Page 26 of Rescuing Dr. Marian (Made Marian Legacy #1)

And then there was the fact he wasn’t out. Or… whatever. It wasn’t my business to even act in a way that might imply Tommy was less than the straight man he appeared to be .

“Foster and I have training to finish,” Tommy said politely.

“I can send a student to take your place,” Robyn said, tilting her head at me. “Maybe one of your search and rescue students?”

“No need,” I said, my voice flat. “Come on, Chickie. Let’s take a walk.”

I turned and started walking toward the trees, Chickie’s leash tight in my hand. Behind me, I heard Tommy say something apologetic to Robyn, then the sound of footsteps following me.

“Foster, wait up.”

I kept walking, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of—that I’d start thinking of Tommy as mine when he wasn’t. When he never could be.

“Foster.” Tommy’s hand caught my arm, spinning me around. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing.” I glanced over his shoulder toward the meadow before realizing we were too deep in the trees to still catch sight of Robyn. “You should go help with the campfire program. Sounds important.”

Tommy stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Are you… jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are,” he said, and I could hear the amazement in his voice. “You’re actually jealous of Robyn.”

“Why would I be jealous?” The words came out sharper than I intended. “You can flirt with whoever you want. It’s not like we’re?—”

Tommy backed me against the nearest tree before I could finish the sentence, his hands braced on either side of my head. “Not like we’re what?”

His body was pressed against mine, warm and solid and completely focused on me. I could smell his scent mixed with pine needles and fresh air, could see the challenge in his eyes.

“Together,” I finished weakly.

“No?” Tommy’s voice was low, dangerous. “Then what do you call what we’ve been doing every night for the past week?”

“ Two weeks,” I corrected. My face heated, and my brain scrambled for an answer that didn’t make me sound like a complete asshole. “And I call it… temporary.”

Something flashed in Tommy’s eyes—hurt, maybe, or anger. But then his mouth was on mine, hard and demanding, and all rational thought fled.

This wasn’t the gentle exploration we’d been doing in our cabin. This was possession, claiming, a reminder of exactly who I belonged to, whether I cared to admit it or not. Tommy’s tongue swept into my mouth as his hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer.

I groaned and kissed him back just as desperately, my hands sliding down to grip his ass and pull him flush against me. He made a sound low in his throat that went straight to my cock.

“Just temporary, huh?” he asked against my lips.

Before I could answer, he was kissing me again, one hand sliding up to tangle in my hair while the other worked its way under my shirt. His fingers found the sensitive spot just below my ribs, and I had to bite back a moan.

“Tommy,” I managed, though I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a plea .

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, his mouth moving to my throat. “Tell me you don’t think about this every second of every day.”

I couldn’t. Because I did think about him constantly. Had since Hawaii. Every breath, every heartbeat, every quiet moment—he was there.

“I can’t,” I admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest.

Tommy pulled back to look at me, his eyes dark with want and something softer. “Then stop pretending this doesn’t mean anything.”

Instead of answering, I spun us around, pressing him back against the tree. His eyes widened in surprise, then heated as I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What are you—oh, fuck.” His words dissolved into a groan as I worked open his belt, then the button of his pants.

“Can this conversation be over?” I asked, looking up at him through my lashes. “Because I can think of something I’d like on my tongue way more than fucking feelings right now.”

Tommy’s head fell back against the bark, his breathing already ragged. “Christ, please.”

I pulled his cock free, already hard and leaking, and wrapped my lips around the head. Tommy’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, and his hands flew to my hair.

“Foster, fuck ?—”

I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I worked my way down his length. The taste of him, salt and musk, was just as exciting as I’d known it would be.

For weeks, I’d been trying to hold back with Tommy. To keep from rushing him when I guessed this was all new to him. To keep from rushing myself, when I knew how close I was to swan diving into love with him. But now I couldn’t hold back.

Seeing how much he wanted me made my own cock throb against my zipper. His fingers tightened in my hair, not pushing but holding, like he needed the anchor.

“Jesus, your mouth,” he gasped, trying to keep his voice down. “I can’t—oh god, just like that.”

I pulled back to tongue at his slit, gathering the precum there before taking him deep again. His thighs were trembling against my shoulders, and when I looked up at him through my lashes, his head was thrown back against the bark, mouth open as he fought to stay quiet.

“Foster, I’m not going to last,” he warned, his voice strained.

Good . I wanted him desperate, wanted him to remember this every time he looked at me for the rest of the summer, no matter who was standing beside him. Wanted him to remember long after the summer was over, too, the sight of me on my knees for him, making him shake and moan and beg.

I redoubled my efforts, using my hand to work what my mouth couldn’t reach while I sucked harder.

“Shit, shit, I’m—” Tommy’s warning cut off in a strangled moan as he came, his release hitting the back of my throat in hot pulses. I swallowed it all, working him through it until he was boneless against the tree.

When I finally pulled off and sat back on my heels, Tommy was staring down at me with something close to awe.

“That was…” he started, then seemed to lose the words .

“Good?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Devastating,” he said roughly. Then he reached down to pull me up for a kiss that tasted like both of us.

Afterward, we ended up in a clearing of soft pine needles, Chickie happily napping in a patch of sunlight nearby. Tommy sprawled next to me, still catching his breath, his hair full of pine needles and his lips swollen from my kisses.

