Page 121 of One Lucky Hero (Men in Uniform 1)

She pulled into the garage of her parents’ home and stared in the rearview mirror at the house across the street where Danny used to live. The same one where he was now staying. She had no idea how much longer he’d be in town, but odds weren’t in her favor he would just leave her be. She’d thrown down the gauntlet and Daniel Patrick MacGregor had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Hitting the garage remote, the house slowly disappeared from view as the door lowered to the ground. Bree headed inside, her mother greeting her at the back door as she opened it.

“Can I help you carry some things in?” she asked while drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Nothing to bring in.”

Bree scooted past her mother, not yet ready to rehash the morning’s events.

“I thought you were going to the store?”

“I’ll go back later.”

She grabbed the ibuprofen from the cabinet by the sink, the dull ache behind her eyes now reaching epic proportions. After swallowing two small tablets with a single drink of water, she headed for her bedroom.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart? You look flushed.”

“Fine,” she said, ducking out of her mother’s reach. Twenty-eight years old and her mother still wanted to check her temperature with the back of her hand.

“Are you sure? You’re not running a fever, are you? Your immune system still isn’t where it needs to be. You need to be careful—”

“I’m fine, Mom. I swear. Just going to lie down for a bit.”

Bree darted upstairs, escaping to the relative peace and quiet of her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, sighing in relief to see her mother wasn’t hot on her heels.

She loved her dearly and wouldn’t have survived chemo treatments without her, but sometimes her mother’s care and concern was too much. Suffocating. And despite her best intentions, she was always reminding Bree that she’d been very sick, when all Bree wanted to do was put it behind her.

For now, she’d settle for crawling into bed and trying to forget the morning ever happened. As she closed the blinds, a familiar old truck pulled into the driveway across the street. The door flung open, and booted feet hit the concrete. Instinctively she jumped back from the window, not wanting Danny to think she’d been standing there, watching, waiting all this time for him to return home.

Bree held her breath and with the tips of her fingers lifted a single wooden slat so she could peek out. The old truck’s passenger door sat open wide, but there was no sign of either brother. The screen door swung open and Danny bounded down the porch steps, reaching the truck in four long strides. He grabbed the last few grocery bags from the floorboard and shoved the door closed with his elbow. On his way back into the house he suddenly stopped and turned to look across the street. At her house. At her bedroom window.

Despite peering through a tiny gap no wider than an inch, she knew he could somehow see her. She could feel his gaze locked on hers. But he didn’t drop the grocery bags on the front porch or storm across the street toward her. Instead, he just stood there. His expression completely unreadable.

Surely he wouldn’t march across the street and start things up again right now? He wouldn’t dare.

Oh, but he would.

Maybe he expected her to do something. Wave. Stick out her tongue. Flip him the bird. Instead, like a deer caught in a hunter’s sight, she stood frozen, unable to will herself away from the window. Then he did the very last thing she expected him to do.

He smiled.

A smile so wide, so bright, she hadn’t seen the likes of one in over a decade. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she’d missed that smile desperately and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Finally, Danny looked away, breaking eye contact, releasing her from his spell. As he turned to go inside, he shook his head, apparently unable to believe it himself.

For a long time after he went inside, Bree stood there looking out the window. And the more she replayed it in her mind, the more she began to wonder if she’d imagined the entire thing.

Only one thing was for certain—things between them were far from over.