
The fact that he was probably right, that he already did have my trust,
wasn't something I felt like sharing at the moment.
But as my cheeks heated under the weight of his knowing gaze, I
couldn't help but feel another shudder run through me as I headed out
through the kitchen doors. Except that time, the shudder was much
more pleasurable. And it made me think it wouldn't be dangerous at all
to toss caution to the wind and admit to Declan that I wanted him, too.
"I still can't get over how busy today was," I told Declan as I helped
him close out the cash registers in the bar. It'd become our nightly ritual
when he was letting me fill in or work the floor. He sent the bartenders
home early and then he and I stayed behind to close out the
tills.
"Yeah. I needed this football season more than ever to hit as hard as it
did."
I frowned and lost track of the twenties I'd been counting. I'd seen his
accounts and he wasn't lying. The Fireside Grill was struggling to stay
in business. Although that day had been busy, the rest of the week had
been pretty slow. From what I'd seen in his computer reports, the last
several months had been slow.
"Does it typically slow down in the summer?"
"Some. Most people head north to their weekend places and go on
vacation, but this summer was worse than any other I've seen."
"What have you done with advertising?" I asked and turned my back to
the register.
I hadn't worked for years, and the work I did do was more public
relations than advertising, but ideas began slowly rolling through my
mind.
He shrugged and slid a rubber band around a stack of tens. "Ad in the
paper. That sort of thing. We get enough foot traffic that I haven't done
too much more."
My lips twisted to one side as I fought to not tell him how wrong he was
with that kind of thinking. As far as I could tell, the businesses in
Latham Hills would all prosper if they banded together and marketed
themselves as a whole. Detroit was a huge metropolis with lots to do
and even more places to eat, but a lot of those places were downtown,

where the tourists went to watch the professional games, see the theater
shows, or visit the museums. Out in Latham Hills, they needed to be
louder.
"What is it?" he asked, turning to look at me. One thick black brow
arched over his eye. "You're thinking of something."
"Again?" I smirked. "Heaven forbid I get caught doing that twice in one
day."
A flash of concern radiated from his eyes before they crinkled at the
outer edges and his lips pulled into a smile. "Teasing me? I didn't think
you had it in you."
My smile faltered. "I haven't had much to joke about lately."
"Shit." He tossed the money he was counting onto the counter and
walked toward me. I threw up a hand and stopped him, shaking my
head.
"I didn't mean that, Declan. But I do have some ideas for you, a few that
might help get attention, some that won't cost you anything."

"Like?" His curiosity piqued, he stood with his hands on his hips.
"Well. Does Latham Hills have their own fire department?" The
building where Fireside was located seemed to be an old, renovated
firehouse.
"Yeah. We have three stations, but most of the firemen are volunteers."
His brow furrowed.
"Why?"
"Well, I was thinking, they probably do a lot of fundraising. I know
back home they do. Unfortunately, while the fire departments and
EMT services are some of the city's most important assets, they're not
always funded accordingly." When I realized I hadn't answered his
question, my excitement growing as I had a batch of new ideas I
desperately wanted to write down, I explained. "You could host a
fundraiser here. It'd be cool to have it in a place like this, with all its
history, and the memorabilia you have hanging on the walls. Maybe a
bachelor-fireman date auction. Or..." My face lit up and my eyes
widened. "You could host a photo shoot for a fireman calendar."
He scowled. "A calendar? An auction? You mean with, like, half-naked
men around?"
"Think about it." I leaned in closer to him, like I had a secret, even
though there was no one else around to hear us. "Yes! It'd be perfect.
Your restaurant would be in the background. We could do a group shot
outside or something. So when people are flipping through the
calendar, and trust me, those sell like my nana's peach pie at a church
festival, they see your place in every shot. Women will line up—and
some men," I added with a wink in response to his growing scowl.
"And they'll want to come here to see if they can spot any of the
firemen. An auction will bring in tons of people, women mostly, for a
night of drinking and food. You can increase your clientele on days
when there is no game, easily."
He was silent for a moment, appearing to think it over. "I'll think about
it."
"Okay." I shrugged. It was a long shot, and I was a bit rusty with my
ideas. Maybe meat-market auctions and sexy calendars were too passé.
"What other ideas do you have, though?"
"Lots," I said, and let out a breath when I realized he wasn't completely
blowing me off. He really did want to hear my ideas.

By the time three in the morning rolled around, the tills were finally
counted and we were just locking up the restaurant. My head was
spinning with more ideas, even as I explained the ones I'd already
thought of.
Declan and I had both been jotting down notes for the last hour. While
he double-checked to make sure the door to the alley was locked, I had
to cover a loud yawn. But we had at least a half-dozen inexpensive
marketing and advertising ideas to follow up on in the next few days.
"So you did this kind of thing before?" he asked, resting his hand on my
lower back. I let him guide me to his black pickup. He waited by the
open door while I slowly climbed in.
"Sometimes. I did more public relations and helping business with their
image, not as much marketing. It feels like it was in another life
though."
I wasn't even sad to admit it. It was simply the truth.
My life before I began kowtowing to Kevin about everything seemed
like another plane of existence.

"It's too bad you quit," Declan said, watching while I buckled the
seatbelt. "You're damn good at it."
I turned to him and smiled. I didn't know if he could see it in the
darkness, but I did know he couldn't see the butterflies that were
stirring in my stomach from the simple compliment.
Because whether Declan knew it or not, that was the first compliment
I'd been given in what felt like years.
"Thanks, Declan," I replied.
His smile in return told me he knew exactly what he'd done.
As I watched him walk around the front of his truck and climb in, then
start it and pull into the empty street with ease, I wondered how it was
that he seemed to know me so well.
When I hardly knew who I was anymore.
My eyes jerked open and I blinked when the truck stopped moving. I
jolted awake to find myself sitting in the cab of Declan's truck in his
narrow driveway. He was already walking around the front of his truck
to get to my side. He opened my door before I unbuckled myself.
"I can't believe I fell asleep."
He held out his hand for me to take hold of. "It's late. Or early,
depending on how you look
at it."
I smiled and placed my hand in his, letting him help me down. "It's a
four-block drive."
He laughed softly and let go of my hand, then set his at my back and
ushered me toward the front door. "Takes a while to get used to this
kind of schedule," he said as he unlocked it.
We stepped in, me going first, and I couldn't help but suck my bottom
lip in between my teeth.
His hand on my back felt so good. Warm. Comforting. Delicious in a
way that shouldn't be possible. Perhaps I was still slightly sleepy.
Boomer trudged around the corner, welcoming us back home, as he
tended to do every night.
He slid his front paws forward, sticking his butt up in the air while he
stretched, and then yawned as he reversed the move.
My hand covered my mouth as I fought my own yawn.

"Let me help you up the stairs," Declan said. He guided me toward
them before another yawn forced its way out of my mouth. "I'll take
care of Boomer once I'm done."
I didn't know what made me shiver—knowing he was taking care of
me, or that he was also taking care of my dog. Boomer and I had lived a
life surrounded by people for the last several years, yet it had been a
lonely existence.
In a week, Declan managed to begin chipping at my walls of seclusion,
forcing me to open up, and yet it hadn't seemed forced at all. I was
giving parts of myself to him freely, and I knew that whatever I gave
him, whatever small pieces I felt comfortable sharing, he was taking
care of them.

He was taking care of me, and he was taking care with the bits and
pieces he was giving me.
It all left my body feeling energized. Wanting something.
And when was the last time I'd wanted anything except freedom?
"Declan?" I turned to face him as we reached the doorway to my
bedroom.
"What is it?"
I swallowed my trepidation and my nerves. For once in my life, I was
going to go after what I wanted.
What I desired.
Something good for me.
Consequences be damned.
I licked my lips and watched his eyes drop to follow the movement, and
then I took a shaky step forward. "I want you to know," I whispered,
rolling onto my toes and placing one hand on his shoulder to steady
myself, "that I want to explore this with you, too."
Before he could respond, I brushed my lips against his cheek, tasting
him for the very first time.
It was like what I imagined a first hit of heroin would be.
Head-spinning. I was even more unsteady as I let him go, rolling back
off my toes.
I'd taken one step away when his arm snapped out and was at my back,
pulling me flush against him.
"Can't tease me with just a tiny taste like that, sweetheart." One side of
his lips curved up just as his mouth descended, slowly, giving me time
to pull away. I didn't.
I leaned closer, my breath coming in short, panted spurts.
"What do you want, then?" I whispered.
"Just a kiss. Just one more kiss." His head tilted and his lips brushed
against mine. I gasped on an inward breath at the delicious way his
slightly unshaven beard scraped my heated skin. His lips were soft but
firm, gentle but commanding. Then his lips pressed against mine more
firmly.
And I was tasting him, the tip of his tongue brushing against mine. I
was floating on the clouds, falling...flying.
"Declan," I whispered, finding my hands gripping his waist.

A rush flowed through me. I savored every moment, every taste of him,
and every touch of his tongue against mine.
It was the best kiss.
It was the best feeling in the world when a low groan slipped from his
throat. I was affecting this large, powerful man.
I shivered, pressed myself more firmly against him. His hands at my
back glided upward until they were clasped at the back of my neck.
I melted into him, loving the feel of his hands on me. So strong and
possessive, yet so gentle. As if he knew exactly what I needed and
wanted nothing more than to give it. To me.
The kiss went on far too long, and ended much too soon.
I swallowed and opened my eyes to see Declan's dark-brown eyes on
mine. My gaze

dropped to his lips as he licked them.
"I think I'm going to need more than that," he said, lips stretching into
that grin I'd been seeing all day. "But for now, you need your sleep."
He reached around me, wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and
pushed open my door.
"In you go, before I go back on my word and push you further than we
should go tonight."
My lips twitched, fighting a grin, and my fingertips pressed against my
lips. I wanted to seal the taste of him into my skin.
I looked at him, opened my mouth to tell him that if he walked through
that door with me, he wouldn't be pushing me past anything I didn't
want to give him, but I changed my mind at the last moment.
The kiss was huge.
It changed everything.
If we decided to move forward, I wanted to ensure I wasn't making
another colossal mistake.
"Good night," I whispered, shuffling past him into the room. "I'll bring
Boomer up to you after I take him out."
I nodded my thanks and peeled my eyes off him when he lingered a bit
too long in the doorway, as if walking away from me was a physical
weight he didn't want to move. "Good night, sweetheart," he finally
said, and stepped back, pulling the door closed.
I barely had enough energy to strip off my clothes and change into my
pajamas before I collapsed on top of the bed. I fell asleep before I could
rethink the most beautiful kiss I'd ever received.
When I woke up, Boomer was sleeping at the foot of my bed, and I was
no longer on top of the covers, the way I was when I fell asleep, but
tucked firmly under them, making it clear that even while I was
sleeping, Declan wanted to take care of me.

Chapter 11 Declan
"This better be good," I grumbled into my cellphone. I'd just been
woken up by my obnoxious ringtone, and my voice was scratchy and
dry.
Tyson's chuckle vibrating in my ear made me perk my ass right up.
"What is it?"
"You are in deep shit," he said, the laughter evaporating with a breath.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I swung my legs over the side of
the bed and jumped to my feet.
Not even forty-eight hours ago, Tyson left my house after promising
he'd do what he could to look into Kevin Morgenson III. Damn, what
kind of narcissistic prick actually had numbers after his name?
Arrogant name aside, I hadn't been expecting Tyson to call me about
him this early on Monday—just hours after I'd finally fallen asleep.
And I was more than pissed that he'd just interrupted the dream I was
having of Trina. Her thighs straddling mine, her head thrown back in
pleasure as I sank into her from beneath her. Her nails digging into my
chest. Her hips rocking against mine. The curve of her back when I
took her from behind. The brief kiss we shared last night had unleashed
deeply buried desires I'd been harboring, but hadn't let myself admit.
When I finally fell asleep, they rushed through me with hurricane-force
winds.
Hell, I even had to take a cold shower before finally climbing into my
bed. My dick had hardened at the sight of her sprawled on her stomach
on her bed. The soft little noises she made when she was totally passed
out made it impossible not to think of sex and fucking. Touching her to
move her under the sheets almost snapped my self-control.
"I called in some favors first thing yesterday, and my contacts have
filled me in on a wealth of information about your precious Trina's
husband." I sneered at the word. He was no husband.
I rubbed my hand over my head, feeling the prickle of hair that needed
to be shaved, and clasped the back of my neck. "And?"
"And the guy's a fucking piece of work is what. But all the bullshit he's
pulled and then gotten hidden by state police over the years isn't why
I'm calling."
I pressed my tongue against my teeth to keep from snapping at my
friend. Patience was never my strong suit.

"Listen," he said, quieting his voice. "I gotta ask before I tell you this.
You sure this is the woman you want to throw down for?"
"What the fuck do you mean by that, Blackwell?" I growled. Hell. I
didn't know if it pissed me off that he had the guts to ask me that, or if I
was pissed that I'd thought the same exact damn question after hearing
about her husband.
Trina didn't come with baggage.
She came with a convoy of troubles, and probably issues I hadn't yet
discovered.
Unwrapping her, getting her to a good place—a safe and emotionally
healthy place—could take a long time.
But that fucking kiss.
That kiss last night itself was enough to make me know what I wanted.
"Morgenson's in the wind."
All my breath whooshed out of my chest in one large exhale. "What the
fuck?" "Yep. Asshole's gone. No one has seen or heard from him in a
week." Fuck.
"Which means he's looking," I said, knowing that's where Tyson's train
of thought was headed.
"We'll find him." Confidence rang rich in his voice. It did little to quell
the rage that was beginning to build in me. Fear. Not for me, but for
Trina and what would happen if she ran into the asshole again. "But it's
going to take some time. You got somewhere you can take off to for a
while? Maybe Arizona to see your parents?"
Beautiful idea. Not gonna happen, but I still grinned when I thought of
my mom meeting Trina. She was the kind of woman my mom could
relate to.
"I can't get someone to cover the restaurant that long," I admitted, my
reluctance clear. "But I can get her away for a couple days."
"Not sure that's gonna help, but I'll pressure the guys here to start
searching. Maybe we'll get lucky."
Pressure in my chest. Uncertainty a stampede in my gut. I felt sick.
"Yeah." I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck again before dropping
my hand. It curled into a fist as if danger was knocking on my door.
"Thanks, man. I owe you."
"I'm putting myself at risk of deep shit for this, Dec. I gotta ask again.
She worth it?"

I wanted to throw in his face that he got involved with Blue when she
was his damn undercover target. Was she worth it? Not that I said shit
then. I saw the man before he introduced her to me. Just the way he said
her name was proof enough.
The certainty in Trina's eyes last night when she stepped toward me and
said she wanted what I did popped into my mind.
There was no other answer to give except, "Yeah, asshole. I'm sure."
"That's all I need. Let me know where you're going and when you'll be
back once you get a plan together. Based on how long Morgenson's
been gone, I wouldn't wait."
Fucking hell.
Before I could reply, he ended the call and silence echoed in my ear.

I hit the End button and tossed the phone onto my bed before heading to
the shower and getting ready for the day.
I'd give my assistant manager, Mac, a little bit of time to wake up
before I gave him a call to let him know I'd be out of town. I hoped that
by then I'd know where we were going.
And that Trina had agreed to come with me.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Trina asked, her knee bouncing in
the passenger seat.
My hand curled around the steering wheel of her old convertible as we
drove west on I-94, headed directly for Chicago. I shrugged, twisting
my hands around the wheel again. Fuck it. I needed to touch her.
Soothe her.
Comfort her.
The more I was around her the more it felt like this was what I was
meant to do—protect this woman.
"Mac can handle Fireside Grill," I said, reaching over and taking her
hand. I tried not to cringe about that phone call I had to make this
morning. My assistant manager essentially gave me the same shit
Tyson had, with only one-tenth of the information, but it's not as if
people hadn't figured out I had a soft spot for Trina, with her working in
my office and serving tables without actually being hired.
I figured being the boss gave me the right to break a few rules here and
there.
"I meant taking off like this."
"Chicago's a bigger city," I explained, although we'd been over this.
My plan was a quick, two-day, three-state trip.
Sell her car in Chicago. Take the train to Milwaukee. Ferry back to
Michigan and drive home. With the cash from selling her car at
whatever shady car lot we could find, she was going to buy a new car in
Milwaukee. At the very least, selling the car in Chicago would send
Morgenson hours out of his way if he'd had any idea she was in Detroit.
"I can't believe you're doing all this for me."
Her surprise made me cringe. This wasn't a big deal. Any decent man
would do something like this, even if he wasn't thinking about getting
into a woman's pants.
Or under her skirt, since Trina came out of her room today dressed in
some flowing, floor-scraping, skirt-dress type of thing.

I had no idea what it was called, but it kept her almost fully covered.
I despised it.
I wanted to rip it off her.
Her disbelief at a man's kindness was just one more reminder, a red
flag, that Trina hadn't had a decent man in her life to show her the way,
though.
It was that thought that made me grit my teeth together, and I glared
through the windshield.
"And Boomer will be okay?" she asked, turning to face me. Fear and
exhaustion lined her eyes, and it wasn't from lack of sleep.

This woman was tired. Tired of her life, tired of running. I didn't blame
her.
"I swear to you, sweetheart, Blue is always at Tyson's house and will
treat the large oaf like he's her child. She doesn't have an unkind bone
in her body."
"You're right." She sucked in a breath and squeezed my hand,
entwining our fingers together. "I'm just worried."
"I know, but Boomer isn't something to be worried about. He's in good
hands and he'll be safe. Just like Tyson and I will ensure you will be,
too."
She rolled her lips as if wanting to say something, then changed her
mind. With her free hand, she leaned forward and began flicking
through the radio stations.
I let her have the distraction.
"What are you doing?" I asked when she settled on a station that
sounded like squawking. Horrific, tinny, squawking. Squawking like a
flock of birds dying a slow and painful death.
"It's country music."
"Uh, no." I was teasing her. I couldn't care less what she listened to,
even if I might need to bleach that sound out of my brain later.
"Uh, yes," she said, turning to me with wide eyes. "You drive, I choose
the music. If you'd let me drive—"
"No chick drives a car when a man is in it. It's un-American."
"Then the passenger gets to choose the music. It's only fair, and
fortunately for you, you're in luck," she teased back. "Because I'm
patriotic and country music is the most American thing you can listen
to."
I thought of a thousand rock bands that were more American than the
crap making my ears bleed. The Doors, Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd,
Rolling Stones, just to name a few off the top of my head.
"Whatever. I'll deal." I looked back out the front window, keeping my
eyes ahead.
But a smile stretched my lips as her light, tinkling laughter filled the
car, making the country bullshit she was forcing on me bearable.
Almost.
Trina eyed the check in my hand and I watched her fighting back tears.

"This is the smartest thing you can do." I draped my arm over her
shoulders, pressing her to me. "If he's following you, you know he's got
someone trying to find your car."
"I know." She sniffed and nodded, swiping her fingertips over her
cheek. "I've had that darn car for so long, it's hard to say goodbye." She
looked up at me, eyes glimmering with more tears, and whispered,
"Boomer and that car are the only things I have...from before."
Which explained why she was driving a car several years old and not
brand-new. I would have thought Kevin wouldn't want her in anything
except the best. Maybe he didn't. Maybe she drove something better
around town in Kentucky. But the fact that she kept hold of this one
thing just proved how much fight she had in her when it was important.
I never wanted

to ask about the car before, but hearing it from her then made it feel like
a wrench was tightening around my heart.
I held out the check we'd just gotten for her car. With as much as it was,
she could buy anything she wanted. "Think of this as a fresh start.
Leave everything behind"—I smiled —"except for Boomer, and move
on from the past."
"Right." A spark of determination gleamed in her shining eyes and she
wiped away more tears. "We're moving on."
I pushed down my smile. "Yeah, we are."
Because we were. Together. At least for now, and if she continued to
make me feel the way I had every minute since I'd met her, I was
hoping it was for a lot longer than just a brief moment in time.
A taxi pulled into the run-down dealership we'd found in East Chicago.
I hadn't wanted to go too far into the city with the car, and I figured that
if she'd come up this direction from Kentucky, she would have been on
a similar route. I was hoping that once we sold her vehicle at some
dumpy dealership willing to give us half what the car was worth, it'd
make it that much more difficult for Kevin to find her.
So we ditched the car, but needed a way to get to the Loop in downtown
Chicago, where we would catch a train to Milwaukee at Union Station.
It was only three o'clock, and the last train to Milwaukee didn't leave
until eight at night, giving us some time to kill in the city before we
headed to our next destination. We could have rushed it and tried to
catch an earlier train, but I also wanted to take some time—even if it
was just a few hours—to give Trina a break from the worry and fear I
knew she was feeling.
"So," I said, dropping my hand from her shoulder to grab her hand. I
started walking toward the waiting taxi and looked down at her. "Is
there anything you've ever wanted to see in Chicago?"
She shrugged, one side of her upper lip curling. "Not really. I've always
pictured it as a big, dirty, cement jungle."
I barked out a laugh and pulled her against me. She almost tripped, and
her free hand landed on my stomach.
"What?" she asked, eyes wide and looking up at me.
The sun hit her eyes, making her light-brown eyes sparkle like they
were spun from gold.

"Chicago's not ugly." I pushed down the burgeoning lust I felt every
time she smiled at me and opened the rear door of the taxi for her. "It's
beautiful and perfect. The best city anywhere in the world."
"Even better than Latham Hills?" Her eyes lit with wonder and
amusement.
God, I loved that she loved my city.
"Trust me," I told her, leaning in and brushing my lips against hers. I
didn't know if she felt the same need and desire as me, but I hadn't been
able to keep my lips off her today. Small, teasing brushes of my lips
against her skin, anywhere I could taste her. She hadn't pushed me
away, though. "Let me prove you wrong."
She squeezed my hand with hers and leaned in, our noses brushing
against each other. "I do trust you," she finally whispered, her lips
lingering just a breath away from my own.

And it was that moment, with the taxi pulling into Chicago's rush-hour
afternoon traffic— because it was always rush hour here—and her
golden eyes fixed on mine, letting me see the pure sincerity in her four
simple words, that I completely fell for her.
The outside of Reglatti's Pizzeria was less than impressive, but it was
the location and food inside that kept the small restaurant crammed full
at almost all hours of the day. Just a half block south of Wrigley Field
on Ashland Avenue, Reglatti's was famous to local Chicagoans for
their delicious, deep-dish pizza, as well as their own form of Sicilian
pizza that had an exceptionally light crust. Just before four on Monday,
the place had a steady stream of customers and very few tables
available, although there wasn't yet a line.
Give it an hour. Even with the Chicago Cubs playing an away game,
there would still be a line of customers wrapped around the corner of
the building waiting to eat a Monday-night slice of pie while they
watched their beloved Cubs on the big screens scattered throughout the
restaurant and cheered them on.
A twinge of jealousy hit me in the chest while I glanced around the
packed restaurant. This was what I wanted Fireside Grill to become. A
beloved icon in a city with a fanatic customer base in a small area of
Detroit where people took pride in their community. I just had to figure
out how to bring them in.
I shook off the thought and focused on Trina.
She took another bite of her first slice of deep-dish and closed her eyes.
"So what do you think?"
She groaned, swallowing the large bite. I'd been fighting to keep my
dick from going hard the entire meal, yet hadn't wanted to stop the
quiet, pleased sounds she made.
Grinning, she wiped her lips with a napkin. "It's not too bad."
I glanced down at our almost fully devoured pie, then back at her.
"You've eaten twice as much as I have."
Her cheeks paled and I pressed my lips together, watching as the fear
and embarrassment flooded her features.
I swore. If I ever ran into Kevin Morgenson III, I was going to wring
his fucking wiry neck.
She opened her mouth and I knew an apology was on the tip of her
tongue. I cut her off.

