she’d stopped trying to get out of the dinners, instead concentrating on just getting through them. They never talked about Michael or his work. In fact, Jace rarely spoke about anything, but he definitely had no issues interrogating her about her life.
It was a good thing she usually had plenty of stories about cases, otherwise they’d eat in silence. And that wouldn’t help her nerves at all.
But none of that explained what he was doing at her house in the middle of the day.
Well, yeah, it was obvious what he was doing—mowing her lawn. Someone had been doing it for quite a while. And plenty of other things, too, like cutting back her bushes, taking her trash to the street, fixing the squeaky back door, and replacing broken screens and shingles. She’d assumed it was one of her neighbors, although all of them had denied it when she’d asked.
Apparently, they weren’t lying to save her ego.
Jace rounded the corner, pulling a T-shirt over his head to hide those gorgeous abs. Her mouth opened to protest, although her brain was quick enough to cut off the words before they broke free. Instead she asked, “What are you doing here?”
He stopped in the doorway, arms stretching above his head to grip the lintel. Even from several feet away, Quinn could see the fading bruises bleeding across the edge of his hard jaw.
Shaking her head, she took a single step forward, her hand already reaching for him. She needed to get a better look to determine if there was anything she could do for him.
With a quick jerk of his head he stopped her. “You don’t want to do that. I’m all hot and sweaty. I probably smell like a locker room.”
Quinn frowned. “I’m sure I’ve experienced worse.” Stepping close, she placed a soft finger beneath his chin and urged him to turn and let her see. He resisted, the muscles in his neck tightening before finally letting go. With a sigh, he turned.
The pad of her finger scraped down his cheek, energy and a day’s worth of stubble crackling across her skin. “Do I want to know?”
He chuckled, the sound barely more than a soft gust of air. “Probably not.”
Frustration and something more dangerous flooded her. “Jesus, Jace, when are you going to stop punishing yourself? What happened to Michael was not your fault.”
His body stiffened. Every already-hard muscle went even more rock solid. Quinn placed her hands on his shoulders, hoping the contact might ease his pain.
He’d been there for her. Helped her through those first few months when she was close to useless with grief. He’d brought her food. Called in friends. Silently watched over her because she’d been incapable of doing that for herself.
And she’d leaned on him, using everything he gave her without thought or question. Now she regretted those months more than anything she’d ever done.
Blinded by her own grief, she’d missed the signs that Jace was struggling just as surely as she was...maybe more.
Foolishly, he blamed himself for his brother’s death. In reality, he’d been the one trying to save him, selflessly giving Michael a kidney when he’d come back as a match. Jace hadn’t hesitated—no one had expected him to. He did have a bit of a hero complex. But the sacrifice had cost him. With only one kidney, he’d had to give up something he lived for—being deployed with the Rangers.
Oh, he was still in the military, now stationed with the Ranger Training Brigade, but everyone knew it wasn’t the same thing. Jace got off on the danger and adrenaline, but with little more than thirty seconds of contemplation he’d given it all up.
When Michael developed complications after the surgery, for some reason Jace felt he’d failed his brother. Failed her.
And no matter how often she told him he was wrong, he just wouldn’t let the guilt go.
Slowly, he turned to look at her, his blue eyes blazing. “I know it wasn’t my fault.”
Pain and sorrow tightened her chest. Running the pad of her thumb over his skin she whispered, “I don’t think you do.”
Jerking away from her, he fell back into the kitchen, turning away under the guise of grabbing some water.
She’d tried to have this conversation with him enough times to realize she wasn’t getting anywhere. He’d shut down and shut her out. Just as he’d been doing with everyone for the past two years.
Fine. “What are you doing here?” she asked again.
In a tone that implied the question had been silly the first time and downright ignorant the second, he said, “Mowing your lawn.”
“Thanks, smartass. I meant why. While I was at work. Without telling me.”
“Because I know you, Quinn. If I’d asked, you’d have come up with some excuse for me not to.”
“That’s because I’m perfectly capable of handling it myself.”
“Sure, but you don’t have to. Michael asked me to look out for you and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Somehow I don’t think he meant by mowing my lawn and replacing shingles.”
Jace tagged her with a calculating glance from beneath long, inky lashes, no doubt trying to assess just how much she knew—or had figured out.
Her mouth twisted into a grimace. The answer was enough. “Michael’s gone and has been for a while. I’m fine. You don’t have to keep watching over me.”
He couldn’t hide his wince, and she immediately regretted her words. That brief flash of pain across his face made her want to cringe. It was getting harder and harder to be around him. Not because he reminded her of Michael...because he didn’t.
When she looked at Jace Hyland the last thing on her mind was the man she’d lost. Which just made her feel guilty and...overheated. Especially considering Jace had never given her the slightest indication he thought of her as anything except his almost sister-in-law.
Frustration fizzing uncomfortably beneath her skin, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Closing the gap between them, Quinn laid her hand on his arm. A zap of electricity sparked through her fingers, but she ignored it.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t necessary.”
In true Jace fashion, he completely ignored what she said. “What are you doing home early?”
2
GOD, HE WANTED to touch her. Pull her into his arms and just bury his face in the soft cloud of brown-blond hair. The scent of her, something so sweet and tempting, filled his lungs.
He’d spent the past two years trying to keep some space between them, honor Michael’s memory and control his damn body whenever Quinn got close.
It killed him, trying to pretend he didn’t want his brother’s fiancée
