CHAPTER SIX

O’Shea didn’t know what the hell was going on.

One minute she was enjoying her walk on The Common, talking to Brigid, and the next, her bestie had gotten an emergency call from her husband.

That’s where things had broken down.

Brigid hadn’t been able to say exactly what the deal was with Sarge. Something about his foot, maybe? O’Shea had never gotten a definitive answer, but they’d had to hustle back to the hotel.

O’Shea, being a good friend, had told Brigid as she’d left, not to worry about picking her up for their night out at the restaurant; to take care of whatever the emergency was, and O’Shea would Uber.

Now, she’d emerged after taking a long, refreshing shower to two messages blinking on her phone. The first was telling her that her car warranty had expired. O’Shea snorted. The second was from Billboard. Apparently, he was now her designated driver.

Well, shit.

Excitement and apprehension warred within her.

Excitement, because she’d be seeing the man for whom she’d lusted, having imagined his handsome face for almost a year. And apprehension because, as bold as she normally was, she had to behave herself. Billboard was dating someone else, and for O’Shea, that put the man totally off limits. She was not a spoiler.

Going to her suitcase, O’Shea picked out a simple, mostly colorless outfit; gray pants with a white shirt, which she paired with a hastily pulled on, dark blue jacket. It was what she wore when she went undercover so as not to call attention to herself.

Tonight, it would be her armor.

She’d just finished blow-drying her short, dark hair when there was a sharp rap at her door. Padding over barefoot, she peeked out the spyhole, and…

Holy hell . There he was.

Even distorted by the cheap lens, the man looked drool-worthy. His blond hair was longer than she remembered, and lush. His shoulders…damn…more than filled out the entire viewfinder. She took in his breadth, fighting back an appreciative sigh, remembering how fine his body was.

The man’s dark eyes met hers through the glass, as if he knew she was looking at him, and she slowly pulled back.

Yup. He was verifiably gorgeous.

She leaned in again, and watched as he ran a hand back through his almost-no-longer-military-cut. Was he nervous about seeing her, too? It was a possibility, but she forcibly reminded herself that nothing could come of it.

Stepping back and taking a deep breath, O’Shea unfastened the chain-lock and opened the door.

She swallowed.

“Uh, hi Billboard,” she somehow managed, even though her brain was short-circuiting over his commanding presence, his manly, spicy essence that assaulted her nose, almost immediately, and his devastatingly beautiful, crooked smile. They all hit her at once. Every single attribute. Squarely in her chest. Somehow, she was able to step back and let him enter.

“Hi, O’Shea,” he returned gruffly, slowly walking in. “I hope you got my message and were expecting me.”

“Yeah,” O’Shea choked out. “I picked it up a few minutes ago, just after I finished my shower.”

A flush moved up his strong neck.

Maybe he liked thinking of her naked…

Inappropriate. Shut it down, O’Shea .

He gave a tip of his head. “Uh, sorry for the change of plan, but Sarge…” He trailed off, as if he, too, wasn’t exactly sure what Sarge’s problem had been.

“No worries,” O’Shea returned as breezily as possible. “One ride is as good as another.”

Huh. Had he winced?

“Well,” Billboard cleared his throat. “I guess we can be going, then. Are you ready?” He took her in from head to toe, and… “Uh, shoes?” He nodded toward her bare feet.

She turned abruptly, glad for an excuse to drag her gaze away from him, because she might have been staring at him a little too hard. “Let me get them,” she answered.

Walking once again to her suitcase, she lifted out a pair of flats and slipped into them. She didn’t feel the need, at five-foot-eight, to resort to heels to stay on par with the tall SOS team. But once she donned her footwear of choice and joined Billboard at the door, she entertained second thoughts. Next to him, O’Shea felt downright petite.

She remembered that from before; how protected he’d made her feel, even though she didn’t need protecting. Not that she hated being looked after. On the contrary. O’Shea had been taking care of herself for such a long time that being able to let her guard down when Billboard and his team were around had given her a welcome respite from her constant state of hyper-vigilance.

“I’m ready,” she told him, trying to remember to stay cool.

They both turned toward the door at the same time, and bumped arms. A jolt of electricity zipped up her skin, and when he laid a hand on the small of her back to steady her, she jumped away.

“I… It…” O’Shea took a long, deep breath.

Screw making excuses for her skittishness. It was important to be honest, here.