"Don't you dare apologize," I said with a quiet voice, biting back my
desire to rage like an animal. "I was kidding. Eat however much you
freaking want, Trina."
Her breathing faltered before she took a sip of water. "I know...some
things are hard to
forget."
She licked her lips and looked away, ashamed.
I suppressed the growl rising in my throat. "Tell me about Kentucky," I
said instead, changing the subject. Based on the way her shoulders
dropped, relaxing, it had the desired effect.
She looked directly into my eyes. Light brown mixed with flecks of a
darker color around her irises. I almost forgot to breathe when she tilted
her head to the right. So innocent. Pure.

Damaged, but fighting. "Like what?"
"Anything you want. Weather, what you did, what you liked." I gave
her time to think and picked up another slice of pie and dove in,
chewing while she appeared to run through her memories until she
found the best one.
A strange burning sensation lit in my chest.
I didn't realize that I had needed that. I didn't realize that the entire time
I was with Mara, I didn't have that...someone who cared enough to take
the time to give me the best parts of herself. I saw it in Trina's eyes as
she worked her way through her memories.
When she finally grinned and set down her pizza, that burning in my
chest grew deeper, more fierce.
Because I knew I was looking at a woman who would give me her best,
every day of her life, as long as I deserved it.
I'd never wanted to fight for anything more.
As she spoke about high school, telling me about being a cheerleader
and homecoming queen, shopping trips to the malls with her friends
and visits to amusement parks, I soaked up every word, my thoughts
never straying. I never lost interest, and hung on every word. While
doing so, I picked up little nuances, storing them in my memory bank.
Like the way her grin went a little lopsided when she was truly excited.
The way she ran her left index finger against the corner of her lips when
she thought. How her hands became more animated—long, thin fingers
and small palms waving in the air like twinkling stars—the more into a
story she was.
She was uninhibited in her freedom.
She was absolutely stunning.
She was perfection in the most beautiful package. Attraction, beyond
just the physical, shouldn't occur so quickly, yet I couldn't resist the
pull she had on me.
"Let's go," I said when we'd finished our pie and she'd just finished a
story about fishing in the pond on her grandpa's farm. The fact that this
girl could fish, bait her own hook and everything, made her more
attractive. She didn't mind getting dirty, and I couldn't help but think of
what other ways she wouldn't mind getting a bit messy. "There's more
of the city I want to show you before we go."
"Do we have time?" She nervously glanced around for a clock.

"Plenty. Downtown will take us closer to the station anyway."
With that decided, I paid the bill while she used the restroom, and then
we walked the two blocks to the closest train station.
"Kentucky is cleaner," she mused, looking out the window of the train
as we watched the city zip by. "Hotter and more humid, but I miss the
fresh, crisp scent in the air. I don't feel
that here."
Her hand was on my thigh, my palm pressing against the back of her
hand, and while she spoke, I trailed a fingertip across her hand, tracing
her handprint. She shivered from the slight touch.
"What else do you miss?"
"Nothing." She turned to me and flashed me one of her lopsided smiles.
And those damn

eyes, so full of vitality despite what she'd gone through. "Absolutely
nothing."

Chapter 12 Trina
The wind in Chicago was brutal. Between my hair whipping across my
cheeks and the throng of people on the platform when we stepped off
the train, I was unsure of my footing, and felt jostled by the hectic pace
of a city that felt much too large, much too active.
A firm hand cupped my elbow, and I flinched for just a brief moment
before I realized it was only Declan, guiding me closer to him.
"Thank you," I said and leaned toward his large frame for support. I
wasn't typically a claustrophobic type of person, but in the last few
years, for good reason, unexpected touches from random strangers
made me uncomfortable.
"Stay close," he said.
His eyes focused straight ahead as he hustled us closer to the stairs,
weaving us in and out of the other travelers with practiced precision.
From what I knew, Declan had always lived in Detroit, only leaving for
a few years to play football at Central University, where he met Tyson
and Aidan. He seemed so comfortable in Chicago, knew so many
specific places to go, that I couldn't help but wonder how often he'd
been here.
He was certainly not an occasional visitor.
I opened my mouth to ask him as we began heading down the stairway,
when I felt a sharp jab in the side of my stomach. I jumped from the
sudden contact and the sting of pain. I lurched forward, wrapping my
arm around my waist and pulling my arm out of Declan's grasp.
The quick movement made me lose by balance and the toe of my shoe
caught on a bump on the metal stairs. Before I knew what was
happening, I fell forward and reached out to brace myself against the
stranger in front of me, when someone else bumped into my side and I
tripped again.
A piercing ache slashed through my ankle as it twisted in the space
between the stairs, and right before I face-planted on the metal railway,
strong hands wrapped around my waist.
"Shit!" Declan cursed as he began lifting me back to my feet.
"Ouch." I cringed as my foot twisted again and slid out of the gap.
Curling my hands around the metal railing, I pulled myself upright.
Declan's hands on my waist created a cascade of warmth that tumbled
through my body, everywhere, except for where there was a fiery pain,

beginning in my ankle and traveling up to my knee. "It hurts really
bad."
Tears welled in my eyes from the harsh pain, and I squeezed my eyes
closed.

I had learned not to cry. It didn't help anything. "Are you okay?"
Declan asked.
I hissed a breath between my teeth and pressed my lips together.
Around us, people continued their journey to wherever they were
going, not bothering to give either of us a second look. Declan was
jostled from the back and the side as he stood in a way that protected
me from the crowd.
I overheard a few murmurs of displeasure tossed in Declan's direction
for blocking the already narrow staircase. With the way he was looking
at me, deep, dark eyes narrowed with concern, I doubted he heard
them.
"What hurts?" he asked and his eyes roamed over my body. That look
soaked into my pores like the richest lotion, soothing and softening me.
It shouldn't be right, how good he made me feel. Yet there was no
escaping it, either. Every look, every brush of his fingers against mine,
every touch of his skin on mine created a craving inside me, made me
want more.
"My ankle," I said, shaking my head and trying to focus. I set the toes
of my injured foot on the stair to apply pressure, but it made me yelp in
pain.
"We need to get you looked at."
He glanced down at my foot and quickly back up when I snapped, "No.
No doctors. No hospitals. There'll be records."
"Fuck," he muttered, and ran a hand from his forehead to the back of
his neck, squeezing. I watched as muscles bunched at the sides of his
throat before he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.
"Not a problem. I've got an idea. It'll just mean we miss the train to
Milwaukee."
Before I could argue that it wasn't a good idea, that I'd be fine—I could
just ice it on the train—he pushed people out of his way and scooped
me into his arms. One of his hands went under my knees, the other
behind my back.
"I look ridiculous," I said, not surprised at all that he carried me with
ease. He was well over six feet tall, and even with my smaller frame in
his arms, his muscles showed barely any strain from the effort. "I'll be
fine. Really."
I knew what a severe injury felt like. I'd had enough of them.

"You're not," he insisted as I cringed when I was jostled in his arms.
"But you will be."
His hands burned my skin, his fingertips pressing against my lower
back where my shirt had ridden up. Yet I didn't enjoy it. The pain was
increasing, throbbing from my toes up to my knee.
"We'll get a cab and get to a hotel. I've got a friend we can call." He set
me down and pulled me to his side, keeping one arm fully wrapped
around my back to support me. With his other hand, he gestured in the
air for a cab.
"You have a friend in Chicago?"
"Yup." He nodded as a cab pulled over. He reached for the rear door
and helped me in, as I hopped on one foot, looking ridiculous. Once we
were seated, he explained. "David. He was one of my roommates all
through Central. He's just finishing up his residency at Chicago
General."

"Wow," I murmured, cringing from the pain. It explained how he was
so familiar with Chicago. He must have visited David often, based on
how well he knew the city.
I listened halfheartedly as Declan rattled off the name of a hotel, a
Radisson down on Michigan Avenue, and then he sat back and reached
for my hand, giving it a squeeze to get my attention. "You doing okay?"
My mind swirled for a moment. The pain burned, but it was the
mention of a hotel room that made my head spin.
"We're supposed to go to Milwaukee tonight," I reminded him.
"We'll go to tomorrow, Trina."
"But the car..."
"Will still be at the dealership in the morning." He reached out with his
hand and brushed strands of my hair behind my ear. I expected him to
let go, but then his thumb grazed the side of my neck and stroked my
collarbone.
The grazing touch sent a cascade of emotions through me, along with
creating a gentle throbbing between my thighs.
As if he understood what he was doing to me, his lips tilted into a grin
and his eyes went to my lips. "We'll get you checked out tonight if
David can get away from the hospital for an hour or so." His brows knit
with concern. "He works all the time, basically. I didn't think of
that."
"I'll be fine," I assured him, reaching up to his hand, still brushing along
my skin at the top of my shoulders. His touch was distracting. "It's not a
big deal."
"We'll still have David come look at you."
Decision made, without any input from me. I fought not to scowl. I
wasn't pleased that he wasn't taking me seriously, that I was being
dismissed, but then his hand squeezed mine and he leaned forward,
brushing his lips over my cheek. "I'm just trying to take care of you. I
don't like the idea of seeing you hurt, and I don't want to take off, in
case it's something major. For my peace of mind, let's wait until David
can look at it. We can spend the night here, take the train early
tomorrow morning, and we're still home tomorrow night, just on a later
ferry."
Something knit itself back together inside my chest while I stared into
his large, dark orbs.

It felt as if he were healing me, from the inside out. I knew not all men
were like Kevin.
Not all men beat their wives for the smallest infraction. I also knew
some were worse than Kevin. He preferred to use his hands. I knew
some men did more damage to women than Kevin ever did to me.
What I had never realized until this moment was, regardless of how
intimidating Declan sometimes seemed, with his muscles and his size
and his obvious physical strength, underneath all that was a good man.
A man who was better and kinder than anything I had ever imagined.
He wanted to look after me.
I decided to let him.
I exhaled, letting the stress from the last several minutes out into the air,
and my shoulders relaxed, along with the tension in my jaw. "Okay.
Like I said, I trust you. Your friend can

check me out."
He scowled. "He can check out your ankle.not check you out."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You know what I meant."
"Yup." Declan nodded and then grinned. "I meant what I said, too."
I laughed and looked out the window, watching as we flew through the
streets of downtown Chicago. Passing between the tallest buildings I'd
ever seen in my life, it felt like we were traveling through a tunnel. As
we neared Lake Shore Drive, traffic almost came to a standstill. While
other drivers honked their horns and shouted obscenities, I watched the
waves of Lake Michigan lap against the shoreline.
My thoughts drifted like the waves, pushing and pulling in conflict
with one another.
Because while Declan seemed bossy and gruff, sometimes harsh and
demanding, he was the most protective person I'd ever met.
No one, not a single person, ever cared enough to have me seen and
looked over when I'd been hurt.
This was a simple accident, one he could have easily pushed me past in
order to keep us on our original schedule. Yet he dropped everything in
order to ensure that I was okay.
"Thank you, Declan," I whispered, pulling my eyes off the dark, black
waves and bright, white caps. "No one's ever done this for me before."
His lips curled almost into a sneer and his nostrils flared. "It's such a
shame," he muttered, and glanced out the window behind me.
"What is?"
"That you met Kevin and I met Mara before we met each other."
He glanced down at our hands still entwined on the seat between us,
and with his free hand, he skimmed his thumb over the veins on the
back of my hand.
"How much less injured and screwed up would we both be," he said,
speaking more to himself than me, "if we didn't have that past clinging
to us?"
I was at a lost for words as he continued tracing the back of my hand,
tracing the light freckles on my skin as if they were a connect-the-dots
diagram in a coloring book.
I watched him for several minutes, saying nothing. Even if he expected
an answer, I didn't have one.

All I knew was that if I had met him before I ever met Kevin, I wouldn't
now feel so broken, so scared all the time.
I had a feeling that if Declan had walked into my life five years ago, I
would have clung to him as if my life depended on it, knowing that I
had just found the best man in the entire world.
I hobbled into the room, my shoulder tucked in under Declan's. With
one arm wrapped around my waist, he helped hold me up and keep
pressure off my injured ankle. He held our small overnight bag in his
other hand like he'd done all afternoon.
For a normal man, I imagined this would be awkward, if it were even
possible.

For Declan, it seemed like nothing.
That was my last clear thought before I took in the room he had
checked us into. My eyes settled quickly on the bed against the far wall.
The one bed.
A large bed, roomy enough that we could share it without brushing up
against each other while we slept.
Yet I knew, as a familiar warmth tingled in the best of places, that was
the last thing I wanted—injured or not. I tensed against him at the
thought.
His arm still around me, Declan moved us farther into the room. I heard
the thud of the bag hitting the carpet and then the loud click of the door
closing behind us.
"They only had a king bed available," Declan said, his tone apologetic.
By the way his eyes roamed over my face, taking in my appearance,
he'd misread my thoughts entirely.
Or he'd read them correctly and he was letting me down in a polite way.
Which would be just like the gentleman he'd shown himself to be.
With that sobering thought, I stepped away from him and made the
short walk to the bathroom. "Excuse me for a moment."
I flinched from the pain in my ankle, but hid it as I took several small
steps, then stopped when Declan called my name.
Turning to look at him over my shoulder, I watched his eyes flicker
from mine to the bed and back again. I caught the slight tightening of
his jaw, and then he raised his phone. "I'm going to call David."
I tilted my chin down and closed the bathroom door behind me as I
heard Declan's deep voice rumble, "Hey, dickhead. How's it going?"
I laughed softly, and did what needed to be done in the bathroom.
While I was there, I made another decision that was probably idiotic.
Using the complimentary mouthwash, I rinsed out my mouth,
freshening my breath. I also fluffed my hair, even though with the day
we'd had and the wine we'd drunk it still looked disheveled, and not
messy in a looking-forward-to-what's-to-come sort of way.
I was pinching my cheeks, bringing life back into them, when a knock
on the door made me
jump.
"Just a second!" I shouted, and gave myself one last look in the mirror.
I looked like I'd spent the day in the car, stressed about selling that

same car, eaten good food, ridden a train, and then almost fallen down a
flight of stairs.
Essentially, I looked exhausted and worn-out.
Not bed-worthy in the least. Especially to a man like Declan, whose
entire body silently screamed passion and control.
To make matters worse, the realization that we were not here on some
sensual couple's getaway slammed into my gut, knocking the breath
from me as another knock vibrated against the door.
"Trina?"

"Coming!" I choked out, and then moved as quickly as I could to open
the door. "Did you talk to your friend?"
"I did." He nodded and flipped his phone in his hand. "He's working a
few more hours. Said if you can hang in there a little bit longer, he'll
stop by on his break."
"I can. That's fine, thank you."
"Are you okay?" he asked, and this time, he lifted his hand and pushed
some of my freshly fluffed hair behind my ear.
I leaned into his gentle touch. "I'm fine. Just tired."
"Of course," he muttered, even as one side of his lips kicked up before
he dropped his hand and took a step back.
"I'll run to the pharmacy, get you an ice pack and ibuprofen while we
wait for him."
I shook my head. "It's not necessary."
"It is. Get off your feet and I'll be back soon."
Something else flashed in his eyes, something I didn't fully understand,
but I knew I'd seen that look before.
It was the same thing I saw in his hallway last night when he told me to
stop kissing him before he pushed me further than I wanted to go. All
my earlier doubt and fear vanished into the thickening air.
I opened my mouth to tell him that that wasn't possible, when I felt his
lips at my ear. "Get some rest while I'm gone, Trina. You'll need the
energy later."
My jaw fell open. I was too stunned, in the best of ways, to speak. And
then I wasn't given the option, as he turned and I watched his beautiful
backside saunter out of the hotel room, the door shutting behind him.
"Nice legs," I heard a male voice murmur.
Another male voice, one I recognized, growled, "Eyes on the ankle,
asshole."
The unfamiliar male voice chuckled, and I struggled to open my eyes,
realizing I was being woken up by Declan and his friend David.
"Still. She's nice. Pretty." A long pause caused my heart to stall in my
chest as I waited for Declan's reaction, then David continued. "Way
better than Mara."
"Two aren't even comparable, dickhead."
At their quick burst of laughter—which I felt in my chest, because I
could tell that was a compliment, and that the negative thought about

Mara was definitely a good thing—I opened my eyes and made it
completely obvious that I'd woken from my nap with an exaggerated
yawn and stretch.
"Hey," I whispered, my throat dry from sleep. Declan was on my side
of the bed, standing close. I could sense the other male in the room, but
I couldn't see him. "What's going on?"
Declan grinned and leaned forward to brush my hair off my forehead.
He was always touching me there. I liked the sensation way too much
to consider investing in cheap hair ties anytime soon.

"David just got here. He needs to see your ankle before he goes back to
the hospital."
I nodded and shifted on the bed, feeling a warm weight slide off my
ankle as I sat up. When I looked down, I saw an ice pack. I turned back
to Declan with a questioning look in my eyes.
"You've been out for hours. Came back from the store and set the ice
pack on you."
It was not a big deal. Yet it was. Huge. Emotions threatened to
overwhelm me at the simple gesture, something that probably wouldn't
seem unusual to anyone who'd had people care about them when they'd
been hurt. When I thought my voice wouldn't be shaky, I grinned.
"Thank you."
But even then the grin and the two words were shaky.
"David, meet Trina." Declan gestured with one arm and I turned to see
a handsome guy standing near the foot of the bed. He was dressed in
typical pale-blue doctor's scrubs, stethoscope still draped around his
neck. Not only that, but he was handsome in a clean-cut, nice-guy sort
of way. He was tall and lean, square jawed, and had short, sandy-brown
hair that could either be light brown or dark blond. It was trimmed nice
and short, professional looking. His jaw showed no hint of stubble,
telling me that he took the time to look nice and neat. Small lines at the
edges of his eyes said he lived a life of either high stress or a lot of
laughter and emotion, or possibly both.
His appearance, along with his kind smile, was immediately calming.
"Trina, David."
"Nice to meet you," David said, walking forward and holding out his
hand. "Declan's told me all about you."
I shook his hand, noticing his warm, firm grip, before I twisted to look
at Declan over David's shoulder.
"Not everything," Declan said, and David's brow furrowed. "Get her
looked at, David, so you can get back to work."
"You have to go back?" I asked, shock evident in my voice.
"On for fourteen hours. This is just my dinner break, but it's the
quickest I could get here," David replied, moving to the foot of the bed.
When he reached out toward my ankle, I flinched away from his touch,
anticipating the pain.
I sucked my bottom lip in between my teeth. "Sorry."

His eyes flashed to Declan's before coming back to me. When he met
my gaze, his light-blue eyes softened. "I'm going to sit next to you and
test your ankle. Okay?"
I nodded, still feeling embarrassed, more so now because of the
understanding David seemed to have regarding me. I briefly wondered
how long they had spoken while I slept, how much Declan had shared
with David about me.
I tensed when David gently cupped my ankle in his hand and slowly
turned my foot toward him.
I grimaced from the dull pain that began throbbing. "Hurt?" he asked,
his eyes on mine, not on my ankle. "Just a bit," I admitted
unnecessarily. "But better than before." "Have you taken any pain
meds?"
"She was out when I got back from the store. Just gave her the ice pack
but she's been sleeping." Declan filled in the information without
looking at either David or me. His gaze

was glued to David's hands on me.
My lips twitched, fighting a smile at his protectiveness, before David
turned my ankle the other way. He set it down and I sucked in a breath
when his fingers began prodding my skin. He alternated between
watching my expression and where his hands were moving.
When he finally stopped examining with his hands and his eyes, I felt
like I could breathe again.
I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I felt the pressure
ease in my chest.
I hated feeling under the microscope.
"It's just twisted. Minor sprain, but nothing bad."
My eyes flickered to Declan's and I grinned. "Told you so."
"Better safe than sorry." His dark eyes showed no hint of amusement,
so I wiped the grin off my face and turned back to David.
His eyes showed a great deal of amusement as he watched me. "I think
you'll be fine by the morning. It's swollen, but not too bad. Take some
ibuprofen every four to six hours if you need it, but you should be good
to go."
"Thank you for taking the time to check on me. It sounds like you're a
busy guy."
He stood from the bed and tugged on the ends of his stethoscope. "I'm
never too busy for a friend." He nodded his head toward Declan
without taking his eyes off me. "Plus, this asshole can be unbearable
when he doesn't get his way."
My lips twitched again and I coughed to smother my laugh. "I wasn't
aware he could be an asshole."
Behind him, Declan made a choking sound.
David burst out in laughter. "Then it appears you don't know him well
at all."
My eyes slid to Declan's and I licked my lips. I couldn't contain the
breathiness in my tone when I said, "I think I know him well enough."
"Right." David cleared his throat, his humor obvious. "Then I'm going
to take that as my cue to go."
He stepped toward me, hand extended. "It was nice to meet you, Trina."
When I placed my hand in his, he held it firmly and then leaned toward
me, squatting at the same time, until his lips were by my ear. My eyes
stay pinned on Declan's as he scowled, watching his friend dip close to

me. "And I'm kidding about the asshole comment. He's the best guy
I've ever met. If you need someone, he's the guy who will take care of
you. You got me?"
I nodded, breathless and speechless at the same time.
David wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. But that didn't
mean I couldn't feel Declan's annoyance with his friend rising every
single moment David spent close to me.
When his lips brushed against my cheek as he pulled away, Declan
growled.
David squeezed my hand before he let it go. "See?" He raised a brow
and turned to face his friend. "What'd I tell you? Asshole."
I didn't bother to cover or hide my laugh this time.
"I'll walk you out," Declan said, walking toward the two of us and
putting himself between David and me. I was still laughing quietly
when David peeked around Declan's shoulder and

winked at me. "David," Declan growled.
His hands balled into fists, making David laugh even harder than me.
"Jesus Christ, dickstick. Take a fuckin' joke. I gotta get to the hospital
anyway, but before I go, do you need anything? A chill pill?"
"Funny." Declan snorted and I laughed louder. It felt good. A full,
stomach-rumbling laugh that hurt my sides and made my cheeks hurt.
"And careful with the swearing. Trina makes me pay her a dollar every
time I cuss."
David joined me in laughing, and as we laughed, I didn't miss the way
Declan turned to look at me over his shoulder. His expression
immediately changed and his eyes softened as he took in my laughter
and my smile. "Be back in a minute, Trina."
"Okay," I replied, smothering my laughter but not my smile. "Bye,
David," I called out when I heard the door open.
"See you soon, Trina! Stay off that ankle tonight and don't take this
guy's shit."
I heard another growl from Declan before I watched him push his
friend out the door of the hotel room. Declan followed, and then the
door slammed closed.

Chapter 13 Trina
"Thank you," I murmured, half into the glass of water pressed against
my lips. "I'm feeling better, though."
Declan stood over me and watched me swallow the pills he'd just
handed me along with the water. "David said every four to six hours."
"It's just an ankle," I reminded him, fighting to keep the edges of my
lips from quirking up. If I'd learned anything this afternoon, it was that
Declan didn't like seeing me hurt in any way.
One side of his nose twitched and he nodded when I handed the empty
glass back to him. "How are you feeling, for real? Be honest."
"I feel well rested, but tired. And my ankle is sore, but not in a painful
way, just tender."
He searched my face as if examining me for any hint of untruth before
he nodded again and walked away. I watched as he headed to the small
bathroom and rinsed out the glass before he shut the door. While he
used the restroom, I rolled to the other side of the bed to the nightstand,
the only other furniture in the hotel room besides a small chair pushed
up to a tiny desk in the corner, and grabbed the remote. I'd just turned
on the television when Declan exited the bathroom. As soon as I saw
him, my breath stopped inside me.
He had taken off his shirt and I couldn't stop staring at his chest.
He was cut.
Ripped.
Holy crumb cakes, the man was a serious work of art.
My eyes followed him as he sauntered around the bed, almost as if he'd
slowed down when he noticed my eyes were stuck to his body like
glue. Then he sat down on the bed next to me.
Next to me!
My eyes bugged out when he kicked his feet up on the bed, crossing
them at the ankles, his back at the headboard.
Then he reached over to me, slid his arm around my waist, and pulled
me to him as if I were light as the pillow he rested against.
"Um. Declan?"
His arm tightened around my waist until I had no choice but to rest my
head on his shoulder and my hand on his stomach.
Without speaking, he plucked the remote out of my hand and started
flipping through channels.

