Page 33 of One Lucky Hero (Men in Uniform 1)

“Fine, that’s fair.” What else could he say when she was so very right? He didn’t really want to know what was going on with Violet, did he? That would mean getting involved. Actually caring about her life and growing attached.

“Look, just so we have this all out in the open,” Tracy continued, “Violet has a ton of shit on her plate. Whatever you two did, it’s out of her system. She’s not going to call, text, or write. You had a thing, it’s over, and you can go your separate ways, right?”

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nbsp; Irrational anger coursed through him, despite the sneaking suspicion that it was exactly what Violet had planned. No lengthy, casual affair. Just a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am with her planning on taking off before he woke up.

And even though that was what he’d wanted, too, an insane part of him was actually butt-hurt that she wanted nothing more to do with him. Dean couldn’t stop the sarcasm from lacing his tone. “Maybe she should decide that.”

Dean hadn’t heard Violet leave the bathroom, but as she walked into the living room, he started.

“Decide what?” she asked.

Tracy gave him a pointed keep-your-mouth-shut glare before turning a beaming flash of teeth at Violet. “Nothing, girl. You good to go?”

Violet’s gaze flickered to Dean. “Yeah, I just . . . Do you mind giving us a minute? I’ll be right out.”

Tracy seemed perturbed at being dismissed but gave Dean a nod before walking out the door.

Dean studied Violet’s red, splotchy face as she gave him a forced smile. “Well, this is a really awkward way to say good-bye, huh?”

“It’s a first for me, yeah.” Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but her body language was guarded, her arms crossed over her chest protectively, like she was putting up a barrier between them.

“I’m really sorry for falling apart like that. My life is just really complicated, which I may have mentioned, and it’s why relationships just aren’t in the cards for me.” She ran her fingers through her hair, only making it wilder, and Dean wanted to smooth it back for her, cup the back of her head and bring her against him.

Still, he didn’t move, simply let her ramble on.

“And thank you for last night, and well, everything. I had an amazing time.”

Dean stayed silent, debating on whether to push her or not. It really wasn’t his place to ask, he hardly knew her. Finally, unable to resist touching her, he reached out. Cupping her face, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek gently, holding her gaze with his, willing her to trust him.

Just because you’ve had your mouth on her body doesn’t automatically give you clearance to her life story. Do you want her trying to divulge all your secrets?

But he wasn’t the one hurting right now; Violet was. And even though it wasn’t his right or concern, he didn’t like to see her in pain.

“You sure I can’t help?”

She covered his hand with hers and pulled it down with a squeeze before letting it go. “I appreciate the rescue last night, but I can take it from here.”

Dean grabbed a sticky note and a pen off the counter and scribbled his number down. Handing it over to her, he said, “Call me.”

“I will,” she said.

But as she leaned up and gave him a light kiss, he knew she was lying.

Chapter Nine

FIVE MINUTES LATER, Violet stared out the window of Tracy’s car as the signs along Highway 50 whizzed past, still holding the sticky note with Dean’s number between her thumb and forefinger. She didn’t know why she hadn’t just crumpled it up and thrown it away the minute she’d walked out his door, but despite all of the shit hitting the fan this morning, she couldn’t shake to image of Dean’s dark eyes watching her with understanding. It had been so tempting to unburden her problems on him, a virtual stranger, but it wouldn’t have been fair to saddle him with all of her drama.

“He gave you his number?” Tracy asked.

Violet stared down at the yellow sticky note with a sad smile. “He told me to call him.”

“Like for another booty romp or . . . ”

Violet sighed heavily, leaning her head back against the headrest. Frustration coursed through her at the ridiculous question. “Does it matter? I’m not going to do it. My life is way too messed up to drag some poor guy into it.”

If there is no way you’re ever going to call again, then why not just get rid of it?