She turned to face Billboard. “Listen. I know I didn’t make any secret of the fact that when you were in Louisianna last year, I…liked you. But I heard you’re dating someone. So please do me a favor and don’t touch me.”

Billboard opened his mouth.

“I know, I know,” she cut him off. “It wasn’t like you were coming on to me just now. It was a little bump followed by a helping hand. I get that. But it felt really good, and it’s going to take me a while to switch gears and put you in the friend zone, since I’ve spent months fantasizing about you.”

Well, shit. She’d done it now. Sometimes her mouth ran ahead of her brain. Would he be disgusted? Would he pity her?

She peeked up at him, and almost fist pumped.

There. A shit-eating grin was trying to break out over his face.

“You…fantasized about me?” he asked.

O’Shea gave him a chin dip of acknowledgement, but needled him, too. “Sure. That’s your take-away from me asking you to tone down the testosterone; that you starred in my dreams? Seriously, Billboard?” She gave him a saucy flip of her hair and spun around to go, but he grabbed her arm. Gently, but it kept her from stomping out the door.

When she faced him again, his demeanor had turned serious; his dark eyes boring into hers.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

O’Shea twitched. “Excuse me?” She pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. Now he was going to fib to her?

His lips fought a battle to stay neutral over her overtly skeptical posture, but she could tell he was fighting a smirk.

“I said, I’m not dating anyone,” he reiterated.

She scrunched her brows together, growing angry. “Bullshit. Does the name Peggy mean anything to you?” O’Shea knew she hadn’t heard wrong when Brigid had mentioned the woman in Billboard’s life.

“Yes,” Billboard answered patiently. “She was a person I was with for about six months, but,” he continued easily, “we broke up two weeks ago.”

O’Shea blinked. “You broke up.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Two weeks ago.”

He grinned again. “That’s what I said.”

“Then how come Brigid doesn’t know?”

Now the big man looked uncomfortable. He regarded his shoes, shuffling them in place. “Do we have to talk about this?”

Damn. The man seemed like he’d rather be anywhere than standing here getting questioned.

Remembering from last year how quiet and understated Billboard was, O’Shea figured she needed to work with his reticent inclinations, rather than go against them.

She made him an offer.

“How about I take a few guesses as to why you haven’t spilled to your buddies, and in response, you can grunt once for yes, twice for no.”

That lovely color worked its way up into his face again, highlighting the day-old scruff that she yearned to rub against. She behaved herself. Barely . Still…

O’Shea was beginning to enjoy this, and yes, it had everything to do with Billboard’s newly revealed single status.

The man eventually shrugged and grunted once.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she beamed. “Soooo, you broke up two weeks ago, but you…” She went out on a limb. “…didn’t do the breaking up. Peggy did.”

Billboard’s Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down, then he gave a single grunt.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Billboard.” O’Shea reached out and laid a commiserating hand on his arm. The sparks flew on contact, but she attempted to ignore them this time. “It’s never easy when someone blindsides you and calls it quits.”

“Not exactly a blindside,” he choked out. “We were… There were problems all along.”

“I see,” she responded contemplatively. “Would it have anything to do with your resemblance to a clam?”

He scowled, looking a little confused.

“You know,” she clarified. “Closed up tight, not allowing all your little pearls of goodness and wisdom to slip out?”

“Little pearls of… Geeze, O’Shea.” He shook his head. “You’ve got me wrong. There’s nothing precious in my head. Just a lot of static that I have trouble managing.”

O’Shea gave Billboard a tender smile. He was opening up whether he realized it or not. “Static,” she repeated. “That’s got to be hard on you.”

Billboard shrugged, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and O’Shea understood that having shared something with her that not a lot of people knew, had to have been tough. Since he’d managed—perhaps inadvertently—to give her that much, she wouldn’t push the subject further.

She went back to his break-up.

“So you haven’t told your team about Peggy yet, because…” O’Shea tapped her lip. There could be a lot of reasons, but she picked two.

“Peggy became part of your friend group, and you didn’t want to disappoint them that you’d split.”

She paused and he grunted.

One affirmative. She posed her next supposition.

“You also feel like you somehow failed in the relationship, so you’re putting off the shit you’ll get from everybody because the guilt you’re carrying already feels like it’s too much.”

One of Billboard’s big hands came up to run slowly down his sharp-angled face. “Cripes, O’Shea. How do you do that? You sound like my shrink.”