"You've had a long day, and you're tired," he said, before I felt his lips
press against the top of my head. "Had a lot of ideas in my head today,
of how we could move forward with exploring whatever's going on
between us, but that's going to have to wait."
Um. My blood began pulsing and heating. A throb began, and not in
my injured ankle, but in a much more pleasurable area. I couldn't stop
my fingers from flexing against the taut skin of his abdomen, which
was covered by the sexiest dusting of hair.
I wanted this. I wanted whatever he originally wanted to explore.
I wanted to explore him...and his body.
I wanted him to explore mine.
Not having had a lot of partners, only a few before Kevin, I'd never
needed to take that first step and let a guy know what I wanted. In my
limited experience, young guys were pretty blunt about what they
wanted and expected.
Still, I gathered whatever confidence I had and tilted my head back,
twisting so I was looking at Declan's jaw. His jaw was tight, his eyes
straight ahead on the television.
"Declan?" I whispered, adjusting as best as I could so I was sitting up
further. His fingers on my hip held me in place. "What if I want to
explore...um...you tonight?"
His eyes turned to mine and his jaw tightened further. "You're hurt."
I looked up at the ceiling and opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me
off by dropping the remote, then cupping my cheek with his warm,
large, calloused hand. "When I take you, Trina, and I promise you I'm
going to, I want to know that everything I'm giving you is pleasure.
And tonight, I can't know that for certain. I don't want to be worried that
you're hiding pain in your ankle when I'm making you feel good in
other places. But trust me, it'll happen. This will happen between us,
when I can know that I can take you and not hurt you." He leaned
forward and brushed his lips against mine. The surprise I felt at hearing
his words, along with the taste and feel of him, his lips surprisingly
soft, made my lips part and he slid his tongue inside my mouth.
Tasting me.
Gently.
But fully and completely.

I mewled into his mouth as his tongue touched mine. Sparks ignited,
running down my back.
But I didn't push against him. I didn't force anything to happen.
I trusted him. I trusted him completely, and somehow I knew that he
needed this. He needed this time and he needed to know I was okay. So
I let him continue sliding his tongue against mine, our kiss and our
breaths mingling together, and I let him slowly pull away until our lips
were barely touching.
And then I smiled.
"Do you understand what I said, Trina?"
I nodded, giving him that. "We can wait, Declan."
His thumb slid along my cheekbone, his eyes dropping to watch the
movement. "You taste as beautiful as you look. As beautiful as you
are."
I swallowed, fighting the emotion threatening to spill over. I never
expected a man as large

and intimidating and strong as Declan would be the guy to give me this,
but he was. I knew in that moment, as I whispered my thank you in the
shyest way possible, feeling like the strongest person in the world when
his eyes sparkled in answer, that as much as Declan wanted to give me
something good, something pure, I wanted to give him everything he'd
ever wanted.
"Go to sleep," he finally said, turning back to the television, but
keeping one arm around my waist, the other hand on my cheek. "We've
had a long day and we'll have an even longer one tomorrow."
I let him gently press my cheek against his shoulder and my eyes slid to
the television.
My arm was draped all the way across his stomach, my fingers pressed
into his side to hold him to me, like he was holding me to him.
Then I closed my eyes and inhaled his clean scent, with its hint of spice,
as he settled on a baseball game.
I was asleep before the inning was over.
Morning pulled me from sleep, and I felt the heat beneath me. Before I
opened my eyes, I knew where I was.
I was next to Declan, practically draped over his firm body. We had
somehow shifted in our sleep, and I was once again under covers I
didn't remember crawling under. One of my legs was pressed up
against Declan's, my other draped over his thigh. My arm was over his
stomach, where I remembered placing it before I fell asleep, my other
hand was under his shoulder, and my head was resting on top of it.
I was essentially an octopus, my limbs all over him, attached as if by
suction.
I had no desire to move, either.
I did, though, have an insatiable desire to somehow be closer to him. To
taste him.
I hadn't felt desire for anyone in years, and as it came at me that
morning, my sex beginning to throb and pulse with heat and need, I
succumbed to it.
I turned my head and pressed my lips to his exposed skin, running my
hand along his stomach, through his short, coarse hair.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember the way he'd looked last night
when he exited the bathroom. A smattering of hair between his pecs,

peppered down the center of his abs, thickening as it reached his
waistband.
I had a sudden, overwhelming desire to see what rested beneath said
waistband.
With my lips pressed to his chest, I tasted his masculinity. The hard
muscles beneath his skin tightened as my hand continued slowly
wandering across his abs.
I felt my nipples tighten beneath my tank top, and as my breath
quickened, my tongue darted out, sliding along his skin.
His hand flexed on my lower back where he held me to him, his
fingertips pressing into my skin.
"Trina?"

His voice was a deep, raspy murmur.
It did crazy things to the already wet area between my thighs. I wanted
to hear his voice, every day, say my name just like that.
"Hmm?" I murmured, pressing my lips against his skin again. My
fingers gripped his shoulder, as if I were trying to hold him to me so I
could explore him.
I wanted him more than anything.
"You awake, sweetheart?"
I nodded, keeping my eyes closed and my exploration slow, savoring
every inch of him. It was soon no longer enough.
Declan's chest began to rise and fall at a faster pace. His hand continued
pressing me against his body and my hips began to move against his
thigh of their own accord.
I was grinding on him, and he was letting me.
He was giving me control in this moment as if he somehow knew I
desperately needed it.
I did.
I also wanted to lose it.
"You feel so good," I replied, my voice a hoarse whisper. "When I'm
next to you, I feel safe."
"Aww, sweetheart." His hand tightened on my back and he shifted his
weight, rolling to the side and holding me against him. The move made
me straddle his lower thigh, and my hips pressed into him. "You're still
hurt."
"I know." I was. I was hurting everywhere, but it wasn't my ankle that
was throbbing. To show him what I meant, I slid my hand to his hip and
tried to pull him closer to me. "I want you, though."
I felt him shudder as he exhaled deeply, and I finally opened my eyes.
His hand slid up to the back of my neck and he tilted my head, forcing
me to meet his gaze.
His dark-brown eyes were heated, full of desire. I watched his throat
dip and move as he swallowed, seeming to decide what to do next.
"I want this, Declan." I strengthened my voice. I wanted him to know
that I wanted the same things he did. To explore what we were feeling
as adults. It didn't have to lead to forever; I just wanted to enjoy it for
now.

He pressed his other hand to my cheek, pushing back my hair and
tucking it behind my ear.
"You always do that," I whispered, a small smile tilting my lips at the
corners. "Why?"
His eyes watched the movement of his hand. "Because you always
seem so soft and I can't help but touch you."
"Then do it," I challenged him softly. "Touch me."
His forehead fell to mine. I felt his chest heave against me and he
closed his eyes. "If I start, I wouldn't want to stop, Trina. Not until
every inch of you is mine."
His.
His need to claim me didn't scare me. Not like it would have coming
from someone else. Not like it did when Kevin said I was his.
There was a difference.
Kevin wanted to control me, to make me a possession.

Declan just wanted me at his side.
I wanted to be beneath him. Or maybe on top of him.
"Please," I pleaded, my hips rolling against his leg again. "I need this."
And so did he, based on the bulge I felt beneath the fabric of his boxers.
He groaned as I shifted my hips and rolled them again, pressing into
him.
"Jesus," he grunted. "I can feel how wet and hot you already are."
My fingertips dug into his shoulders. "Please, Declan. Don't hold back
with me. Not like
this."
I felt his fight to be safe leave him with another rolling breath that
rippled down his abs. His hand on my cheek cupped me more firmly
and then he was pulling me closer to him, sinking his lips to mine.
I instantly mewled against him as his hands began to move. He
explored my skin, my arms, and my back beneath my tank top, and then
that was being removed as I was rolled to my back.
"So beautiful," he said, leaning over me, already between my spread
thighs. His large, warm hand trailed down my chest, sliding between
my breasts and running along my abdomen.
The sincere and intense way he looked at me prevented any
embarrassment from seeping into me. His hand drew circles on my
skin, creating a wake of goosebumps as the circles grew smaller and
then larger again.
With every swipe of his hand just above the waistband of my shorts, I
arched into him, silently signaling what I needed.
He ignored me and kept his eyes on my face, watching the reaction I
was having to his touch become obvious.
I bit down on my bottom lip to contain my moans and to stop myself
from pleading again.
He knew what I wanted. I'd already asked enough.
His eyes met mine and narrowed. "I want to be gentle with you, but I'm
afraid I won't be
able to."
I shook my head. "Don't. I want you, however you come."
He must have seen the sincerity and the need in my eyes, because his
hand stilled at my hip, and he leaned forward.

"I haven't even kissed you yet," he murmured, his lips stretching into a
grin. "How forgetful of me."
I laughed softly as his lips met mine and I opened to him immediately.
Our tongues tangled together, increasing my need like a wildfire
ignited deep inside me. As our kiss grew more intense, Declan's hands
went to my pajama shorts and he pulled them down, no longer seeming
to hesitate about what he wanted.
His hand slid up my thigh and I moaned into his mouth. His touch was
sure and confident, but gentle at the same time.
I arched into him, spreading my thighs wider.
I gasped as he trailed two fingers through my wetness and spread it
around. I squeezed my eyes closed, dug my fingers into his back.

"Yes," I whispered, already feeling my clit begin to pulse. I was
swollen and hot and wet, and so much more turned on than I could
remember being before, or at least, for years.
I needed this. I needed the physical release as well as the emotional
one.
I was cheating on a husband I'd left only weeks earlier, but this didn't
feel wrong.
It felt nothing less than perfect. As Declan's fingers continued sliding
through me, dipping inside me and teasing me, pulling out and running
over my clit, perfection continued to increase until I felt ready to
explode.
"Declan," I gasped again, pushing my head into the mattress. My head
began to thrash from his light ministrations, and my breath came too
quick and harsh to continue kissing him. Fire burned along my inner
thighs and a shiver rolled through my entire body. "I'm so close."
"Let me see you," he whispered, dipping down and pressing his lips
against the column of my throat. "Let me see what I do to you."
I shattered immediately, my entire body going up in flames as the
climax he'd so quickly pulled from my body rolled through me, making
me lose the control I so desperately clung to.
While I shouted his name and chanted "Oh my God" repeatedly, I
swooned at his praise, his compliments, as he called me beautiful,
perfect, so soft...so hot and wet.
As my breathing returned to normal, Declan was already reaching
down to the floor beside the bed and digging in his discarded jeans
from the night before. He came back with a condom in his hand, not
wasting time before he ditched his boxers and wrapped his hand around
his length.
He was beautiful everywhere. Thick and veined, his erection was just
as large as the rest of him.
I sat up and took the condom out of his hand, then took it from the
wrapper and rolled it down his length.
His shaft jerked in my hand, hot silk over steel. I had a vision of my
mouth wrapping around his erection sometime soon. I had never
wanted to taste a man before.
I wanted to know what every single inch of Declan felt and tasted like.

He undid me in ways I never thought possible, and it wasn't because he
knew how to expertly use his hands on my most sensitive areas.
"Stroke me again," he grunted, and I looked at his face to see him
concentrating on my small fingers sliding up and down his shaft.
"Harder." I listened. I squeezed him tight, following his commands
until his hand covered mine. Then his hands went to my hips and he
rolled onto his back and pulled me over him. "I want you to ride me.
Take what you need from me."
My lips parted.
He'd already given me everything I needed. Somehow, the last few
weeks with Declan had returned my confidence. I felt stronger. I felt
more like a woman than I had in years.
It had nothing to do with this moment in bed.
Everything I needed, Declan had already provided with his respect and
his kindness and his patience.
Tears pricked my eyes. He had come to mean so much to me in such a
short time. I didn't want it to end.

But I listened.
I climbed on top of Declan, wrapped my hand around his erection, and
slowly began to ease it into me.
And then I showed Declan with my actions what my overwhelmed self
couldn't express with my words.
I began to tremble on top of him, our hips meeting in perfect rhythm,
and as he took me to the precipice again, we came together, chest to
chest, our hands entwined, my heart beating against his and his against
mine.
I knew in that moment that nothing would ever be the same again.
I didn't want it to be. I wanted to hold on to this incredible man for as
long as he'd let me.
The fall air was brisk as the ferry pushed through the swells of Lake
Michigan. I didn't know what to expect when Declan first brought up
the idea of this trip ending with a ferry ride across one of the Great
Lakes.
I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been nervous. The idea of being on a boat
on a huge lake was more than a bit frightening for someone who wasn't
all that thrilled with large bodies of water.
This was more than cool, though. The ship was large, and seemed to be
three stories high. Below the passenger decks, my new-to-me, but
older-than-dirt Ford Explorer safely sat with dozens of other cars and
trucks.
We'd done it. We hadn't heard from Tyson if he'd been able to find any
information about Kevin yet, but I was choosing not to think about that
today.
Not after the incredible morning Declan and I had.
A smile formed on my lips as the wind whipped my hair behind my
shoulders.
"You still grinning about getting your way with the Ford?" Declan
wrapped his arm around my waist and tugged me toward him.
I turned to him, putting the boat's railing behind me, and faced him
fully.
My smile widened. "I wasn't. But I am now."
He shook his head and I couldn't help but laugh again. I'd been laughing
about our argument at the dealership for the last several hours. When
we pulled into another run-down dealership's parking lot early this

morning, after we'd finally untangled ourselves from the sheets of our
bed, caught the train from Chicago, and then took a taxi, my eyes
immediately fell on a gray Ford Explorer.
It was basic and nondescript, and would blend in easily, because I
always saw Explorers on the road. It was also cheap enough that I still
had a couple of grand left over from the check from the sale of my
convertible, which Declan had deposited late last night.
Declan immediately steered me toward a newer Tahoe.
I dragged him back to the Explorer.
Thus a tug-of-war over two different vehicles began in the parking lot,
leaving the salesman more than a little frustrated with the way Declan
and I bickered like an old married couple.

But it had felt good, knowing I could speak my mind and fight for what
I wanted and not worry about consequences. A part of me still
wondered if that was why Declan allowed the ridiculous argument to
continue for as long as it did.
Just to prove I was safe with him.
Eventually, he sighed and looked at the sky. With an exaggerated eye
roll, he then said, "Your money, your car, but it'll be in my garage
getting fixed and repaired more than it'll be on the road taking you
where you need to go."
I didn't think the idea of having my car in his garage, which would
mean spending more time with him, was such a bad thing.
"You'll fall in love with Betsy someday." I tipped my head back so I
could look Declan in the eyes. Taking one hand from the rail, I pressed
it against his chest.
"Christ." He looked down at me. "You've named that hunk of junk
Betsy? She'll break down on the side of the road and leave you
stranded."
My fingers curled into his shirt and I pulled him forward. After making
love to Declan this morning, I couldn't keep my hands off of him. In
one way or another, we'd been touching since we walked out of the
hotel room. I liked that he seemed to feel the need to touch me just as
often as I wanted to touch him. His hand settled on my waist and his
fingers curled into the thin fabric of my tie-dyed maxi dress. "Then
you'll just have to save me."
His eyes darkened and he licked his lips. "Speaking of that—"
"I don't want to talk about it today," I said, interrupting him.
His thick, dark brows came together. "Trina, we have to."
"Did Tyson find anything yet?"
The way he glanced at the water behind me told me everything I needed
to know.
"Then there's nothing to talk about." My fingers curled into his shirt
harder and I tugged him toward me until his attention was focused on
me again. I could see the blue water and the bright sun reflecting in his
concerned eyes. "We'll figure it out, but I'm not going to run from
Kevin anymore. I've been thinking that as soon as I get back, I should
find an attorney, or make some calls to Kentucky, so I can figure out
how to start the divorce process."

A muscle jumped in his cheek and his gaze narrowed. "You sure you
want to do that?"
I had to. Leaving Kevin officially wasn't just an option, but a necessity.
"At the very least, once he hears that I'm doing this, it will bring him
out of the woodwork. Until then, though, I'd like to not talk about him.
Spend more time thinking about us."
"Us?" His eyebrow rose, along with one side of his lips.
The anticipation in his deep voice erased any nervousness I might have
had, which was minimal anyway. Declan made it clear this morning
that he wanted me. "I've been thinking that maybe heading to Canada
isn't such a great idea."
His shoulders fell, and I knew he'd been worried about this, about me
still choosing to leave him.
Instead of answering with words, his forehead dropped to mine and his
hands squeezed both my hips, pulling me as close to his body as I could
get. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his
chest.
"I'll keep you safe, Trina. I swear it."

I didn't have to respond. I already knew he would. So I answered him
much the same way he had answered me. I pulled him close, held him
tight, and hoped like the dickens that we figured out a way to get me
free and clear of Kevin before he found me.

Chapter 14 Declan
Only seen you look at one woman like that before...this one deserves to
be looked at like that.
Fuck. When David said that to me as I walked him out of the hotel
room, those words had pierced my chest strong and true. He'd seen my
relationship with Mara from the beginning. Aidan had, too. While
Aidan had never said much about Mara when she was my girlfriend
and then my fiancée and then my wife, David had quietly objected to
our relationship from the start. When we got engaged, David made it
completely clear that he thought it was a bad idea, that he didn't think
Mara was really willing to sacrifice everything she'd had to settle down
with a guy whose dream was to own a bar, but then he shut his mouth,
after I shut it for him—with my fist.
It wasn't the first time we'd come to blows, but it had never happened
over a woman before.
Fortunately, David never mentioned it again, and even stood up as a
groomsman at my wedding. That one night, that one argument, hadn't
changed our friendship in the least.
When my marriage ended, and I was shaken by the fallout, David had
been there for me as much as possible, and never threw my decision in
my face. He never mentioned that he'd been right.
The fact that Trina gained his approval in such a minuscule amount of
time made me even more confident in my decision to be with her than I
already was.
The way her body felt in my hands that morning cemented that decision
further. Her body was made for my hands to touch. She fit me
perfectly. Even when we were arguing.
My hands wrapped around the steering wheel of her new SUV. I
smirked. Betsy. I shook my head and looked around the interior.
Gray Ford Explorer. Boring. Safe enough. She had called the rust stains
over the rear tire well and back bumper "character."
I wanted her to get the Tahoe. Bigger. Safer. Cleaner.
She'd smiled at me, even while looking like she wanted to stomp her
foot on the pavement.
I eventually yielded because a quick Internet search on my phone
proved there were more Explorers on the road, and her goal was to
blend in as much as possible. She didn't want flashy, and no way would

Morgenson expect his wife to be driving around in a rust-speckled
Ford.
I yielded because I was quickly learning that when Trina smiled it
made me want to give

her whatever I could, so that I'd keep seeing those smiles shot in my
direction.
I yielded because I knew, without her even saying it, that she hadn't
gotten to make a lot of decisions over the last few years, and what in the
fuck did I care what kind of car she drove? When it broke down, which
this piece of metal was certain to do, frequently, it meant she would be
in my house or my garage while I worked on fixing it back up.
I was learning that I not only wanted to see her smile and to hear those
laughs of hers that hit me in the gut every time she let one loose, I
wanted her close.
All the time.
Now she was thinking of not leaving for Canada. Worked for me.
"I've been thinking," I said, and reached for the volume knob to turn
down the shrieking noise. She'd been quietly humming along with the
radio for the last...too damn long.
"Sounds like it might have hurt you."
I flashed her a grin. She was teasing me more often, becoming more
comfortable around me. The fact she was teasing anyone at all told me
she was shedding her fear—one laugh, one sarcastic comment at a
time. It fucking thrilled me that I was the one bringing it out of her.
"Shush." I reached over, placed my hand on her knee, and gave her a
firm squeeze. She covered my hand with hers and laced our fingers
together. "I'm thinking that you shouldn't work whenever I need you at
Fireside anymore."
When I glanced at her again, taking my eyes off the road for only a few
seconds, a line furrowed her brow.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You had some great ideas with the marketing and promo, shit I don't
know anything about, plus you've saved me hours by working in the
office. I want to bring you on part-time. You can fill in on the floor
when we need extra hands, but when we don't, you can figure out how
to save my restaurant."
"That's a lot of responsibility," she said, her voice a bit softer than
normal. When I glanced at her again, though, I didn't see fear. I saw
hope. She was already thinking of ways to prove herself.
"You in? I don't know if I can pay you much. You've seen my
accounts."

"It's fine," she said. "I mean, whatever you can swing would be great,
and I'll still get tips."
Her voice trailed off and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.
When her hand on mine loosened and she started to pull it away, I
gripped her tighter. "What is it?"
"Well." Her lips twisted to the side. Something inside me twisted and
turned along with them. "I'm thinking that if I'm staying, I should
probably look for a place to live."
I didn't want her going anywhere. I liked her in my home, settled and
safe. "But there's no way I can get approved for something, not now,
anyway."
She frowned and looked out the window. I instantly detected her
sadness, mixed with an anger I hadn't previously seen.
"I hate him," she whispered. Her quiet words were clipped with fury. "I
was always taught not to hate because there's good in everybody. But
the only thing good about Kevin is his wallet, and even that's tainted
and worthless if it's in the pocket of the kind of man he is."

I knew she was talking more to herself than to me, but I couldn't deny
the pride that surged through me at her quietly confident words.
"Blue," I said, an idea instantly blooming.
Her head jerked and she twisted toward me. "What?"
"Blue. Tyson just asked her to move in with him, and she's got a great
pad at an apartment complex in Latham Hills. Gated entrance with
twenty-four-hour security guards. Tags for resident's cars, outside
security cameras, and an indoor alarm system in all the units. I bet she'll
let you sublease if you want, until you can find something else,
wherever you want to go, but you'll be safe there."
Her head tilted and that frown increased. "You think I should do that?"
No. Absolutely not. I wanted her in my bed. In my house. I liked
waking up to her. I liked it when I came back from a run, or came up
from my gym in the basement, and the first thing I saw was her,
drinking coffee, reading the paper, or frying bacon at the stove. Took
my breath away every time.
"I want you to be where you're most comfortable. I want you at my
place," I admitted. "I like you there." I squeezed her hand to reassure
her. "But if you want your own place, something to call yours, then I
don't see why that would be a problem."
"Unless they don't allow dogs."
"They do," I told her. "You decide and we can talk to Blue when we get
home if you want. But I know that she was going to have to find
someone to cover her lease or else pay the penalty fee for canceling
early. Plus, this way, she can probably leave her furniture for you, since
Tyson's got everything."
She smiled and a wistful expression flashed in her eyes. Fuck. She was
thinking about this. She wanted this. A place to call hers.
I couldn't blame her, either.
A slow breath parted her lips and then she licked them, looking down at
our clasped hands before dragging her eyes to meet mine. When she
did, she gave my hand a small but firm squeeze. "I'll have to think
about it."
I wanted to talk her out of it.
But just like with the Explorer earlier, Trina needed to be the one to
make this decision. She had always had someone telling her what to do,
where to be...who to be. I couldn't be that guy.

I did it once with Mara and it ended in disaster.
And I already knew I wanted Trina more than I could ever remember
wanting Mara.

