Page 30 of His Christmas Star
“Which I see, now that it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late,” I whispered. “You can show him the same respect now in death. You can remember the lessons he taught you and let them lead your life.”
“Trust me, beautiful, I already live that way. The lessons he taught me both when I was doing things right and when I was doing things wrong have shaped my career and who I am as a man. He taught me integrity and respect, which I often fall back on when I’m in a situation where I want to do the opposite. He taught me kindness and fairness, which I try to incorporate into the way I police. It’s just not enough.”
“Not enough for what, Joe?”
“To keep his legacy alive? I sound ridiculous, but I’m trying to put it into words, and I can’t.”
I turned and cupped his cheek the best I could with the design of my hand. “Then stop trying. Give it time, and you’ll find that it will fall into place by itself. You are his legacy, Joseph Nash. He left his mark through generations, and now it’s your chance to keep that legacy of honorability alive. You are an honorable man. Your dedication to the people of Wellspring is proof of that.”
“I hope so,” he said with a smile. “I just don’t want to feel guilty for the relief filling me now that he’s gone. It’s not a relief for me but for him. Will people judge me if I go back to work as though nothing happened?”
“Joe, no,” I promised, bracing my forehead on his. “Everyone deals with death differently, and that’s just the truth. No one will judge you, and if they do, who cares? They’re not walking in your shoes. I’m not surprised that you want to go back to work. You’re the sheriff, a man of integrity who understands that other people have lives too, and for every day you’re gone, someone else has to pick up the slack. Daddy Nash taught you to be a man of principle and to work hard. If you can put your emotions aside to do the work, then I say go for it. But if you’re going to be distracted, then stay home. Distraction with your job could be deadly.”
“Sound advice,” he agreed, kissing my nose. “Thanks for letting me stay tonight. I needed to feel connected to someone after losing the only connection I had.”
“That’s not true,” I assured him. “You’ve got this entire town, Joe. Most of all, you’ve got me. I will be here for you just like you were there for me when Cody died. I’ll shoulder the blame for you the same way you did for me.”
“There’s no blame here, Star. There’s just acceptance of what was and what now is. He was already in his fifties when he adopted me, so I always knew I’d lose him early. I should have worked harder to build connections. To find my way back to you.”
“What do you mean? I’ve always been here.”
“You have been, but I put you in a box labeledDo Not Touch,” he said, a shiver running through him. “You were vulnerable and sad. Lonely and mad. I was scared, but I shouldn’t have waited for twelve years to be honest with you about how Cody’s death affected me. I most certainly shouldn’t have waited twelve years to kiss you. Did you feel the connection when our lips touched?”
I nodded, my throat dry now that we’d strayed from safe conversation into territory that was dangerous for my heart. Joe shifted, lowering his lips to mine and kissing me. It was gentle, unhurried, and even better than the kiss last night. The connection was there, but there was something deeper now pulling me under until I lost myself in the taste, scent, and feel of him. He was hungry for a connection, and he’d found one with me. I would give him that for tonight, but that was all this could be. We could share kisses in the dark of night, but there was too much left unsaid in the daylight.
“Want you, Star,” he muttered against my lips, digging deeper for whatever it was he wanted that I hadn’t offered yet. “Have for twelve years.”
He continued to kiss me, but my mind was still stuck on ten seconds ago when he said he’d wanted me for twelve years. Was he serious? He shifted, throwing one leg between mine, and I immediately understood what he meant. He moaned, drove his tongue deeper into my mouth, and thrust his hips against my leg as he lost himself in me. I couldn’t let it continue. He only thought he wanted me. Not like this. Not when we were both vulnerable and not thinking clearly. I’d rather not have him at all than have him once and watch him walk away.
I broke the kiss and rolled to the edge of the bed, ready to make a break for it, but he caught the edge of my sweatshirt and held tight. I refused to turn and look at him. I’d lose all resolve to leave if I did.
“Where are you going?”
“To a different room to cool my boots,” I answered, glad I could have this discussion with my back turned.
“Because of your boots?” he asked, still tugging on my sweatshirt.
“What?” I asked, turning to look at him. I cursed myself immediately. He was so damn handsome sitting there, tugging on my sweatshirt to come back to bed.
“I know about your feet, Star.” His voice was gentle, but I had no doubt the words he spoke were the truth.
I yanked my shirt from his hands and stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I took two steps and tipped, my forehead smacking the floor in the next second.
“Tobi!” Joe was on me before I could push myself up or rollover. He lifted me carefully and set me back on the bed. “Is anything hurt?”
“My pride?” I asked jokingly, but he didn’t smile. His intensity was starting to make me sweat. “I’m fine, Joe.”
“I think you’re going to need a bag of peas for that head.” His thumb rubbed over the spot on my forehead where I could already feel a bump forming.
As I stared into his worried face, I knew I might as well own the discussion. It was happening whether I wanted it to or not, so I would try to mitigate the damage at the very least—the damage to my heart, that is.
He organized the pillows against the headboard, propped me there, and then crawled over to the other side. “Do you get off balance a lot?”
“I do if I don’t wear my boots or house shoes. I actually can’t walk without them.”
“Then why did you just try? Do you have a death wish?”
