Blake turned his face away. That was the kind of line he was supposed to give struggling victims and not the other way around. “Right.”
“Do you ever miss normal?” she asked. “Ever wish you had a safe job counting beans or raising chickens or something?”
“I hate chickens.”
She laughed. “No. Why?”
“Chickens are mean.”
“Chickens are adorable.” Marissa took another bite and chewed slowly. “Why do you think none of your brothers have ever married? Seems like having a family would be great for people like you.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “You’d have people to care for twenty-four seven. Not cases or strangers, but your people.”
She made it sound so simple. Blake teetered over the right way to answer a complicated question. “I shouldn’t speak for my brothers, but I think we’d all like to have a family one day. Lord knows our mom would love to have some women around. She wanted one girl and got four boys.”
Marissa set her fork aside and rested her hands in her lap, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “You all want families, but none of you date.” Her eyebrows knitted together.
Blake had fielded these types of questions all his life, and they never got easier. The assumptions people made always seemed to reflect poorly on him or his character, and a few years back he stopped trying to explain himself, and started throwing snide responses to keep people from pushing. The remarks had gotten a lot of lip service and their impact had stained his brothers, too.
He worked his jaw. He wanted Marissa to understand him, even if she didn’t like what she heard. “I’ve never been married because women don’t respond well to being left alone for indefinite, sometimes frequent, periods of time where I care for other women.” He motioned around them. “Alone in hotel rooms.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t imagine being with someone I didn’t trust completely, but even then, trusting strangers with the most important person in your life is a whole other problem. That must be hard.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You’ve been more than a comfort to me. Are you always this involved with the victims?”
Did he always hold their hands and embrace them as often as possible? Was that what she thought? He struggled to hold back a deeply frustrated groan. “No.”
He rubbed his hands against his thighs. Discussing all the times he’d been dumped for choosing work over a personal life wasn’t exactly easy, and the look on her face made it infinitely harder. “The women in my past have also taken issue with the number of secrets I have to keep and the injuries I regularly acquire. When I’m really unlucky, the secrets and injuries come in an inconvenient two-for-one package.” He lifted cautious eyes to hers, and wondered again if Marissa was the kind of woman who could withstand life with a lawman. “I’m single because I stopped dating the minute I realized none of it would ever lead anywhere as long as I am who I am, and I like who I am.”
Marissa’s wide eyes grew inexplicably sad. “I like who you are, too.” She set her half-eaten salad on the floor and tipped over, leaning her head against Blake’s shoulder. She slid her arm under his and bent it to lock them together. “I think you’re a brave and selfless man who risks his life to save others, and that’s pretty amazing. I’m...” A long yawn interrupted her words. “I’m glad you’re the one here with me tonight.”
Blake’s heart expanded until he thought it’d break his ribs. He wiggled free from Marissa’s grip and wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her closer and repositioning her head on his chest where she’d be more comfortable. He twined the fingers of his free hand with hers and gently kissed the top of her head.
Maybe he was asking for heartbreak by hoping there could be a future with this woman, but damn it, a prize like that was worth the risk.
Chapter Fourteen
Marissa woke to the din of buzzing voices and scents of hot coffee, scrambled eggs and sausage. Someone had left a glass of orange juice on her nightstand beside a plate with an apple and enormous cinnamon muffin. Her tummy groaned at the sight of everything. She swung her feet over the bed’s edge and arched her back in a gentle stretch.
This was the time of day when her limbs longed to run. She worked her neck carefully side to side, assessing the damage and lingering ache in her head after being knocked out by Nash. She winced as her muscles locked down in defense against the movement. Too far. Too soon. Maybe after she found out what all the commotion was about, she could locate an ice pack and some painkillers.
She gulped the juice and bit into the muffin before sliding bare feet onto the floor. An angel had also left a bottle of aspirin. She took a pair of those, too.
Beyond her bedroom, the sitting area buzzed with chatter. She padded closer and peered through the opening where Blake had left the door ajar. Two agents and a deputy took phone calls around the small table. Blake’s palms were braced on either side of a topographical map. He was dressed in cargo pants, boots and a fitted long-sleeved black compression shirt. His badge swung over the image, as if it too was attempting to locate something.
Or someone.
“You found him,” she said breathlessly.
Blake’s head jerked up, and his gaze fell immediately upon her. He cut the distance between them with a look of excitement and purpose in his eyes. “Good morning,” he said softly.
Her toes curled into the carpet. “Hi.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Okay, considering. Thank you for putting me in bed. I barely remember getting there.” She’d fallen asleep on the couch with his strong arms around her and her head on his chest for a pillow.
