Page 72 of One Night With You

“Maybe you can go back to just doing paperwork forever.” She grinned as she said it, and I knew she was joking, even if part of her was telling the truth. My mother and fathers did the same thing. They didn’t want me out there. And it wasn’t as if I shot up the bad guys or arrested people. I had never fired a gun other than on the range. That wasn’t what I did. I made sure the people who were around me were safe and got them where they needed to be. I wasn’t James Bond.

And when I told Claire that, she just rolled her eyes. “You do like martinis though.”

I nearly shrugged, then remembered the twinge. “Because I like olives with blue cheese. That’s really the only reason to drink just pure vodka.”

“So you don’t do gin?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve only done vodka. Now I feel like I should have done a gin martini. Maybe that would be different.”

“I don’t know, most gin tastes like Pine-Sol to me.”

“I think we need to get you the right gin.” This felt weird—as if we’d been sitting like this, having normal conversations all of our lives.

She smiled then, before handing me my tea. “Drink this. So that way I don’t have to lie to your mother.”

“Fine. For Mom. But you have to drink yours too.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know she told me to?”

“Because you’re drinking tea when I know you like coffee more.”

“There’s nothing better than a latte with caramel drizzle. Sugar and I are best friends.” She kissed her fingers in a chef kiss, and I grinned, clinking my mug to hers.

“To getting off this couch.”

“You can go to bed anytime you want.”

“Only if you’re with me.” Her eyes went dark for a moment, and I reached out, playing with her hair. “You’ve been spending a lot of time over here, helpingme. Hell, most of the past weeks have been about me, my family, planning a party, and then working with Buckley and the whole ward. Are you having time for yourself? With your friends?”

“It’s weird that all my friends are pretty much your friends too. So I do spend time with them. And I’m working. My life isn’t all about you, I promise. But I don’t mind part of it being about you. I like you.” She pressed her lips together, as if wanting to say something more, and I swallowed hard, my chest tightening once again, this time forcing me to set my mug down.

“Claire,” I began, and she held up her hand.

“It’s fine. I know you’re not feeling well, and we totally don’t need to talk about feelings. It would just feel out of place right now.”

“I haven’t felt like this before.”

I knew as soon as I said the words, I had said the wrong thing. Her face fell just for an instant, before she smoothed out her features again, and sipped her tea.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Claire.”

“You really don’t have to say anything. You’re healing, and we’re waiting on news from Buckley’s family. So why don’t we just get back to work, okay?”

I was doing this all wrong. I just hadn’t let myself think about what I felt for her. Because I wanted Claire. I wanted her in my life, and I liked her a lot. But whatwas love? What was that feeling? Shouldn’t you just know? Considering how many people in my life were in healthy, loving relationships, you would think I would know exactly what that meant, but I didn’t. Was it this heart-wrenching feeling that caused me pure panic? Was that love?

“I care about you,” I blurted, wanting to say something. Anything. How was I supposed to know if I was in love with her? Why wasn’t there a manual on this?

She flinched at the words, then she set her tea down very carefully.

“Shit. That is the worst fucking thing to say. I know that, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t felt like this before either. So don’t apologize.” Her words were so clipped, icy, that I was afraid that she’d walk away.

“Claire, I just...”

“Don’t. Those are your feelings. And mine are my own. I care about you.”

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