Tony: Alvarez Security Series (8 page)

Stepping back into the room, he saw her pajamas and panties on the floor. Bending to pick them up, he was filled with shame. Another emotion he had not felt in a long time.
Jesus, I’ve broken the record on the number of new emotions in one day for me. All because of her.
One petite, blonde with a curvy body and a personality that pulled him in. Or rather pulled himself out of his constant morose mood.

Deciding she needed time to cry and possibly plan his demise, he walked back to the window looking out over the front yard. The snow was still swirling, his SUV now as covered as hers. His gaze expertly took in the room once again, this time landing on the stone fireplace and the pile of wood stacked nearby. Starting a fire, he felt the warmth in the blaze as he rubbed his chest, wishing the tightness to go away.

*

Lying across the
bed, tears spent, Sherrie stared up at the ceiling. Shame filled her belly as she wiped her wet cheeks.
How could I have read the signals so wrong?
Ruefully, she acknowledged her inexperience. From the time she was fifteen years old, she had witnessed Charisse’s sexual escapades. Her sister used sex as a way to escape. And to score drugs. And as power.
Hell, she used sex for everything except love.
Sherrie decided early on that her body would only be given to someone special. All those nights spent waiting on drunk customers while trying to keep an eye on her sister when she was stripping, made her an expert at seeing men at their worst. It only made her more determined to find her hero. The first time she had looked into those caramel eyes when he rescued her she knew she had found a good man. A good friend. Someone she could fall in love with.

And now, with her virgin’s blood spilled, her hero had called her a mistake.

Sitting up in the bed so that she could breathe with her stuffed nose, she swung her legs over the side grabbing a tissue. Blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, she glanced out of the window. The night was black, no moonlight coming through the window. Wondering if it was still snowing and if she could manage to drive back to town, she quickly dismissed that idea. The last time she had peered out, the snow was already in drifts around her car.

Sighing deeply, she thought about spending the next couple of days locked in this room so that she would not have to face him.
I could only wander out to go to the bathroom or to eat. Eat?
The tantalizing smell of food was drifting into her room.

Anger filled her as much as hunger.
This is my cabin for the time and he’s the intruder.
Determined to stop hiding she moved to the door. Lifting her head, she threw open the door and marched out.
It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt…and won’t be the last. I’ve been pretending for most of my twenty-six years…and this is no different.
As she walked out of her room, she knew she was lying to herself.

*

Not knowing if
she was going to come out that evening, Tony decided to fix some dinner just in case. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out some chicken breasts, putting them into the oven. After a while he covered them in marinara sauce and put them back in the oven. As he put some noodles in the boiling water, he heard the bedroom door opening.

Turning, his heart pounding, he looked as she walked into the living room toward the fire. Now wearing sweat pants, thick socks, and a sweatshirt, she looked…armored.
Against me, no doubt.

She walked over to the fireplace, lifting her hands to the warmth. She could feel when he approached from behind, but feared turning around. Seeing the look of regret, disinterest, or worse, pity on his face terrified her no matter how strong she tried to be.

“Sherrie,” his voice called out softly. “Please look at me.”

Swallowing her pride, she turned to face him and to her surprise saw anguish. He stepped closer, not crowding, but just close enough that she could not take her eyes off of him.

“Tony, it’s okay. Really. It was silly of me to think that it would mean anyth—”

“Stop,” he ordered placing his fingers on her lips. Her lips were swollen from their kissing and as he moved his fingers over them, he felt them quiver. But then he looked into her red, puffy eyes and knew he had to make this right.

He slid his hand from her lips slowly down her arm to her hand. Taking her hand he walked toward the sofa, gently pulling her down next to him, twisting so that he could look into her face.

She went silently along with him, both curious and dreading.
This is where he tells me that he doesn’t do commitment. Or I’m not his type. Or he was grossed out. Or—

“Whatever fucked-up shit’s going on in your head, please stop and listen. I need you to listen,” he pleaded.

Startled out of her musings, she just nodded.

He opened his mouth and shut it several times. Finally dropping his head, he stared at their hands, still clasped, for a moment.
Man up. Time to man up.

“Sherrie, I’m not good at this.”

“At what?” she asked in confusion.

“Explaining my feelings. I try to say things and they come out all fucked up.” He looked at her, grateful that she stayed silent, giving him time to gather his words. “With my men, it’s fine. I’m comfortable in command. I plan, I strategize, I execute the mission. But emotions…it’s hard.”

Sighing, he looked into her blue eyes that seemed to see deep inside of him regardless of the barriers that he tried to erect. “I never meant that what we did was a mistake. Never. It was…” he searched for the right word and could only come up with, “special.”

Her eyes seemed to light at that word so he hoped he chose the right one. Again, she stayed still, allowing him time to think. He rubbed his coarse fingertips over her tiny hand, finding strength in the feel of her skin.

“I didn’t come here to seduce you. Or take you up against the wall, for fuck’s sake.”

She watched as his face twisted in a mix of anger and disgust. “Why did you come exactly, Tony?”

