Page 64 of Protective Heroes

I know all that to not be true. She distanced herself from her true self. Kami loved the outdoors as much as I loved the water. Navy boy and mountain girl. An odd match, but one I aim to see forged before she has a chance to leave again.

“Are you talking about the girl at breakfast?” One of Dave’s buddies fell into step beside us. “She was a riot. When you mentioned coming fishing with us, you’d have thought you asked her to gut and clean everything we caught.”

The two men laughed while I worked up an image—a younger version of the honey haired, blue- eyed beauty winning trophies for the largest fish caught three summers in a row.

These men didn’t know the Kami I knew. I needed to go to her, but couldn’t come up with an excuse that would get these men to cancel their last day out on the lake with me.

Tonight. After the fishing trip, I’d find her.

Suddenly, I felt more hopeful than I had in years. Since before I left the Navy and returned to Hartwood to start my business. Seeing my fellow team members and SEALs get married and start families made me edgier the more that went by. Now maybe it’s my turn.

If I can convince her to trust me again.

As I untied the boat from its mooring along the long dock, I allowed myself one more look back at the lodge, feeling like my whole life had changed the second I’d stepped over the threshold of the dining room this morning.

Tonight. The single word beat through my head, a reminder and a promise. Tonight, I’d find out if my beautiful, sky-eyed woman could give me a second chance.

Four

Kami

“Why did I let myself get talked into this?” I paced back and forth in my cozy little room. Though it didn’t seem quite as cozy anymore. Not since I slammed into it after all but running from the dining room.

No, cozy didn’t describe it. But other “c” words worked.

Cloying. Claustrophobic. Confined.

I marched the path again from the front window on one wall to the dresser on the opposite wall. My hand pressed against my chest as if I could force the air in and out of my lungs.

Being honest with myself, I had to admit, it wasn’t this room that was oppressive. I’d been fighting to breathe since before I returned to it.

No, my ability to breathe had been impacted the moment I heard his voice behind me. My whole body had responded as if he’d flipped a switch, I’d slapped duct tape over years ago. The careful control I pride myself on washed away like it had been hit by a tsunami and pulled out to sea. How on earth could someone I’d never met, hell, hadn’t even seen at that point, make me have that sort of physical reaction?

A tingle of fear ran up my spine, stopping me in my tracks. Was this how my mother had felt all those years ago when she found her ‘true soulmate’? Knots tangled in my gut at the memories and I pressed a hand to my gut to ease the pain.

I resumed my pacing, the hand on my chest moving up to shove my hair away from my face. As soon as I dropped my hand, my hair tumbled back down.

With an impatient huff I snatched a hair band from where I’d left several on the nightstand. I twisted my heavy hair into a knot at my neck, for once not caring about styling it into something neat and tidy, just needing it out of my face.

My mind flashed with an image of Trevor Ford. I sat down hard on the bed as I recalled the moment when the man came into view. If I’d thought his voice did things to me, that was nothing compared to how I reacted when I caught my first sight of him after so many years.

My one-time sweetheart was tall, his shoulders broad, testing the limits of the red plaid, flannel shirt he wore. His dark hair was in need of a trim, beginning to dip down over his forehead.

And his eyes. Holy. Hell. They still had the power to knock me off my feet.

The rich dark brown seemed almost black. The minute I caught his penetrating gaze on me, I felt as if he could see every deep, dark corner of me. Every thought, every secret, every feeling I had for him, and still do.

The oddest part was that I wanted to let him see all that. I wanted him to see past the perfectly tailored clothes I used as a mask to hide the pain he left me with. Past the neat hair and carefully applied makeup. I wanted him to see beneath the still waters of the surface and into the murky, churning depths of me.

I wanted him to pull me from those depths. Did admitting that make me weak or honest?

And then he sat across the table from me and smiled and took my hand like we’ve done this every day of our lives.

Like a scarred idiot, I’d fled. There was no other way to describe it. When I tried to speak to him, I found myself choking on all the things I wanted to say.

I hadn’t been able to sit there and pretend I could engage in a normal conversation. I’d stood and stuttered out a few words of needing a minute before I flew up to my room.

I dropped my face into the palms of my hands, my elbows to my knees. I was the owner of a very successful business. I’d negotiated with the best of them, from extremely wealthy landowners to temperamental chefs. None of it ever fazed me, and I always got what I wanted.

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