Page 16 of Risk of a Lifetime
His jaw worked into the same clench he used to block his feelings every time something inched close to the truth. Turning toward the front door, he inspected each closet along the way. “Two hours at the most. I’ll check back sooner. You got your phone turned on?”
She patted her hip pocket and nodded, then shoved him toward the door.
“Lock up behind me,” he said.
“I still don’t know why you think someone was shooting at me. Leon’s the one with a million enemies, not me.” Doing what he said was not going to happen. She needed to make a point and make it now, that she was her own woman. “My office is open for as long as I stay.”
“Don’t argue with me on this. Besides, I’ll be out of your hair soon, so humor me on this while I’m here.” As he stepped outside, he motioned to the button he’d drilled into the brick the first day she’d opened her business five years ago. “They can use the buzzer.”
That had been a day filled with dreams for their future. Seemed like a long time ago. Even longer, the two of them had been Crayton’s high school sweethearts. The state football star and the cheerleader. After graduation, they’d been Crayton’s dream couple. They lived together through college before inviting half the town to their wedding.
Later on, the town had watched them flounder. By then, he was a Crayton deputy, and she the county’s only marriage counselor, but he wanted to join the FBI. Knowing he’d never leave of his own accord or follow his dream without her, she’d shoved him out the door with more than a few unkind words.
All because she had freaked out every time he got the least bit hurt. And then, when he’d ended up shot, her resolve had broken. He’d healed fast. Walked it off like the wound was nothing more than a scratch from falling off a bike. Put on the badge and gun and headed back to work in less than a week. She’d been the one who needed longer to heal.
The memory of her father being killed in the line of duty with the FBI had stepped in front of her like a roadblock before a blast zone. She had refused to face the possibility of living through the same pain she’d seen her mother experience the day she opened the door to the news. She and her sister had stood beside their mom at the grave, walked beside her into an empty house, and moved back to Sadie’s hometown of Crayton.
But, that hadn’t been the worst part. That came as Marcy lay in bed at night listening to her mother cry after she thought everyone was asleep. One night, she’d edged to the corner of the living room doorway and seen her mother curled up in the seat of her dad’s chair. Looking just like a baby being held and rocked by a loved one. She’d been quietly sobbing with her cheek pressed against the back of the seat. Marcy’d run from the scene. Hidden under her covers to silence the emotion she’d witnessed.
Looking back, JB’s chair had been her own breaking point. He’d left for an undercover assignment, and she’d panicked. Curled up in his chair, sobbing because he wasn’t there and she was afraid for him and she was…afraid for herself. Emotions were too hard to handle, so she’d shut them out. Steeled herself to the fact she could never allow herself to go through what her mother had gone through.
Sure, eventually her mama had married Truman, a real estate investor. He might be away on business trips a month or so at a time, but otherwise, they all lived a normal life in Crayton. He called her and Betsy “his girls.” Made life safe for them. Made Sadie happy.
But, in her thinking, a good counselor knew her own limits. She was a good counselor. And painful emotion was her limit. Her own self-evaluation told her she’d never be able to move forward if something happened to JB. Better to have kicked him out and known he was alive than chance loving him and then losing him forever. That was too scary. Too outside her box to even consider.
He pecked on the glass in the outside door. “Hey. Stop your daydreaming. What are you thinking about?”
“How damn annoying you can be.” She tilted her head, smiled sugar-sweet, and tapped in return.
His expression conveyed he wasn’t amused.
Eyes half-lidded, he lifted his chin. Sometimes she really liked that look, used to know where the rest of the evening was headed. Other times, the expression meant he was set in his ways, and nothing or no one would change his mind. That was this time. He didn’t smile, just motioned to flip the deadbolt. Evidently, he wouldn’t leave until she complied. Fine. The minute he drove away, she’d undo the lock.
She flipped the handle then rolled her eyes at him. “Satisfied?”
“For the moment.” The corners of his mouth edged up a bit as he shifted from one foot to the other. For an instant, she thought he’d ask her to reopen the door. Come back in and…what?
His gaze swept over her, slowing at spots on her body that used to drive him crazy. Her insides quavered as her fingers inched toward the lock. It would be so easy to open the door. To fall against the man she craved and drag him to the sofa…if they made it that far. There’d never been any man in her bed but JB. And he knew every little touch that made her happy. She knew his, too.
“Maybe I should hang around.” His eyes held a question.
“No!” She shook her head. The sooner she got him out of there, the less likelihood she would make a fool of herself. She pointed at his truck. “Go.”
“Okay.” He eased away from the door. “I’ll be back. You’ve got my number if you need me.”
The FBI seemed to have instilled a no-nonsense attitude in him. A new intensity filtered through his shoulders, into his eyes at times. Or he used a tone that stopped refusals most times. Not with her, but with others. What else had he learned? Done? Had there been other women? After all, he’d signed the divorce papers. Maybe he’d even— No. She wouldn’t let her imagination go there.
“Please leave so I can get to work,” she said.
Grudgingly, he walked to his truck and drove off.
She smiled at the retreating vehicle as she unlocked the door again. Halfway down the hall to her office, the phone rang. Once. She checked the caller ID. Nothing. Five minutes later, the phone rang again.
“Hello. Marcy Bradley’s office.”
No one answered.
“Look, I’ve got more to do than play answer the phone today, so stop calling.”
