LITMIR.BIZ

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Why don’t I put on some clothes and come heat up some food for you, and you can tell me what the doctor said?”

      “I’m fine.” Food sounded good, but more trouble than he wanted to go to this late. “I’m just going to shower and go to bed. Good night.” He pulled the door closed and waited until he heard the bolt.

      Ten minutes later he had Mickey tucked into bed, and was stepping from the shower when he heard a knock on the back door. It could only be Nikki. He considered ignoring it. Hadn’t he faced enough temptation tonight? But he owed her for his previous rudeness.

      Sighing, he pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of navy sweatpants and went to answer the summons. He opened the door to a steaming plate of food. Savory aromas floated to him on the night air, making his stomach growl.

      Nikki cocked her head and grinned. “It goes against my civic duty to let the Sheriff go to bed hungry.”

      She’d donned low-riding gray sweatpants, and her pink tank top stopped just above her waist, leaving a band of creamy skin visible. The sight of her made him hungry for more than food.

      “Is that macaroni and cheese?”

      “It’s homemade mac and cheese. Plus smoked sausage and sliced tomatoes.”

      “Okay, you can come in.” He took the plate and left her to follow him. “How did you manage homemade macaroni and cheese with only a coffeemaker and a microwave?”

      “It’s leftovers from dinner with my sister. It’s my mom’s recipe. I make it better.”

      “This is pretty good.” He stabbed a piece of sausage. “You’ll have to send my compliments to your sister. It must have been rough on the two of you to lose them both together.”

      “Yeah.” She sat down across from him and laid her hands flat on the table. “But they would have wanted it that way. My mother was a good military wife, she went wherever Dad was stationed. They loved each other very much—were the center of each other’s lives. My sister and I completed the circle, but they always came first for each other.”

      “It must be nice to have had such a bedrock foundation.”

      “There were trade-offs. Mom coped with all the travel by micromanaging what she did have control of—the family.”

      She reached out, caught herself, and her fingertips stopped just shy of his. How he resented that quarter-inch of space.

      “It was bad tonight?” She zeroed in on what was bothering him.

      “Two dead at the scene. A man fell asleep at the wheel. Killed himself and his adult daughter. The wife survived, but she’ll just wish she were dead.”

      “Oh, Trace. I’m so sorry. It must be difficult to work accident scenes after losing your wife to a drunk driver.”

      “I had to leave Homicide. I couldn’t make death my business anymore, or deal with it every day. This is better. There’s probably the same amount of fatalities, but they’re spaced further apart. And it’s not the focus of what I do.”

      “No community meetings when you worked Homicide?”

      The corner of his mouth lifted. She had a talent for making him smile. “Hardly. I was just asking myself how I’m supposed to keep Mickey safe in today’s world. So much violence. Accidents, disease…Every couple of months there’s an accident on the highway. With the casino on the reservation so close we see drunks, sleepy gamblers, tourists coming from the east. Illegal aliens freeze or die from the heat, trying to cross over the mountains. I’m all he has. What happens to him if something happens to me?”

      “Trace, you know better. You can’t focus on the negative. Make the most of what you have. Build your own bedrock with Mickey. Amanda and I knew we were loved, and that’s huge—especially when there are a lot of changes or unknowns in your life.”

      Great. “And I’m the current unknown in my son’s life.”

      “No, you’re the new constant in his life.”

      “Little Miss Sunshine.”

      “Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m more blunt than most people find comfortable. I’m working on my tact,” she said with wry humor. “Tomorrow you’ll feel better.”

      “Maybe.” But he wouldn’t be any less responsible for Mickey, wouldn’t be any less alone. He pushed his empty plate away. “Excellent. Your civil servant thanks you.”

      She grinned, picked up the plate and carried it to the sink. “You know you’re not alone.” She took a glass from the cupboard, poured some milk and placed it in front of him. “Your in-laws are on the east coast, not dead.”

      “I think they’ve done enough damage.”

      “What about your parents? Would they be able to help you out?”

      “Ha!” A harsh bark of laughter erupted from his throat. “My parents make Donna’s look like parents of the year. At least they erred on the side of caring too much.” Maybe the late hour had his defenses down, or maybe he was mellow after the warm meal, but Trace found himself talking to Nikki.

      “My mom was the opposite of yours. She didn’t want to follow Dad around, but he insisted. He wanted me with him. Don’t know why. He wasn’t a demonstrative man. Anyway, she’d had enough by the time I was ten, and she left us.”

      “Trace.” Her soft heart overrode the rules and she covered his fingers with hers. “That’s so sad—for you and your father. Was he in the military when she met him?”

      Her touch warmed him more than her sympathy. Maybe that was why he’d opened up tonight. Because he’d known the tenderness she showed Mickey every day would be his reward.

      “Yes. Within a year after leaving us she’d remarried and started a new family.”

      Her fingers tightened on his. “I hope you know she wasn’t a victim. She knew your dad was military when she married him. She changed the rules on him.”

      “I learned all I know about emotions from my dad. She said he had no feelings and I was just like him. We weren’t enough for her.”

      “She said you lacked emotion and then she abandoned you?” Nikki’s shoulders went up and a fierce glint lit up her eyes, making them gleam like liquid gold. “Stupid woman.”

      He laughed. Something he wouldn’t have thought possible tonight.

      God, she made him feel good. Her humor, her compassion, her sheer willingness to go to battle for him turned his melancholy mood into something altogether different.

      And altogether more dangerous.

      “I like you, Ms. Rhodes.” Again his attempt at lightness failed. The words came out husky, a growl of want.

      The momentum of her emotions had pushed her forward over the table, so her weight rested on her elbows and their faces were mere inches apart. Eyeing the delicate curve of her mouth, the silky creaminess of her skin, he sought desperately for control.

      Smiling sheepishly, she lifted her gaze from his mouth. As their eyes met, hers darkened, and she licked her lips.

      “I like you, too, Sheriff Oliver,” she whispered.

      He watched the words form, her lips shiny with the essence of her, and longed to move the few inches necessary to taste her.

      Instead he pushed away from the table, creating vital distance between them.

      “You should go.”

      Nikki let herself in the back door. “Hey, it’s just me,” she called out, though she doubted Trace heard over the wails coming from down the hall. Still, she continued to speak as she went to investigate. “I need to pick up some laundry.”

      She stopped in the bathroom doorway. Ah, bathtime. Mickey

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