Page 38 of Welker

He’d declared his intentions to Moira—whatever those might end up being—and now the ball was in her court.

He was thrilled she hadn’t just slugged him and walked away, called him delusional, or even worse, vowed never to talk to him again. He just wished he’d had time to draw her out into revealing her thoughts; see if she would have acknowledged his honesty with something more than a nod.

Of course, as he’d known it would be, their conversation had been interrupted as team members egressed the house, which was why he hadn’t wanted to get into things until they’d gotten back to his place, but…

Welker wanted to laugh. Moira, who was always so put-together and buttoned-up, had clearly thought about things so long and hard, she hadn’t been able to contain herself, and had spouted out her concerns at a very inconvenient time. Welk took that as a positive—that he’d been on her mind— hence, he’d answered as concisely as possible.

There were more questions, of course, that would need to be aired, but he remained upbeat because that particular laundry was on its way to being hung.

Did he know what any of it would entail? He hadn’t a clue. Was he looking forward to finding answers? Hell, yes, and he hoped Moira was prepared for what was coming.

He could see her worrying her bottom lip as they walked back toward the house to reconnoiter with everyone standing in her yard, and he wanted nothing more than to soothe that lush bow as well as her conflicted emotions. But both would have to wait. For a while, she’d need to chew on this new information he’d put forth, making up her mind, eventually, whether she wanted to take a chance on them exploring what might be between them, or choosing to ignore it.

If she picked option number two, Welk wouldn’t be discouraged. He’d simply have to work harder

Moira was no chicken, though. He knew that. A small thrill went through his body, believing that she wouldn’t back away from the gauntlet he’d thrown. Which had him pondering… What will come next?

If she opened herself up to…dating him, what then? How long before he could run his hands, unfettered, through her thick, lush hair? How would their mouths mesh once they got a taste of each other? Did Moira like to be on top during sex, or on the bottom?

Fuck. Now his dick was hard, and that was the last thing he needed.

Thankfully, he’d pulled the tail of his shirt out of his waistband earlier in order to mop sweat off his brow, so at least nobody would be aware of his indiscretion. He needed to get himself under control, however. Someone was bound to notice the flush he knew was on his face, or the rapid pulse in his neck as he contemplated what was underneath Moira’s clothes.

Down, boy. Down.

He conjured images of Moira’s destroyed belongings, and the devastating picture rapidly did the trick, deflating his libido.

Mason gave a quirk of his head, and led a number of the group back into Moira’s now empty living room. “Looks like we’re pretty much set, here,” he told Moira. “You’ll want to have a professional cleaning crew come through, once your insurance approves it.”

Right. A few of the assholes had made it a point to piss on not only her clothes, but her floor, and even though the team had sprayed the urine stains down with cleaner, the stink remained.

“I can’t thank you enough, everyone,” Moira began, looking at her boots before she raised her eyes to those standing around. “And you, Mase. You’ve been…”

She walked forward a few tentative steps, drew in a deep breath, then reached out and put her arms around the chief, hugging him.

To say that Mason looked shocked was an understatement.

Welker, too. And every teammate whose mouth dropped open.

The boss floundered for a few seconds, wide eyed, then his astonishment morphed into a grin which he sent over her head to Welk, before he heartily returned her gesture.

“We’re here for you, Moira,” Mase assured her, patting her calmly. “Any time, any place. We’re your back-up with these MC assholes, since your own department doesn’t seem to be stepping up.”

They ended their clinch, and each backed up a few steps as everyone—almost as if permission had finally been given—came over and gave Moira a quick hug, before waving and leaving.

Moira waited until everyone but Welk and Mason had departed. “I don’t quite know what I’ve done to deserve all this…” She sent an arm around the now empty room.

“You’re one of us,” Welker rasped, wondering how such a caring team-player couldn’t see her value.

“Well, thank you.” Moira hung her head and contemplated the floor, clearly done with the touchy-feely sharing.

Mason understood that they’d pushed the limits of her interpersonal skills, and his tone became serious. “Now I have some orders for you.”

Moira raised her eyes and nodded, snapping her spine straight and appearing more like herself now that they were back to business.

Cripes. Welker was in trouble over the Jekyll/Hyde thing. He wanted both versions of Moira. The kick-ass SWAT member, and the vulnerable softie. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted all versions of the fascinating woman, which he knew had to be many.

Mason led them outside again to where everyone was still hanging about. Sin edged in and laid a hand on Moira’s arm, lending her silent support.

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