But still...
For some reason, she hated telling people her husband was dead.
Not because it hurt—even years later, it still did—but because it made her feel vulnerable. It was ridiculous, she knew, but she still couldn’t shake that feeling.
She decided to ignore the question that wasn’t quite a question and picked up her roller. If she concentrated on painting, then she wouldn’t think about the man behind her who discovered she was single.
And wonder why it would matter to him.
Because it shouldn’t.
The only thing that should matter was getting the room finished.
She released the breath she was holding as soon as she heard the sound of paint being rolled onto the wall across the room.
She was grateful he didn’t keep pushing.
Because if he kept pushing, she’d push back. And she’d bet he’d like it about as much as she did.
After throwing out the plastic paint tray liners and the dirty roller covers in the garage, Chelle walked through the laundry room and into the kitchen to find Shawn leaning back against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest.
Probably waiting to be paid.
If he wasn’t watching her, she might have stopped inside the doorway and let herself simply absorb what a beautiful man he was.
He might be a lot younger than her but he seemed to be an old soul.
She liked that about him.
Actually, there wasn’t much about him she didn’t like. She had enjoyed spending time with him, even if they hadn’t had any deep conversations. Just his presence in the same room made her feel...
Whole.
Which was really strange and also a bit disturbing that a man she just met made her feel that way. Because in truth, she hadn’t felt completely whole in a long time.
When the Army representatives knocked on her door to “regretfully” inform her that Brendan had been killed, she thought she was going to die herself. Thought her heart had been so irrevocably broken it had stopped beating and would never start again.
For longer than she wanted to admit, she actually wished it.
She didn’t think she could live without him. Her soulmate had been ripped from her and she didn’t think she’d ever recover.
But the reality was, she had two other souls to take care of. Pieces of Brendan. It was her responsibility to make sure they survived the loss of their father. She needed to not only remain strong for them, but appear resilient, even if she was destroyed on the inside.
It was the most difficult thing she ever did in her life. She had taken a breath, patched up any cracks showing on the outside, and hoped it would be enough.
Her girls had been so young at the time they had a difficult time understanding that they’d never see their daddy again. While they were used to their father being gone a lot—every time he was deployed—he always came home on leave.
Always.
And then...
Never again.
He would never walk into their home again dressed in fatigues, put his rucksack down and hug them, tell them how much he loved and had missed them.
His voice had been silenced. His direct influence on his daughters gone. They’d never again feel his touch.
The next time they’d be near him would be when his remains laid in a flag-covered casket. She tried to remain on her feet while holding tightly to her little girls’ hands.
The three of them jumped and Chelle’s heart had beaten wildly with each explosive shot in the three-volley salute done by the Honor Guard.
After the ceremony, the tearful hugs and words of condolences from both people she knew and strangers alike, Rick had picked up both crying girls and took them away, leaving Chelle to say her final goodbye to her husband alone.
In truth, she wanted to climb into the hole, lay on the casket and let them cover her with dirt.
She hadn’t had enough time with him.
Not nearly enough.
He was young and healthy and doing his duty to his country and family. This shouldn’t have happened.
How could a good man die when evil continued to exist?
Life wasn’t fair.
It could be downright cruel.
But there didn’t seem to be anything cruel or evil about the man she approached. She went toe to toe with him and his nostrils flared ever so slightly as she slowly reached around him to grab her purse. It had been left knocked over and open on the counter after the girls had dug through it to find her credit card.
She remained right where she stood, her eyes locked on his darker ones, and blindly dug inside it for her wallet. After slipping it out of the zippered opening, she leaned in again as she returned the purse to the same spot, keeping her wallet in her now trembling hand.
She only dropped her gaze long enough to remove the cash and count it to make sure it was enough. Once she ensured it was, she held the bills between them, hoping he wouldn’t notice how he affected her. Though, she was pretty sure she was looking at him like he was a glass of ice water and she was extremely parched.
Without looking at the money, he pulled it from her fingers with excruciating slowness. When he shifted forward, she held her breath, wondering if he was going to touch her.
The movement of air brushed along her skin, instead. Their chests were separated by only inches, his face even closer. So close, she could see the black flecks in his dark brown irises.
Her lips parted and her breathing shallowed as he reached behind himself, pulled out his chained wallet, unsnapped the flap and tucked the money inside with the quickness of a sloth. All without counting it.
She forced, “You don’t want to count it first?” from her seized throat.
He shook his head, his eyes still holding hers and softly said, “Trust you,” as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket.
Trust you.
He might as well have said, “I want to fuck you,” because that was what her body heard.
Loud and clear, too.
A current ran through her, causing her nipples to pucker painfully in the sports bra she wore under Brendan’s white button-down shirt. It was one of a few shirts she kept for working around the house, not for sentimental reasons. She had kept plenty of other items that held more meaning and memory.
Heat swirled in her belly as his eyelids drew low over his eyes, taking them from dark brown to black, especially with the way his pupils expanded.
Luckily, her pussy clenching hard jerked her free from her sexual stupor and brought her back to reality.
Good God, she needed to step back before she melted from the scorching heat between them. Or she touched him inappropriately again. Without asking.
If she asked, would he...?
No, Chelle!
Where was the water bottle she used to spray Pumpkin with when he was a kitten and used to jump on the kitchen counters? Someone needed to squirt her with it.
Bad, pussy, bad!
She was losing it. She swallowed hard and forced herself to take a step back. Her fingers had soldered themselves to her wallet, so she loosened her grip and put it behind her on the table nearby, doing her best to gather herself.
She cleared her throat. “As soon as I get more money saved, we can do another room.”
“Guess I’m done here, then.”
She didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.
If you were smart, Chelle, you’d let him leave before you do something stupid.
“Are you hungry?”