Chapter 15 Trina
"This place is really nice," I said, spinning in a slow circle. The
apartment wasn't anything special. Plain beige walls, a kitchen with a
walk-in pantry, and a short bar area leading to a small dining area
where Blue had a circular glass table with only two chairs. That led to
the living room, where I was standing. Through the windows I saw the
complex's large outdoor pool and the nearby hot tub, both of which
were already closed down for the fall and winter.
The thing I liked about the apartment was the way Blue had decorated.
Shabby-chic pieces mixed with vintage pieces that she'd found at thrift
stores or refinished herself spread a calming sensation, a "homey"
feeling, into every corner, onto every piece of furniture inside this
cookie-cutter apartment.
I loved it.
I wanted it.
I wanted to have something just like this someday, with my own
furniture, where I could enter the house, drop my purse on the floor,
kick off my shoes just inside the doorway, and curl up on an overly
plush couch with an even softer chenille blanket.
I wanted to end a hard day of work with the satisfaction that came from
knowing that not only did I work hard, but that I enjoyed myself, in a
place that was comfortable and safe.
"Yeah," she said, a bit softly. "I had fun getting this place just the way I
wanted it." She shrugged and took a seat on the couch. "But, you know,
Tyson's place is nice, too."
It was, and it was close to Declan's. I saw Tyson's small ranch last
week, when we dropped off Boomer before heading to Chicago.
Tyson's house and Declan's were only a few streets away from each
other.
"Don't you want to take the furniture with you?"
She looked around the small but gorgeous living area and sighed.
"Eventually, maybe. Tyson says I can bring anything I want as long as
it doesn't have pink in it."
She smiled and ran her hands over a homemade quilt next to her.
My nose crinkled. "That's salmon, not pink."
She chuckled, and when she looked at me, her blue eyes were lit with
humor. "That's exactly what I told Tyson. He's not buying it."

"Men." I smirked.
"Speaking of men," she said, leaning forward. "Tell me more about you
and Declan."
I felt my cheeks and neck heat and looked out the window. It'd been so
long since I'd had friends who allowed me to dish about guys. Not since
college. Heck, it'd been since college

that there'd been a guy I wanted to discuss.
Before I could answer, Blue said, "I'm surprised you're interested in my
apartment."
At my confused expression, she stood up and headed toward the
kitchen. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here. And if you want
this place, trust me, it's all yours. I just thought things were going well
for you at Declan's place."
"They are."
And they were.
Yet there was something about being at his house, and being in his bed,
where he'd wanted me every night since we returned from Chicago a
few days ago, that had me terrified.
I just left one horrible, nasty marriage, only to fall in bed with the first
guy that came along.
He was a great guy. The kind of guy I wanted, but some mornings I
woke up and wondered if I needed to take a step back.
Be by myself for a while.
I explained this to Gabriella, hesitantly at first, since she was dating one
of Declan's best friends, but the words began to flow quickly with the
encouragement of her understanding and compassionate gaze.
When I was done, she simply slid me a glass of the Pinot Noir that she'd
uncorked and allowed to breathe while I spoke, and then poured her
own.
"I get it. I do," she said after taking a sip. "Yet I also know that the first
time Tyson and I ran into each other this spring, I knew he was the one
for me. We were separated for months, partly due to my own
stubbornness, and while we're fine now, I still sometimes wonder
where we'd be if I hadn't just believed in what I felt for him."
"I guess the problem is the last time I felt anything good for a man, it
didn't end so well." I took a sip of my wine and glanced away from her.
There was a difference between compassion and pity, and I didn't want
to risk seeing the pity that might be in her gaze. "Besides," I continued,
"You and Tyson had a history. He was your high school boyfriend,
too."
"True. You and Declan are different, but that doesn't mean you two
aren't also the same, in other ways."
"We're not in love. It's too soon."

She cocked her head to the side. "Is it?"
Yes. Absolutely. I'd known Declan for, like, a minute. Less than a
month, in real time.
Still, I couldn't imagine there was anything else I could I learn about
him that I didn't already know. Not when it came to the type of guy he
was, how he handled problems, how he cared for women and the
people in his life.
A warmth suffused me, making my skin itch.
It would have been nice to blame the feeling on a sudden sulfite allergy
due to the red wine.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on perspective, I knew that
Gabriella was right.
We hadn't known each other for that long, and perhaps it was too soon
for us to be declaring our love for one another.

But that didn't mean I wasn't, at the very least, beginning to fall in love
with him.
The thought was sobering and I set my glass down on the countertop.
"What do you think about the apartment?" Blue asked, breaking my
train of thought. "Do you want to move in?"
I looked around the apartment, and imagined myself coming home
after a full night of work at Fireside Grill, or after a date with Declan.
I imagined him bringing me here after a date and us having a lazy
Sunday morning before he went to work, relaxing in the large, soft bed
I'd seen earlier, or watching the news with coffee mugs in our hands,
feet entwined as we curled up next to each other on the couch.
My imagination painted a perfect picture.with only one blemish.
If I moved into this apartment, it meant saying goodbye to Declan at the
end of dates and watching him walk away, leaving me all alone.
And while it was small and cozy and warm...it wasn't the same as being
at his house, knowing that when he came home and I was asleep, he'd
be crawling into bed behind me, pulling me into his arms and against
his chest.
A soft smile tipped the ends of my lips up and I looked back at
Gabriella, whispering, "I'm going to have to think about it."
Her smile was large and wide. "I thought you might."
"I should probably get going," I said, just as my phone began ringing in
my purse. "I have to be at Fireside in a few minutes to help Declan with
payroll."
I reached into my purse and curled my fingers around my phone,
assuming the caller was Declan, and answered without looking. "Hey
there."
A voice that made my blood chill and my jaw drop replied, "Well, hello
to you, too, Katrina."
"What do you want?" I snapped.
I heard Kevin's sickening chuckle, and I flinched.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Blue reach for her phone.
I started shaking my head, telling her to stop, when Kevin said, "You're
smarter than I ever gave you credit for, Katrina, but I'm tired of this
game of cat and mouse. You've thrown your hissy fit, but it's time to
return home."

"Yeah...I think it's him," I heard Blue saying in the kitchen. While I was
looking at her, she covered the phone and whispered, "Tyson says keep
him on the phone as long as you can."
I nodded, feeling my hands tremble. "I'm not coming back to Kentucky,
Kevin. In fact, I met with a lawyer yesterday. I'm filing for divorce."
"Yeah, call Dec, too," Blue said, and set her phone down. I flashed her
big eyes and mouthed, "No." She shrugged and continued listening to
my conversation.
"You will do no such thing, Katrina Morgenson. You've sold your car,
you've made your point. Now get home and face the consequences of
your foolish decision."
Oh, God. My car.
He knew.
Of course he knew.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I saw Gabriella walking toward me, arms
outstretched. I stepped back, shaking my head.
"This isn't a tantrum, Kevin," I stated calmly, more calmly than I was
currently feeling with a riot of emotions coursing through me.
Fear.
Anger.
Hatred burned brighter than either of them, though. "I also haven't
lied." And I hadn't.
Yesterday, I had a meeting with Tyson's grandfather, who specializes
in family law. He agreed to find an attorney in Kentucky who could
handle my divorce.
"I will not ever be returning to Kentucky, nor will I be returning to you.
I don't know how you got this number, Kevin, but lose it. If you find
me, you'll regret it. You can't hurt me again."
His cold laugh made me cringe. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong,
Katrina. You're mine. You became mine the day we were married, the
day you took my name, and I can do anything I want to you, whenever
I want."
"Then come find me, asshole. And show me what you've got."
I threw the phone down, and watched as Blue picked it up. I watched as
she pressed the button to end the call and set it back down.
"Four minutes and twenty-eight seconds," she murmured before
looking at me. "Long enough that Tyson should be able to track it." I
barely registered any of what she said before she pulled me into her
arms and held me tight. "Are you okay? That was intense."
My entire body was roiled with shakes and shivers. My arms hung
loose at my sides and I was unable to answer her.
Was I okay?
I just threw down the gauntlet for the world's most evil man. He'd find
me.
And I had no doubt that when he did, he would try to make me regret
the words I'd just spoken.
"You swore?" Declan's look of surprise would have made me laugh
under other circumstances.
I'd just listened while Gabriella told Declan everything that happened
during my phone call, after he showed up at her apartment, almost
breaking the door down with his bare fists. As soon as he saw me, I was

scooped up in his arms and carried to the couch, where he sat down
with me on his lap.
He said one word, directed at Blue, that word being "Explain," before
she did exactly as she'd been commanded.
His arms around me flinched and tightened. One of his hands ran
through my hair.
I was still trying to replay the conversation in my mind, because I
wasn't even sure if Blue

was exaggerating for effect, or if I truly did swear.
"Yeah," I whispered. "I think I did."
"Proud of you," he said and pressed his lips against my forehead.
As much as I wanted to relish the feeling of being in his arms, along
with the comfort and strength they provided, I wanted to forget about
this. I wanted to do everything I possibly could to not only erase the
memory of Kevin's phone call, but his entire history from my life.
"Take me home," I whispered, murmuring into Declan's neck.
His fingertips pressed into my lower back before he stood up, gently
setting me on my feet.
I didn't know what I'd just said or done to cause the softened look in his
eyes, but when his smile tilted at the edges and his lips brushed against
my forehead, I realized.
"Okay, Trina. We can go home."
Home.
That's what I just called his house. And he seemed to like it.
An hour ago, I'd thought that, more than anything, I wanted to be on my
own, living it up in Blue's beautiful shabby-chic apartment, but as
Declan grabbed my purse and handed it to me, then slid his hand into
mine, I realized that I'd been terribly wrong.
I didn't want to be anywhere he wasn't.
"Actually," Blue said, interrupting whatever tenderness I felt passing
between Declan and myself, "I think this is the perfect night to
introduce Trina to the girls."
Next to me, Declan sighed, and I tilted my chin to face him.
"What girls?"
"Yeah, a bunch of us always meet up on Thursdays, at least once a
month, for girls' night out. But tonight definitely calls for immediate
girl time. We drink margaritas and eat our weight in nachos."
"Sounds, um, fun?" It sort of did, but it didn't change the fact that just
minutes ago, I was shaking on the couch with Declan's arms around
me. I wasn't sure tonight was the night I wanted to meet a bunch of
Gabriella's friends.
She laughed and reached out for my hand, then squeezed it. "I'm sorry.
I know we don't know each other at all yet, really. But when I was new
to town, these girls reached out to me and took me in. I'd like to do the
same for you. The girls are cool, honest. Well, except Paige. She's a bit

nutty, but the rest are normal." Her face scrunched up and she shrugged
before letting loose an easy grin. "Mostly."
"Um. Okay?"
Declan's arm squeezed my shoulders. His voice was deep, tinted with
laughter when he said, "When I took off, Mac said he'd cover for the
night, but I could always go back. Maybe you should go, Trina. Make
some friends and forget about all this shit."
"Yeah." Blue's eyebrows wiggled. "Plus, they drool over Declan, so
you'll be, like, the star of the night. They'll want to know all the good
stuff about him."
Declan frowned. "Maybe it's not such a good idea."
Blue pulled me toward her, forcing me out of Declan's hold, and
wrapped her arms around

my shoulders. "Oh, but it is. Because you'll get to take her back to your
place...and she'll be all tipsy drunk."
His lips twitched. "Point made. Just don't tell Suzanne anything. The
suspense will kill
her."
"You're a lot nicer than you look, you big ol' brute," Blue scolded,
wagging her finger at him, "but that's just mean."
Declan crossed his arms over his large chest and smirked.
"Suzanne?" I asked.
Declan rolled his eyes.
Blue giggled. "You'll see soon enough."

Chapter 16
Trina
Gabriella was right.
Her friends were not only incredibly welcoming, seemingly some of
the friendliest people I've ever met—which was saying a lot,
considering I was from the South, where everyone was nice to
everyone—they were also a little bit crazy.
As soon as Gabriella introduced me to the group, everyone treated me
as if I had been meeting them for emergency girls' nights out forever.
From Paige's happy-go-lucky attitude, and from the things she said
about her husband, I figured the girl believed Snow White was brought
back to life with a kiss from her true love.
Chelsea was soft-spoken and kind, and Camden seemed to be the only
woman who held herself back a little bit. Her deep-auburn hair was
pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck, and even her
straight-line skirt and professional blouse made her seem like she
needed to loosen up a little bit. I liked that about her, though. I had
never been an open book myself.
Suzanne looked at me all night as if she had a burning question on the
tip of her tongue, but was waiting to ask it. As drinks were ordered,
stories told, introductions made, and food delivered, it seemed like the
wait was practically killing her.
Being thrown into a group of women who had known each other for
years made me more nervous than the time I was at a fundraising dinner
and met the president of the United States, three years ago.
Somehow, shaking hands under the watchful eye of Suzanne
intimidated me more than shaking the First Lady's under the discerning
glare of Secret Service.
But those first few minutes of introductions quickly led to margaritas
by the pitcher, nachos by the platter, and conversation that quickly
dissolved into laughter. It was a friendly atmosphere I hadn't
experienced since college.
When I mentioned my marketing and promotion idea about having a
firefighter calendar shot on the Fireside Grill property, inside and
outside, both Paige and Suzanne jumped in and explained that their
husbands knew several men who worked in the department, and they'd
be all for it. It took less than ten minutes for them to make some phone

calls and plan a date. The only thing that remained was finding a
photographer, but Camden spoke up and said she might know someone
willing to help on our tight budget.
I had never known such a supportive group of women, not to mention
completely hysterical.
I was loving it.

"So what'd you think about the apartment?" Chelsea turned to me and
said as she set her glass down on the tabletop.
Blue had mentioned that I was staying with Declan for a while, but
hadn't explained why, for which I was grateful. But I saw the
questioning look in all the other women's eyes as Chelsea asked the
question.
"It's really beautiful."
"But?"
I chewed on the inside of my lip, debating how much honesty I wanted
to spew forth with a group of women I liked, but didn't really know.
Besides, some of them, Suzanne in particular, seemed a bit possessive
about Declan in a way that confused me. From what I'd already learned,
she'd been married since right after college.
"But I like being at Declan's." The tequila in my drinks must have
loosened my lips.
At that, Paige giggled, Blue grinned, Chelsea and Camden smiled, but
it was Suzanne who leaned in from across the round table, her hands
braced on the tabletop.
"Finally!" she exclaimed. "Now we're getting somewhere with you."
My head jerked back in shock and Blue's grin turned into a laugh.
"Declan tried to warn you about her."
"I don't get it." I shook my head and looked at everyone at the table
with wide eyes. Paige and Blue laughed harder.
"You're staying with Declan. The man of all men. And you're
considering leaving that hunk alone at night? You're either crazy or
stupid, and you don't look dumb, so you must be insane."
Suzanne's tirade made my eyes widen further, and before I could say
anything, although for the life of me I couldn't find words to say, she
continued. "If that man wanted me with him, no way would I be
walking away."
"You're married," Camden chided her, but even I could see the
playfulness in her rich-green eyes. "Happily married, remember?"
"Suzanne forgets everything when Declan is around," Chelsea
supplied, teasingly.
"Um." I took a drink of my margarita.
"Do you like him?" Suzanne asked.

Next to me, Blue snickered. "You should see the way they stare at each
other." "What?" I turned my head toward her.
She rolled her eyes. "Come on, you look at him like he's your real-life
hero, and he looks at you like he'd be willing to step in front of a
grenade if it'd keep you safe."
"Yes!" Suzanne shouted. "That's the kind of guy he is. Exactly, and
with his looks...and come on...that body, you have to like him."
"Have you been with him?" I asked, my brow furrowing.
At the question, the entire table burst out in laughter.
Suzanne lifted her hands, palms out. "No way. I've known Dec since
we were kids. Lucas is it for me, as in it for me, but I'd be blind if I
didn't notice how incredible Declan has turned out to be, and not just
his body, but in the kind of guy he is. Lucas is amazing. Protective and

kind and sexy as hell, but Declan.that man is on a whole other level of
awesomeness." "You're sort of freaking me out," I replied.
Her words also confirmed the kind of guy I had already assumed he
was.
"So tell us, then," Chelsea said, cutting in. She pushed a hunk of blonde
hair behind her ear and smiled. "What's going on with you and why
wouldn't you want to stay with him?"
I paused for a moment, trying to decide again how much honesty they
could handle, when Blue whispered, "We might be loud and crazy, but
I can guarantee you that these women will never speak a word of
anything you say to anyone else. You can trust them."
I blinked rapidly, my eyes stinging a bit from the kindness they were
showing me. "I just recently left my husband who hit me," I admitted
softly.
Harsh inhales of breath echoed around the table and I found it difficult
to lift my eyes to meet their gazes. Regardless, I soldiered on.
"Declan's been helping me. I like him, I really like him, but I'm having
a hard time trusting myself, leaving one guy to fall for the first guy I
meet, even if he is a good guy. And yeah, I think he likes me, but I've
been under someone else's control for so long that the idea of being by
myself, living on my own for a while, is appealing. Yet that means
having to leave Declan's house."
"But not Declan."
I lifted my eyes to Suzanne's and shook my head. "No, it wouldn't mean
leaving Declan."
"Just his bed at night."
I chewed on the inside of my lip. Since we'd been back from Chicago,
we shared a bed every night, but we hadn't been intimate again. I
thought being with Declan in Chicago would change that aspect of our
relationship, but it seemed as if Declan was taking a step back. At the
very least, he hadn't pushed us forward.
I simply liked sleeping with Declan's arms around me. I liked being
with him, even if I still worried it was too soon. But the fact that Declan
hadn't touched me again in anything more than a comfortable way had
me worried. Was he having second thoughts about us? Second thoughts
about me?

As if sensing my nervousness or my embarrassment, Blue spoke up.
"You'll decide when you know what's right. But I'm with Suzanne on
this one. Since I've known him, Declan seems like the best of the best,
and if he's said you can stay at his place, he means it. He doesn't throw
bullshit around and say what he doesn't mean. He's not that kind of guy.
But if you need to live on your own for a while, feel the independence
that most women want, he'll get it. Based on what I saw today, it won't
change anything about the way he feels for you."
The way he felt for me. The words rattled inside my brain and made me
dizzy.
I wanted to ask her what she meant by what she saw today. Based on
Declan's behavior the last few days, I had my own questions, yet I was
too chicken to ask.
Maybe she saw what she wanted to see, not what was really there.
I bit my tongue, shrugged, and took a sip of my drink. "I'll figure it out
soon, so you can find another sublet if you need to."
She grinned. "No worries. We've got time."
I opened my mouth to ask her when she was planning on moving in
with Tyson when,

from across the table, Chelsea cursed. "Ouch! You brat!"
Paige giggled and I looked up to see Chelsea scowling at her while
rubbing her bicep.
"What?" Blue asked and then turned her head in the direction of the
bar, looking where Paige pointed and where Chelsea's eyes were fixed.
I twisted around, following the movement of the rest of the women, and
saw Aidan and Derrick standing at the bar. Derrick reached for a stack
of food containers while Aidan slid his credit card toward the
bartender.
As Derrick grabbed the food, he turned in our direction and
immediately spied all of us staring at him and his dad. He looked back
at Aidan and said something before turning back to us. "Hey, Miss
Dwyer! Hi, Trina!"
I lifted my hand and smiled as Aidan himself pushed away from the
bar. His eyes scanned the table and he dipped his chin to acknowledge
us.
I might have been crazy, but I swore his eyes lingered a little bit longer
on Chelsea.
"Hello, Derrick," she replied, and waved to Aidan. "Mr. Devereaux."
"Miss Dwyer." He glanced around the table again. "Trina. Ladies.
Have a good evening." He flashed us a soft smile and patted Derrick on
the shoulder, silently telling him to grab their food, I figured by the way
Derrick moved.
He picked it up and turned back to us. "See you at school tomorrow,
Miss Dwyer!"
He turned his back and all of us watched the men leave. When they
were gone, Chelsea glanced at me. "You know Aidan and Derrick?"
I took my chance, based on the awe in her voice, the blush on her
cheeks, and replied. "You have a crush on Aidan?"
Paige choked on her margarita.
Suzanne snorted.
Camden threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah, she does. She has for
years, but for some crazy reason refuses to do anything about it."
"Derrick is a student at my school. It wouldn't be right."
"But he's not your student," Paige said. "He's just a student, and you're
the librarian."

Chelsea shook her head in an exasperated way. I assumed they'd had
this conversation many times before. "It still wouldn't look good." Her
head came up and she smiled. "How do you know them?"
I figured telling her that Aidan dropped Derrick off at Declan's a couple
weeks ago for an overnight visit wouldn't go over well. I went with the
easiest half-truth. "They stopped by Declan's one night, and I met him
then. They seem really great."
"They are."
"Enough about Aidan and Chelsea being too sissy to do anything about
her unending crush," Suzanne said, cutting in and grinning at me like
she just ate a canary. "Tell me more about Declan and what he's like in
bed."
This time I choked on my drink.
Paige giggled.
And all the women's eyes landed on me, as they waited with bated
breath.

"Thanks for getting them home safe."
Declan muttered this to Tyson in a deep voice as he walked into
Tyson's house, where Blue and I were hanging out on the couch.
I should have passed out hours ago, but I wanted to wait for Declan to
come and pick me up after the restaurant was closed.
Tyson had showed up hours ago and brought Blue and me to his house.
Since then, Blue and I switched to drinking water and spent the last few
hours sobering up a bit.
It appeared that in some ways we had a lot in common. A family who
didn't exactly care for us, choosing their own selfish desires over what
was best for their daughters. I learned the entire last ten years of Blue's
story, including time she'd spent on a goat farm in Colorado with her
hippie aunt.
Envisioning someone as beautiful and calm and collected as Blue
slopping around in the muck was still making me chuckle, which
brought Declan's eyes to mine.
The dark-brown eyes flickered with humor and he smiled. "You ready
to head to bed?"
It was an innocent question.
It still sparked heat inside my body.
"Yeah."
His smile disappeared with my response and his gaze dropped to my
mouth. "Right, then. Let's get the fuck out of here."
He didn't wait for me to answer, just slid his arm around my waist and
pulled me to his chest.
"Your purse," Blue called out from behind us, and I felt the leather
straps slide into my palm. "Have a good night."
"Thanks for the invite tonight." I looked back over my shoulder and
smiled. "I had a lot of
fun."
She smiled and I watched Tyson's arms slide around her waist from
where he stood behind her. He held her just like Declan was currently
holding me. "We'll do it again. Lots."
Sounded perfect.
Declan led us out the door and ushered me into his truck, keeping a firm
grip on my waist until he was forced to let me go so I could climb into

my seat. Once I was settled, he closed the door behind me and then
walked around the hood before climbing in on his side.
"You had fun?" "I did."
"From where I was in the kitchen, sounded like you did." My eyes
widened. "You heard us?"
"Hard not to hear six women wasted on margaritas. My guess? The
entire block heard y'all laughing your asses off."
My lips twisted, and for just a brief moment, I felt ashamed of my
behavior, and how loud

I'd been. But then I thought about how much fun I'd had—possibly the
best time in my life since I was a sophomore in college—and quickly
decided that I didn't care.
I glanced over at Declan and saw him looking at me with the same wary
expression I must have worn just a moment ago. I shrugged. "I don't
care. I had a freaking great night."
His laugh was my reward, as was the way he slid his hand onto my
thigh and squeezed. "I'm glad, Trina."
We were in his driveway and then inside his house in a matter of
minutes. As Declan entered the house behind me, reaching over my
shoulder to flip on the lights, I turned around and faced him once the
door closed.
"Declan," I asked, fighting the uncertainty in my voice and in my body.
I hadn't stopped thinking about him. I hadn't been able to stop
remembering the way it felt when he slid inside of me in Chicago.
I lifted my hand and pressed it against his cheek, hoping he understood.
"You've been drinking." His eyes slid to my mouth again and I saw his
pulse jump at his neck.
"I sobered up hours ago."
Our voices were whispers, barely audible.
I took a step back into the living room and he followed me.
I heard Boomer's paws pounding toward us on the carpet. He bumped
into my leg, almost throwing me off balance, but Declan wrapped an
arm around my waist.
"Chill, Boomer." I looked down at my dog and scolded him with my
glare.
My dog was ruining my moment.
The moment.
"I'll put him outside."
"Wait." Summoning all the confidence I'd been trying to find to tell him
this, I inhaled a deep breath and watched his eyes narrow. "I have
something to tell you."
At our hips, Boomer whined, and I shushed him.
"What is it?"
I swallowed thickly, feeling the words, the full shame of my past lodge
inside my throat. Before I lost the courage, I spoke, told him something
I'd been thinking about since Chicago. "I quit wanting my husband just

a few weeks after we returned from my honeymoon. But that doesn't
mean he stopped wanting me." Declan growled as he began to
understand my words, but I pressed on. "I didn't tell him no, ever,
because that would have been worse."
"Are you telling me your husband raped you?" he said, growling again.
I felt the fury beginning to build inside of him, felt his rage sparking
heat in the air between us.
I wasn't afraid of him, though.
Because Declan wouldn't hurt me.
"I'm saying that I did my wifely duty when it was required of me and it
wasn't all bad, it just wasn't all enjoyable either, and it certainly was
never something I wanted. But last week in Chicago." I breathed in a
ragged breath and forced myself to blink. "I wanted that. I wanted you
and I haven't wanted anything—anyone—in a really long time, so
thank you for

giving that to me. If it was just a one-time thing, I guess...I just need
you to know how much I enjoyed it."
Declan's fingers on my waist dug in, and my hand on his chest felt his
harsh, deep breaths through the warmth of his shirt.
His lips twitched and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
"I haven't wanted to push you," he finally admitted. "That morning was
intense for both of us, and you still have a lot on your mind. I told you
that we'd go at your pace, explore this in a way that's good for you."
My lips fought a smile and lost. "I'd like for our pace to move a bit
faster."
His lips mirrored mine and then he looked over at Boomer, whining at
the back door.
"I'm going to let the dog out." He took a step back, not taking his eyes
off me. For a brief moment, I wondered if I'd flubbed this, if telling him
about Kevin and our sex life was being too honest, if telling him that I
wanted to have sex with him again was being too forward, too blunt.
My questions were erased when he said, "I'll take care of Boomer. I
want you to go get ready for bed. And when you're done doing that, I
want you to end up in my bed. You want to move forward, we'll move
forward."
Nerves ignited in my stomach.
The best kind of nerves.
"You want me, Trina?"
I could only nod.
Declan flashed me a salacious grin. "Then be a good girl and do what
I'm telling you."