“So,” he said eventually, turning his head to look at me. “Still jealous?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe a little.”

“Good.” He reached over and laced our fingers together. “Because I’m not interested in anyone else.”

The simple words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did.

This was supposed to be temporary, just a few weeks of scratching an itch.

But lying here with Tommy’s hand in mine, watching him smile at me like I was something precious, I had to admit the careful distance I’d been trying to maintain had crumbled…

or had maybe been a figment of my imagination since the beginning.

My chest ached to tell him, but I knew better. No point in confessing feelings I couldn’t afford to claim.

“I should probably get back,” Tommy said after a while, though he made no move to let go of my hand. “I did tell Robyn I’d help with the campfire thing.”

“Plenty of other people around to help,” I grumbled, then caught myself. “I mean, do whatever you want.”

Tommy’s smile was knowing. “Jealous again? ”

“Protective,” I corrected. “She’s obviously interested in more than your campfire skills.”

“And?”

“And you’re…” I stopped, the words getting tangled on my tongue.

What was he? Mine? Temporary? Something I couldn’t define?

“Busy,” I finished lamely. “With training. And… other things.”

Tommy laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Other things, huh?”

“Important things,” I said, pulling him closer. “Very time-consuming, important things.”

“Such as?”

“Well, Chickie still needs work on her sit-stay command.”

“True.”

“And we need to work on your training, too.” I brushed my thumb across his lower lip.

“My training?”

“Mmm. Seeing how well you focus even while distracted. Maintaining your… situational awareness, I think you called it?… in case there are wild predators in the area.”

Tommy’s breath hitched. “That could take a while.”

“The rest of the summer,” I agreed, then immediately regretted the words. Because summer would end, and Tommy would leave, and I’d be right back where I started.

In fact, I’d be worse off than before. The Foster I’d been two and a half weeks ago had only imagined what it would be like to have Tommy Marian in his bed, in his life. Now, I knew .

“Speaking of summer,” Tommy said casually, sitting up to brush grass off his shirt. “I’m flying out day after tomorrow for my Stanford interview. Just overnight—I’ll be back for the weekend exercises.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. I’d known about the interview, of course, but hearing him say it so casually—like it was just another item on his calendar—reminded me exactly what I was to him.

A summer distraction before he went back to his real life.

“Right,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. “Stanford. Big opportunity.”

“The biggest,” Tommy agreed, and I caught the excitement he was trying to hide. “Emergency medicine position, research opportunities, possibly even teaching at the medical school. It’s everything I’ve worked toward my whole life.”

Everything he’d worked toward. Not here, with me, but in California. In a world where I didn’t exist, where I’d never feel at home.

“You’ll get it,” I said, because it was true. Tommy was brilliant, dedicated, exactly the kind of doctor a place like Stanford would want.

“Maybe.” He was quiet for a moment, then looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “You ever think about leaving Wyoming? Doing something different?”

The question caught me off guard. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. SERA’s expanding—Trace mentioned they’re looking for a permanent SAR director. Or there are programs in Colorado, California. Places where your skills could make a real difference. ”

I stared at him, trying to figure out where this was coming from. “I do make a real difference. As sheriff of Majestic and a member of Wyoming SAR.” I’d told him so, that first night in Hawaii.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.

I just meant…” He hesitated. “Don’t you want to do SAR full-time?

Be outside instead of chained to a desk half the time?

” He gestured around us at the peaceful stillness.

The warm shafts of summer sun breaking lazily through green pines and the deepest blue sky visible beyond.

The soft buzz of bumblebees and the periodic skitter of small animals under the deadfall.

There was something in Tommy’s voice—hope, maybe, or testing—that made my breathing uneven. Like he was asking for a reason that had nothing to do with career advice.

“There is no full-time SAR job where I live, and Majestic is my home,” I said carefully. “My family’s there. My life.”

“Right.” Tommy looked away, and I caught a flicker of disappointment before he hid it. “Of course.”

We straightened up and brushed the pine needles off in silence after that, the easy intimacy of moments before replaced by something more complicated.

As we walked back toward SERA with Chickie trotting between us, I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing.

Not just with Tommy, but with everything.

Was I really happy mediating the same neighbor disputes and tourist mishaps year after year?

Watching my good friends and family move forward in their lives, toward the direction of their dreams, while I stayed in the same old place, comfortable and safe and increasingly alone ?

Was I just scared? Scared of taking risks, of wanting more, of admitting that maybe a small-town sheriff’s department wasn’t enough anymore.

Scared that when Tommy left for Stanford, he’d be taking the best part of me with him.

“Foster,” Tommy said quietly as we reached the main campus.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens with Stanford…” He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. “I need you to know… I never wanted this to be just temporary.”

Before I could respond—before I knew how I wanted to respond—he was walking toward the main building, leaving me standing there with Chickie and a chest full of feelings I had no idea what to do with.

Because if this wasn’t temporary for him, if he was starting to feel the same terrifying pull I was fighting every day, we were both in a lot more trouble than either of us had bargained for.

There was no world in which he’d be happy playing small-town doctor or where I’d be happy as a big-city beat cop.

As far as I was concerned, temporary was less about what either of us wanted…

And more about the only option we had.