Her Forbidden Hero (2 page)

Her chest swelled with everything she felt for him until it was hard to breathe. Alyssa shoved up out of her chair, his name hanging on the edge of her tongue, but her throat was too dry to speak.

“Sorry, I didn’t see…” He trailed off and his brow furrowed. Walking into the room, he studied her, then his eyes went wide. “Alyssa?” He kicked out a chair with his boot and put down the box. Smiling big enough to show off the dimple on his left cheek, he came right up to her, blue eyes bright with surprise. “I’ll be damned. Look at you.”

Nearly dizzy from his proximity, his dazzling grin, and the clean male scent of his skin, Alyssa struggled to reply. “It’s great to see you, Marco,” she finally managed. God, he was even more gorgeous than she remembered.

He held out his arms. “What, no hug? It’s been two years, right?”

“Almost,” she said, her throat tight as she stepped into his embrace. The instant her chest came in contact with his, she knew she was in trouble. His arms wrapped around her and hugged tightly. He kissed her hair, and Alyssa squeezed right back. And,
good God
, had he always been this muscular? This tall? This broad? His body totally encompassed hers, and every ounce of attraction and affection she’d ever felt for him came roaring forward until she was sure he must feel her heart thundering against her breastbone.

“How are you, Aly-girl?” he asked, still hugging her.

“I’m good,” she said, both loving the term of endearment and feeling disappointed at the proof they’d simply slipped right back into their old patterns. She shoved the thought away. The important thing was that Marco was here—healed from the injuries that had gotten him discharged from the Army Special Forces and out of harm’s way. “I was so worried about you. I’m glad you’re home.”

Marco pulled back, and Alyssa couldn’t help but notice the scars that twisted over his left arm and hand. She forced herself to look away before her gaze turned into a stare, and she found him watching her. He crossed his arms, his unblemished right covering his left.

Before her eyes, his grin and the happiness she’d seen in his eyes melted into discomfort so thick, it choked the air around them.

Marco’s jaw ticked, telling her he felt it, too. “So…what are you doing here?”

“Oh, um, I applied for a job.” She forced a smile, hoping maybe he’d smile back so she could stare at his dimple again.

He didn’t.

“Here?”

She shifted her feet and her scalp prickled. Crossing her arms, she struggled to catch up with his mood change. She became suddenly aware that her body posture mirrored his, as if discomfort was contagious. “Uh, yeah.”

His gaze narrowed and the angles on his face sharpened, highlighting dark circles under his eyes. “Oh, no, Alyssa, not here.”

Her stomach dropped at his disapproving tone. “Why not?”

“It’s too rowdy here for you. This is not the place for a girl.”

Alyssa huffed, that final word chasing away the last of her happiness and stirring up a hornet’s nest inside her. “I’m
not
a
girl
, Marco. I’m a woman.”

Scoffing, he braced his hands on his hips. “Look, there has to be a better place. What would Brady think if he knew you worked here?”

“He knows.”
He just doesn’t approve
. She hugged herself tighter. “And what does my brother have to do with anything?”

“I just…” He shook his head and seemed to struggle for words. “I get too busy behind the bar to be able to keep an eye on you,” he said, frustration and exasperation turning his tone harsh.

Her mouth dropped open. She was looking for a
job
, not a security detail! Why was he being like this? And had he ever spoken to her that way before? One of the things that had drawn her to him when they were younger was how kind he always acted toward her, when surely the presence of a friend’s kid sibling must’ve been a drag.

She needed this job. Heck, she
wanted
it. “You know what? I don’t need you to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” The only good thing about his harsh tone was that it fueled her resolve, which kept those threatening tears at bay.

An emotion she couldn’t name flashed through his eyes. “Alyssa, you’re too damn—”

Pete’s voice sounded from down the hallway. Marco pressed his lips into a line and ran a hand through his hair. Pete stepped into the venue, phone pressed to his ear and a big grin on his face. “Thank ya much,” he said.

Alyssa looked from Marco’s scowl to Pete’s smile, and the contrast on top of the unexpected fight nearly left her dizzy.

Pete pressed a button on his phone and dropped it into his pocket as he joined them. “Well, I’m delighted to report that everyone had only glowing things to say about you.” Pete extended his hand toward her. “You’re hired, starting immediately.”

Problem was, Marco could barely take care of himself. And the last time he’d tried to save another, it had gone to shit.

“Alyssa says you two grew up together,” Pete said, drawing Marco from his thoughts.

Marco dragged his gaze from his manager to Alyssa, and guilt flooded his stomach when she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, we did. Lot of good times, too,” he added, hoping she’d take the olive branch and look at him again. It worked, but he almost wished it hadn’t. Those deep browns had lost the sparkle that had made them so pretty when she’d greeted him before.

Pretty?

Oh, goddammit.

All at once, he saw her through new eyes. And what he saw very particularly
wasn’t
a little girl. Not anymore. She might’ve been small in stature, but between the long chocolate waves of her hair, the way her V-neck shirt shaped over her breasts, and how those damn jeans hugged her, there was no safe place to look and not think
woman
. And it was a short trip from that thought to wondering how she would feel under his hands, in his arms. He was a man, after all. A man who had been without the pleasure of a woman these long months while he fought tooth and nail to get back to a shadow of his old self.