Chapter 17 Declan
After I let Boomer out, my house felt deafening in its silence.
I should have been able to hear Trina banging around upstairs in her
bedroom and bathroom. I should have been able to hear footsteps
headed down the hallway toward my room.
On a normal night, I would have heard all of this. Instead, all I heard
was a thundering in my ears.
It was the middle of the fucking night, after three o'clock, and I was
bone weary from closing the restaurant.
But nothing would stop me from getting Trina in my bed and showing
her how much I wanted her. The last few days, since we'd been back
from Chicago, had been fucking killing me.
I meant what I'd told her. I was taking this at her speed. The fact that
she wanted me to speed things up was A-fucking-OK with me.
My lips stretched into a grin as I watched Boomer do his business and
sniff around the backyard for a few minutes. I gave him his time
outside, knowing he'd been cooped up, probably sleeping all over my
couch for the whole day.
I also needed a few minutes to calm down.
Get in control.
I wanted to thrust inside Trina so powerfully she'd never forget what I
felt like.
Earlier, she'd been a wreck in my arms, and I wanted to make it good
for her. Take it slow. Pleasure her.
Especially considering what she just told me.
Sometimes I wondered if I should have pushed us forward. She was
still technically a married woman.
Under any other circumstances, I would never go for another man's
woman. But Morgenson wasn't a man—he was a snake and a coward. I
had no doubt we'd find him before he found her, as long as Tyson kept
calling in favors, as I knew he was doing.
Until then, I'd trust Trina.
A difficult concept after Mara broke whatever trust I had in women.
But so far, Trina had been honest. She'd told me what she needed and
what she wanted, and hadn't given any indication she wasn't the woman
she'd shown herself to be.

At the very least, she was learning to ask for what she wanted, and
learning it was okay to

be whoever she wanted to be.
And I couldn't stop the masculine surge of testosterone in me that came
from knowing that, in part, that new confidence of hers was because of
me.
"Boom," I called out quietly after I slid the back door open. "Get in
here."
The dumb animal looked up at me and, swear to God, his lips formed a
pout, and then he trotted inside, head down, bummed out of his mind.
"Go to bed," I told him.
As if he understood, he lumbered up the stairs ahead of me. Without
stopping, he headed directly to Trina's bedroom and I heard him jump
from the wood floor up onto her bed.
Since she didn't say anything when her dog jumped up on her bed, I
knew she wasn't there.
She'd listened to me.
Another surge tightened my chest and I closed the door to her room,
shutting Boomer inside.
The last thing I wanted in the next hour or two was to be interrupted by
the dog.
I forced myself to walk slowly as I took the few paces to my bedroom,
but I felt my pulse kick up a notch or twenty when I saw a faint bluish
light peeking out from beneath my slightly opened bedroom door.
With one hand, I pushed the door open and my eyes immediately
snapped toward the bed.
Everything inside me froze.
Then ached.
Then burned with desire.
Because Trina wasn't just in my bed where I told her I wanted her...
She was lying on her back, head propped up on a bunch of pillows, and
she was butt fucking naked.
Words caught in my throat as I took her in and stepped inside my room
and closed the door behind me.
"You listened."
My voice was ragged. Strained. Much as my cock currently was against
the zipper of my jeans.
Holy shit, she was beautiful.

Her blonde hair was curled and splayed out all over the pillows behind
her, some flowing over her shoulder, hiding her breasts from my view.
Her stomach, trim and toned, raised and dipped with every one of her
quickened breaths.
And her legs.
Damn.
Those long, lean legs of hers shouldn't be allowed anywhere except
wrapped around my hips.
She licked her lips and I saw them tremble as she forced them into a
smile. "You didn't say if you wanted me to be wearing anything." She
shrugged and her eyes widened slightly. "So I chose not to."
I cleared my throat and took another step forward. "Good choice."

She let out a soft laugh that made my dick harden further. Everything
inside me hardened and tightened. Hell. I didn't know where to begin.
I didn't know what to say. For the first time in my life, I was speechless
in front of a naked woman.
I like to talk during sex. I want my women to know what they were
doing to me, want them to know how much I enjoyed them. And the
talking involved a lot of cussing.
I had no doubt that by the time morning came the swear jar Trina
started for me was going to be overflowing.
Something that didn't bother me in the least.
"Tell me something, Trina." I took another step toward her at the same
time I reached to the back of my shirt and pulled it off. "What do you
like during sex?"
Her eyes widened and she blinked several times. For a moment, I
thought she was speechless from staring at my chest, but then I realized
it was because she had no idea what to say.
Her face went blank when our gazes met. I took off my jeans and closed
the distance between us until I was crawling up the bed by her feet. Her
legs separated and I braced myself above her, before slipping down to
feel her heat press again my groin.
Fuck.
She was already hot.
I could feel her center throbbing against my cock.
"Trina?" I asked, bracing my weight on one elbow and running my
other hand through her
hair. "What do you like?"
"I don't..." She blinked again and looked away from me. I took my hand
from her hair and pressed it against her cheek.
"Don't look away from me," I whispered, fighting the anger boiling in
my veins all over again.
"I don't know what I like because no one's ever taken the time to let me
explore."
My head fell until my lips brushed against her chest, just above her
breasts. I stayed there, brushing my lips against her skin, grazing on the
curves of her flesh.
Her hands slid over my head until her fingertips dug into my shoulders,
getting my attention.

"I know that I want to explore you."
Her heart rate increased as she spoke and I lifted my head.
"You will. What else?"
Her lips rolled together. "I like to be on top. I had never done that
before Chicago." My hips rolled into hers on their own accord. Fuck.
Me. This woman was going to kill me. She looked so sweet. So
innocent. So perfectly made for me.

"You want to be in control?" I asked, already sliding down her body,
dragging my lips over the skin between her breasts. "That's usually my
role in the bedroom."
"I don't have to," she said, and let out a breathy moan when I kissed her
belly button.
"What else do you want to do?"
My hands slid down her hips, feeling her everywhere. She was so soft,
yet firm. Blood rushed to my head while I thought of all the ways I
wanted to use her body.
She was silent for a moment—too many moments—and I looked up at
her again to see her worrying her lip between her teeth.
My arousal increased. "You know you're safe in this room with me,
right?" She nodded and let go of her lip. I crawled back up her body
until I was aligned with her again. "Then what is it you want?"
"I've never..." She swallowed and exhaled. "I want to taste you."
"Fuck," I groaned and squeezed my eyes closed.
I didn't think there was anything a man could like in the world more
than a blowjob. One done by any woman was good enough to get off
quickly. One done by a woman who might not have the most finesse,
but had the most desire and energy was sometimes more incredible
than good sex.
I rolled off her, and brought her with me. She gasped in surprise and
then straddled me. My hands wrapped around her back, and I slid one
hand up to her neck and pulled her against me.
"You taste me," I said, our lips almost brushing against each other's.
"Then you ride me."
Her eyes lit up with excitement and I pushed my head back into the
pillow, letting out another groan. I didn't give her time to think of an
excuse not to, or a reason why I might not have wanted this.
I pulled her toward me and pressed her mouth against mine, sliding my
tongue inside her mouth, and rocking into her to show her that the idea
of her having her way with me was the biggest damn turn-on I'd ever
felt.
Then I lay still while she explored my body.
Her lips brushed against my skin, following the trails and dips of my
abs. She pressed her soft lips down the length of my arms before tasting
me right above my hip bones.

With every brush of her lips against me, my skin burned until I thought
it would combust.
My fingers curled into the sheets beneath me, as I forced myself to
allow her this control. To give her what she wanted.
I let loose a groan when she wrapped her lips around the tip of my cock
for the first time. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.
And when I finally yanked her off my dick, set her on top me, and then
watched as she sank herself down onto me, I was certain there would
never be a woman more perfectly made for me.
We came together, her fingers clinging to mine on the bed, and our
shouts were explosive enough to be heard throughout the entire town.
I didn't give one single fuck.

When we exhausted ourselves, I held her in my arms until she fell
asleep.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face because I had been right.
Tomorrow morning, her swear jar would be overflowing, and it was
worth every single fucking dollar to shout and curse and groan while I
let her have her wicked way with me.

Chapter 18 Trina
Had to get to the restaurant for deliveries. Don't leave the house or
unlock the door for anyone. Call me when you wake up. Last night was
perfect.
~D
I pressed the flimsy, wrinkled receipt to my chest and sighed.
His commands and bossiness would bother me if I didn't know they
came from a place of concern and caring, instead of a desire to rule over
me.
At my feet, Boomer curled up on his side and sighed.
I did the same thing, burrowing back under Declan's covers, but
reached for the cellphone. I had an order to follow.
And I had learned last night, that while he gave me a semblance of
control with our bodies but still continually told me what to do and how
good it felt once I did it, when Declan ordered to me do something,
there was always pleasure at the end of it for me.
"I hope the photos turn out well," I said, turning toward Jorge Rivera,
the photographer Camden had talked into doing the fireman-calendar
photo shoot on short notice.
He was a five-foot-five-inch gay man whose partner worked at a small
accounting firm with Camden. He worked at an investment firm, but
was trying to begin his own photography business, so he was hoping
this calendar brought him attention and clients.
He had even volunteered to do the shoot for free in order to build his
portfolio.
When I met him earlier and asked if he was certain he didn't want to be
paid, he placed his hand on my shoulder, grinned, and said, "Honey,
please. I get to look at wet, half-naked men all day. That alone is
payment enough."
And really.he was right.
Because the day had been full of wet, half-naked men draped all over
one of their smaller engines, which was parked in front of the
restaurant. Traffic on Main Street had been slowed down for hours.
Fireside Grill hadn't received a single complaint.

They had, though, had a lot of people coming in, after stopping by to
watch the shoot. Inside, we had half-off appetizers and beer, and it
surprised me how many women had taken a look at the attraction
outside, then headed inside to cool off with a beer and a side of potato
skins.
Apparently staring at half-naked men made women thirsty as well as
hungry.
"These photos will be spectacular," Jorge said, looking through the
viewing lens on one of the three different cameras he used for the shots.
Before the restaurant opened, he had even gotten a bunch of photos
inside Fireside Grill, which made the servers giggle with amusement. It
also made Declan scowl, every time he caught me looking.
It was business.
Mostly.
Some of the men were attractive.
But none could hold a candle to Declan and his body, which I'd become
very accustomed to over the last week.
"How long until you can get through edits on them?" I turned to face
Jorge, forcing myself to stop looking at the firefighters as they threw
T-shirts on over their rippled muscles.
He clicked through a few more photos, smiling wider with every click.
"By the end of next week." He turned to me and smirked. "Something
tells me I won't be able to stop thinking of these men.err, photos.once I
get started."
I laughed with him and reached out to shake his hand. "Thanks again
for making this so successful. If you ever need a reference, let Declan
know and I'm sure he'll give you a great one."
"No problem." He crouched down and began packing up his camera
equipment, which I took as my cue to leave.
"Excuse me," a woman called out as I opened the door to enter Fireside.
"Ma'am?"
I turned around and found a woman walking quickly toward me,
waving something small in her hand. "Hi," she said, a bit breathless
when she reached me.
I let go of the door and stepped out of the doorway. "Hi. Can I help
you?"

Her eyes went to the firemen behind me and back to mine. "I hope so.
I'm Kate and I'm in the process of opening up a baking shop just a few
businesses down from here. Are you the woman who organized this
shoot today?"
"I am." I held out my hand for her to shake. "Trina Winston."
"Kate. Kate Simpson." She shook my hand and held up a business card.
"I talked to a few other women around here earlier today. I
think.Chelsea, she said her name was. Anyway, she mentioned that you
were in charge of this and some new promotions for Fireside Grill."
"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"
"Well I was wondering if you and I could meet sometime in the next
week or so. My shop is opening in mid-November and I'm trying to
find some new ideas to market to the area. Is that something you'd be
interested in? Or have time for?"
My eyes widened as I held her business card in my hand. I had to make
a conscious effort not to crumple it in my palm. "I'm sorry," I began,
and watched her excitement diminish. Darn it. "I'd love to, I would. But
I don't exactly have an office or a company. I'm just doing

this to help out the owner."
"Oh." Her expression fell further before perking up. "Well, I'd hire you
anyway. Or maybe you'd be willing to sit down and talk with me? Point
me in the right direction? I had a firm all hired, but they've been lagging
on their deadlines and promises, and I've been sinking money into
something that just hasn't worked out. Like I said, I open in a few
weeks and I've been flipping out."
I was too overwhelmed to think straight, but even so, ideas for a bakery
immediately began percolating in my mind. "Why don't we get
together later in the week. Meet for lunch here, maybe?" I nodded
toward Fireside Grill. "I'm here most of the time working with Declan.
We can talk about what you're looking for, and I can let you know if it's
something I can do. In the meantime, I'll spend time researching some
PR firms with decent rates and reviews so I can have some other
options for you."
"Thank you," she gasped and clasped her hands together. "Can we do
lunch on Wednesday?"
"Works for me." I'd been at Fireside every day of the week lately, and it
wasn't like I had much else going on in my life.
"Perfect. Thank you, Trina. Honestly. And I swear, I'll pay you what I'd
pay anyone."
I smiled politely. She wouldn't choose me. I just did this as a favor for
Declan to help him out, but I was in no position to start my own firm or
anything like that. "We'll talk about it Wednesday."
"Sounds like you're starting your own business." Declan's voice behind
me made me jump. I spun on my heels until I was facing him.
"How much of that did you hear?"
He shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets. I watched the
movement, unable to look away.
If I wasn't touching him, or he wasn't touching me, I wanted it to be
happening.
I almost pouted when his fingers slid into his pockets and not to my
waist.
His chuckle told me he knew what I was thinking, and he leaned in,
bending down until his lips were at my ear. "You just had my hands all
over you this morning, and you already want more?"
A week ago, I would have blushed furiously at the suggestion.

But I'd learned a lot in a week. Mostly that Declan seemed to like me
however I came. I was also learning to shed my skin of insecurity.
"I can't help it," I whispered, taking a step toward him and setting my
hand on his hip. "I like the way you touch me."
He growled into my ear and pulled me to him, giving me exactly what I
wanted.
"What'd that woman really want?"
"I thought you heard everything."
"Enough to get the idea. Not enough to know who she is."
His eyes lifted and he watched Kate as she walked away. We hadn't
heard anything more from Kevin in the last week, and Tyson had been
calling in favors as much as he could. But considering who Kevin was,
and who his dad was, Tyson had to be particularly careful not to

arouse any more suspicion than necessary. However, the fact that
Kevin hadn't shown up made me hope that he couldn't find me. I also
hoped he wouldn't be able to find me before I filed divorce papers,
which I was planning on doing early next week.
It was time to stop hiding and start moving on with my life.
"She's opening a bakery next month and has had some problems with
the people currently doing her marketing. She wants to talk to me about
ideas. Chelsea talked to her earlier today."
"Sounds like a great opportunity."
I shrugged in his embrace. "It could be fun, but I'm not looking to do
anything. It's not like I really can right now, anyway."
"Maybe not now." He pulled back and ran his hand through my hair,
pushing it off my shoulder and down my back. "But maybe like Jorge
with his photography, it could be a good way for you to get some
clients if you do decide to go that route once you're settled."
A frown twisted my lips. I liked working with Declan in the office and
on the floor when I was needed.
I liked waking up with him, spending my day with him, and then going
to bed next to him. But maybe he didn't feel the same. Maybe he
wanted some distance between us. Which made sense.
Just over a month ago, we were strangers. Now we were together
practically every hour of every day.
"Maybe," I muttered, feeling a bit deflated as I considered this
possibility.
Declan reached out and cupped my cheeks with his palms, forcing me
to meet his gaze. "Why are you frowning?"
I opted for honesty. Declan liked it when I was upfront with what I
wanted—in bed and out of it. "I've been having fun being here with you
and helping you."
A puff of breath left his lips and he gripped me more firmly before
pressing his lips to mine. "How is it possible," he said when he pulled
back, "that you keep getting more perfect for me, every single day?"
I smiled before I realize I was doing it. Those flutters that tended to hit
my stomach when Declan was around were alive and strong.
"I want you to do what you want, honey, regardless of what that is. You
want to stay at Fireside, build this with me, I want that. You want to
spread your wings and do your own thing. I've got your back one

hundred percent. This is your time to figure out you...we'll figure out us
together."
I was left breathless, but not incapable of moving, so I rolled to my toes
and kissed him, showing Declan how much I appreciated not only his
faith in me, but in whatever we were building. "Same goes for you,
Declan. I've got your back, always."
"Good." He pulled back and wrapped his hand around mine and pulled
me inside. "Now let's get you inside and away from all these men who
have been drooling over you all morning long. They stick around here
much longer and I might end up on the front page of the news in a way
that wouldn't be good publicity for Fireside."
I snickered at his deep, irritated voice and followed him inside.

A breath escaped me as I walked into Fireside Grill with Declan behind
me.
A warmth I had never felt before permeated me, spreading throughout
my body as I looked at the small crowd of people at the bar, all
welcoming me with warm, friendly smiles.
I shivered from the sudden heat in my body.
"You okay?" Declan asked, his hand firm on my lower back.
I peeled my eyes off the people at the bar and looked up at Declan
while he guided me forward, a deep line between his brows. Then I
looked back at everyone who'd been around for most of the day.
Tyson and Blue were standing in the center. To Tyson's left, I saw
Aidan and Derrick, and to Blue's right, a small circle of
women—Chelsea and Camden, along with Paige. Suzanne had to
spend the afternoon with her husband's family celebrating his parents'
fortieth wedding anniversary, but even without really knowing
Suzanne, I knew that had she been able to make it, she would have been
here completing my new group of friends.
Unshed tears glistened in my eyes as I inhaled a shaky breath before
expelling it slowly.
I'd never had this.
I'd never had friends who would spend an entire day doing nothing but
hanging out and being supportive. And, yeah, I knew Paige was here
for the man candy, Camden probably because they dragged her along,
and Chelsea because she was super sweet and kind. And the men were
here for Declan, their friend for several years, but the other reasons
didn't matter.
What mattered was that they were here. Supporting him. Supporting
me.
I'd never felt anything so beautiful.
My feet paused and I faced Declan again, allowing thankfulness to
shine in my enamored expression. "Thank you," I whispered with a
choked voice. "I've never had this. Never had friends and this kind of
life. Thank you for giving that to me."
Declan's gaze went to his friends—our friends—and then returned to
mine. That line between his eyes disappeared and several more
appeared at the edges of his eyes as they crinkled. He laughed softly
and pulled me to him, brushing his lips across my forehead and then

down to my ear. "They're not here for me, honey. They're here for you,
because you're
you."
A full body tremble rolled through me. I took a moment to let that soak
in.
Was it possible these people were all there because of something good
I'd given them— after only a few meetings, at most?
My chin quivered and I pressed my forehead to his chest, allowing him
to wrap his arms around me.
"Come on." He curled his hands around my shoulders and pushed me
away from him, reaching out to tip my chin up. "Let's go celebrate a
good day and pray like hell this brings in some money."
I looked around the restaurant and saw the tables packed with
customers, mostly women, and laughed. "I think it's working already."
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and spun me toward our
crowd of waiting friends.

"Let's fucking hope so." "That's another dollar."
"I don't give a shit." I looked up to see him grinning. He flashed me a
wink before he led me toward the bar and had Charlie hand me a glass
of white wine.
I sipped it slowly while the girls came and congratulated me on what
appeared to have been a successful day for the restaurant. I got sucked
into conversation with everyone, and didn't think anything of it when I
saw Tyson pull Declan off to the side and begin speaking to him in a
hushed voice no one else could hear.
I was sure it had something to do with me.
Possibly Kevin. But I didn't want to think about him today, refused to
allow him to spoil a good afternoon spent with even better people, so I
turned away and found myself face-to-face with Aidan and Derrick.
They were almost mirror images of each other, with their square jaws
and tall frames. Though he was only thirteen, I could already tell that
Derrick was going to grow up to be just as tall, if not taller, than Aidan,
who was clearly over six feet. Their black hair was exactly the same, as
was the friendly sparkle in their rich-brown eyes.
"Hi," I said, jumping slightly. I hadn't realized how close they were to
me until I almost smacked Aidan in the chest with my wine glass.
His gaze moved from somewhere over my shoulder to meet mine.
"Looks like you had a good day today."
I shrugged, still unfamiliar with having this many compliments tossed
in my direction. "We'll see if it brings repeat business, I guess, but it
was fun."
He nodded as if he understood, and his eyes returned to someone
behind me. I didn't have to look to know who he was looking at.
I sipped my wine and tilted my head to the side. "Been on any more
dates lately?" He coughed and shook his head. One hand scrubbed the
back of his neck. "Ah, no." He blinked and dipped his chin. "That's not
a frequent thing for me, Trina. I want you to know
that."
"It's none of my business." "No, I suppose it's not."
"However." I grinned slyly. "If you're interested in one of my new
friends, then I can promise you that not only will I not tell her how we
truly met, or what you were doing that night, but that it makes me feel
good to know that she's not interested in a player."

He blinked rapidly several times and then his eyes flickered back
behind me. I laughed softly and regained his attention.
"Chelsea?" he asked, almost stunned.
"See, Dad?" Derrick said. "Told you she wants you. She always gets
this funny look on her face when she sees you."
I chortled into my wineglass.
Aidan speared his son with a glare. "Don't you have a videogame to
play?" Derrick scowled. "You grounded me from them when I didn't
clean my room."

