Mount Mercy

“Why are you interested in me?” Her voice was pleading.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I frowned. I got that she was shy and awkward, but how had all the other guys in this place missed her? I thought about how she’d looked a few moments ago when I’d chased her through the crowd to the door. She’d slipped between people and they’d barely noticed she was there….

Something twisted in my chest. She hid. She was so used to hiding, she was almost invisible.

She looked at the floor again.

I put two fingers under her chin and pressed it back up. No you don’t. As soon as her eyes met mine, I saw the pain there. She was as alone as I was and too shy to reach out to anyone, and these idiots couldn’t see what was right in front of them. That protective urge rose up in me again. I didn’t just want to fuck her, I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and protect her, make her happy. But that was crazy. I couldn’t have that with anyone, not anymore. All I was good for was—

I faltered. Shit! I suddenly saw what it would do to her, if I talked her into bed and then moved on the next day.

I dropped my hand from her chin as if burned.

“I have to go,” she muttered.

I was thinking fast. “Beckett, wait—”

But she was gone, slipping through the crowd towards the door.

I looked down at the hand that had held her chin. It suddenly looked so big and clumsy. I’d thought getting her into bed would be fun for both of us: just some hot, casual sex. But now...no way could I do that to her. If I strolled out in the morning and moved on to someone else, like I always did, it would tear her apart.

I couldn’t just fuck her. But I couldn’t forget her, either. What the hell am I going to do?

11

Amy

I STUMBLED out of the tavern and the night engulfed me, cold air and darkness bathing my cheeks, hiding my blushes. My whole body was throbbing with heat. How does he do that to me?

By the time I’d walked the length of the street, I was pulling my leather jacket tight around myself. The temperature was definitely dropping. Maybe the bad weather in Denver was heading our way. But that heat was still strumming inside me. The memory of his hands on me, the way his eyes had focused on my lips….

I live in a basement apartment: some people hate the idea of being below ground but to me, it’s snug. And the building is old enough that it has a real fireplace where I can have a log fire. It’s cozy, especially sitting beside it sewing—

Yes, I do embroidery. Look, I know, okay? Krista finds it hilarious too. But I got into it a few years ago as a way to relax and I couldn’t stop. It suits me: dexterity and focus. I’ve done cushions and throws and a huge, king-size comforter for my bed...there’s something nice about lining my nest with soft things. I just sometimes wish I wasn’t there alone.

Stupid. Like anyone would seek domestic bliss with me. Certainly not Corrigan. He’d been to the Congo, Libya...the man lived for danger. Even here in the US, they said he always chose hospitals right in the worst areas of big cities. His life was gunshot wounds and gang violence. The quiet of Mount Mercy must be killing him.

Tonight, because I hadn’t been home to set a fire, the place was freezing. I hit the bathroom, stripped off everything but my panties, pulled on a nightshirt, and dived into bed. I hate being cold, especially in bed, so I have three blankets on top of the comforter. Even so, I sometimes wake up in the early hours, unable to really get warm. My dad used to say that some people, like us, just run cold. Of course, he had my mom to keep him warm.

Tonight, the sheets were freezing. Every time I shifted position, a new part of me touched icy cotton and made me wince. I wound up lying perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling with just my eyes and nose showing above the blankets.

Dominic. Corrigan.

His name was an incantation, some Irish folk magic full of hard ms and rolling rs. It rippled down my spine and made me twist and buck, despite the touch of the cold sheets. The room was dark and that made it easier to imagine him there, standing over the bed. Those incredible eyes just a glint in the darkness, those arrogant lips twisting into a smirk….

There was absolutely no way I could get involved with him. But now, alone in the darkness, with no one watching, all the heat that had been building between us all day could finally come out. The brief blast of cold as he lifted the covers and slid into bed with me and sealed them back around us, trapping us in a warm little cavern.