“Jennifer called Gabe to say that you were traveling alone toward a snow storm. And I just jumped up to come find you. I needed to make sure you were safe. I needed to make sure…nothing bad was happening.”

“You feel the need to rescue me all the time?” she asked, needing to understand his motives.

“Yes. No. Not really.” Running his hand over his face, he started over. “When I first saw you almost a year ago, I thought you were beautiful. But I assumed I’d never see you again. Then, when we had the same friends, I got to know you. You’re smart. Loyal. And dauntless when you’re trying to right a wrong.”

He looked down at their hands again, noticing that this time she was rubbing circles on his hands.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” she said shyly.

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he shook his head. “No, my problem was that I didn’t
want
to like you.”

He saw the look of confusion cross her beautiful face, and he struggled for the right words again. “There are things in my past…things that…well, made me not want to feel again. So whenever I saw you, I tried to force myself to not think about you. Stay away from you. I figured I was too fucked up for you, anyway.

“When you leaned into me when we found Charisse, as bad as that was for you…it felt right to me. You being in my arms. Leaning on me. Trusting in me. That felt right. I made a dumbass comment to Matt and Shane that I know you overheard and when I realized you had gone, I knew I hurt you. When you pushed me away after the funeral, I figured that I needed to stay away.

“But when Jennifer called, I didn’t over-think for once. I knew this was the place I wanted to be. I wanted to make sure you were safe. I wanted to be here in case you needed something. Or needed me. But what happened there?” he nodded toward the wall behind her. “That should have never happened. Not like that.”

Silence filled the room except for the crackling of the logs burning in the fireplace. Licking her lips, she pondered his words.
Such a contradiction, I hardly know what to think. He acted like he didn’t like me, but he does. So what now? Just friends? Or more?

He watched her pink tongue moisten her lips and it was all he could do to not lean over and capture them, but he refused to lose control once again. He lifted his gaze to her eyes and once again saw uncertainty.

“I’m still fuckin’ this up, aren’t I?”

“I want to understand, Tony. Please help me understand why it was a mistake. Is it because you just want to be friends? Because you don’t
want
to want me?”

“Sherrie, you were a virgin. You should have had your first time in a bed with candlelight and someone taking their time to make sure you were ready and then have them go slow and easy.”

He focused on her eyes, cupping her face with his free hand, feeling the soft skin against his rough. “I wanted you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I’m used to controlling everything about myself but one look at you, standing in your pajamas arguing with me had me lose control. I just went on emotion and took you against the wall.”

She lifted her hand as well and caressed his cheek, trusting the caramel eyes that had captured her a year ago.

“In a bed or up against a wall…I’ve wanted you,” she said.

“Can I ask you something really personal?”

“Tony, I think we’re way into something personal already,” she grinned.

“How is it that you are…were still a virgin? I mean someone like you?”

At that, the humor left her face and he wondered what he had said wrong.

“Someone like me?” she asked, pulling back from him. “What do you mean, Tony? A poor girl from the foster system? Or a cocktail waitress in a strip joint? Or just because my sister was a—”

“No,” he interjected. “No, none of that. I just meant… you know. Someone as beautiful as you. I can’t imagine that you haven’t had men dying to meet you.”

“Oh,” she said softly, her eyes going misty. “I guess, I was just holding out for a hero. And then I found him.”

“Baby, I’m no hero,” he admitted, a flash of regret passing through his eyes.

“You are to me,” she whispered.

Leaning in, he kissed her softly, promising himself to maintain control. Just then the water began to boil over and they both leapt up as he jogged into the kitchen. Turning down the stove eye, he placed the pasta in to cook. Looking over his shoulder at her standing at the kitchen entrance, he said, “I didn’t know when you might come out but I fixed some dinner.”

“It smells good,” she admitted, watching him pull the chicken out of the oven. Deciding that their serious talk was over for now and she could rest easy knowing they were friends, she found the plates and set the table. Several minutes later, they sat to dinner in companionable silence and he opened one of the bottles of wine she brought.

Eying the other bottles, he lifted his eyebrow at her in question. She could not help but giggle as she said, “I thought I might drown my sorrows in wine while I was here alone.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not alone to drink all of this,” he quipped.

“Me too,” she added seriously.

Finishing their meal, she offered to clean up since he cooked. Tony stepped outside on the porch to see how the storm was progressing. While out, he made a quick call to Gabe to report that they had both made it and would be in touch when they could, knowing that Gabe would let the others know. His men were like that—all of one mind. Finding more wood piled on the corner of the porch, he brought several loads inside.

Kneeling as he placed more wood into the fire, he could feel her presence behind him. He saw her standing near the sofa, fingers nervously twisting the bottom of her sweatshirt.
Hell, I’ve talked more to her in the past hour than I have to anyone in a year…and there’s still so much more to say.
Turning back to the fire as the new wood began to catch with flames, he replaced the antique fire screen.

Standing, he faced her, knowing that she was still unsure of what his feelings were.

“What’s it like outside?” she asked quietly, as though trying to find something to say.

He chuckled. “Cold. Windy. And blowing in one helluva of a snow storm.”