"Right. Then call Shane and go skateboarding or something."
Derrick's scowl turned into a look of exasperation. "And how am I
supposed to call him if you also took my cellphone?"
I laughed harder while Aidan shook his head. "Kids these days. They
have the memory bank of a gnat," he muttered and reached for his own
cellphone in his back pocket. He handed it to Derrick. "Go do
something that won't end up with you in jail."
I watched Derrick walk away, fingers clicking away on his dad's phone,
and turned back to Aidan.
"Excuse me for a moment, Trina."
I was stunned by Aidan's sudden departure, but I turned to watch him
walk directly toward Chelsea, who noticed him as soon as he got close.
But at the last moment, right after he nodded in her direction and her
lips turned up in a shy smile, he walked around her and continued on to
where Tyson and Declan were still talking at the far end of the bar.
Hmph. Perhaps both Aidan and Chelsea needed a firmer push in the
right direction—that direction being toward one another.
I smiled into my wineglass and giggled to myself.
Look at me, happy with one guy, and already trying to fix up new
friends.
"You having fun?" Declan whispered into my ear, and I swallowed the
last of my wine. "Yeah, but I'm going to head out back and check on
Boomer."
"I fed him about an hour ago."
"Okay. Then I might just take him for a quick walk or something."
He reached for me, brushing his hand over mine, sitting on top of the
bar. "Listen, Tyson
said—"
I shook my head. "I don't want to hear it."
"Trina—"
"No." I shook my head again. "Today has been really good, and I don't
want to think about anything else. I just...I'm feeling a bit tired and
overwhelmed with all the attention and everything. I need a few
minutes to catch my breath."
He frowned, but slowly nodded. Leaning toward me, he brushed his
lips against mine before he pulled away. "Stay close, though. I'm
serious. We'll talk about Tyson's news later."

I caught the seriousness mixed with concern in his expression. Doom
and gloom settled inside my chest like a rain cloud. "Just a quick walk
around the block. I'll be back in five minutes, okay?"
He leaned forward and whispered, "Five minutes and then I'm coming
looking for you."
I showed him I was willing to comply with his request by rolling to my
toes and kissing him firmly on the lips. "I'll be back soon. Stop
worrying."

Chapter 19 Trina
I sensed something wasn't right as soon as the metal door to the alley
clanged shut behind me.
"Boomer?" I called his name as I took a step toward him.
He stood with his whole body tensed, his ears back, staring at the large
dumpster, making small, quiet whimpering noises.
"Boomer?" I said again and took another step toward him. He
continued ignoring me. His tail stuck straight out behind him, not
wagging in his typical easygoing manner. "What is it, boy?" I ran my
hand along the top of his head when I reached him, and was surprised to
hear him release a low growl.
My dog didn't growl.
Except when he was being threatened.
Anxiety sparked in my veins and I wrapped my fingers around his
collar, pulling him back toward the restaurant. "Come on, boy. Let's go
inside."
Declan would be furious, but I didn't care. I also figured he'd get over it.
I yanked Boomer's collar again when he let out a fierce bark and lunged
forward, but the leash that I'd installed for him jolted him backward.
A sickening laugh echoed in the alley and I immediately jumped back.
"Seems to me that your fucking mutt hasn't learned anything in the
weeks you've been gone, Katrina."
My blood chilled as Kevin stepped out from his hiding spot.
My eyes widened and I stepped closer to Boomer, seeking protection
from my husband. With his perfectly styled blond hair and narrowed
blue eyes, he looked exactly like the man who beat me up just weeks
ago.
Evil. Sick.
Cowardly.
That's what he was. Always had been.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice strained and my words
thick.
My hand on Boomer's back trembled with fear when Kevin began
walking toward me, and I noticed the gun in his hand.
He had a gun.

"You'll be coming with me." He spoke as if we were talking about the
weather, or an upcoming dinner. So calm and collected, but I'd seen the
darkness that raged beneath his perfectly chiseled looks and designer
suits. "I told you last week that this game of yours is over."
I shook my head rapidly, pulling Boomer toward me while I stepped
back, keeping him in front of me.
"You'll stop right there." Kevin lifted his hand, aiming the gun at
Boomer, and I froze immediately. "I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."
"I'm not leaving with you. I told you over the phone, Kevin. I'm never
returning to your home, or to Kentucky."
He tilted his head to the side. "But you'll stay here? Slumming it with a
bar owner? You're
better than that."
"I'm better than you," I sneered, anger and fury beginning to replace the
fear I should have been feeling.
I wasn't afraid. Not of Kevin hurting me. Not anymore.
I had learned too much about myself, tolerated his abuse for far too
long, to allow myself to be cowed by him and his threats.
"You're nothing without me," he said and began walking toward me
again. "And if you won't come with me willingly, then I'll have to
convince you."
Without warning, he pointed the gun down and I jumped as a loud bang
echoed in the alley.
"What the hell!" I asked as I watched Boomer fall to the ground. His
whine pierced me and tore my heart in two. "No!" I dropped to my
knees, wrapping my arms around my dog, and tried to lift him, but he
was too slippery.
Why was he slippery?
I clung to Boomer, understanding but not admitting what I knew had
just happened. He'd shot my dog.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I sobbed, pulling at Boomer, but he
was so heavy. And wet.
"Enough!" Kevin shouted, and yanked me to my feet.
"You shot my dog!" I screamed, and then I felt the brick wall hit the
back of my head as he slammed me against it. "You're a fucking
monster, Kevin, and I hate you!" "I said enough!" His spittle hit my
cheeks, and I squeezed my eyes closed. I couldn't believe this.

My eyes went to Boomer but Kevin was squeezing my throat, making it
difficult to breathe. "I told you to never leave me, Katrina. I warned you
what would happen, and your damn dog on the pavement there is only
the first thing that's going to happen. Now quit fucking around. We're
going home. You have apologizing that you need to do."
My lips twisted and I cringed back against the wall. That small
movement allowed me time to draw in a breath. "Never. You'll have to
kill me first." I barely got the sentence out before metal was pressed
against my temple.

My eyes widened and I clenched my hands into fists.
Amazing, really. My life began just weeks ago in that alley, and at that
moment, I felt as if it could end there.
"Tell me, Katrina." Kevin leaned forward, so close I could smell his
breath and his cologne. "Have you enjoyed yourself, whoring around
and fucking a man who owns a sleazy joint like this damn local bar? Is
that the kind of woman you've become? A slut who spreads her legs for
any willing man?"
"Yes," I said, seething. I had nothing to lose. Blood rushed to my brain
and my temples pulsed, but I refused to back down. "I like fucking him,
Kevin, because it's good. Best I've ever had. He doesn't take what he
wants, but he gives me what I need and—"
"Shut the hell up, you lying fucking whore!"
"What the—"
Kevin and I snapped our heads toward the intrusion and my eyes
almost bugged out of my head.
"Go inside!" I shouted at Declan even as he opened the door further.
It took him a half second to take in the situation in front of him and his
gaze fixed on me.
"Get out here," Kevin said, taking the gun off my temple and waving it
at Declan, who still stood in the doorway. "Now."
Declan's eyes dropped to where Boomer was lying on the ground. I saw
him flinch before he obeyed Kevin and stepped into the alley.
"Don't do it—" Kevin's hand tightened on my throat, cutting off the end
of my sentence.
Tears blurred my vision as Declan brought his eyes back to me.
"You hurt?" he asked, stepping into the alley and letting the door close
behind him. He lifted his hands and took several steps away from us.
Away from me.
Away from the crazy guy with the gun. Not that I could blame him, but
somehow it stung. "Don't talk to her."
Kevin pressed the gun against my temple again, but kept his eyes on
Declan.
"Here's what is going to happen," he said, enunciating each word. "My
wife and I are going to leave and you're going to stay there, doing
nothing."
Declan tilted his head to the side and smirked. "I am?"

Kevin grinned, a sick-looking, cold, twisted grin that made bile rise in
my throat. "You are. Because if you so much as move a foot toward us,
I have no problem shooting this gun at either you or her, or her dog," he
chuckled and looked down at Boomer. I couldn't. A sob tore from my
throat as he laughed at my dog, bleeding on the ground. "Again."
"Take her," Declan said, and I caught the tail end of his shrug as I
looked at him. "You can have her."
I searched his face for any clue that he was lying, that he didn't mean
what he just said. The he wasn't just handing me back over to this sick
prick I'd called my husband. He didn't give anything away, and I closed
my eyes after I saw nothing hidden in his dark eyes.
He looked like he meant it.

"Declan."
"It's been fun, Trina," he said. I opened my eyes at the way he said my
name. His lips were pulled into a tight line and his dark eyes were on
me, expressionless. "But I didn't sign up for
this."
"See?" Kevin sneered, shoving me into the wall to get my attention.
"Just a whore who spread her legs."
The reality of the moment seeped into my lungs and I choked out
another sob as my knees buckled. Kevin gripped me tighter and pulled
me toward him, my back to his chest and his gun at my temple, using
me as a shield. "We best be getting on home then, shouldn't we,
darling?"
I stared at Declan, waiting for some clue that he was going to fight for
me, fight for us... what I thought we were building.
What did he just say a little while ago?
Take the time to figure out you...we'll figure us out together.
I recalled the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me. How could
he be so cold now? So unaffected?
I sniffed and licked my lips. "Don't let him take me," I whispered in a
hoarse voice. "Please,
Declan."
"Shut up," Kevin hissed in my ear. He jerked me to the side, and as I
flinched, I caught it—a small tightening around Declan's eyes. It was
just a flash of a movement, but I saw it nonetheless.
He was not unaffected by this. He was just trying really hard to hide it.
I didn't know what hurt more. That he didn't care, or that he did, but
was still willing to throw me away.
"Mr. Morgenson." Tyson's voice rang out from behind us, forcing
Kevin to take a step away from Declan.
Kevin's back was almost to Declan as he shifted to see someone new
enter the alley from behind the dumpster.
"Fuck," Kevin whispered, taking several more steps back.
"I wouldn't move any further," Tyson said, making himself seen.
A breath forced its way out of my chest. Tyson held a gun, aimed
directly at Kevin and me, and in his other hand, he was holding out a
badge.
Relief began to replace my fear.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kevin asked, pressing the gun harder into my
temple. My body began to shake as adrenaline coursed through me, and
I lifted my hands to wrap my fingers around his arm at my throat.
"Agent Blackwell, FBI. I'm going to suggest you drop your weapon
and you won't get hurt."
"Take another step and I'll blow her fucking brains out."
"No you won't," Tyson said, with all the confidence in the world.
My gaze leapt to Declan and, as our eyes met, he quickly mouthed, "I'm
sorry."
I saw the pain in his eyes and relief strengthened my resolve. I realized
what I should have

known earlier.
He wasn't willing to let me go, he just knew Tyson was coming. A sob
bubbled in my throat as I tried to stay in the present. Kevin wasn't going
to hurt me. Not again. I gasped and pressed my fingernails into Kevin's
arms.
"See, we have a problem here, Kevin Morgenson III," Tyson said, and
my gaze went back to his to see him smirking.
He looked like he was enjoying this, calm and collected with his gun
still trained on Kevin. "Seems to me that you wouldn't want to be
charged with first-degree murder, which would surely be added on to
the embezzlement charges that you're currently being investigated for."
What?
My eyes widened as I listened to Tyson.
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"I do." Tyson took a small step forward. Kevin must have been too
focused on what he was hearing, too fearful, because the gun at my
temple began to shake and his hold loosened around my throat. I
inhaled a deep, much-needed breath and closed my eyes. If I pushed
forward, I could shove him off me.
Could I do it before he shot me?
"See, it pays to have friends who owe you favors, and I have loads of
them. And since we've come to know Trina, and knew you were
looking for her, I've been trying to find you. In doing so, I've uncovered
a slew of charges from your past that have been dismissed.
Unfortunately, I don't think stealing over five hundred thousand dollars
from your current law firm is going to go over well."
"Lawyers," Declan muttered, shaking his head. "Always a bunch of
assholes." Tyson snickered.
"You assholes don't know what you're talking about."
"I know if you don't take that gun off Trina in point five seconds, you're
going to end up with a bullet between your eyes," Tyson said. I saw
muscles tense on his arm as his hold tightened on the gun.
He wasn't kidding.
"You aren't taking me in," Kevin snapped. The gun returned to its
painful position at my temple.
I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing this could be it for me.

He adjusted his hold on me and I snapped my eyes open. He put me
directly in front of Tyson and began tugging me backward, toward the
street.
In the distance, I heard sirens, but they were all background noise.
Kevin continued jerking me backward, so roughly that I almost tripped
over his feet, but I righted myself. Tyson followed us, but kept his
distance.
"Mr. Morgenson," he called, but Kevin didn't stop. "This will end
easier for you if you give up now."
Kevin laughed. He sounded maniacal. When had he become so crazy?
My mind was

swirling with the accusation Tyson had thrown at him when Kevin
laughed again and said, "You don't know anything. You'll never take
me in. I won't allow it." The sirens grew louder as we moved closer to
the street.
Hope unfurled inside my chest. There was no way Kevin was getting
out of this. I just had to survive it.
Forcing myself to go limp, I relaxed into his hold and whispered,
"Kevin."
My eyes darted to Declan, walking behind Tyson. Muscles were
bunched in his shoulders and his hands were balled into fists. The
intensity in his expression scared even me.
"Let me go, Kevin," I whispered. "Do it, and I swear I'll be with you."
It was my Hail Mary pass, the only thing I could think of to promise
him. If I left with him, if I agreed to, if he didn't see me as a threat or a
hindrance to getting away, perhaps I could buy myself a chance.
"I know you will, darling," he said, loud enough for Tyson and Declan
to hear. "No man is getting you. Remember? You're mine. Always."
I swallowed down the bile I felt rising in my throat and nodded.
"Always. I know." Declan flinched and I knew he'd heard. I didn't care.
I was doing this for us. For me.
We reached the street just as the sounds of sirens and squealing tires
surrounded us.
A door slammed and I tensed in Kevin's hold.
I turned to Declan and, without thinking, mouthed, "I love you."
His eyes widened and his lips parted.
"Freeze!"
It seemed as if a dozen voices shouted at once.
Kevin jerked me around and it felt as if time stopped, or we were
moving in slow motion. I heard him curse. Felt him jerk.
And then his arm was gone from my waist and I was falling forward.
My hands smacked the warm cement just as a loud bang went off
behind me.
"Trina!"
I heard Declan shout my name as my forehead slammed against the
pavement.

Chapter 20
Trina
When I opened my eyes, I immediately flinched away from the
blinding light, cringing and twisting my head to the side.
"You're awake."
Slowly, I opened my eyes again and then gasped when I saw Declan
sitting in front of me. My eyes stung and I squeezed them shut.
"Trina," he said, and reached for my hands. "I'm okay, and you're
okay."
Shudders racked my body. Opening my eyes again, I licked my lips. "I
almost got you shot."
"No," he said. "Nothing happened to me."
I tried to tug my hand from his but he tightened his grip.
"All of this was because of me." My chin wobbled. I tried to look away,
but he reached out with his other hand and pressed it against my cheek.
"This was not your fault, Trina. And Kevin is no longer an issue for
you, or for us."
I struggled not to look away from him.
"Are you really okay?" I asked, trying to sit up in a bed that I didn't
recognize. It was only then I looked around the room and noticed I was
in a hospital bed. Curtains were drawn around the left side of the bed
and in front of me.
My eyes opened wider and I sat up with a jerk.
"Hey.," Declan said in a soothing tone that did nothing to calm me.
"Where am I? And why am I here?"
"You're at Detroit General," he said. "You passed out in the alley and
were brought here for shock. They gave you something to help you
sleep. They thought you might have a concussion from how hard you
went down, but you don't."
I shook my head rapidly. "I don't...I don't remember that. Just...oh my
God...Boomer."
Tears spilled down my cheeks and I brushed them away.
"He was taken to a vet, honey. Calm down, okay? Just give yourself
some time to wake up and we'll talk about everything."
There was no time to talk. I had to get out of here.
I needed to leave.and go.somewhere.

My breath came in small ragged pants, and I began pushing the
scratchy sheets off of me.
"Hey." Declan stopped me, one of his hands on my hip and one on my
wrist. "Trina. Calm down for a moment. Nurses will be in here if your
heart rate skyrockets any further."

"Kevin?" I asked, not feeling calm in the least. The last thing I
remembered was his gun at my temple.
Declan's eyes softened minutely. His voice was even gentler than his
expression. "He shot himself, sweetheart. As soon as cops jumped out
of their cars with their guns aimed at him."
I squeezed my eyes closed. I hated the man. Hated how I had stayed
with him for so long, and tolerated his abuse for longer than I should
have. He shot my dog, threatened to kill me and Declan. I despised him
with an undying passion, but did I want him dead?
It seemed s o . u g ly . So final.
I shook my head, unable and unwilling to think about Kevin. In the
days to come, I knew I would, but at that moment, I was just grateful to
be alive.
"What time is it?"
My eyes flickered around the small space.
I pressed my hand to my chest and felt my heart racing.
Boomer was shot. Declan and Tyson could have been injured. Kevin
killed himself. And all of it was because of me. How could I calm
down?
Declan's hand smoothed my hair and he cupped the back of my head,
pulling me so close to him I could only see his eyes, lips, and mouth.
Which began moving, slowly.
"It's just after seven, sweetheart. You've only been asleep for a few
hours. Please, take a deep breath."
I swallowed, unable to listen to him.
"Breathe, sweetheart."
That time, I did. I pulled in a breath and let out a sob.
"That's it, sweetheart," Declan crooned, pulling me closer. "Breathe."
I did again, and then again. And soon, after listening to his calm,
soothing voice, I blew out a shaky breath and my forehead collapsed
onto his shoulder.
"I almost got you shot," I cried out, feeling my shoulders begin to
shake.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me toward him until
I was on his lap.
"Nothing happened to me."
"But—"

"No buts, Trina. You're not to blame here."
"You could have died!" I cried out louder. "Or Tyson. And Boomer!"
"Shhh." He pulled me tighter and one of his hands began rubbing large
circles on my back, his warm hand pressed against my skin. "Blue's
been talking to the vet hospital. We think Boomer's going to be just
fine. The bullet lodged in his stomach and he's in surgery."
A sob racked my chest and I pressed myself more firmly into Declan's
embrace.
"And I'm fine, but there's a silver lining here that you haven't seen yet."
I rolled my forehead back and forth against his shoulder. "What?"
He chuckled softly, his breath tickling my collarbone, then he pushed
me away from him

slightly. With both hands, he framed my cheeks. "You're free from that
asshole, forever. He can never hurt you, never scare you again."
I let that settle inside me, too afraid to believe it.
"But he's dead." I hiccupped, unable to be happy that a man I hated a
few hours ago was now dead.
The reality crashed down on me and I pulled away from Declan, wiping
tears off my cheeks.
"I should go."
His eyebrows snapped together. "What?"
"Leave. I mean, go somewhere. You don't need this. You don't need my
baggage or my history or the reminder of what Kevin's done, what I
brought to your doorstep—"
His lips hit mine powerfully and I sucked in a breath. He stole the rest
of my words from me when his tongue slid inside my mouth.
His hands clamped around the sides of my neck, pressing me against
him.
"You're not going anywhere," he growled, breaking the kiss and
leaving me panting for more.
"But—"
"But nothing. You think I'm going to let the woman I love walk away
from me after everything that happened today? You're nuts." I blinked
rapidly and my lips parted. "What?"
Declan smirked. "You heard me. You think I'm letting the woman I
love walk away? No way in fucking hell."
"Um."
"I love you, Trina."
I swallowed and blinked again. This wasn't happening. I was too
stunned to speak. Did he really just say that?
He tilted his head to the side and his smirk turned into a grin. "Anything
you want to say
back?"
"I—" I had nothing. No words. Nada. Zilch.
"Right." Declan nodded and leaned forward to push a button on the side
of my bed. "Then we're getting you out of here. I'm taking you home
and I'm not letting you out of my sight." "What happened to giving me
time to figure out me?" I asked stupidly.

"That was before you almost got shot, before I saw a gun pressed to
your temple, and I faced the idea of losing you. Never gonna happen.
You're not moving into Blue's pad, you're moving into mine, and with
that asshole out of the picture, we're free to move on and do our thing,
together."
"This is a lot to process, Declan."
Not the least of which was that he loved me.
Because I'd already figured out that I was in love with him. I figured it
happened the first morning I woke up in his house and he'd let me sleep
in, and took care of Boomer. But saying it now wasn't right.
Not after today. It had to be his adrenaline making him crazy.

"I know it is." He cupped my neck and pulled me closer to him, sliding
his lips across mine before he shifted me off his lap and back to the bed.
"But I'll help you through it, every step of the way. And then I'm going
to take you home and make love to you fiercely until you're screaming
out that you love me, too. I already know you do. You told me."
I did?
I didn't remember, but as I saw him grin when my lips twisted, I knew I
had. I blinked again. My eyes must have been malfunctioning. Or my
brain, because I again opened my mouth and stupidly said, "That's
um...well, that's a lot of pressure."
His lips twitched and he laughed softly. "Nothing to worry about. But I
plan on reminding you what you mouthed to me on the sidewalk. And I
plan on doing that in my bed, with you beneath me. Or maybe I'll let
you do all the work."
"Declan," I called out while my orgasm was still rolling through me.
Tonight I was learning that Declan was a liar, at least he was when it
came to me doing all the work. Because while it may have started with
him lying on his back in his bed, he quickly grabbed my hips, pulled me
off him, and settled me right on his face. He'd already given me one
orgasm, but the second one had my entire body shaking and shivering
from his unrelenting touch.
"Say it, Trina," he taunted, and went back to tasting me.
My palms pressed against the wall above his headboard and my head
fell back. "Fine!" I shouted. "I love you!"
His tongue slid through my wetness and his fingers dug into my waist
when I tried to move away from him.
His deep laughter rumbled before he began pressing kisses against my
inner thighs. "Knew I'd get it out of you eventually."
He pulled me back and I placed my hands next to the sides of his head,
on the pillow beneath him.
My heart was racing.
He'd exhausted me to the point where I couldn't be angry with him, not
that I wanted to be.
His weight shifted and he rolled, taking me along with him until I was
on my back and he was on top of me.
"Help me inside you, Trina."

I couldn't take my eyes off him. I also couldn't deny this request. I slide
my hand between us and wrapped my fingers around him. Just the
thought of him inside me had my body warming all over again.
"Declan." I whispered his name as I placed his tip at my entrance and
he slowly pushed in.
"Tell me again."
I blinked and tried to focus on him but it was difficult. He felt so good
inside of me. He stopped moving when I didn't say anything and my
fingers dug into his hips, trying to push him forward.
"Tell me, Trina."

I dragged my eyes up to his and smirked. "You first."
He dropped one elbow next to me and his hand pressed against my
check, sliding his thumb over my lips. "I love you, Trina."
"Wow," I sighed. "You're good at that."
I was shocked at how I could tease him. Between the day we had and
the overwhelming sensation those words caused, I was still having a
hard time thinking clearly.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, leaning closer to me. I was the one who
benefited from this change in the way he leaned his body, because it
forced his cock deeper inside me.
"Yes." My eyes began to roll back and I slid my hands from his hips to
his back, holding him to me. "I love you, Declan. So much. Thank you
for taking care of me."
"Always," he grunted and pushed himself in until he couldn't go
further. "I'll always take care of you."
Then he began to move, and after another orgasm, he cleaned us up and
climbed into bed with me, pulled me to his chest, held me close, and
proved that he was always going to take care of me when he quietly
whispered, "Nothing will ever hurt you again, and tomorrow, when
we're rested, we can talk more about what happened today and what's
going to happen
next."
I was so sated from the multiple orgasms, drunk on not only admitting
that I was in love with this man, but realizing that he loved me too, that
I couldn't say anything except, "Okay, honey."
His arms tightened and he kissed the top of my head.
And on a day when I'd witnessed the most horrific things I'd ever seen
in my life, I was somehow still able to close my eyes, lean in closer to
Declan until I draped myself all over his body, and fall into a restful
sleep.
Because I knew that no matter what happened, regardless of my future,
I knew that Declan would be there for me.
We'd walk through whatever difficulties life brought our way together.
I just hoped that walk grew easier than our beginning had been.

