She should call the cops on him that would get him to leave, but she could imagine a few likely outcomes to that decision. He’d charm the boys in blue—he didn’t seem to have any trouble being half-way nice to the guys at the agency. Then it would be him and his new cop buddies hanging out in front of her house. Or the cops could haul him in as a stalker, one she had just delivered dinner to, and she would lose her job. Or the cops could arrive and Jameson would give them a piece of his mind for the area being dangerous. None of them were very good options.

And darn him, she did feel safer with him out there. When was the last time someone had noticed her? Wasn’t that why she’d bleached her hair from it’s indistinct, invisible dishwater brown to the blonde even she couldn’t stop touching. It wasn’t so much about making herself look younger as she needed a little lift and light in her life after so many years of darkness.

She had done well enough in therapy they’d agreed she could come in just when she felt like she needed help. She wasn’t crazy enough to think she wasn’t depressed anymore but between the medication and working through her grief over the years after Bill died and then her mother, she was well enough to get out in the world a little. After as much time as she’d spent in the hospital sitting with her mother, she’d be happy to never set foot in a doctor’s office again. Going back to managing one again was out of the question. Besides, it had been ten years between all the heartache and recovery. She wouldn’t even know any of the codes anymore.

She peeked out the window and watched him eating from the plate in the light of the street lamps. She was hidden by the sheer curtain and the darkness of the room so he couldn’t actually see her face, or maybe he could since he stopped and smiled at the window. Heck, maybe he just liked meatloaf? She growled again. Bill used to laugh at her when she growled at him but she hadn’t done it much in the years since he’d been gone. She looked up at the ceiling.

“Is this your doing? Thought it was finally time I needed someone to watch out for me? You and mom get together and pull some strings up there? Really, I’m fine.” There wasn’t a rumble of thunder, a flash of light, or any other sign from the heavens that anyone had heard her. Just quiet, too much quiet if she was honest. Her life had shrunk to a pin prick and Jameson was the kind of man who didn’t do quiet or small or soft. Yeah, so she was lonely sometimes but didn’t everyone get that way? Her therapist had encouraged her to gently try some new things. It used to be some days just leaving the house was almost more than she could stand. Back then doing the things she did today seemed impossible. Her cheeks flamed against her cool fingers. In a crazy way she was looking forward to seeing everyone at work tomorrow, even the hunk outside. Getting this job meant she had to get out, which was the whole point. It had always been easier to put someone else’s needs ahead of her own.

“And today I fired a gun, that was new.” Her voice felt too loud in the empty house. If she was going to keep talking to herself she should get a cat. Other than putting food out and changing a litter box they didn’t need real taking care of. Her nose wrinkled, she could never get past the litter box and this neighborhood wasn’t safe enough to have an outside cat. Better she just kept feeding the strays around. But the big mean tiger sitting in his car in front of her house would tell her it wasn’t safe enough for her to stay here either. She watched as Jameson put the plate down and toasted her with the can of soda.

“This is absurd.” She marched out to his car and tapped on the window. He was less surprised this time and rolled it down with a big smile.

“You brought me dessert?”

“Funny. No. If you aren’t going to leave, I’d rather you ‘serve and protect’ from inside where I don’t have to worry about you.”

“I’m not a cop, they’re the serve and protect guys. I secure and investigate.”

“Shame, because I’ll bet a cop would love a slice of homemade coconut cream pie and a cup of coffee.” His eyes glazed over with the offer of sugar and caffeine. If she were a different woman she might take that as some kind of sign but life didn’t give you signs that easily.

“With toasted coconut on top?”

“Are there people who make it without?” The corners of his mouth hitched up. He looked almost sweet but she hadn’t forgotten him yelling at her earlier. He really didn’t have any idea who she was though it was no one’s fault but his own. She wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. She watched him swallow hard and glance at the front of the house. He seemed as if he wanted to say yes but something stopped him. She couldn’t help the little growl that escaped. “Why are you so stubborn?”

He laughed as if that answered her question which just frustrated her more.

“You’re spoiling me.” He was actually going to take her up on her offer. She hadn’t quite counted on him doing that and she hadn’t really thought through what would happen next.

Candy looked at the house she’d lived in forever as if it was the first time she’d seen it. Three concrete steps led to the front door set between two large windows. She never really used it, coming and going through the garage most of the time. She’d have to pull the car out for him to get through there and there were steps in there too.

“Can you manage the stairs?”

“I’ll be fine. It would help if you held the door open.”

She ran back inside to open the door and when she looked back he was already out of his car and waiting for her. Seeing him with the streetlight shining down on him took her breath away. Bathed in rose gold he looked like some pagan god, maybe a trickster king, one that had sacrificed to save people they loved. She shook the fanciful thoughts out of her head, too many romance novels at bedtime. This was still the same guy that had scared her silly this morning and the same one who insisted she learn how to handle a weapon, something she did not intend to do. A deep breath brought her back to reality.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” She stepped behind him and realized there were no handles or anything for her to grab onto.

