A SEAL's Courage (Military Match #1)(10)

She forced herself to hold his gaze, but her insides wobbled. “Nothing. Stupid me.” Brows furrowed, she glanced down at his hand, glaring at his grip on her right arm. “Do you mind letting go of me?”

Trent let go of her arm and instead tucked both hands in his jacket pockets. He gave a slow shake of his head, remorse rising in his eyes. “I came home a year and a half ago with my head full of sand and feeling sorry for myself. Out of all the family and friends who barged into my life and insisted on helping me, you were the only one who didn’t make me feel like a fucking invalid. You fed me, cleaned my messy-ass apartment, and sat with me, most of the time despite the fact that I told you, more than once, to get the hell out. And you didn’t ask for a damn thing.”

He lifted a hand, his gaze following as his fingers slipped through the ends of her hair, which had fallen over her shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, something melancholic and intense written in the lines of his face.

“I think you’re an amazing woman, Lauren, and I think those guys who didn’t want you were asshats. Don’t let anybody tell you that you aren’t beautiful. But I just can’t risk hurting Mandy’s best friend.” He dropped his arms to his sides and straightened his shoulders. “I’m honored you thought of me, though.”

Lauren rolled her eyes, because if she didn’t at least pretend flippancy, she’d cry. She’d been rejected a lot in her life. Her mother had always been too busy with the men she dated. In school, she’d been that tall, awkward girl most guys tended to overlook. Since Mary’s death, she’d been on so many failed dates she was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her. But this had to be one of her most humiliating moments. For the first time in her life, she’d put herself out there, stepped beyond her comfort zone.

Only to remember why she didn’t.

A rejection from him stung more than the others. Maybe he’d always been a fantasy, something she secretly hoped for but knew would never really happen. But it had been her fantasy, and she’d cherished the “what if.” And he’d just shattered it to dust by reminding her that he thought of her as little more than another sister. Reality unfortunately was a cold dose of ice water in the face.

“I’m just going to go.” She sidestepped around him and stalked down the street. She wasn’t sticking around to watch the whole date implode. Her already nonexistent self-esteem couldn’t take the beating.

She bent down, yanking off the stilettos one by one and hooked them on one hand, then hurried down the cool, rain-dampened sidewalk to where she’d parked her car down the block. Trent didn’t follow this time, and Lauren refused to look back. Never again. Men could go hang as far as she was concerned. Maybe she’d be a virgin until she died, but damn the lot of them.





Chapter Three



Trent punched the doorbell and pivoted, pacing the length of Lauren’s porch. The quiet squeak of a weathered board kept him company in the otherwise silent night. Lauren lived in a small two-bedroom house in one of the older neighborhoods in Bellevue. She owned a rambler with enough driveway to pull two cars in and enough porch to pace three steps each direction. This was a family neighborhood. The residents had long since gone to bed and the street beyond the house was peaceful.

He loved this place. It would make a good family home someday, and simply being near Lauren gave him the same sense of peace as his parents’ house always did. It soothed an ache somewhere inside simply to stand on her damn porch.

He shouldn’t have come. The last thing she needed was him rubbing salt into a wound, but he couldn’t stop seeing the dejection in her eyes. The memory was another piece of shrapnel piercing his skin, jagged and painful and cutting deep. In trying to keep her at a safe distance, all he’d done was hurt her, and he hated himself for it. He’d gotten on his bike and come over, a deep-seated need burning in his gut to somehow fix this.

When no sound came from within the house, he stopped pacing and turned to stare at the door. Hell, he should leave well enough alone. No doubt she was already asleep. With a sigh, he turned and headed down the steps to the sidewalk. He got halfway to his bike, parked at the curb, when the slide of the dead bolt chinking open sounded behind him.

“Trent?”

Fuck. He froze on the sidewalk and dragged a hand through his hair, every inch of him aware of her behind him. What the hell did he say to her? He ought to make an excuse, get back on his bike, and go the hell home. This was a bad idea all around.

“What are you doing here?”

He made the mistake, however, of turning. Lauren stood in the doorway in her pajamas. Blue flannel bottoms, of all things, and a white T-shirt. How the hell baggy, worn-out flannel could look so damn sexy on a woman, he didn’t know. It didn’t help that the soft light of the interior lent the whole house a warm, cozy glow that invited him in. His apartment was cold and empty.

He forced himself to face her. Feeling like an idiot, he tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come. I wasn’t thinking about how late it was.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping.” She dropped her gaze to her bare feet, flexing her toes upward.

The vulnerability that came over her caught him in the chest, and he was moving back up those steps before he could talk himself out of it. When he came to a stop in front of her, she lifted her gaze to his, those big brown eyes wide and so goddamn exposed.