But the beautiful girl, er, woman standing before him wasn’t just
any
woman. She was his best friend’s little sister. Strictly off-limits. That was guy code 101.

And even if she weren’t, it wouldn’t be fair of him to expect anyone to shoulder the big pile of screwed-up he’d become, especially someone just starting out in the world like Alyssa.

“So,” she said, turning away from him again, “would you like me to finish the employee manual or…”

“Yeah,” Pete said. “Go ahead and do that and let me know when you’re done. I’ll answer any questions you have, then give you the ten-cent tour. Oh, and I need to make a copy of your driver’s license for proof of age.”

“Sure.” She bent and retrieved her purse from the floor.

Marco barely restrained a groan. Those jeans were going to be the death of him. “I, uh…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m gonna get back to inventorying.” He crossed the room, seeing the box that had brought him in here looking for Pete in the first place. “Oh, and this case wasn’t on the list.”

“Just leave it there,” his manager called. “I’ll look at it after I’m done here.” Pete accepted the license from Alyssa and she returned to the seat where Marco had first seen her.

Marco retreated to the barroom, stepped around the boxes he had scattered on the floor behind the long bar, and retrieved his clipboard. On a sigh, he dropped it with a clatter to the lacquered surface and braced his hands against the edge.

When he’d first walked into the dining room, he’d been so surprised to find someone sitting there, he hadn’t realized who it was. And then she’d looked so much older than the last time he’d seen her two Christmases ago that it took his brain a moment to connect the dots.

Older, but still too innocent, especially for this place.

He stifled a groan and threw himself back into counting and stocking bottles of wine, beer, and liquor. But his mind kept returning to the too-cute-for-her-own-good brunette sitting just around the corner.

Why had she come back to Frederick? It wasn’t like she had family here. Brady was still in the Special Forces, deployed God knew where, and Marco had only run into Joseph Scott once since he’d returned to town. Their father hadn’t changed one iota as far as he could see. He might’ve felt sorry for the guy if he hadn’t seen firsthand how Joe’s heartbreak over his wife’s death had hurt his kids, literally. Brady and Alyssa had shown up at his house with more than one bruise or cut over the years. He sincerely hoped she wasn’t planning to visit the old man.

Marco crouched down and sliced the blade of the utility knife along the seam of the next box.

The Scotts’ experience, wanting to stand up for other people who couldn’t stand up for themselves—that’s what made him want to join the military. Now who did he stand up for?

“Aw, hell.” A headache flared up under his left ear. He sank to his knees and closed his eyes, concentrating on the breathing exercises he’d been taught. In for two. Out for two. Over and over until his head stopped swimming. Opening his eyes, he found himself kneading at his left arm, the one that had been torn apart from bicep to wrist by a booby-trapped explosive he barely remembered. Surgeons had rebuilt his arm as good as could be expected, especially since the nerve damage was so extensive they’d initially doubted he’d have coordinated use of his hand, but the tendon transplant never healed right. His fingers remained weak, and his elbow was stiff as hell.

But the shit with his brain was worse. It blanked out a big spot in his memory and tormented him with haunting nightmares and frustrating apraxia, the occasional inability to say a word and communicate his thoughts. And surgeons didn’t have a fix for those.

All of which gave him a one-way ticket to separation and retirement.

Do not pass go.

Do not collect two hundred dollars.

Marco ripped the box open and removed the bottles, lining them up next to him. Seeing Alyssa again made him feel trapped between two worlds but not fully a part of either. In those few short moments they’d spoken, her very presence had pulled him back in time to when he knew who he was and what he wanted. When he believed he could do or be anything.

And then she’d said how glad she was that he was home, and it was like a sucker punch to the gut—because all he’d wanted for ten long months was to be back out there, doing what he’d trained to do. Which was never going to happen.

Letting go of
that
man and
those
dreams… He’d never find his way to being okay with that.

On a curse, Marco tossed the empty box behind him.

This right here was the problem. Twenty minutes of Alyssa’s presence had him all up in his head, thinking about things he really didn’t want to be thinking about. Stack. Count. Beer. Wine. On tap. By the bottle. Red. White. These were the thoughts he could handle. These were the thoughts he
wanted
to handle.

Not how he could barely stand the sight of his own reflection.

Not how he’d succumbed to the pain and weakness.

Not how every fucking thing had changed.

And sure as hell
not
how three deaths lay at his feet.

Hands pounded a rhythm on the bar top. “Hey, lunch break?”

Marco spun on his heel and darted up, braced for battle. His knee smacked into the neck of a bottle sticking out of the recycle bin on the floor beside him. Like an avalanche, the bottle and two others careened over the edge. He flinched at the crash and spray of glass. “Shit. Sorry,” he said, looking sideways at Pete on the far side of the bar.

“No worries, kid. I’ll grab the broom.”

Marco started collecting the big pieces, heart racing ridiculously in his chest, and tossed them one by one into the bin. If this was what her presence was going to do to him, he’d rather she—