Page 58 of Operation Protector
He realized his hand had tightened so much on the stem of the wineglass it was surprising he hadn’t broken it. Not wanting another bloody mess to deal with, he carefully set the glass down on the end table. Oddly, Cutter’s head came up, and he stared at Colby as if he’d sensed something.
“I’m okay, dog,” he said, not even caring if it sounded silly.
“He’s an observant one, isn’t he?” Ali said. “And Colby, I think you’re a lot more than okay. And it’s going to get nothing but better from here on.”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I don’t know which surprises me more, you or that dog.”
He winced inwardly, wondering if she’d be offended by the comparison. But she wasn’t. No, Ali laughed.
“I’m honored to be put in his company. He’s amazing.”
He should have known. True, he’d only known her a couple of weeks, but he’d never been more certain about anyone. And certain in a deep, rock-solid way he’d never felt with Liz, or anyone else. Josh Moran had indeed been a very lucky man.
He’s dead, you idiot. How does that make him lucky?
That thought sent him meandering off into other territory, specifically a poet and his famous line about it being better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. He wondered if Ali felt that way.
And if her husband had known how lucky he’d been.
“Colby? Are you all right?”
He snapped out of it. “Just…thinking,” he muttered.
“About what?”
“Love,” he said before he thought. “And loss. And if it really is better.”
She looked oddly startled. “Been reading Tennyson?”
“Not lately.” She was staring at him, and he frowned. “What, you’re shocked a carpenter can even read, let alone poetry?”
She pulled back sharply, then jumped to her feet. She started to walk away, but just as quickly Cutter was there, blocking her path. Her escape?
“Ali, don’t,” he said, getting up nearly as quickly as she had. “That was…reflex.”
“You mean all those lovely hardcover books in the library in Liz’s house weren’t yours?” she asked, a little too sweetly.
He couldn’t help it, he snorted at that. “For her, books are wall decor. She used to get really irritated if I actually took one off a shelf and opened it.”
The tension in her expression seemed to fade away. “No wonder she didn’t like my house, the one time she came inside. To inspect, I’m guessing.”
He remembered the cozy little house, and how much he’d liked it, not just the floor plan and the quality of the build, but the atmosphere it already held, even after the short time she’d lived there.
And he remembered the books. One of the first things he’d noticed when he’d stepped inside that day that seemed like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. All looking both read and cared for.
“She finds reading a waste of time,” he said. “But she knows many of the people she deals with value it, so she pretends with all those volumes she’s never touched, let alone opened.”
“So we add total hypocrisy to the list,” Ali said.
He grimaced. “It’s a long list.” He drew in a deep breath, and said what he knew he had to. “I didn’t mean what I said. It really was just a reflex. Something I would have said…to her. I should never have said it to you. And I’m really sorry I did.”
Ali looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Apology accepted. I think sometimes when a sore spot gets poked often enough, it gets to where it doesn’t matter who does the poking, or even if it’s really a poke at all. We just…react. And I reacted the way I did because I’d been thinking about that same poetic line just a while ago.”
He couldn’t stop himself, he crossed the short distance between them and pulled her to him. Hugged her, and tightened it when he felt her head come down to rest on his shoulder. He could feel the slight tug from that not-quite-healed spot on his arm, but he ignored it.
Because nothing was worth letting go of her.
And for a moment, just a moment, he let himself think of a life after this, and Ali being a part of it. He quashed the thought. There was too much to get through first, and he had to stay focused.