Chapter 21 Trina
It was after breakfast the next day, after Declan took a call from Tyson
and the local police officer working the case, and after he'd made a
phone call to Gabriella checking in on the status of Boomer. Declan
had told me to sit down, eat, and take a load off, and that he'd take care
of everything, which he did, and then he turned to me.
"If you're full and ready, we need to talk."
I took a sip of my coffee. "Okay."
"First, Blue spoke to the vet hospital this morning and Boomer is still
sedated, but he's going to be fine." A forceful breath left my lips,
loosening a tightness in my chest.
"Oh my God," I gasped, and pressed my hands to my chest. Tears stung
my eyes, but I fought them back. "Can I see him?"
Declan nodded. "Later today we can go in, but he's going to have to
stay at the hospital for a few more days so they can keep an eye on
him."
I didn't hear anything after "later." My dog was okay. Kevin hadn't hurt
him too badly. I pressed my lips together and swallowed to get rid of
my tears.
"First, though, we have to head to the police station so you can give
your statement about what happened yesterday."
I flashed him wide eyes. "I do?"
"They just need to know what happened before we got there, and I'll be
there with you."
My brow furrowed. "Do you have to give a statement?"
"Told them everything I could while you were sleeping in the hospital."
He reached out and slid his hand to my neck and squeezed.
Immediately, my pulse began to slow. "I still can't believe this is
happening. What did Tyson mean yesterday about the embezzlement
charges?"
In all the mayhem, I'd completely forgotten about all that. Not that it
was high on my priority list by any means, but I was still curious.
"That was one of the things Tyson told me he'd uncovered, that some
men were looking for Kevin. It was all started very quietly, so he didn't
become suspicious, but I suspect that along with the suicide, that this
will be public knowledge soon."

"Public knowledge," I muttered and once again my heart began racing.
"Public? As in media?"
"Relax, sweetheart. Nothing will harm you. I won't let them."
"But the media. Senator Morgenson. Oh my God. Are there reporters
here?"

I'd seen what happened when someone connected with a public official
caused a scandal. That Kevin died would make all of this so much
worse.
Declan's lip twisted and he cursed. "His father has been notified and,
last I heard, he's on his way here."
My hand flew to my chest. "No."
"We can keep you from them as long as possible."
I chewed on my bottom lip. "I can't see them."
"We'll hold that off for as long as possible."
Several moments passed with us staring at each other, me freaking out
slightly, Declan calmly taking my pulse and measuring my reaction.
"Is that it?" I asked once I calmed down and decided to trust him. If
Declan said he'd protect me from Senator Morgenson, I believed him.
He smiled. "Vet visits, police-station visits, reporters and in-laws
heading into town?"
"Well when you put it like that..."
He stood up and dropped his hand from my neck. I felt the loss as my
skin cooled. "No." My eyes jumped open. "No?"
He grinned. "My mom called. She and my dad are on their way here,
too. They're flying in later and should be here by dinner."
I jumped out of my chair. "Your parents?"
"Their son was almost shot yesterday, sweetheart. You didn't think
they'd come see me? Plus, they want to meet you."
His grin was larger. He looked so damn sexy dressed in his typical
faded jeans and simple white shirt. With one hand holding a mug of
coffee, he looked delicious, too good to be true. And too amused.
"You think this is funny?" I shrieked. Yes, shrieked. I pointed my
finger at my chest. "I could have gotten you shot and now they're
coming here? And I'm going to meet them? They're going to hate me!"
My hands flailed out at my sides before slapping against my thighs.
"This is horrible."
He laughed and I glared at him. "This isn't funny."
Setting his coffee cup down, he failed to wipe the smile off his face as
he stepped toward me and pulled me into his arms. "What I think is
funny is that after everything else I just told you, you freak out the most
about meeting my parents."

"They're going to hate me." And it was important they didn't. I already
knew they didn't like
Mara.
"They'll love you because I do, and they'll see that. Talked to them this
morning before you woke up and it's all good, Trina, swear to you.
Trust me."
"I do."
"Then go get ready, we've got a full day ahead of us."
Right.
Police station. Vet hospital. Just a typical Sunday.

"Okay," I muttered, and dropped my forehead to his chest before
stepping out of his arms. He didn't let me go, though. "You forgetting
something?" he asked.
I was probably forgetting a lot of things. Like my sanity, which had
somehow been misplaced. "Um."
"Kiss me."
I was given no time to comply before his hands slid up my back to my
shoulders and then wrapped around the sides of my throat. Declan's lips
hit mine and his tongue slid right in. I succumbed and kissed him back,
pressing my chest against his, and holding on for dear life.
When I ended the kiss, Declan's eyes were soft as he looked at me.
"Love you, sweetheart."
"You too, honey," I replied, feeling slightly dazzled.
His eyes softened further before his hands dropped from my neck and
he dipped his chin in the direction of the doorway. "Go shower before I
have to call the police station and tell them why we're going to be
delayed."
I flashed him wide eyes and watched his lips curl into a seductive grin.
"I'm going." I held up my hands and took two steps back before I turned
and ran out of the kitchen.
Behind me, all I heard was Declan's laughter.
And I couldn't stop a smile from spreading on my cheeks.
Only Declan would give me something like this. In the face of
something horrific, something horribly scary, he not only made me
safe...he made me feel safe. He was taking care of me and making
things easy for me, and I knew he didn't mind, because he wanted to do
it.
And while I was in the shower, trying not to think about everything that
was going to happen later, I decided that as long as he was willing to
take care of me, I was willing to let him.
Because while I didn't make him safe, the way he did for me, I knew
that I gave him other things he needed, and that was the true measure of
a healthy relationship: knowing what your partner needed and breaking
your back to give it to them; knowing that they were breaking their
back to give you what you needed, so you both ended up fulfilled and
satisfied.

I might not have had a lot of healthy relationships in my life, but I was
determined to make this relationship with Declan the best one that
either of us had. And I hoped like hell we'd learned from our mistakes
in the past, so we could make our relationship better and stronger.
"He'll be okay, though? You promise?"
Dr. Klaus tugged at the ends of his stethoscope and gave me a
reassuring smile. "He'll be just fine. Like I said, keeping him here for
the next few days is just a cautionary measure. We're fortunate that
when the bullet struck him, it didn't hit any major arteries."
I sunk into Declan's side and closed my eyes. "Thank you. Thank you
so much."
"When he gets home, though," Dr. Klaus said, "don't forget that he
won't be able to jump on furniture for a few weeks until his stitches are
removed. We'll go over further instructions

when he's ready to go home, but if there's anything you need to do to
make his life easier for the next six weeks, I like to give owners time to
do that."
I nodded frantically. "We will."
He headed for the door and gave me another smile. "Take all the time
you want with him, just try to keep him calm. He's still coming out of
sedation and shouldn't get overly excited."
I was the one who was in danger of becoming overly excited. In one of
their recovery rooms for dogs, something that looked like a miniature
hotel room in a four-foot-by-six-foot kennel, complete with doggy bed
and pillow, Boomer was lounging lazily, his tail barely wagging.
Even his jowls seemed more droopy than normal.
Declan gave me another squeeze and shoved me gently in Boomer's
direction. "Go sit with him and hug him. You know you want to."
I smiled because he was right, but Declan didn't see it, because I was
already moving, getting down on my knees in the short doorway in
front of Boomer. He had a large gauze bandage on his chest. Dr. Klaus
had told me there was another bandage on his stomach, but I couldn't
see it. He had a total of ten stitches in two locations, the entry wound
and the incision necessary for the surgery.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered hoarsely as my hand rested on top of his
head. Boomer's tail tapped against the bed twice before settling down.
"I'm so sorry I got you shot, buddy. But I swear to you, you get home
and get better and I'll be the best doggy mommy anyone's ever seen."
His cold, black nose nudged the palm of my hand and he licked it once
before setting his face back down on the pillow.
I stayed with him for several minutes, gently running my hand from his
head to his tail until his eyes closed and I knew he'd fallen back asleep.
Leaning forward, I kissed the top of his head. "I'll be back to see you
tomorrow, I promise."
Pushing back up to my feet, I headed out of the kennel to see Declan's
soft eyes on mine. He held out his hand and took mine, and pulled me
to him. He kissed the top of my head and I smiled, because it was so
similar to how I'd just kissed Boomer's.
"You're already a great doggy mom," he whispered. "And he's going to
be just fine, too."

"I know." My chin wobbled but I held my emotion in. Between the vet
and the police station I was too exhausted to shed any more tears today.
"Ready to head to the airport?"
No. No, I wasn't.
I'd already spent an hour at the police station giving Officer Mars my
statement, telling him everything I could remember from yesterday. He
had been kind and patient with me, but I still left there feeling ragged
and drained. The entire time, all I could think of was getting to Boomer.
Now that I had seen him and been assured he was going to be just fine,
I wanted a nap. A really long one. Possibly another bubble bath.
The look on my face must have expressed my thoughts for me.
A low rumble sounded in my chest and Declan snickered. "They'll like
you, I promise. And if they don't, I don't care."

"I want them to like me."
He pushed me back from him, his hands framing my face. "And they
will, because they'll see how happy you make me and how incredible
you are. Swear it."
"Okay," I muttered, somewhat petulantly. This only made Declan
laugh a little bit harder as he guided me out of the recovery area of the
veterinary hospital.
I wanted to believe him.
But I could only imagine what his parents must be thinking and feeling
right now. If I was ever in their shoes, I would certainly not be excited
to meet a woman whose husband showed up outside their son's place of
business and aimed a gun at their son before killing himself.

Chapter 22 Declan
"Stop fidgeting," I muttered, even though her nervousness was making
it difficult not to laugh.
Next to me, Trina ran her hands down the sides of her skinny jeans,
which were tucked into a pair of dark-brown boots. I'd rolled my eyes
earlier, when she came downstairs dressed in jeans and boots and a
simple, white, V-neck T-shirt, asking if we could stop by a mall and do
some shopping for a better outfit.
Like my parents gave a shit what she wore.
And right now, dressed as simply as she was, she looked beautiful. Her
blonde hair was braided down her back, and I knew it was more than
just the nerves making her cheeks flush. She was excited at the same
time.
And once again, I was fucking grateful that I could give her something
to look forward to, something to help erase all the shit we'd gone
through in the last twenty-four hours.
But I was even more thankful that she could at least be excited about
something, knowing that just yesterday, her husband held a gun to her
fucking head. I held her last night as she slept. I hadn't slept for a single
second, because I kept expecting nightmares to wake her and I wanted
to be there to comfort her.
Other than the shock from Boomer being hurt, though, she seemed to
be doing okay.
Or she was burying it in a deep pit of denial, and it was all going to
overflow when she least expected it. Which meant that for the next few
days, or weeks, I'd have to keep a closer eye on her.
Not that that was a hardship. She was beautiful and I wanted to look at
her every day for the rest of my life. Which, surprisingly, wasn't at that
all scary to think about, considering that up until about six weeks ago, I
was dead set on the idea of never getting married again.
Now, not only had I practically forced Trina to move in with me, I
couldn't wait to see my bling decorating her ring finger.
As if knowing what I was thinking, even though she'd think I was crazy
for it, she brushed against my side.
I wrapped one arm low on her waist, loving the way she fit so perfectly
next to me.

"I can't help but be nervous," she said, her voice just above a whisper,
and tipped her head back.
I covered her hand with mine and scowled. "Stop thinking about it." "I
can't help it."

"My parents are good people, Trina. They're kind and they're open. My
dad is going to punch me in the shoulder, my mom is going to roll her
eyes and hug me, fussing over the fact that I could have been hurt, and
then she's going to hug you and welcome you to the family."
"They're going to investigate what kind of crazy woman you're
connected to."
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and tugged her closer. "We'll see."
My foot began to tap impatiently. I was beginning to grow anxious, not
about seeing my parents, but about proving Trina wrong.
When I called my parents last night, just to give them a heads-up once
Tyson had reminded me that this disaster would probably hit the media
at some point—and soon—after the shock wore off, all my mom said
was, "You happy?"
When I told her yes, I could almost see her smile through the phone line
before she said they'd be on the soonest flight out.
My eyes scanned the new crowd of people coming down the escalator
toward the baggage claim. Being a head taller than everyone else had
its perks in situations like this, and it didn't take me long to spot my
mom and dad on the escalator.
His full head of hair seemed grayer than it had just a few months ago,
when I saw them last, but his amber eyes were the same. I watched as
he placed his arm around my mom's waist and pulled her to his hip in a
way that was similar to how I was holding Trina.
His eyes scanned the area.
Like father, like son.
His chin lifted in acknowledgement when our eyes met, and I got
Trina's attention. Gesturing with my index finger, I pointed to where
my parents were and she rose to her toes. "They're here."
She turned to look for them, and I grinned as my dad began pushing his
way through a small throng of people without appearing to be rude
while doing so.
He just had that way about him, and at six foot two and over two
hundred pounds, he was smaller than me now, but he still was not a guy
to mess with. Years of being in the Army Reserve and working as a
firefighter had made him a man no one wanted to mess with.

"My boy," my mom said when she saw us. Immediately her hands
framed my face and she pulled me to her. I inhaled the familiar scent of
jasmine before her lips brushed against my cheek.
"Hey, Ma."
She let go of my face and smiled. "What am I going to do with my
boys?" I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and nodded toward Trina.
"Ma, this is Trina."
I didn't have the time to introduce Trina to my mom before she threw
her arms around Trina's shoulders and she yanked her from my hold.
"Oh, you poor thing! I can't imagine everything you've gone through.
Are you okay?"
My shoulder jerked back with the force of my dad's punch and I lifted a
hand to rub the sore spot. "What's up, old man?"
I looked at Trina to see her eyes wide and amused.

I flashed her a wink and nodded toward my dad. "Dad, Trina. Trina,
this is my old man."
"Old man, my ass," he muttered and reached out to take Trina's hand in
his. My mom released Trina from her hug, but she was fussing over
Trina like she was her very own long-lost daughter.
Trina's eyes grew wider when my dad brushed his lips across her
cheek, looked back at me, grinning, and said, "She tastes delicious. I
can see why you like her."
Trina's face paled.
My mom slapped my dad on the back of his head. He shrugged.
I threw my head back and laughed.
"See?" I pulled Trina into my arms when my dad left to go grab their
luggage. "Told you they'd like you."
"This is absurd," Trina proclaimed as the door shut behind her. She
unwrapped a scarlet scarf from her neck. Outside the door to my house,
I could still hear shouts from reporters, and through the window, I
could still see the flash of lights.
They'd been camped out for the last forty-eight hours, and if Trina
hadn't insisted that our new life continue as normal—meaning going
back to work at the restaurant between visits to the vet to see Boomer,
and spending some time with my parents before they left town this
morning—I would have wanted to just keep her inside the house until
the chaos died down.
It didn't take long at all for Kevin's death to become national news. The
fact that the senator had flown in increased the media that descended on
Latham Hills.
Blue and Tyson spoke to us immediately. Blue had pulled Trina off to
our bedroom and told her how to handle it, based on what she'd gone
through only months before.
The fact that Blue, formerly Gabriella Galecki, was seen in connection
with Trina increased the attention on both women.
At least the madness had caused traffic to pick up at the restaurant,
even though I knew it would be short-lived. The number of people who
flocked to Fireside wanting to see an actual crime scene, even though
it'd been cleaned up and the yellow tape had been removed, amazed
me.

I was hoping that now that Kevin's body had been transported back to
Kentucky, interest in Trina would begin to die down, despite the
speculation about why she'd been shacked up with another man since
before Kevin died.
News that Kevin had been abusive had been released, and Senator
Morgenson made several public statements denying any knowledge of
his son's behavior, saying that now, so soon after his death, was not the
time to look into such matters. And while Trina had initially been
maligned in the papers, the senator, surprisingly, had also fervently
supported Trina, saying that if this news was true, he was deeply sorry
for the way his son mistreated someone so special.
It'd been difficult for anyone to call her horrific names after such a
public show of support,

and I knew it wouldn't have happened if Trina hadn't had the courage to
face both the senator and his wife when they showed up in town the
night after we took my parents to dinner.
As I'd promised, my parents fell in love with Trina pretty much the
moment we met at the airport. My mother continued to shower her with
familial affection for their entire visit.
By the time they boarded a plane to Arizona, I figured my mom was
already planning a bridal shower and picking out colors for a wedding
that hadn't been planned yet...but it'd happen.
It was only a matter of time.
For now, I still wanted to take care of Trina and get her through the
fallout of Kevin's death with as much ease as possible.
Even it if was three o'clock in the morning and reporters were camped
out on my lawn.
"You doing okay?" I asked, and pulled her into my arms once she
removed her coat and draped it over the side of my couch.
The last three days had seemed to go on forever. I was exhausted, but as
soon as my hands brushed the skin at her back beneath her shirt,
everything south of my waist perked up.
"Yeah. I'm good."
"Kevin's funeral is tomorrow." I watched a deep line form between her
eyes. A weight compressed my chest. "We can still head down there if
you think you need that."
I'd mentioned it several times and should already have known her
answer, but a part of me thought she needed the closure. That maybe
she needed to go back to Kentucky and say goodbye, now that she
wasn't fleeing out of fear.
But she still didn't want to return unless she had to. "I don't want to go."
"You've been sleeping all night."
She tilted her head to the side and frowned. "Is that a problem?"
"No. I just figured after the week you've had, after you started realizing
the truth of everything that's happened, you might not sleep so well."
Her downturned lips turn upward. "Not sure how I can go to bed and
not feel safe and protected from everything going on when your arms
are around me and you're holding me so tightly I fall asleep listening to
your heart beat."
And there it was.

I'd found a woman who trusted me implicitly, even when she slept. I'd
fallen in love with a woman who not only loved me, but loved the life
I'd built and the restaurant I wanted to grow. She not only loved it, she
jumped right in, loving the work and the long, hard hours, right along
with me.
After Mara left, I might not have admitted it, but I sometimes wondered
if I'd ever find a woman—a good woman—who wanted to be with a
man who owned a simple, local sports bar.
But just like Trina believed I could keep her safe and protected from
everything that could harm her, I'd found a woman who, simply by
being herself and all that she was—good, kind, pure, sexy as hell, and
hilarious when she remembered she could tease people—had healed
the parts of me Mara had wounded, and healed them so well there
wasn't even scar tissue left behind.
Just a fresh newness inside of me that I couldn't wait to share with her.

Of its own accord, my finger drew a circle around her ring finger. Her
tan line was still there, the faded mark of her former ring still visible. I
couldn't wait to cover it up with my own diamond.
It would no doubt be smaller than the one she'd had before, but I knew
that she wouldn't care.
"I know things moved fast for us," I whispered against the top of her
head, pulling her close to me, "and I hope this doesn't scare the hell out
of you, but I can't wait until I can make you mine."
Her soft laugh warmed my chest. "I'm already yours, Declan.
Everything I am and everything I have is yours." She tilted her head
back, eyes sparkling with honesty and admiration.
I loved this woman.
I silenced her, pressing my lips to hers, and then I picked her up and
carried her upstairs and into the bedroom, where I dropped her in the
center of our bed. My body fell on top of her and her legs wrapped
around my hips as I sank inside her, and I spent the next hour making
love to the woman I knew would always be by my side.
We'd already experienced darkness and rough times, and now,
hopefully, it would only be smooth sailing from here on out.

Epilogue
Trina
Six M

ONTHS

L

ATER

I scanned the full, but not packed, restaurant, and smiled. The lunch
rush was over, but it was a Friday afternoon, and in the last several
months, there had hardly been an empty table. With spring break
starting soon, and the spring air bringing freshness and the hope of new
beginnings, the Fireside Grill was doing better than it ever had,
according to Declan.
My grin stretched larger as I finished bussing a table and headed back
to the kitchen.
Declan was where I always saw him.
At the grill, flipping burgers and barking orders to the other cooks.
There was never a dull moment.
Declan would give me the credit for his increase in business, due to all
the hard work I'd put into the advertising and marketing for the
restaurant.
Some days, if someone came in and their eyes got slightly hazy when
they met me or saw Declan, I still worried that some of the attraction
was from what happened in the alley months ago. Most days, when I
was able to forget, I believed Declan.
He never lied to me.
He still looked at me as if I was the most important and treasured thing
in his life. He was still a bit bossy, he was still overprotective, but I
knew his protectiveness came from a place deep within a soft and
loving heart.
Needless to say, the last several months had not only been busy, but
some of the best in my
life.
Shortly after the media attention died down, I had tried one day to think
about going forward with my plan to live on my own and move into
Blue's apartment. I knew, based on the look Declan gave me, that he'd
let me. He probably would even have encouraged me to do it, because
he always seemed to be willing to do whatever made me happy.
But then I'd gone to bed with him, fell asleep with his strong, muscular
arms surrounding me, and knew that I was never going to leave. I loved
him too much to want to spend a moment away from him. And I

realized that I could still grow, I could still be me, and I could do it in
Declan's house, even if moving in with him after the drama we'd had
and the way we'd met seemed crazy to some.
I quit caring what people thought and said about me the moment my
photos were splashed across newspapers and magazines nationwide.

No one knew the full story except for those who experienced it. And
their opinions were the only ones that mattered to me.
Fortunately, in the last several months, I had also found a great network
of friends who I now considered family. The girls I'd met on that girls'
night so many months ago were now more like sisters I'd never had and
always wanted.
We still drank too much on Margarita Thursdays. We still laughed
loudly enough to disrupt the entire restaurant, and Suzanne still ogled
Declan every moment she could. Fortunately, I'd also spent a lot of
time around her husband and Paige's, and was fully assured that her
jesting and teasing was all in good fun.
My life was perfect.
It was that thought that had me moving straight to Declan. I waited
while he plated several meals, his movements so sure and quick that he
seemed to do it all at the same time, and then I rolled to my toes,
pressed my hand to his shoulder, and kissed his cheek.
"I love you," I whispered, before moving away.
He didn't let me get far.
His arm snagged me around my waist and he held me against him,
looking down at me with dark eyes and a full smile. "I love you, too.
How's it going out there?" I grinned. "Busy."
"You still up for a night off?"
My grin grew. Declan was taking me out to dinner tonight, downtown.
I didn't know the restaurant we were headed to, but I had seen the dress
he bought for me to wear laid out on our bed this morning after I woke
up. It was black, lacy and satiny, fit me perfectly, and I couldn't wait to
wear it.
I had also seen a pretty, red-velvet ring box in the drawer last week
when I was putting away his laundry.
I knew that tonight was going to be special. Declan would make sure of
it. I couldn't freaking wait.
"Yeah." I sighed and my gaze softened when his eyes went glassy. "I
can't wait to see you
tonight."
All that muscle dressed up in a suit. I hadn't yet seen him wear one. My
thighs tightened at the thought...but I was thinking more about taking it
off him later.

My phone began vibrating against me in my back pocket and made me
jump out of his
hold.
"I love you, Trina. More than I ever thought possible."
"Love you, too," I whispered, reaching into my back pocket for my
phone while he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
Had the phone not vibrated in my hand, I might have forgotten I was
getting a phone call. Declan's kisses still did it to me. They made me
forget there was a world outside of just us. "Hello?" I said as soon as I
answered the phone. I was already so turned-on by the brief kiss from
Declan that I hadn't looked at my caller ID.
"Trina? Oh my God, Trina. I need your help. I need Aidan's phone
number."

