Page 53 of Rafael

He pulled his shoulder holster out of the closet and laid it on the bed. When he went out today, he’d pack his weapon. One break-in might have been acrime of opportunity with strangers in town for the festival.

A second attempted break-in at the same building had been intentional. The intruder may or may not have been armed.

Rafael wasn’t taking any chances. He’d be ready, and he’d be there for Gisele as a professional.

The personal stuff had to go on hold until Gisele was no longer threatened and he had the bandwidth to sort himself out.

Rafael squared his shoulders and emerged from the bedroom, determined to maintain focus no matter what.

Gisele met him with that beautiful smile that made his groin tighten and his thoughts scramble. “Ready?”

Oh, hell no.

He fought the urge to go back to the bedroom to wrangle his scattered brain cells before coming back out to face her. Instead, he gave her a brief nod and took a seat where she indicated at the tiny dinette.

She’d laid out their plates of eggs, cutlery, a small stack of toast and the jar of apple butter. “I warmed your coffee in the microwave. Be careful; it might be too hot.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice gruff.

He picked up his fork and stared at the plate for a long moment.

A slim hand reached out and touched his thigh. “Hey,” Gisele spoke softly. “Whatever you’re thinking...stop.”

He looked up, his brow puckering.

“Just because I stayed last night doesn’t mean I’ll expect to stay forever. I’ll be back in my own apartment tonight. Now, eat before your eggs get cold. I have a lot to do in the shop this morning.”

He wanted to tell her he wasn’t stewing over the fact she’d stayed the night. But that wouldn’t have been true. Waking up with her in his apartment had changed everything.

And she believed she could fix it by going back to her place? That only made his gut knot tighter.

Fuck.

He stabbed his fork into his eggs.

He’d broken his own self-imposed rules. Now, he had to figure out where that left him.

As if totally unaware of the war being waged in Rafael’s head, Gisele carried the burden of conversation. “We sold so much yesterday, I need to restock, and I’m also low on certain ingredients for my remedies. My grand-mère promised to bring what I need into town, but I have to meet her at the festival later this afternoon to get them.” She ate her scrambled eggs and then selected a piece of toast from the stack, slathering a healthy portion of apple butter across the surface. “Today is the last day of the festival. It’s usually the most hectic day and night with the biggest musical acts on stage. Things should calmdown after the tourists leave tomorrow morning. We’ll have a little residual surge through the shop, but then we’ll be back to our normal seasonal traffic.”

How could she sit across the table so cool, calm and beautiful when his insides were in panic mode?

She bit into her toast and chewed. “Will you be going to the boat factory today?”

He choked down the bite of egg he’d just taken and shook his head. “I’ll be here all day.”

She glanced around the apartment. “You don’t have much left to unpack.”

“I didn’t have a lot to begin with. You don’t accumulate a lot of things when you’re always on the move.”

She tilted her head and studied him. “You didn’t have a house or apartment to come back to?”

“Sometimes. Then I’d get PCS orders andhave to pack my shit and move or pay for a storage unit. It was easier to keep my physical assets to a minimum.” He nodded toward the sofa and coffee table. “Besides the mattress in my bedroom, that’s the first new furniture item I’ve purchased in ten years. I bought gently used stuff wherever I went and sold it when I shipped out.”

Her hand paused with the piece of toast halfway to her mouth. “Not having a home had to be hard. You never married?” She bit into the toast without looking up.

The memory of him standing at the altar, waitingpatiently as the processional music started and stopped three times flashed through his mind. No one had come down the aisle. Not the flower girl or the ring bearer. Not the maid of honor or the bride’s maids—until the bride’s mother had stepped through the door and whispered into the ear of one of themale attendants. As the guy had hurried up a side aisle, Rafael could tell he wasn’t happy. He’d passed Rafael and whispered in the preacher’s ear.

The preacher had given Rafael an apologetic grimace and announced that the wedding would be postponed. The bride was indisposed.

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