The past always caught up with her, one way or the other. Needing a moment from the intensity of one Riggs Copeland, Tae headed to her dark living room window and stared out into the night, listening to the torrent of rain pummeling her roof. There were no streetlights or billboards in Sunrise Cove. They were against city code. As a result, the night sky above Lake Tahoe usually looked like a sheet of black velvet covered in brilliant, shimmering diamonds of all shapes and colors, and could stun and humble her into a peaceful silence.
But the storm blanketed the stars, revealing nothing, leaving her to relive tonight’s adventure, including the look on Jordy’s face when she’d handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
Like she’d just saved his life.
Once upon a time, her mom had been that kid, fifteen years old, kicked out of the house by her family, and left with an infant with little to no means to take care of them both. She looked across the driveway and saw her mom’s car, parked safe and sound.
She wished she knew if Jordy and his sister were safe and sound too, and promised herself she’d find out.
Riggs came up behind her, keeping a respectful distance, which she appreciated more than she’d ever say. Everything about tonight had played into her old nightmares and angst, leaving her feeling far too . . . open. She could see his reflection in the window, watchful, quiet, a sense of easy confidence that belied how dangerous he could likely be. A man who’d put her life ahead of his in that convenience store. “I didn’t thank you for tonight.”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I didn’t do anything. You had it under control from the start.”
There was something about the big, strong guy admitting such a thing that had her softening. But softening for Riggs was a dangerous thing indeed, far more dangerous than anything she’d faced tonight. So she put on her most polite smile. “I appreciate your help and the ride home. You give good Band-Aid, so thanks for that too.” She moved to the front door to let him out. When he didn’t follow, she looked back just as he sank to her couch. “What are you doing?”
He leaned his head back, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked . . . pale, and every line of his body tense and seemingly exhausted. He’d literally just come home from some likely hellhole. It was no wonder he’d reacted so aggressively to what had happened at the store. His head was probably still in a war zone. “Maybe you should go home and sleep for a few days. Get caught up.”
He didn’t say anything to this. Didn’t so much as move a muscle.
With a sigh, she walked closer. “You’re staying with Jake and Carolyn?”
This got her the slightest of nods.
“Maybe they’re worried.”
“If I leave, maybe you’ll worry about my wounds opening again. Wouldn’t want you to feel responsible if I black out on my way home.”
She wanted to smile. Hell, she wanted to jump him. But the thing about being pummeled tonight by emotions she’d felt for him in the past was that it made her wary.
And afraid to reveal too much of herself. “I won’t.”
His eyes were still closed, but a smile curved his mouth. He always had been able to see right through her. And yeah, she remembered a lot about him as well.
Like how he treated her as if she were a real person, not the back-off-or-die person she’d pretended to be.
“I could also starve to death,” he said. “Getting shot at made me hungry.”
“You always used to be hungry.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
Something deep inside her quivered and she wasn’t even sure why. She felt like she was in the danger zone here, holding on by a thread. If he touched her, it was all going to come back, how he’d been a balm to her wounded soul that night, how his touch had made her feel, how she wanted to know if it would be the same amazing, scorching chemistry now . . . She glanced at his very still body. “Hey.” Leaning over, she poked him in the chest. “No sleeping on my couch.”
Before she could so much as blink, he’d caught her wrist and tugged so that she fell into him. “Okay,” she said, pushing upright off his chest. “So your reflexes are still on point.”
His eyes opened. Those usually sharp, assessing green eyes were soft with exhaustion now, and something else that made her breath catch. “Are you really not afraid of anything?” she whispered.
When he didn’t answer, she nudged him. “Come on, everyone’s got a fear.”
He shrugged, which she was starting to realize was his go-to move when he didn’t want to answer or reveal too much of himself.
“Not even death?” she pushed.
“I’ve faced death and I’m still here.” He lifted a hand to brush his fingers gently over the Steri-Strips above her eyebrow. “It’s bleeding through.”
She touched the one on his shoulder. “So is yours.”
Time seemed to freeze as they stared at each other. Two minutes ago she’d been wet and cold. Funny how her body temperature had rocketed up. Maybe she was coming down with something.
His hand came up to touch her jaw, but it was she who leaned in, meeting his mouth halfway in a soft, questing kiss that blew brain cells left and right.
Far before she was ready, he pulled back and studied her face, his own serious and assessing. At whatever he saw there, he groaned low in his throat and caught the back of her head gently, pulling her to him again, the kiss hot and serious this time. Desire washed over her in waves, reminding her of that long-ago night. They’d been each other’s first. Neither of them had known much. It’d been awkward and fumbling and . . . amazing.
But he’d learned some new moves, at least in the kissing department, and in the very back of her mind she tried to remember if she was wearing sexy underwear.
And how does that matter if you get naked quickly?
Again, Riggs pulled back, taking a steadying breath. She supposed she should feel good that one of them was still capable of thought. Searing her with a heated look, he nudged her off him and stood.
And just like that, she remembered what it felt like to be sixteen years old all over again, starved for affection.
But she wasn’t sixteen. She was twenty-eight and apparently still starved for attention. “You have something to say,” she guessed.
“Yes.” His expression was of regret and longing. “I want to be honest with you. Your friendship in high school was important to me. More than you could ever know. Then we slept together and I thought it might turn into more, but it didn’t. You didn’t talk to me again, and I got it. We were just stupid kids. But I worried about you.”
Her heart kicked it up a notch. “And . . . ?”
“And . . . I’m leaving this time too. You deserve to know that.”
Damn. Sometimes a good mood was really hard to maintain. “And?”
“And . . . we’re no longer kids just messing around. I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. Not with you, Tae. You deserve so much more.”
“Oh, and you’ve decided that for me, huh?” Feeling defensive, she crossed her arms. “What makes you think I was going to let you finish something tonight anyway?”
His laugh was wry as he tunneled his fingers through his hair. “Do you ever let your guard down?”
“No.”
“Tae . . .” He appeared to struggle for words. “I want to be friends again. The real deal.”
She blinked. They’d just nearly self-combusted from a holy-shit hot kiss, but if she was reading him right, he wasn’t interested in that, and she had no idea how to feel about it. “Friends,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes. Friends. Like we were in school.”
“Are you going to finish my lab homework for me and everything?” she asked.
“You know what I mean.” His eyes were serious, and she sighed, because for a moment she’d thought—hoped—things might be going in a decidedly different direction for the rest of the night.
Like to her bedroom.
But she was pretty sure she’d just been turned down, granted in the nicest possible way. Didn’t take the sting away though. Never good with rejection, she pointed to the door. “Goodbye, Riggs.”
“Good night, Rebel.” The distinction didn’t escape her as she watched him head to the front door. He paused before turning to face her. His hands were shoved in his pockets, which she hoped meant he was having a hell of a time keeping them off her.
“It’s just that more is a really bad idea,” he said.
“Obviously.”
With a slight shake of his head, he was gone.
Good riddance, she told herself, feeling . . . a whole bunch of things she didn’t want to feel. Worse, there was no acceptable reason why she’d felt so damn much from a few kisses.
She needed a man who wanted her, who’d open himself to her, heart and soul, and let her do the same—and still stick around after, regardless if her life felt like too much to handle. She wanted . . . stability.
Riggs was never going to be that guy.
She just needed to remember that.
Shaking her head, she locked up and went down the hall. She needed a hot shower, an orgasm, and sleep, and she didn’t need a man for any of it.