No Perfect Hero(52)

Marie was so obsessed with her lipstick smearing when we were girls. And it looks like her obsession might've rubbed off on her daughter before Tara's even applied her first test color.

She's really such a little princess, but I love her that way.

So I can’t help pulling her away from her pancakes to give her a squeeze, just holding her tight.

This is what matters. Whatever else happens to me in Heart’s Edge, at least we'll have our memories.

She’s family, important, real, and once I get past this dumb quarter-life crisis and dead engagement, she’ll still be there. And so will all my love for her and Marie.

“Auntie Hay?” she asks, still clutching her syrup-beaded fork. “Are you okay?”

Jeez. Is it that obvious?

“Fine, kit,” I say with a forced laugh, resting my chin to the top of her head. “Everything's just fine.”

As I let her go, though, Warren looks up from his plate of steak and hash browns as the bell over the door swings open. I crane to look over my shoulder at who he's staring at.

Stewart leans inside, tall and sun-washed, his brows pinched together. He lifts his chin to Warren, beckoning him in a tight, sharp movement.

That’s odd. Almost ominous.

Same with Warren’s total silence as he meets Stewart’s eyes grimly.

A second later, his gaze snaps back to me, and he dips his head in a nod. “Sorry. I’ll just be a minute. Order anything else you want and throw it on my tab.”

Then he slides his tall bulk out of the booth, moving with lion grace and strength, joining Stewart outside. Through the window, I watch as they lean against Stewart’s giant penis-envy truck in the parking lot, huddled close and speaking urgently.

Warren looks agitated. Stewart seems displeased over something.

Whatever it is, they’re both completely absorbed in their chatter, their motions...and it seems serious.

Oh, God.

Much more serious than whatever bounty hunting job brought Warren back here and that he’s being so secretive about.

There's something about his posture, about the intensity shrouding him.

A chill cuts right through me, chasing away the summer heat. I shouldn't judge.

I really, really don’t know him.

I don’t know what’s going on, and I have no right to demand not to be left in the dark. I have no right to anything.

Again, I remind myself he’s a stranger.

Such an awful shame he kisses like sheer madness, and I can still taste him on my lips.





10





Ready to Blow (Warren)





God, I'm such a fuckup.

I can’t believe I kissed Haley.

Kissed her, then snapped at her like she’d somehow made me do it when that was all me, giving in to the heat of the moment and acting on it the only way I knew how.

Right after all the fury inside turned into an inferno. My only outlet was giving in to the simmering attraction, the need, the hunger that damn infuriating woman rouses with just a saucy glance or a stubborn little smile.

I’ve got to remind myself that her stay in Heart’s Edge and mine are only temporary.

We’re gonna forget that kiss ever happened and then go our separate ways.

“Hey. War.”

Shit.

I’ve zoned out, thinking about Haley instead of listening to Stewart. I lift my head, blinking at him. “Sorry. What'd you say?”

“I said, what the fuck is going on between you and Dennis Bress?”

I frown. “Nothing. I’ve hardly even spoken to him since I’ve been back in town. We’re not tight anymore. Not since...”

I can't fucking say her name. Not today.

“Yeah, man. I know it. I know.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Listen, I haven’t wanted to say this–”

“Then don’t,” I grind out.

Good friend or not, I wish he'd mind his damn biz.

He gives me a searching look. I already know what he’ll say because it’s the same thing everyone says.

“Warren, sometimes things happen out there on deployment,” he murmurs. “It's war. And it’s not anyone’s fault. I know it’s easy to blame Bress as Jenna’s commanding officer—”

“Stop.” I knock his hand away, glowering.

He knows.

He was the one that saw it, who told me. Told me that Bress set her up, left her behind. And he did it to cover his own money-grubbing ass.

Thanks to Stewart, I know there’s more to Bress than anyone in this town might suspect, except a few people who work for him. It’s only later that Stew questioned his own memory, questioned what he saw in the heat of battle, but fuck, I know. The stone-cold truth.

I work my jaw, glowering at him, trying to stay civil. “Concern noted. You need to stay out of this.”

“Then you need to be less obvious about stalking, dammit,” he points out. “He dropped by for a tune-up this morning. Asked if I’d talked to you. If I’d noticed you acting funny.”

My jaw tightens. “What did you say?”

“That you’re in town on a job and it’s stressing you out, having a mark this close to home.” He gives me a long look. “That is why you’re in town, isn’t it? And why you’re staying in the cabins? Is one of Wilma's summer guests who you’re after?”