She’d deluded herself once before that she could have a weekend only with this man. Collapsing against his chest, she knew this time she wouldn’t be leaving him a note in the morning.
And even as she fought to catch her breath from the wonderful pleasure he’d helped her find again, she knew that untangling her mess of emotions for this complex man scared her far more than any combat mission.
Chapter 9
Breeze whipping off the marshy water and over him, Rick twisted the screwdriver on Nola’s mailbox, removing the last of the hinges holding the door. He might not have the answer yet for stopping the letter-writing, car-bombing, finance-sabotaging scum. But Rick intended to make damn sure there wouldn’t be any lethal surprises hidden in the U.S. mailbox, like a poisonous snake or spider, not to mention another bomb.
He’d been working his way through the list of possible dangerous surprises and general handyman fix-its. Aside from wanting to help her, it felt damn good to be out in the world again. Never again would he gripe about mowing the lawn or changing out the heater-AC filters. Nothing like a year in a rehab center to cure a man of grousing about chores around the house.
If only his body would cooperate with the length of his list. He rested his elbows on the mailbox to ease the pressure on his legs. The night of vigorous sex had tapped his reserves, too.
He grinned. Well worth every aching muscle.
So since he was done with the mailbox, why was he hanging out here rather than heading back inside with her? Giving Nola space.
She’d trusted him with a mammoth revelation, and now she was scared. He’d faced fear—in others, and hell yeah, in himself—enough times in the field to recognize it in a heartbeat. Best thing to do? Watch her and take his cue from her. Protecting her had taken on a lot more dimensions than he’d expected.
A shapely shadow stretched over him, reminding him of his primary purpose for being here—and it wasn’t about being in Nola’s bed, much as he enjoyed the pleasurable position.
He needed to remember how easily this woman could distract him from watching the cars driving by, sparse though the traffic might be on the back road, especially on a holiday. All the same, a large blue truck approached, slowing.
Rick knelt down to pull the hammer from the box and leaned against the mailbox as the truck neared to reveal…her neighbor, the ex-cop, Malcolm Cuvier. The truck pulled over onto the side of the road across the street, crunching downed branches.
The burly man hopped out of the truck cab. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you. What can we do for you?” Had he really just said we in a territorial claim staking of his woman?
Hell yeah.
“Just doing a drive-by to make sure all’s well with Nola and that you aren’t having any more trouble from that bastard who’s been bugging her lately.”
Rick assessed the older man through narrowed eyes and wondered what if… They surely wouldn’t get any support on that theory from the local police since Cuvier was part of the blue wall. This would be better mentioned to someone in the OSI. “All’s been quiet, other than some snafus with stolen credit cards. Child’s play to straighten out.”
That would rile him into action if he was the perp, hopefully anger him enough to make a careless mistake.
“Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” He backed toward his truck. “And tell Nola happy holidays for me.”
“You bet.” Rick dropped the hammer into the toolbox with a thud as the man drove away.
And speaking of Nola…
She strolled his way down the stone walk, watching him through wary morning-after eyes. Her arms crossed over her chest reminded him of the main reason he needed to get his head out of his ass and scrounge up some “sensitive guy” stuff to reassure her.
“Morning, gorgeous.” Not too original, but pretty decent in a pinch.
And totally true.
With her blond leggy beauty, she stretched those jeans and the simple green sweater out in all the right places. She continued her sashay down the stone walkway, towering oak trees casting a bower of branches and Spanish moss over her. With an extra kick of sass, she batted away the tire swing swishing in the wind. Rigged to lie flat, the tire swing swirled like a chocolate doughnut.
He certainly did plan to have a Thanksgiving feast of her later on.
“What are you doing out here when you should be propping up your legs?” she inquired with gentle censure. “You’ve already fixed everything that’s broken and a number of things that weren’t.”
“Nothing major.”
He dropped the screwdriver into the small toolbox he’d found in her garage. He hadn’t found an elaborate workshop, but she had the basics. Rick mentally made a list of a couple more items he could pick up and teach her to use…for after he left? “Just tying up some loose ends to rig better security for your place.”
“I spent a fortune on my security system after those letters started showing up.” She threaded her fingers through her damp curls, looking left and right down the deserted road. “The cops are doing drive-bys. What else could you possibly have in mind?”