Page 34 of Sighs By the Sea

He pulls back, but there's an affectionate smile on his lips. Sometimes, I can't believe this is the scowling man I met two years ago. My heart gives a little flutter at the thought that I brought this out of him. Even while his son is hundreds of miles away, he found a grin for me. He clears his throat and averts his gaze. “I’m sorry to bug you at home. But I figured this was easier than another long boring dinner.”

The flutter turns to gut-churning in an instant. Our dinner had not been boring at all to me. He couldn’t mean that. I eye him suspiciously, my hurt turning to anger in an instant. He’s trying to push me away. It's perfectly clear to me all of a sudden. Fine by me. We shouldn't be anything more than cop and victim anyway.

I cross my arms. “I don’t mind seeing you, Grayson. But I am curious, how did you know where I lived?” Not curious. More like concerned. If Grayson could find my place, more than likely others could too. Seeing him show up is fine, I trust him, but others I’ve arrested wouldn’t be so welcome. Am I trying to pick a fight? Possibly. But it's true.

“The white pages online, Maggie. I’m not some dangerous criminal. You know that, right? I was a fucking accountant.” His words are snappy.

I roll my eyes. "An accountant for the mob. The mob, Grayson. Whether you want to admit it or not, that makes being around you dangerous."

His fists clench at his sides as his eyebrows dip low. It's supposed to be menacing, but after getting to know Grayson, it's almost amusing to see the wolf come out now. "You think I don't know that? Ask me where my son is if you for one second think I've forgotten what being around me does."

My stomach sinks at that. Hearing him blame himself for anything negative in George's life is heartbreaking. Can't he see how great a father he is? If he'd known my dad, he would be buying himself trophies every week. "George is fine, Gray, because you made the right choice."

"Yes, he's fine. Because he's not with his mob accountant father." He’s walking towards the door, and I rush to catch up.

“Whoa, you can't just drop that bomb and take off.” His pace picks up, but I swerve around him to block the door. “Just stop!” Both my hands push against his chest. His rock-hard, delicious chest. He glares at the touch, but I don't let that stop me. “You care about your son more than anyone I know. Moody Grayson, building LEGOs with his son and tickling him after daycare.”

His face goes stoic, and that only manages to piss me off even more. “Don’t pretend like you’re not hurt.” I twist my face into an exaggerated scowl. “I’m a big man, I don’t care that my son’s gone.”

Still, his expression doesn’t change. “Are you through?”

I puff air out to get the hair out of my eyes. “Yes. But I promise you this, Grayson, I won’t rest until we get the person that put a price on your head. I’ll track down this Kip person and Axe and send them both to jail. I’m a damn good detective.”

To my surprise, he scoffs. “Not that good. Weren’t you listening? Kip warned me, and Axe said it was a hit given to the gang, not that he ordered it.”

“Whatever! I’m trying to say I’ll help you, regardless of who you worked for. Doesn’t that buy me some level of trust?”

He purses his lips together. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” He says it with venom, and my stomach clenches. I hadn’t been sorry. It was one of the best kisses of my life. For some reason, I know that he's taking things out on me. I've done nothing wrong and yet he's trying his best to hurt me. Go for it, I think, I eat assholes like him for breakfast. That sounds weird, even in my head, but I ignore it and open the front door.

“Fine. Fantastic. Another man with regrets about Margarette. Get the hell out of my house!” It isn't the first time someone has called me a mistake. I'd probably need Harry's help to list out the men that have crushed me in the same way that Grayson is trying to right now. The difference is, I know how bad he's hurting, and I refuse to be his punching bag. Support is fine, but he obviously doesn't want that from me right now.

“Happy to, Detective.” His words are bitter. I step to the side, and he walks out. When he’s gone, I lean against the door, trying to calm my racing heart.

No. I’m not going to let some sexy jailbait of a man convince me I’m a mistake. I lock my door and stomp back to my computer desk, determined not to let him get under my skin. Whatever’s going on in Grayson’s mind, it's his issue to work out.

“All right, I’m back. Where’s the objective?” I bark into the headset. Before long, I’m tearing through cartoon enemies like it’s my only way to live. If Grayson Cardenas thinks he can get to me, he has another thing coming.

Grayson

Isit in my recliner, a cup of amber liquid in hand. The lights are dimmed in my condo, but I can't stop staring at the unfinished Batmobile—George’s little project, half-finished. I can't touch it, can't stop looking at it. It symbolizes my chaos, my failure as a dad to protect my own son.

And that’s not all that plagues me.

Three freaking days. It’s been three days since my fight with Maggie, and I still can’t get her damn hurt look out of my mind. Why was I so mean? “I’m sorry I kissed you,” I had said. Just an outright lie. The number of times I’ve thought of that kiss borders on obsession.

Seeing her in those adorable pajamas, her auburn hair framing her beautiful face, stirs things within me—not just desire. I can almost picture her and my son running around the house, being goofy, building LEGOs, and cuddling. But hell, my life isn’t meant for those things. Anyone who gets close would be in trouble, just like my wife.

The sad look on Maggie’s face when she told me to leave plagues my dreams. I did the right thing. Nothing could ever come of what I feel for Maggie.

My life in the Cardenas family made me hard and closed off to everyone. It only got worse when my wife was taken from me. The stiff attitude grew through the years, especially in prison. In all honesty, it’s probably for the best that Maggie—Detective Parker—is scared off. And really, wasn't that what I was trying to do? Being around her, it hurt. It physically ached my body to be around her and not grip onto her for comfort. When she hugged me, I let myself feel it, truly feel it. Everything about it was exactly what I needed. I want to go back, sweep her off her feet, and beg for just one more touch. A hug. A place to rest my tired chin while someone else takes some of my pain for even a fraction of a second.

I'm a melodramatic mess.

A knock on my door shatters my thoughts. I rise to my feet, a little wobbly after a few too many bourbons, and open it up.

Greg and Tommy stand in my doorway. Tommy holds up a six-pack of beers and smiles. “Tilly sent us.”

Of course, she did. Tilly doesn’t know how to mind her own business. But it’s not all Tilly’s fault. Miranda surely told Tilly about the problems at the office. I’ve been sulking around for days, not even bothering to feign interest in work or Miranda’s frequent fights with Roger.

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