Before their mom died, she, Charlie, and Scott had been tight—Batman, Robin, and Batgirl had been Charlie’s favorite game for them. After their mom died, things started to change. Their aunt came to stay with them whenever their dad deployed, and age and disparate interests took them in different directions. But the thread of loss and grief kept the three of them tied together enough that they could slip into that old closeness when they wanted it or needed it. Man, what she wouldn’t give for Scott to be here now. With their dad often away, he’d always been so protective of her and Charlie. He would know what to do, where to start. What if she couldn’t figure this out by herself?
Nick shifted beside her, making her realize she’d just been hanging in the doorway. And that, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she felt.
Becca stepped into the room and dropped her pillow onto the bed, and a growl roared out of her stomach so loud it nearly echoed among the exposed beams and ductwork of the tall ceiling. She clamped a hand to her belly and chanced a glance at Nick.
The corners of his lips tipped up. “Guess it would be redundant to ask if you’re hungry.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I didn’t realize how much.”
“Well, that’s a problem I can solve. Tell me you eat meat.”
Nick was going to cook her dinner? Or, er, meat at least? Now she was curious. “Uh, what if I don’t?”
His bottom lip almost pouted, and the expression was as unexpected as it was cute on his masculine face. “Well, that would be a shame, because it would mean I can’t cook you my specialty.”
“You have a specialty?”
He crossed his arms. “Of course I have a specialty.”
She just bet he did. A soldier who carried her bag, tried to open the car door for her, put her up in his house to protect her, and now offered to cook her dinner. This guy was ten kinds of dangerous. And in more ways than she’d expected when she’d come to him for help. “Well, then, I eat meat.”
The left side of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile, hinting at a dimple on his cheek.
A freaking dimple. A single spot of softness on a man otherwise built of hard planes and rough edges. Becca tried not to stare, she really did. But she found herself wanting to press her lips to the little indent. For starters.
“Good. Take whatever time you need to get settled in. There’s towels and stuff in the bathroom next door. Come out to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
She shook the ludicrous urge away. “You really don’t have to go to any trouble. We could just order a pizza. I already feel bad enough—”
He stepped in close, his heat and masculine scent, all leather and clean spice, invading her space. “It’s no trouble, Becca.”
Awareness raced from her head to her toes. For a split second, she couldn’t breathe, and the urge to lean into him, to lay her head against that big chest, to fist her hands in his clothes, had her nearly swaying on her feet. Would his body feel as hard and strong as it looked? Would his arms hold her tight, or lay loosely at the small of her back, his fingers interlaced? A rush of heat threaded through her veins. She forced herself to take a step back. “Need help?”
His eyes narrowed the smallest bit as they ran over her face. Had he felt the same pull? “Nope. I got this.”
She smiled, wondering what the heck he planned to make but satisfied to let it be a surprise. “Okey dokey.”
“Yell if you need anything,” he said, then stepped out the door and pulled it closed with a soft click.
For a moment, she stared at the back of the door. And then the day caught up with her and she sagged to the bed. Letting her back collapse onto the firm mattress, her eyes traced a random pattern over the exposed architectural elements above her.
But her mind stayed firmly on Nick Rixey. He was just . . . really freaking gorgeous. And he was making her dinner. And, tonight, he’d be sleeping down the hall.
Between the way he’d reacted to her plea for help the day before and his general history as a Special Forces soldier, Becca had no doubt: Nick Rixey was the walking personification of “complication.”
And Charlie going missing was all the complication she could handle.
Charlie was out there somewhere in trouble. He was the only thing that mattered right now. Not how hot Nick was, or how he tempted her body with desires she hadn’t felt in a really long time, or how safe she felt with him. She blew out a deep breath. Soon her eyelids grew heavy and her body melted into the soft comforter.
Get up, get up, get up, she told herself. Yes, that was totally what she should do. Get up, go out there, and see what the sexy soldier man was cooking her for dinner. The thought made her smile, although she was far too drowsy to know if her cheeks actually managed to move in response. So, right. She was totally going to get up. In just a minute, or ten . . .
Chapter 6
Nick slid the large skillet off the hot burner, hoping a little food would ease the anxiety that had been rolling off Becca since she’d first settled into the passenger seat of his car. She’d been a champ at holding it together, but it didn’t take a genius to see that the night’s events hung around her neck like an anchor, threatening to pull her under the surface. And who could blame her?