My hands tighten on the wheel.
“Unless you killed him yourself,” I ask, “how’s it your fault again?”
“It just is.” She hisses it out, pressing her tongue against her upper lip, pink tip curling. “My father was involved in bad things. I told you that. A few years ago, there was a friend of mine, this older guy, Dennis Bress...”
Her eyes mist over, and she tilts her head against the window again, staring out at the sun shafts sliding through the trees.
“Go on,” I urge her.
“He was so sweet, but always so sad. He had his own issues. He was big into local real estate and trying to help me with working out collateral for a loan. Back then I didn’t know the slightest thing about working with banks or how to safely use my café as collateral without losing it. Not to mention my credit’s so bad I’d need ten cosigners to take out a thousand dollars. All he wanted was to help me because he loved my coffee so much. And then this other guy who was caught up in my dad’s hot mess just up and murdered him. All because he was using poor Mr. Bress to cover himself.”
“Your friend died because some asshole thought he was disposable,” I point out firmly. “Just because he knew you doesn’t mean his death was on your hands.”
“It was,” she repeats, clenching her fists against her thighs. “It’s a butterfly effect. Because maybe if Dad never did the things he did that entire chain of events wouldn’t have—”
“No point worrying about if when if is never gonna happen.” I frown.
Yeah, her old man was involved with drug runners—but he wasn’t around anymore, and I doubt Felicity’s taken up in his footsteps.
“Look, you can only worry about the now, and what’s to come. And right now, you can’t carry the cross of blame for your father’s mistakes. They’re his to bear and he’s gone.”
“...try telling that to everyone else,” she mutters miserably. “I just don’t want to see you or Eli hurt.”
“You think anything can hurt me?” I flash her a grin. “And you can be damned sure Papa Bear isn’t letting anyone near his son.”
She blinks at me, her mouth twitching in little spasms, almost like she can’t control it.
She finally loses the battle and her soft, sweet red lips turn up at the corners, a snort of amusement escaping her lips.
“Papa Bear, huh?”
“Got a smile out of you, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. You did. Congratulations.” Her eyes soften. “Thanks for that.”
“Anytime, Fliss.”
She just looks at me for a few long seconds, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
The woman’s an odd one. Seems like she’s got her heart on her sleeve, but there’s always something held back, too.
Like she’s keeping a secret in those shining eyes that study me like she’s trying to suss out my true motives. I’ve got a skittish one on my hands here, all right, and that gorgeous creature is trying to figure out if I want to have her for dinner.
I mean. Shit.
There’s a terrible joke or two I could make here about eating her—and about being an overgrown wild thing myself, looking for a mate.
I’m holding it in.
Barely.
Let me tell you, it’s a feat of goddamned strength.
I glue my eyes back on the road and not on the pretty girl I want to gravitate to with every breath.
“Hope you’re not too worried about heading up here with me. I’ve done riskier jobs in the SEALs. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I tell her.
“What if you’re what I need to worry about?” she asks solemnly.
I jerk so hard it’s a miracle I don’t stomp my foot on the brake.
“Uh.” I glance at her, wide-eyed. “Ma’am, I am not that kind of guy. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll turn right back around and go back for Eli. You can sure as hell bet I wouldn’t mess with a girl without her consent, but least of all in front of my kid.”
I’m not expecting the stifled snickering.
Or for it to turn into full-blown, playful, belly-busting laughter.
Vixen.
I scowl at her. “What’s so damn funny?”
“Nothing, I just...the look on your face! Oh my God.” She’s laughing behind her hand, her eyes bright above her curled fingers. “I wasn’t serious, Alaska. I wouldn’t be in this truck if I didn’t think you were a hundred percent safe.”
I don’t know if that warms me or rustles my jimmies just a little.
I’m glad she knows I’m safe.
I’m glad she feels safe with me.
But hell, I wonder if she even sees me as a man at all, if she doesn’t think I might just be looking her way. While I’ll keep my hands to myself without an invitation, sometimes that Cupid’s bow of her lips makes my wayward thoughts filthy things without my invitation.
That’s my problem to deal with, though.
I grumble and slump down in the driver’s seat.
“Can’t always tell when people are joking sometimes. My primary social life for the last twelve years has been Eli,” I say.
“Is it true what Holt says?” she teases. “That you spent more time around polar bears than people?”
Not this shit again.
“I think what’s true is I’m gonna have to string Holt Silverton from a ceiling fan by his balls. When did he tell you that?”
She smiles at me sunnily. “While you were checking the chains on the crane.”
“You mean when his lazy ass was supposed to be helping me,” I counter.
“He was helping you.” She blinks innocently. “He was helping me feel safe with you. I think he called you a—what was it again?” Felicity makes a big show out of thinking, tapping at her lower lip and raising her eyes to the roof of the cab. “A big teddy bear. That’s what he said. Just a big old fuzzy squish.”
“There’s nothing squishy about me, woman,” I say darkly.
“But you are kinda fuzzy.”
“Can’t deny that.” I grin, stroking my beard. Really oughta give it a trim, or just go straight-up Viking and start putting beads in it. “Does that make you want to pet me?”
There’s nothing but a strangled sound from her, and I glance off the road—I’m doing that too much with this girl—to find her staring stiffly out the window, her face red as a beet.
“Hey,” I murmur. “Just teasing. Promise you I really am harmless. We’re just killing time on a long drive, but I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
“You didn’t.” She laughs then, and it’s honest and sweet and real. A coil of tension in me loosens its grip. With one more shy peek at me, she brushes her hair back. “I’m not used to people being that easy with me. I mean, yeah, I have my friends who don’t care about the petty small-minded stuff, but they have their own troubles. I’m usually the one listening to them, trying to lighten their mood.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time you deserved somebody listening to you?” I ask.
“Deserved? I don’t know about that.” She gives me a smile that could bring summer to Fairbanks in January. “But it’s definitely nice to have your ear.”