She chuckled, happy that he’d admitted she was right, but also ecstatic to hear he was seeing a therapist. She teased Billboard. “So your shrink is bright, perceptive, and doesn’t let you get away with being a dope?”

He rebutted amusedly. “She never calls me a dope.”

Ahh. A woman. O’Shea wondered how that worked for Billboard. Perhaps seeing a female in a professional capacity made it okay for him to talk.

O’Shea gave him a sassy response. “That’s because you pay her, and she wants the gravy train with your big pockets to continue. Don’t expect the same deal from me,” she stated boldly. “If you quack like a dope…”

Billboard actually laughed, interrupting. “I think you mean duck.”

“Duck. Dope. Whatever. Just don’t think I’ll let you get away with stupid shit.”

“Oh. I won’t,” he answered with complete confidence. “You’ve never pulled any punches with me before, at least as far as I can remember.”

She regarded him steadily. “I didn’t,” she agreed, gathering her courage. “I liked you a year ago and laid my interest pretty much on the line. And Billboard, my regard hasn’t changed. I like what I’m seeing today, too.”

A dimple popped out on one of his cheeks. A rare sighting. Every time she’d been hit with it in the past, she’d wanted to kiss it. What if she—?

Before she could finish her thought, Billboard posed an impudent question. “Can we possibly get back to you not just liking me, but fantasizing about me?” he queried adorably.

Uh, duh. He asked for it.

“Fine,” she stated. “Hot on the list of nocturnal dreaming, is wanting to kiss that dimple.” She pointed to the divot which obligingly increased in size at her declaration. “Any objections?”

Two very amused grunts were his response.

With her heart fluttering in her chest, O’Shea moved forward, thinking she’d go up on tiptoes, but… Screw that . She reached toward him, threaded her fingers into his slightly shaggy high and tight, and dragged his head down to hers

The minute her lips found their target on his cheek, she groaned. Or was it Billboard? Either way, the slight contact immediately demanded…more. With her lips still firmly affixed to his five-o’clock shadow, she began to back up, dragging him toward the bed. They were almost there, when—

“Uh, O’Shea?” Billboard moved his head away from her kiss, reluctantly. “We have places to be.”

She let him go with a groan.

“And if we didn’t? Would we be getting horizontal right now?” she questioned cheekily.

Billboard grinned. “Umm…no.’ He shot her down amusedly. “I’m not that easy.”

O’Shea heaved out a disappointed sigh. “Well, I am.”

“Oh shit!” She realized what she’d just said, and immediately backtracked. “I mean I am with you . I’m not generally—”

Billboard laid a finger over her lips. “Shh,” he responded. “I get it. There’s chemistry here.” His tone grew serious. “But O’Shea, I have to be honest. There was chemistry with Peggy, too. What there wasn’t was conversation. Or openness. Or honesty. I never, uh, felt all that comfortable when we weren’t… Well, you know.”

O’Shea didn’t like to think about Billboard in bed with anybody, but she hoped she was hearing him correctly; that he was interested in something more with her. She knew full well that sometimes when you dated someone, you went with your physical feelings, your libido, and because of that, everything else suffered.

“What are you trying to tell me, Billboard? That it’s too soon for you to jump from one mattress to another?”

Please, please, please, tell me you want to explore everything with me , she inwardly pled.

He regarded her seriously. “No. It’s just… I don’t want to have a relationship with you that’s only physical…”

O’Shea’s heart did a happy flip.

Ding, ding, ding ! Give the man a prize. He’d said relationship .

“…but I’m not sure I’m capable of anything more. I’ve never had… I don’t know…”

Damn. Billboard looked so uncomfortable that O’Shea wanted to fill in the blanks for him, but she knew he had to get the words out on his own.

She waited as patiently as she could, and something in her accepting demeanor must have eased his anxiety, because eventually he smiled before continuing. His lovely, deep baritone, when it emerged again, sounded more confident.

“Here’s what I think,” he managed. “Before we let our monkey brains take over, I’d like to see if we have anything in common. If I can talk to you. If we can share…stuff,” he told her. “Is that asking too much?”

O’Shea couldn’t have been more overjoyed.

Billboard wanted something with her that he’d always been missing with a partner.

Her answer, when she was finally able to speak, was filled with tenderness. “No, Billboard. It’s not too much to ask for. It’s exactly right.”