Page 119 of Protecting What's Mine
“You ever tried asking her?”
Linc shook his head. “Nah. Figured I’d just be patient. She’ll tell me her story when she’s ready.”
“That sounds good and well-intentioned and all,” Ty said. “But you sure you’re not dragging your feet on the whole intimacy thing?”
“Oh, we’re intimate all right,” Linc said.
Ty drilled a finger into his chest. “That right there, Mr. Fun and Flirty Man Boy. You might say you’re ready for the real thing. But if you aren’t having the hard conversations now, when do you think you’ll get around to it?”
“What are you trying to say, sheriff?”
“You’re holding back. Just waiting for her to pack up and leave.”
“Sheispacking up and leaving,” Linc argued. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Heart can’t get trampled on if it’s still locked up in your chest,” Ty told him. “Maybe it’s time you put it out there.”
“Christ. What the hell did they put in those Hawaiian punches?”
“Go on and make your jokes, my friend. But the only way you’ll earn some very patient woman’s heart someday is by getting real vulnerable.”
Linc blinked at his friend.
“What?” Ty shrugged. “Soph got Oprah’s new book. It’s pretty good.”
“You’re saying you didn’t land Sophie Garrison by being a big shot in high school and then picking a career with a uniform that emphasizes your ass and your authority?” Linc asked.
Ty looked over his shoulder at his ass. “It really does look good in these pants, doesn’t it?”
“Damn right it does, brother.”
“And to answer your question, hell no. Soph wasn’t falling for any of that big shot routine. We broke up. She wanted to spread her wings. It wasn’t until I got real and told her that she was the only girl for me, and if she couldn’t commit, well, I’d be heartbroken, and I’d always miss her. But I would move on.”
“Oh, come on. You’re saying that shit worked?” Linc demanded.
Ty shoved his wedding band in Linc’s face. “That and one hell of a romantic proposal. Also, periodically knocking her up and putting away the laundry go pretty far, too. And only saying no to every sixth or seventh thing she asks me to do.”
Now it was Ty making jokes. But Linc knew the man, knew just how much he loved and valued his wife. What a unit they made together.
“I hear what you and Oprah are saying,” he told Ty. “But the doc’s made it clear. She’s only here temporarily.”
“And you’re too chickenshit to ask her to stay for real. You probably go around making jokes about weddings and babies. But in that charming, professional flirt way,” Ty said, doing a reasonable impression of Linc flexing biceps and winking at what he could only guess were invisible ladies.
The truth fucking hurt.
“I’m not agreeing with the chickenshit moniker,” Linc insisted.
“But?”
“But you might have a vaguely sort of almost-but-not-quite accurate point. Also, I only wink with my right eye, so your impression needs work.”
He demonstrated, and Ty staggered back. “Damn. It was like I heard adingwhen you did that.”
“Keep practicing,” Linc told him.
LINCand his crew headed back to the station and spent the next few hours on easy calls. He was up to his eyeballs in a grant proposal when his phone signaled an incoming video call.
“Jilly,” he said.
