He stared at the dark spots the water had left on his thigh, wresting control of his rogue thoughts before he pressed the cloth to the corner of his eye. “Casey called the police?”
“You read people well. She did. But really, what can they do? They’re going to come here, ask some questions. They’ll want to talk to you, I’m sure, but later? They’ll put out an extra patrol and an officer will come by once an hour or something. It’s not enough to put my faith in. They’re too understaffed to do more, and patrols leave too many gaps in the meantime for someone to try again.” Her words were matter-of-fact, but her fingers tightened around her biceps. She might not want to admit it, but the day’s events weighed on her. The strain showed in the straight lines of her posture and the sharp angles of her words.
“The guy has your keys.”
“The locksmith changed my locks today, and I had the fob for the alarm disabled. They won’t do him any good.” She leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table. “Lucas, really. How did you manage to be here tonight right when you needed to be? And don’t try to tell me you happened to walk by your front window.”
Lucas checked the cloth and reached for the first-aid kit, digging for anything that might stop the sting near his eye. He really didn’t want to explain what he was doing here tonight, but he’d never lied to her before and he wasn’t about to start now. “I was worried. I knew the guy had your keys, so...” Saying I was sitting across the street watching your house sounded a whole lot better in theory than it was ever going to sound in person. In person, it sounded like he’d bounced his marbles halfway to Smoke Bomb Hill on the east side of Fort Bragg.
“So you thought you’d pull guard duty.” She sighed and stared at the closed plantation blinds over the side window, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”
“Don’t I know it.”
She chuckled. “Really. I think I proved this morning I can take care of myself. And Casey’s here.” She aimed a finger at the door, her expression softening. “Go home. I know you have to work in the morning, and you can’t lose sleep watching over me forever.”
Everything she said made logical sense, but he couldn’t make himself agree with her. All he could see was that monster of a man slamming her into a tree this morning. The replay always stopped right before Kristin sent the guy running with his tail between his legs and spun a whole new horrible version of what might have been. “How bad is your back hurting right now?”
Her head drew back like she was dodging a blow. She eyed him for a minute before she took an orange from the bowl and rolled it between her palms. “Not as bad as you’d think. A little sore in the shoulder blade, but not enough to slow me down.” She dropped the orange and rolled it across the table toward him. “Thanks for asking.”
“No problem.” Lucas rolled the orange to her. “And I’m sleeping on your couch tonight.”
They shared an elementary school–style stare-down before she turned away and stretched across the table, dragging the red canvas first-aid kit toward her. “I’ll make a deal with you.” She dug through until she found a butterfly bandage, then slid it toward him. “For your eye.”
“What’s the deal?” He didn’t reach for the bandage. If he finished doctoring himself, she’d kick him out of the house.
“I’ve got an alarm. A loud one. If something goes bump in the night, you won’t be able to sleep through it.” The doorbell echoed through the room, and Kristin pushed away from the table, grimacing. “Final offer, superhero. Take it or I’ll tell the cops you’re part of the problem then send you and Casey both home.”
Lucas hesitated, then reached for the bandage on the table with a nod. Fine. He’d leave.
But she couldn’t keep him from sitting on his own front porch.
Kristin shifted her small SUV into Park and killed the engine, staring at the brick building in front of her. She twisted her hands on the steering wheel, watching soldiers filter out of the building for lunch, hoping Lucas wasn’t one of them. She knew this was his area, knew her brother had been in the same battalion. Although the chances the two of them had crossed paths were slim, the last thing she wanted to do was run into him.
The conversation in her kitchen last night had been awkward at best, uncomfortable at worst. He’d sat across from her, bleeding, while her fingers itched to help him. The problem was, something under her skin was reacting to his presence, to his macho hero actions in her yard. Touching him, even to bandage his eye, would have gone exactly like he’d joked—like a movie. It would have ended with her looking way too deeply into his brown eyes and wanting nothing more than to kiss him. It had been a relief when he went home. Even more of a relief when she’d peeked out the window somewhere in the middle of her long, sleepless night and seen his shadow move on his front porch.
She’d never had a panic attack, not even the night her mother died, but the thought of feeling this strongly for Lucas Murphy bordered on the most terrifying thing she’d faced since. It would lead to trouble. Lots of trouble.
So the last thing she wanted was to run into him on this fool’s errand for one of her brother’s buddies. She surveyed the soldiers again, looking for one who seemed familiar.
A tall, thin soldier broke away from the pack and headed her way with a determined stride. Specialist Brandon Lacey had come to her house a few times to work on Kyle’s beloved Camaro with him, and he’d written twice after Kyle died, working out his own grief. Kristin’s overall impression had always been of a tall, lanky kid who was still trying to get comfortable in his adult skin. He walked with more confidence now, post deployment, but he still gave off a slightly awkward air.
She reached for the shoebox-size package on the passenger seat and slipped out of the SUV, her bruised shoulder blade protesting the lateral movement, and stayed close to the vehicle so she could get away before Lucas somehow appeared and got the wrong idea. The last thing she needed was him thinking she’d decided to stalk him, even though he’d done a fair job of making himself right at home in her immediate vicinity.
At the sight of her, Specialist Lacey broke into a grin and jogged closer. “Kristin, I’d remember you anywhere. Hard to forget those crazy blue eyes.”
Yeah, yeah. Sure. She’d like just once to meet someone and have them not talk about her eyes. “It’s me.” She shoved the package toward Lacey. “He sent this to me right before...” It was still too hard to say. He died. The last of her blood family, gone.
She shook it off, wanting to get this over as fast as possible, both to keep Lucas from spotting her and to keep Brandon Lacey from staring at her like he’d never seen a woman before. “Anyway, he said it was some stuff you didn’t want sent to your parents’ address and he’d...” Take care of it when he came home.
Brandon didn’t seem to notice Kristin’s discomfort, just grinned wider as he took the package and tucked it under his arm. “Bought my mom a few things from a market over there. Kyle being in the mail room made it easier for him to get things out than for me to pack them in my ruck. She’s coming here to visit soon, so it’ll be good to have it. Thanks.” His grin faded, and his face fell under his beret. “Like I said when I wrote you, I’m sorry about Kyle. He was a good friend. Liked to skate the line a little, but he had a buddy’s back when he needed it.”
Kristin pressed her lips together and nodded, flicking a glance over the kid’s shoulder as he talked. The flow of soldiers heading out to lunch had slowed to a trickle. Maybe Lucas was working through. Or maybe he’d left. Either way, she wanted out before he appeared or Lacey drifted into some sentimental place and started telling stories she wasn’t ready to hear. Maybe someday...
“Thanks.”