“No, I’m good.” He spun so he faced her with his back to the stairs and reached back to grab the hand rail. With one quick pull he was up and balanced on the first step. He laughed at her open mouthed staring at him. “These few stairs aren’t the problem in a house, usually it’s the clutter. When you can step over something you stop seeing it.”

He didn’t say the words as a jab but she did a quick mental walk through of her place and thought moving some of the furniture might be necessary. The house was small and living alone she had a tendency to keep too much stuff.

“Um, I better go take a look. I didn’t really think about...” Her cheeks had to be bright red with the way they burned. She managed to squeeze past him and started pushing furniture that might be in his way to the side.

“You don’t have to rearrange the whole house.”

Candy snapped up from moving a rug. Did her doing all this make him self-conscious? Doubtful, he didn’t seem to have a self-conscious bone in his body.

“The kitchen is this way.” She did move one of the chairs away from the table so he had room. Then she started making the coffee and getting the pie dished up.

“The guys are gonna be jealous as hell... Sorry. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“It’s fine. You weren’t yelling this time. Just black, right?” She pointed to the coffee cup.

“Truthfully? If you have cream or half and half I’ll take some of that.”

“But this morning?”

“We only keep the powdered junk and I’d rather just go without than have that.”

“Oh.” They both stared off into space for a long minute. She imagined he didn’t know what to say either. They weren’t friends, barely even co-workers since she had just started. Her therapist would sure raise her eyebrows when she told this story.

She poured cream into his coffee as he watched and told her when to stop.

When he took a sip his whole body shivered. “You do make some damn fine coffee.”

She shook her head. He couldn’t even give a compliment without swearing. “Thanks.” She handed him his plate of pie and their fingers meshed under the plate. There were no cut off gloves this time but his fingers were warm and sure on hers. She blushed when she realized she was stroking his fingers and almost bobbled the plate. He lifted a fork full of pie to his lips. Watching him take the bite along with the warmth of his hand made parts of her she had thought dead come to life. His lips were full and sensual but strong and looked a perfect match for the rest of his face. This was a guy who was definitely handsome, not pretty. She tore her eyes away and stared at the floor. When had she started noticing the way men looked again?

“Mmmm, oh, yeah. This is... Whatever you do, don’t bring this into work.” He was talking around the mouthful of pie and moaning.

If he liked it why wouldn’t he want more? “Why not?”

“Because if you bring it to work, I’m going to have to share it and it is too good for those bums.”

“You like those kids.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell them. Aren’t you going to have any?”

“Oh, I’m trying to watch what I eat.”

“Then who did you make it for?”

“I bake when I’m nervous and I was nervous last night.”

He looked like he was about to say something and then decided to drink his coffee instead. He put down the cup with a clunk. “Are you one of those women who is always on a diet?” Her eyes went wide at the personal question. “I mean,” he must have suddenly realized the mine field he was stepping into. “I mean, you look great, er, I mean— it wouldn’t kill you if you had a slice of pie.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”

“Oh hell. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to women.”

She burst out laughing. The jury was still out on whether he should or shouldn’t. Then she cut herself a slice of pie. It was the most relaxed she’d been all day.

“So did you get wounded in the corps?” she asked.

“Nope, got out of two tours in Afghanistan without a scratch but I didn’t pick up much in the way of usable civilian skills. I was always a big guy and got offered a job with a security company as a body guard. I was covering a pop star, and her crazy drug addicted ex-boyfriend came at her with a knife. I tackled him and he stabbed me in the back, caught my spinal cord and here I am.”

“How horrible.”

Jameson shrugged. “There are plenty of guys who would trade places with me.” Their conversation was interrupted by a cat yowling behind the house.

“Probably just one of the strays I feed sometimes.”

“Of course you do. So I told you mine, what’s yours?”

Candy’s skin itched in anticipation. She knew what he wanted to know. He’d felt the scar but hadn’t asked then. Now he expected the story behind it. She hated this part. It was uncomfortable for everyone. But mostly for her.

“I, um, I had a rough time for a while.”

The intensity his eyes had held all day softened a little. “Yeah, I’ve got an idea of how that goes. I’m still active with some veteran’s groups at the VA. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. Maybe once we know each other better...”

She sucked in a breath and almost sobbed in relief. Worse, part of her wanted to tell him, but not yet. He might understand, sometimes she still wasn’t sure she did. But she couldn’t help smiling at him.

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

“I’d like...”

Jameson didn’t get a chance to finish his answer before they heard the sound of glass shattering coming from her garage. “Oh shoot! Not again.”