Page 41 of Stirring Attraction (Second Shot 2)
“It’s my right hand. My handwriting wasn’t anything special before, but now I’m struggling to sign my own name.” He stabbed his eggs. “I’ve thought about it. Trust me, I tried to see if there was something I could do for my guys, my team. A support position. I’d push paper around an office at the base if I thought I’d be useful.” He shook his head. “They have guys with prosthetics who can do a better job.”
Playing bodyguard, watching over Lily, that job fit him. But beyond that he saw himself back in Georgia, trying to give Lily the space she needed to find the man who could complete the life she wanted. If he stayed here, he’d be tempted to make her next boyfriend faint off his barstool—or worse, he might try for the position himself.
“You might find more people willing to help you here.” His father wiped his mouth and pushed back from the table. “Now that Josie’s moved into her own place with Noah and the baby, I wouldn’t mind having you here.”
“Thanks, Dad.” But he didn’t want his hometown’s pity heaped on him day after day as everyone else moved on with their lives—including Lily.
THE SMELL HIT her as Dominic walked into the bar. He closed the door and turned the lock, keeping the public securely on the other side until Big Buck’s opened for business at noon.
“You picked up Chinese? At eleven something in the morning? I think this not-sleeping thing is messing up your internal clock.” She ran a cloth over the bar’s polished wooden surface.
She’d completed the inventory with Josie and together they’d set up for her shift. Noah had arrived minutes before Dominic to drive Josie up to their appointment at the brewery. Her friends’ and coworkers’ movements were carefully orchestrated to keep her feeling safe.
Until Dominic took a detour for Chinese, leaving her alone for five minutes. Still, she’d survived. And that was something, wasn’t it? Progress?
“I thought we’d celebrate,” he said.
Dread rippled through her. He was leaving. The army had found a job for him. Or—
“The Salem police have a suspect in custody,” he said.
She dropped the cloth. “What?”
“There was another attack,” he explained. “Only this time they were able to make an arrest.”
“And they are sure it’s him?”
He nodded as he set the take-out bag on one of the high-tops. “The physical description matches. Same body type. And the attacks were . . . similar.”
There was another woman out there who’d been cut over and over for no reason. Another person who would spend months asking why? And coming up empty, eventually forced to accept the fact there wasn’t an answer.
“He wasn’t after me.” She drew her arms tight around her waist. She’d been so sure. Now, it felt as if the one piece of the nightmare that she’d clung to had been torn away. Her memory felt faulty, and her judgment questionable. How could she have been so wrong?
“No. He wasn’t,” he said. “And you’re safe now.”
But she wasn’t. Couldn’t he see that? If she couldn’t trust in her own judgment? Her memory of her attacker’s words?
“You can go up to the Salem police station and talk to them in the morning,” he added.
She’d dreamed about this. Not when she drifted off to sleep, but in the moments when she’d stared out into her brightly lit home, listening for suspect sounds. She’d envisioned how it would feel to know that man she feared was behind bars. But where was the relief?
“Are you sure?” she asked slowly. “I don’t want to know what your dad thinks, or the Salem police believe. Do you think they have the man who attacked me?”
“I read what the Salem police chief sent over. So, yeah, I think it is a strong possibility. And once you read through it . . . I think you’ll finally be able to sleep at night.”
“I slept fine last night.”
“Because I was on your couch,” he said.
And I don’t want you to abandon your post.
She nodded slowly. “I thought if I knew who’d attacked me, I would feel . . .”
“Liberated?” He walked around the bar, lifted the service entrance, and stepped into her domain. “Like your life can finally return to normal?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Sounds like someone forgot to program your on-off switch.”
