He paused, beer near his lips. “You mean when Kent tried to sneak into the horse races with an ID that said he was twenty-five, when he was sixteen with peach fuzz?” He chuckled and took his drink.
“Wait,” Shay said, leaning forward, flattening her hands on the table. “There was more than one ID debacle?”
“Not if you don’t know about it,” he laughed and set his beer aside, before adding, “Kent almost talked me into going to the track that day. Said he’d dreamed about a horse’s number. We’d be rich. Man almighty, I was glad I didn’t get sucked into that little fantasy. He didn’t see the light of day for a month, your parents were so angry.”
“And he made our lives miserable for it,” she said, curling her legs to the side on the booth, one elbow on the white laminate tabletop.
“Yeah,” he said, and seemed to be thinking back in time before he laughed again. “Yeah, he really did. But those were some good times. Kent and I…we didn’t talk much while I was away, but we’re good now. Just like I was never gone. Last Saturday he slept out at the Hotzone so he could do my Sunday sunrise jump with me.”
“Mom is beside herself that you’re staying in that beat-up trailer rather than with them, you know. I told her you had reasons.” She made an uncomfortable sound. “I didn’t mention the ‘reasons’ were all about avoiding me.”
“It’s not about avoiding you, and the trailer isn’t as bad as I’m sure Kent has made it sound,” he said. “I’m officially the only one of the three Hotzone owners who’s still single. Bobby and Ryan both got themselves married up. I’m the logical Ace to take some of the extra workload. And living on-site helps. They’d do it for me if it were reversed, and one day I’ll need time off, and they’ll cover for me. We’re blood brothers. We’ve all saved each other’s lives more times than I can count.”
Shay sobered sharply on the mix of the tequila she sucked through her straw and the words saved each other’s lives. Her throat constricted, and she barely kept from choking. Shay sat up straight, shoved away the drink, then hoarsely confessed, “I worried about you. I worried a lot.”
His expression softened, his eyes gently touching hers. “Shay…”
He reached for her hand, and she pulled back, fiddling with the napkin in her lap. She didn’t want to get emotional. She hadn’t expected to get emotional. But here were the emotions, overtaking her, demanding notice. And the words—his, and now hers—that seemed to flow of their own accord. “The thought of something happening to you, and then not only losing you, but knowing it was because I’d pushed you away—it ate me alive, especially that first year you were gone. After that, I learned to tuck it away, but there were times, especially after you came home to visit and left again—not that you did that all that often—but after a visit, it would start again. The fear of the phone ringing with bad news. Mom felt it. Dad and Kent, too, but they’re too tough to admit it.”
He sat completely still for several seconds, so still she wasn’t sure he even breathed. And she was pretty sure she’d hit that button—the hot-cold button. The one where he withdrew, where they went back to the not-talking thing they did so well.
And then suddenly, he was beside her, in the booth facing her, his expression etched with tenderness…and something that almost resembled guilt. “I should have talked to you before I left. I should have made sure you didn’t feel that kind of fear and guilt. You didn’t run me off, Shay. The Army was in my blood—I knew that before I started college and I knew afterward. I always knew it was where I belonged.”
But not with her, she thought, not with her family. “Then why are you here now? Why did you even come home?”
He hesitated. “Shay—”
His hesitation said everything. “Because you didn’t have a choice,” she said tightly, turning to face him fully, arm on the table, back to the wall. “Something happened. Something that forced you out.”
His lips thinned, telling her before his words that she wasn’t going to like his answer. “If I hadn’t been ready to get out,” he said, “I wouldn’t have.”
“What happened?” she asked tightly.
“Yes, there was an issue. I helped bring a corrupt person to justice. Something I couldn’t do when he had the ability to influence my missions. I could have transferred, but the Flying Aces—my unit—was it for me.”
Why was this bothering her? Had she really believed in some far off corner of her mind that he’d come back for her? It was silly, but it was there, a part of her subconscious that had whipped its ugly, irrational head into full view.
She turned toward the table, and he took her hand, stalling her movement. But she didn’t give him time to say whatever he was going to say. “Months and months would pass, and we had no idea if you were alive.” Eight long months the year before last. “I hate you for making me worry. Us. Making us worry.”
“I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed her jaw, a gentle caress that sent chills down her spine. “I’m here now,” he said. “I could have gone anywhere in the world, but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Shay.” He laced his fingers with hers. “And I’m done hiding from a kiss. We were kids when it happened. And I believed, back then, if we’d pursued something more, we would have done nothing but destroy each other—and our family—in the process. We had everything to lose by acting on our attraction.” He brought her knuckles to his lips. “But we’re not kids anymore.”
“And yet so little has changed,” she said.
“Hasn’t it?”
The jukebox started playing a soft Keith Urban tune. He smiled. “Let’s dance.” And before she could reply, he tugged her forward.
“Dance?” she murmured, looking for a dance floor she’d missed. Where the heck were they going to dance?
The answer was soon evident as he drew her to a halt in the dimly lit deserted corner just beyond the jukebox and a vacant pool table. A good ways from the few lone pool players at a distant table.
His hands settled on her waist. Firm. Possessive. Strong. Objections faded on her tongue, the words of the song that had enticed them to the dance floor forgotten. In their place, other reasons hummed through her mind, explaining why this dance was okay. They were in public. There were people nearby. A dance was a moment in time in the broad picture of things.
But as the stark desire in his expression mingled with the heady male scent of him, which invaded her senses, seducing her, a spell overcame her—a spell where reason didn’t breathe, let alone live. A spell that expanded in time, yet felt like only a split second—a second gone too fast.
They stood there, unmoving, staring at one another. His hand slid to her back, gently urging her closer. Their legs aligned, then entwined, intimately placing her hips against his. Shay swallowed hard at the instant heat swirling low in her stomach, and her gaze dropped to his chest, to where her hands rested.