Hard Beat(42)

What is so horrible she has to run from it? Bad home life? An abusive ex? I can’t picture her putting up with either, and yet here she is. I hold on to her promise that she’s not playing me, force myself to hear it for the first time so that I don’t try to dig holes through her response to my question, and just allow myself to accept it for what it is, worry and all.

“Sometimes out here it is easier to create your own reality. Ironic as hell considering it’s our job to report on the actuality of what’s happening here when I also use it as a place to make my own… so I get it. I do,” I confess as I roll on my side and adjust my positioning so that I can link my fingers with hers in a silent show of understanding to reinforce my words. And as much as I want to ask her so many more questions, my investigative journalist mode humming in full force, I don’t.

“It doesn’t sound like things have been easy for you either. I’m sorry for that. You want to talk about it?”

“No,” I murmur, not ready just yet to rid myself of that guilt I carry over Stella’s death. We’ve each shared a small piece of ourselves, and yet I’m not ready to delve into the rest of the shit in my mind. “I should get going.” When I start to push up out of the bed, Beaux just holds tight to my hand.

“Stay?” And there’s something in the way she asks that tells me she’s not asking for sex, but rather for companionship, a warm body beside her in this place that leaves you feeling isolated from real life, good and bad, in more ways than one.

“You sure?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I rise from the bed, toe off my shoes, and pull my shirt over my head before crawling back up the mattress. Once I maneuver myself beneath the covers, I don’t even think about what I’m doing when I scoot up behind her and pull her body into mine, her back to my front.

“No funny stuff, Pulitzer. We just met, you know.”

I chuckle into the back of her hair, my breath heating it against my face as I settle into the welcoming feeling of her body snuggled up against mine, soft curves, warm skin, the scent of her shampoo, and the feel of her ribs expanding with each breath. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night on my end with temptation against me but with my chivalry wedged between us.

And as much as my ideal way to spend the night with a woman is not exactly with our clothes on, this is beyond nice. It’s the first time I can remember in ages that I don’t feel so lonely.

“Sleep sweet, BJ,” I murmur as I press a kiss into the back of her head and pull her a little tighter against me.

“It’s Beaux. And sleep sweet too, Tanner.”

A ridiculous grin spreads on my lips at her correction and stays there as I slip into the clutches of slumber.





Chapter 11





O

ver the next couple of weeks, the days drag and tumble endlessly one into another until the boredom feels like one solid stretch of wasted time. I’ve reached out to every one of my sources to try and get something, anything, to give me an inside for a story, but they’ve got nothing to give me.

The lot of us in the hotel are on edge, keeping to ourselves as much as we can because we know from experience that this is when we start to get on one another’s nerves. When there is something happening on the military front, this place hums with speculation, thrives with paranoia over who has a better story, and comes to life with excitement. But it’s been quiet for a while now.

Even though I’m restless for action beyond the hotel’s walls and the city’s limits, I’m also antsy because something has me feeling like this is the eye of the storm. Something big is coming. I can feel it.

Let’s just hope I get there first and report it better.

In the meantime we wait. Omid’s gone back into the wind again. It’s only been three weeks by the calendar, but it feels more like a lifetime. I’m not letting myself grow too concerned since I’ve seen this pattern from him before; nevertheless? I still worry after Beaux’s error in taking photos of him that I’ve lost him.

In midafternoon I glance around the lobby at everyone keeping to themselves, heads down, earbuds in, and laptops open. I shift my gaze across the room and lock eyes with Beaux just as she’s lowering the camera from where it was aimed in my direction. An unsettling feeling flickers through me as I wonder just what exactly she saw this time behind the curve of her lens.

A man who’s finally settling back into the life he was meant to lead? One who’s a little bit smitten with the woman snapping pictures of him?

Because… yeah, I guess I am smitten with her. Especially after the last two weeks where we’ve had easy conversation, numerous laughs over endless games of Scrabble to pass the time, and a few nights when we’ve fallen asleep together after talking late into the night. The funny thing is even with all this time spent in close quarters, I still feel like I don’t know her at all and that I know everything about her in the same breath. We’re comfortable together, feel safe with each other, and it’s a welcome feeling after so much tumult over the past few months.

I don’t have walls up when it comes to women. Never have. I didn’t have a f*cked-up childhood or any damaged relationships that have scarred me for others. But that doesn’t stop Stella’s voice from creeping into my mind in the silence of midnight to tease me about how easy it is for me to fall in lust with someone. And that has me stepping back some from Beaux and this newfound camaraderie, holding my emotions a tad closer to the vest, preferably protected by Kevlar, to prevent more ache in my heart already saddened by Stella’s death.