The moment was almost too much. Watching the torment in the eyes of this supremely self-sufficient man made her feel as if the world were about to spin off its axis. But she stood her emotional ground, because she knew he needed her courage more than she needed her fears.
His wanting to believe her was a good thing. Maybe enough to start him on the road back to life. But she needed to put a little distance between them for her courage to survive.
She slipped out of his grasp. “Excuse me.”
Jori hurried into the bathroom to wash her face and hide the tears she didn’t want him to know about. As she scooped handfuls of water over her flush face, she raced around in her head, trying to think of a change of subject, a safe topic.
“Can we get breakfast before we head back to Springdale?”
“Sure.”
Law came to the bathroom door and held out her dress, his expression remote as he focused for the first time on her lacy nothings. Her bra was black and her cheeky panties blush. For a second his eyes darkened and she knew he was remembering her promise to show him her mismatched items of the day. The heat in his gaze nearly caught the fragile strips of lace on fire.
She turned and faced him, waiting for his decision. But after a moment the fire died in his liquid black-gold gaze and he turned, moving quickly away. “McDonald’s. Drive-through.”
An hour later Law pulled up his truck beside Jori’s SUV at her motel. He didn’t take his hands off the wheel, or even glance at her.
Too proud to beg him to speak, Jori reached for the door handle.
“Jori.” He waited until she looked back. “You know the expression, kicked a hornet’s nest? I shoved my foot pretty far up Tice’s ass at the wedding. So from now on, I work alone. If I get something, I’ll be in touch. If not, this is good-bye.”
Jori swallowed words of affection and hope. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard she expected it to crack any second under the pressure. He might be sitting next to her, but his expression was as cold and distant as the moon. He’d been through a lot the night before. He needed time. “Oh. What about Argyle?”
“Fuck.” He blinked. “Swing by and pick her up on your way home. I’ll make sure I’m out of the way. Drive safe.”
And just like that, Jori knew it was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Law felt like a string of live wires stripped of their protective coating. It had been a week. Nothing. No phone calls. No response to his attempts to set up a meeting with Luke Tice. He doubted Tice’s campaign office was so dysfunctional that Tice didn’t get messages. That meant he was being ignored.
He cut a wedge of his egg-white omelet and put it on a paper napkin before setting it on the floor in front of Sam. She sniffed it and looked up at him, ears spreading.
“Yeah. I know. Tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. No cheese. No meat. But I’ve got a physical to pass in a few days. I need to eat healthy.”
Sam sighed so deeply her cheeks fluttered. Law had begun to recognize that as her whatever-you-say-boss-but-I-don’t-have-to-like-it response to things she disapproved of. That didn’t keep her from swallowing the wedge of omelet whole.
Law gulped the last of his coffee and reached for the check. It was his first day off in five, but he couldn’t just sit in his cabin all day. Not when too many things in it reminded him of Jori. The upstairs bedroom reminded him of how tenderly and efficiently she’d taken care of his abrasions. The downstairs bedroom was worse. They’d made love in that bed. He’d settled for sleeping on the sofa. He’d slept in much worse places.
He’d looked at her number on his cell a dozen times a day. But he knew he shouldn’t do that to her. He wasn’t a fool. When a woman looked at a man as she had that last morning, he knew what she was feeling. What was new was that he felt an answering hum in his own chest. But he’d screwed it up.
Shamed himself.
Cried.
She might try to forget. But he wouldn’t. He’d broken down in front of her.
He shuddered in remembrance of his weakness. Even he knew a woman wanted a man she could rely on to be strong when all else failed. How her eyes had shone in admiration after he’d taken down that robbery suspect. He’d been Superman and Captain America in her eyes. For a moment.
The goddamn PTSD! If he wasn’t one fucked-up bastard before Afghanistan, he’d shown himself to be one now. In front of the only person he had ever wanted to be a better man for.
“Tears. Jesus.”