Page 25 of Concealed

I absorb my surroundings for the first time, secure in the knowledge that I’ve got a muscular wall of man protecting me.

There are lots of families, couples, and groups of friends on the beach, clearly in vacation mode. The shops and stands are all lined with people, and the smell of fried food fills my nostrils. A few vendors are walking around hawking overpriced trinkets that people are buying so they can go home with the required, “I was in Sunnyville” T-shirt.

“Wallace tells me that it gets wild down here on the weekends,” Wyatt says. “I guess I’ll be spending a lot of time breaking up fights.”

Even though he’s not working, his eyes are always scanning our surroundings, leaving me free to drop my guard. And it’s such a relief because, dammit, it’s heavy carrying around fear all the time.

The tension melts from my body, but Wyatt doesn’t loosen his grip. In fact, with each step forward, he moves a little closer until our sides are nestled together.

When he drops my hand, I give him a puzzled look, but then he wraps an arm that’s as heavy as a steel beam around my waist.

“Now you’re even more protected,” he says.

His eyes are hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses, but there’s mirth in his voice. Thankfully, he isn’t holding my crazy against me.

“I could always climb up on your shoulders,” I joke back. “It’s an even better vantage point, plus then the bad guy will definitely get you first.”

Wyatt shakes his head. “You’re so ready and willing to sacrifice me. And here I thought we were going to be friends.”

Friends don’t usually stare at interesting parts of each other’s anatomy, but I don’t start that dialogue. I don’t have the guts to say the words anyway.

“I mean, you are a knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

“Oh, there are a few dings in my armor,” he returns. “What fun would it be if you were good all the time?”

Is he flirting with me? Or making a joke? Or maybe just trying to distract me?

God, why can’t I read men anymore? I never used to wonder if someone was into me – I could always tell. But my wires are all crossed with Wyatt, and even though I don’t date cops, it couldn’t hurt to kiss one and get my bearings in the dating world again.

I’ve been ready to move on for years. I wasn’t living with a partner, I was living with my captor.

But I also need time to figure out the next steps of my life, because things are messy as hell right now. Maybe Wyatt would agree to be friends with benefits because I think we could both use a little stress release.

What the hell am I thinking?

There’s no way I can suggest something so nuts.

But maybe I can get my flirt on and find out if I’ve still got it or if Matt took away all the good and sexy things about me.

Wyatt looks ready to apologize for his comment when I interject. “Bad is a lot more fun. I would expect nothing less from a dude who carries handcuffs around.”

He laughs, and it’s incredible to just be Rebecca again, if only for a fleeting moment.

“How about you? Do you carry around any tricks with you?” he teases.

“It will take at least three more walks for me to confess my sins to a cop.”

“That can most definitely be arranged.”

We spend a couple of hours walking around like tourists and familiarizing ourselves with the area, not that I plan on coming back on my own. At least not yet.

One day, I’ll walk out the front door and feel safe and secure about my place in the world, able to move around at will without second-guessing every decision.

For now, today was a great first step.

“It’s hot as hell,” Wyatt complains.

We’ve done a big loop and are back at his place. Rather than go inside, he flops down on a patio chair.

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