My heart immediately dropped to my toes when I heard Chelsea's
panicked voice coming through the phone.
"Chelsea? What is it?"
"I can't. Oh my God. Trina. Aidan. Can you call him? Or Declan? It's
Derrick." She sobbed into the phone.
"Chelsea. Take a deep breath." I looked at Declan and his brow was
furrowed, tension already tightening his shoulders. "Tell me what's
going on."
"It's Derrick!" she cried, and I watched Declan's head snap back. He'd
heard her. "I've called the ambulance. But there's been an accident. I
need Aidan!"
"Oh my God," I whispered and my eyes went wide at Declan's
expression. "Call Aidan, honey. He needs to get to—"
"Detroit General," Chelsea supplied. "Oh shit, Trina. This is bad. It's so
bad."
I already felt tears welling in my eyes. Not Derrick. "He'll be okay,
Chelsea. Tell me what happened."
"Skateboarding accident. Right outside my house. I'm here with him.
But Trina...I can't. It's so bad. I'm so scared."
I tried to calm her with soothing tones as her words rambled on. I barely
felt Declan's hand on mine as he ushered me out of the kitchen and into
his office. I saw his mouth moving as he spoke into the phone, but
didn't hear the words he said. I only hoped, as Chelsea described what
she'd heard and what'd she seen, that Declan was talking to Aidan.
It sounded bad, and tears rolled down my cheeks.
He snapped the phone closed and looked directly at me.
"He'll meet us there. As we were on the phone, he got a call from
Shane's mom, too."
"Chelsea?" I said, trying to talk over her cries and her murmured words
of comfort to Derrick's friend, who was with her. "We've gotten a hold
of Aidan. We'll meet you at the hospital."
As I spoke, I heard sirens through the phone.
"Okay. Okay, Trina. Thank you."
"Take care of yourself, Chelsea."
Another sob came through the phone. Voices echoed in the
background. "I have to go, Trina. They're here." "We'll be there soon."
I didn't know if she heard me. I just knew she'd hung up.

My eyes went to Declan's and his hands came to my shoulders. "What
happened?" I shook my head, already feeling more tears in my eyes.
"Skateboard accident on the hill outside Chelsea's house. It sounds bad,
Declan."
"He'll be okay." He pulled me to his chest and hugged me. "He'll be
okay." I didn't think the second statement was for me. I figured he was
more trying to reassure himself.
"We need to go," I told him. His arms squeezed me tight before he let
me go and I grabbed

my purse.
I pulled the strap over my shoulder, entwined my fingers with Declan's,
and followed him out of the restaurant to his truck.
And then I prayed the entire way.
Because I knew...I knew that based on what Chelsea told me over the
phone...it would take a miracle for Derrick to be okay.

Acknowledgments
I have been a part of the book-writing community for just over three
years now, and I'm so thankful for the incredible friendships I've made
with authors and bloggers and readers. Some of you, you know who
you are, have become my dearest friends. I can't begin to express how
much I value all of you.
Thank you to my agent, Michelle Johnson, for always believing in me.
I love that you're in my corner, helping me with any crazy question or
idea that I have. I can't wait to see what else we can do together.
To Sue, thank you for totally getting this series. Your kind words and
support help keep me
going.
Thank you to Shannon, my PA, for keeping me organized and on track.
You're the bomb to my diggity.
To all my ladies in BACP and FTN, thank you for always being there
for me. When I'm ready to bang my head against my computer, when I
can't get the scene to do exactly what I want, it's always wonderful to
know there's someone who understands, someone who can help...and
someone who will drink with me.
To all the readers and bloggers who leave a review, send me a message,
or share my books with their friends, thank you will never be enough.
You've allowed me to turn a hobby into a career, and I'm always so
incredibly grateful for you.
And because I like to save the best for last, thank you to my family.
Your unconditional love and support and random brainstorming
sessions are everything to me.

B

Y

S

TACEY

L

YNN

Fireside
His to Love His to Protect His to Cherish (coming soon)

PHOTO: © MAE I DESIGN AND PHOTOGRAPHY
S

TACEY

L

YNN

lives in the Midwest with her husband and four young

children. She can usually be found lost inside her own head, trying to
bring her characters to life. When she's engaged in the real world, she's
spending time with her family, drinking large amounts of coffee, and
eating Skittles by the handful.

staceylynnbooks.com

Facebook.com/staceylynnbooks

@staceylynnbooks

The Editor's Corner
Looking for the next romance that'll give you the feels? Our fantastic
selection of books will definitely satisfy.
You've never read bedtime stories like the sensual forbidden fairy tales
in Sharon Lynn Fisher's Loveswept debut, Before She Wakes. And
speaking of debuts, don't miss New York Times bestselling author Kelly
Elliott's Searching for Harmony—a gut-wrenching story of a love that
transcends all odds. Vonnie Davis's Her Survivor welcomes readers to
Wounded Warrior Falls where beating the odds is what it's all about,
while Bound Beneath His Pain kicks off a deeply sensual new series
from Club Sin author Stacey Kennedy.
Diana Quincy continues her Rebellious Brides series with a tale of
forbidden love between a socialite and a scholar in A License to Wed.
Wedding bells are ringing—and tempers are flaring—as Marquita
Valentine's Take the Fall series continues in the sweet and sexy Hard to
Fall. The Brothers of Mayhem MC ride again in Carla Swafford's
explosive novel, Full Heat. Ashley Suzanne follows up Raven with the
next round in her scorching Fight or Flight series, Cutter. The third
book in Beth Yarnall's Recovered Innocence series, Reclaim, is
brimming with angst and sensuality. And don't miss the next book in
Stacey Lynn's deeply emotional Fireside series, His to Protect. Or the
story of a war hero fighting to remember the love he left behind in
Serena Bell's emotionally charged To Have and to Hold.
Then Shawntelle Madison's seductive Surrender to You follows two
career-oriented friends with benefits. And finally we have a cold case
that leads to blazing-hot temptation in Kathy Clark's romantic suspense
Almost Forever.
Until next time -Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel Associate Publisher

Read on for an excerpt from
Worth It All
by Claudia Connor

Available from Loveswept

Chapter 1
JT ignored the gym stink and the matches going on in the rings to his
right and left and the grunts at the red punching bags. He shook the
sweat from his hair, ignoring the heckling from Simon's home crowd,
and motioned with his gloved hands. "Come on, big man. Bring it."
Two hundred fifty pounds and six and a half feet of tattooed Polynesian
muscle circled him on the elevated mat. Simon moved in and JT landed
a quick jab to the man's shoulder, smiling when it made him take a step
back. Simon was built like the tanks he used to drive, and he had a right
hook that could make a man see stars if he didn't pay attention.
"You're going down," Simon said, a big-ass grin splitting the scar that
ran across his cheek.
"You know that, right?"
JT smiled right back. He might be a couple of inches shorter, a little
lighter, but he could hold his own. "Not happening. And cocky doesn't
look good on you." "Losing, however, looks really good on you,"
Simon said, coming in for a strike.
"If you two don't stop yapping like little girls, I got better things to do."
Simon's eighty-something-year-old grandfather and owner of this
paint-peeling and duct-taped-together gym stood just outside the ring.
As small as Simon was massive, he had that old-man, raisin-in-the-sun
look, and was still very much the boss.
They obeyed like boys, put in their mouth guards, and got serious. JT
bobbed and dodged, his below-knee prosthesis moving like an
extension of his body. The recent changes he and his team had made to
their newest model of the next-generation powered ankle seemed like
good ones. The sensors in the ankle sampled real-time motion while the
artificial intelligence continuously analyzed the data and calculated the
best response.
They circled each other, each getting in a few good licks. Thanks to an
IED in Afghanistan, Simon wore a similar style below his right knee
and an above-the-knee prosthesis on his left. With the A.I. and
automatic stumble recovery in their latest microprocessor knee, Simon
was actually at an advantage.
Ten minutes later when neither man had gone down, Pops called it in
JT's favor, much to the dismay of the handful of spectators who'd put
their dollars on Simon.

Breathing hard and dripping sweat, JT held the ropes apart for Simon,
then slipped carefully through himself. He patted the old man's
shoulder. "Good job, Pops."
Pops grumbled, then turned to the group as he walked away. "All right.
That's it. Everybody back to your business or get out."
Simon pulled at the Velcro at his wrists and worked his gloves off. JT
did the same, and they both grabbed towels on their way to the locker
room that smelled even more gritty than the gym. He wanted to record
his notes while the information they'd just gained was still fresh.
After getting his hands unwrapped, JT grabbed his tablet from his bag
and sat on the

wooden bench. Neither spoke while they took a few minutes to get
down their notes for design improvements. This was his sixth trial and
already the adaptive capabilities of this smart device far exceeded last
year's model.
Simon finished first and put his tablet in his bag. "The hot brunette
pretending to work the bag was watching you again. Black bike shorts,
red top barely containing the important parts. That's as far as I got."
JT switched out the bionic foot at the end of his prosthetic for the one
he wore in the shower. "You think she's hot, go for it," JT said. "Or
don't. If she works out at this gym, you're probably related to her."
"I happen to know I'm not. She's one of Layla's friends. But she wasn't
looking at me, pretty boy, she was looking at you. Doing nasty things to
you with her eyes," Simon added, rolling a polyurethane cover over his
left leg.
JT stood and peeled the sweat-soaked shirt over his head. "Well, if she's
one of your sister's friends, then it's a definite no."
"Right. Because you don't do serious. You'd rather eat my mom's
leftovers and watch Jeopardy! with your dog."
"Boulder prefers Wheel of Fortune, if you must know, and he's damn
good," he added with a smile, then dropped his shorts and stepped into
the shower.
Resting his hands against the tile, he let the hot water beat at his back
and his smile fell away. Not even Simon knew he'd been serious once
and what a disaster that had been. His best friend had lost his legs being
a hero. He had not.
Ten minutes later, he was dressed in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. He
sat on the bench again to get his shoes. He tied one, attached the other.
They finished packing up and passed through the gym, giving a wave to
Pops. Everyone continued with what they were doing, including the hot
brunette in the black bicycle shorts. JT pushed against the glass door
and the thick air of Southern California smacked him in the face. The
summer sun was just dipping below the horizon, and he guessed it was
still a balmy ninety-five degrees.
"You want to come to Ma's for dinner? You know you're always
invited."
"Not this time, but tell her I said thanks. I'm going to grab a quick bite
around the corner, then head back to work."

"I'll tell her, but it's no good eating alone. Neither is human avoidance."
"It's called dedication, so you can also tell her I work harder than her
son."
Simon huffed, then raised his hand in a wave and moved on to his own
car.
JT was just climbing into his SUV when Simon stopped and turned
back. "You know, I think I'll come with you. It's early. I can always eat
twice, right?"
JT felt the slightest hesitation. Maybe he did prefer eating alone, but he
gave Simon the simple directions, and pulled out of the lot.
He made a left at the corner as the West Coast sun slid down into an
orange ball of fire, backlighting the tall palms. A medium-sized city,
Corrino was twenty miles southeast of Los Angeles. A good place for
their company base and conveniently close to Simon's family, even if it
was about as far as he could get from his own and still live in the
continental U.S.

Twenty minutes later he and Simon were seated at the counter with
drinks and burgers. Simon was giving a detailed account of his future
brother-in-law's latest faux pas— overflowing the toilet at Simon's
parents' house—but JT's attention was on their waitress walking away.
You could learn a lot by watching a person work. Watching a person do
anything when they didn't know you were looking. He'd seen her pick
up a pacifier from the floor and offer to wash it off. Seen her reassure a
lone mother with four kids when one of them spilled their milk for the
second time. Her name was Paige and even now she stood at the other
end of the counter, helping an older gentleman struggling to read the
menu.
He'd seen her five times, she'd waited on him three of those, and they'd
still only exchanged a handful of words. It was just looks and smiles
and for some reason that was a lot. What did it say about him that just
seeing a woman he had no intention of ever making a move on was the
highlight of his week?
"When are you going to make a move?"
At Simon's question, JT jerked his gaze from the waitress and picked
up his cheeseburger. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Simon mimicked. "Don't be a
pussy."
"Fuck you," he said, taking in his friend's amused gaze. "I'm looking.
I'm a guy. She's
pretty."
"She's pretty. You sound like freakin' Mr. Rogers."
JT laughed softly and shook his head. His longtime friend and business
partner wasn't known for holding back. "How's your burger?"
"It's good. I can see why you come here, though I'm beginning to see
the food's not the only reason."
Simon was still chuckling when their waitress returned and stopped in
front of them. Pretty didn't cover it and JT's pulse jumped in his throat.
She was long and slim with wispy blond hair pulled back at the nape of
her neck. A tiny green four-leaf clover hung on a gold chain against
skin almost as white as her blouse.
"Can I get you anything?"
"No, thanks," he said, catching her shy smile and feeling something
silent and invisible pass between them.

"Actually," Simon began, lowering his drink down. "My friend here—"
He kicked Simon's titanium leg hard enough to knock his foot off the
rung he'd propped it on. "Everything's good. Thanks."
Her blue-green eyes met his. "Okay."
Probably a good thing she didn't hang around for whatever asinine
thing was about to come out of Simon's mouth.
"God, you're mooning over her like an eight-year-old with a crush on
his teacher. It's painful."
"Whatever." But he felt like he was eight years old when he looked at
her. Way out of his league and just a little lost.
"So ask her out."

JT raised his glass to his lips. "I don't think so." "Why not?"
Maybe because she looked too sweet, too easily disappointed. Not the
kind of girl he dated, though Simon had a point. He didn't really date.
He met women when he wanted to, and if they were willing, had sex
when he wanted to. Sporadic and meaningless acts that did nothing but
relieve tension and leave both parties mutually satisfied.
"I don't know what you have against taking a woman out on a date,"
Simon said. "A little one-on-one time. Some candlelight and
conversation."
He didn't have anything against it, in theory.
Simon's phone vibrated and he read the text. "Shit. I forgot I promised
my sister I'd help move some furniture. She wants all her stuff in the
condo before the wedding so they don't have to mess with it after the
honeymoon."
He nodded. "Makes sense."
Simon finished off the last half of his burger in three bites and drained
his glass. He scooted out of the booth, taking his time to stand, and
reached for his wallet.
"I got it," JT told him.
"Thanks. I'll get you next time." Simon grabbed the last couple of fries
from his plate. "Make a move, before someone else does." He started to
turn, then paused. "Oh, and my mom says if you aren't dating someone
else, she's going to force you to take Layla to the wedding."
"Why the hell would your mom want me to go out with your sister?"
Taking a woman to a wedding definitely fell into the category of
serious.
"Beats me," Simon said with a grin. "Later."
Simon left and JT took his time finishing, watching Paige as he did.
There was an inherent sweetness in her smile and the cheerful
humming he'd noticed when she hurriedly wiped down tables. But then
there were times, like when she slowed to refill a soda or wait on a
customer to count out change, that she seemed a million miles away.
Like if she stopped long enough, the weight of her thoughts settled over
her like a wet blanket. He'd like to know what those thoughts were.
She grabbed more plates, loading up a heavy tray. Thanks to Simon's
hassling, he now had a vivid image of sitting across from her, watching
her eat, being served instead of serving. He could picture Paige smiling

shyly at him across the table. How the soft glow would reflect off her
hair and dance over her cheeks. She was a woman made for
candlelight, she was—
"I have a turtle."
JT angled his head toward the child on the other side of the now-empty
seat beside him. The little girl didn't look up, her tiny hand moving
deliberately over a sheet of white paper. Was she talking to him or just
talking? Were kids supposed to talk to strangers?
She slid the paper a few inches toward him and tapped on a green oval.
"His name's Eric. He's a turtle."
"Ah." He raised his brows, nodded, and swallowed the food in his
mouth. "Classic turtle name."
She pulled her paper back in front of her and picked up a blue crayon. "I
thought so."
She had that deep, scratchy kind of little-kid voice that seemed at odds
with her white

blond hair hanging in thin, wavy pieces to her shoulders. A butterfly
clip thing clung precariously to a few strands near her ear. She swung
one foot hard enough to tap the counter in front of her, the other was
tucked beneath her short purple skirt.
He glanced around for a supervising adult. She looked really small to
be left alone, but what did he know.
The line cook turned, a big grin on his face, and slid the little girl a
mountain of fries. "Okay, Miss Casey Bell. Think you can eat a whole
plate of Mr. Mac's fries today?" "Yep." She gave a determined nod.
"We'll see about that," he said with a wink and chuckle.
"But I need ketchup."
Mac was already back to his burgers so JT reached for the bottle,
holding up a stack of napkins in front of him, and slid it over.
"I can eat a lot," Casey said to him, flipping open the cap on the bottle.
JT had some doubts, as the mound of fries was as big as her head. She
squirted here and there, making a series of ketchup piles until the bottle
hit a pocket of air.
She slid him a sideways glance and giggled. She squeezed again and
giggled, then grinned up at him again like they were sharing some
secret joke, and a smile pulled at his lips. He got a text from work, an
update on a trial he had some techs running, and shot back a reply.
From the corner of his eye, he caught the girl swimming her fries
through the ketchup. Her face resembled the plate, stark white and
smeared with red.
Paige brought him a drink refill and laid his ticket beside his plate.
"Whenever you're ready."
"Thanks." Their eyes held for a beat before her attention turned to the
child beside him.
"Good?"
"Yep." She poked three more fries into her mouth and Paige rounded
the end of the counter and out of view.
With no real reason to hang around, he grabbed his ticket and moved to
the register. A break in the counter divided the checkout on the left
from Casey in her seat at the end on his right. He watched her dot
ketchup around the edge of her plate before Paige met him and took the
ticket he held.
"Everything okay?"

Paige flashed him a bright smile and his gut twisted like it did every
time he saw her.
"Yeah. Great."
"It's twelve even."
He handed her a twenty, and when she held out his change, their eyes
met, and there was such an overwhelming feeling of rightness, the air
backed up in his chest. It was true, he wasn't looking for serious for so
many reasons, but he thought of spending time with Paige, listening to
her without distractions, drinking in every detail without her rushing
around, and suddenly, for the first time in a long time, he felt like
taking a leap. "There's a new Italian place."
The statement was barely past his lips and he was still formulating his
next when the little girl held up her drawing.

"Mommy, look at Eric!"
Mommy? Her gaze swung to the little girl at the end of the counter and
so did his. Same creamy skin, same mouth, same blond, blond hair.
He was still staring as she lifted the girl, her daughter, from the stool
and held out his change. "Here you go."
Seconds ticked by with neither of them moving and he had the sinking
feeling something was slipping away. Talking to someone over a plate
of lasagna was one thing, starting anything with a woman with a child
was something else entirely. Especially for him. There were some
things you didn't get a second chance at. Or shouldn't.
She was still holding out his change while he stood there like an ass.
"No, keep it," he finally said.
She glanced at the large tip in her hand, then back at him, her
expression unreadable. "Okay. Thank you." The she turned and headed
for the swinging door behind the counter.
Casey smiled and waved at him over her mom's shoulder, and he
waved back, and that's when he saw it. Propped on Paige's hip, her
purple skirt spread out and over her knees. But her left leg hadn't been
tucked under her. It ended a few inches below her knee.
Just like his.
"Stupid," Paige muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes at
herself. She pushed through the swinging door and into the back of the
restaurant. To the right was the kitchen, to the left a good-sized space
that served as the employee break room.
Casey leaned back to see her face. "What's stupid, Mommy?"
"Nothing, sweet pea." Just that, for a second, she thought he was about
to ask her out. And even more stupid that, for a second, she'd wanted
him to. "I have to go to the bathroom," Casey said.
"Okay." Paige lifted her most precious baby a little higher on her hip
and kissed her neck, making her laugh. They got to the bathroom just as
her cousin was coming out.
"Hey, Casey Bell," Jenny said.
"Hey, Jenny Penny."
Paige helped Casey get situated in the bathroom, then stepped just
outside the door to wait out her daughter's newly asserted
independence. She wasn't wearing her prosthesis today, nothing new.
Though with kindergarten approaching, it was becoming a new worry.

"That was one hot man sitting in your section. Again," Jenny added
with an eyebrow waggle. "Two, actually, though I only got a glimpse
of the other one before he left."
Paige turned her face to hide any remnant of disappointment that might
be lingering. "He doesn't know my section."
She peeked through the crack at Casey.
"I need privacy, please," Casey said.
Paige smiled and walked a few steps away to join Jenny at the skinny
floor-length mirror leaning against a wall.

Jenny slid out the wand to reapply her mascara, bringing even more
attention to her big doe eyes. "Mmm. Just lucky I guess. But even you
have to admit he was hot. And don't act like you didn't notice."
Of course she'd noticed. She'd only been here a few weeks, but it was
impossible not to. He'd never said more than a few words to her, always
polite, always quiet, but his brown eyes and easy smile were hard to
ignore.
"So hot." Jenny sighed dramatically and leaned in, whispering, "The
extremely gorgeous, rock my body, please let me touch you kind of
hot."
"Mmm. I wouldn't know."
"A travesty." Jenny stretched her face out to the mirror and raised the
mascara to her other eye. "You know he's been coming here for weeks
and not once have I seen him talking to anyone. Until now. Until
Casey."
"Casey could coax a rock into talking."
"What are you going to do when he asks you out?"
"Do you really think I have time for a man? I barely have time to pee."
It was true. She didn't have time for a man in between her daughter, two
jobs, and school. But if he had been about to ask her out, and then
hadn't because she was a mom...She'd always be a mom. Or had it been
Casey's leg? She hated to think that.
There were generally two reactions to her four-year-old daughter's
amputated leg. People either stared, seeing the missing part before they
saw her and all her perfection, which hurt, or they pretended not to see
her at all. That hurt too.
Paige tightened the hair band around her thin ponytail while her cousin
fought with her long, wavy mass. Jenny with her thick, dark hair, olive
skin, and voluptuous breasts. A direct contrast to her own small breasts
and hair as pale as her skin. She was like the anti-California girl. Plain.
Unnoticeable. Overall unexceptional.
Her second cousin, twice, maybe three times removed, was a flirt, a
bottle of sunshine and great with Casey, if a little flighty. She was the
fun girl. The kind of girl a man would ask out without hesitation.
Had she ever been that girl? Even before Casey?
"Can you still watch Case tonight?"
"Sure, Miss College Girl."

"Thank you. I couldn't do this without you." She gave Jenny a quick
side hug as she passed. "Yeah, yeah. Just be careful you don't burn out."
"I won't." If anything, she needed to work harder. "As soon as Casey
starts kindergarten, things will slow down. I'll be able to take a couple
of classes during the day. You know, you could go too," Paige said,
watching Jenny continue with her hair. "Just take a few classes. See
what happens."
Jenny smiled. "No thanks. That's your dream."
True, it had always been her dream. And now they were here.
Operation New Life was taking off.
"I'm done," Casey called.
"Okay, baby." When she lifted Casey to the sink, she smiled at her
daughter's sweet face in

the mirror. She wouldn't have those tiny baby teeth much longer. Paige
gave her a tight squeeze, holding on an extra second until she wiggled
free.
"I put your leg beside the blue beanbag, okay?"
"Okay."
Casey could put her prosthesis on by herself. She could also take it off,
which is what she preferred lately. She'd never pushed the issue of
wearing it. Now she wondered if maybe that had been a mistake.
She got Casey settled in her hangout and put in a children's DVD. Big
Mac had converted the large storage closet for his granddaughter years
ago. Complete with beanbags, a small table, paper, crayons, and
puzzles, Casey loved it. It was just for a few hours while she and
Jenny's shifts crossed paths. It wasn't a perfect situation, by any means,
but it was the best one she had. Soon Casey would be in kindergarten
and knowing her daughter was having fun at school while she worked
would relieve a load of guilt.
"Okay, I have to go back to work now. It's just for another hour, then
Jenny will take you
home. All set?" "Yep."
"Hey, Mommy?"
Paige paused at the doorway. "What, baby?" "I've been thinking and I
decided something."
This ought to be good, she thought, smiling down at her angelic face.
"What have you
decided?"
"I've decided not to go to kindergarten."

IS

Love stories you'll never forget By authors you'll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House

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R A N D O M H OU S E
Penguin Random House

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