Page 46 of Unexpected Temptation

Tristan looks down at Loki, deep into the dog’s eyes, as though he can’t imagine the same happening to him. Tristan’s eyes are shimmering, but it’s like he’d never let himself cry.

“I held him, tried to stop the bleeding with my hands, my shirt, anything. His eyes were on me, those trusting eyes. I whispered to him, telling him he was a good boy, the best damn dog I’d ever known. He was slipping away, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I felt helpless. He died there, in my arms, in the middle of that hell.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the words feeling useless.

“Reinforcements arrived,” he goes on, shaking his head as if to say,too late.“We pushed the bastards back, but it didn’t matter. So damn many were gone. After the firefight, it was like the world had been muted, but inside, I was screaming. Then guess what?”

He laughs dryly like the whole world’s a joke.

“As I tried to move, a sharp pain tore through my side. I had taken a hit; it must have been the adrenaline keeping me from feeling it until then. I slumped against a rock, blood soakingthrough my uniform. I made a promise to Odin, right there, right then, that I’d make something good come from all this shit. I promised him I’d open a dog sanctuary where dogs like him could live, train, and be loved. It was the least I could do for him, for all of them.”

Now, he turns his glassy eyes to me. Shivers dance through me, but they’re not the steamy kind. Or maybe they are, but not completely. There’s more going on here. I want to say something to help, but what? I’m grateful when he goes on.

“They call it survivor’s guilt, but it’s more than that. It’s a wound that never heals. Odin was a good dog, the best damn dog, and he gave everything for me. I owe him to keep that promise and make sure his sacrifice meant something. So, when I got back stateside, I started working on it—a sanctuary for dogs in memory of Odin and the boys we lost, but I needed cash.”

He runs a hand through his Marine-cut hair. “That’s where my childhood buddy came in,” he says. “I never did anything unforgivably bad, Maya.”

“I never said you did.”

He’s looking at me now, and I sense maybe he wants to reach over and touch me. To feel that heat we shared, but something’s stopping him. “But you’ve been so…” he pauses, “… relaxed about it.”

“What do you expect me to do? Quiz you? It’s not my place, is it?”

That makes all this seem sour, like a business transaction, but it’s so much more than that. I don’t want him to think anything we share is because of work, but without him, the fact is, I’m done.

“Aren’t you concerned about working for a criminal?”

“Is that how you classify yourself?”

“It’s what I am,” he says, his tone getting sharp. “We always have to try and be cold, logical, honest.”

“Who’swe?” I ask.

He smirks, and I love that I can draw that out of him. “Just people.”

I thought you meant “us” for a second, I almost say, but that would be too much.

“I just want to keep Mom comfortable,” I murmur. “That’s my only concern.”

“Oh.” He turns, looking over at the garden. He doesn’t need to say anything for me to know something’s on his mind. It’s like he’s almost twitching with it.

“What?” I say.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not my place.”

“Now youhaveto tell me,” I say, my heart rate picking up even if it has no reason to. Nothing bad is happening. Yet when he looks at me again, it’s almost like there’s judgment there. “Tristan?”

“You must know, Maya,” he says. “Your mom, she belongs in a home.”

I grind my teeth as my instinctive response tries to leap up, a “go to hell”on my lips, before I get myself under control.

“People have been saying that,” I murmur, “but it’s like giving up.”

“If this whole thing is about making her comfortable …”

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