but then stopped a step away. The dog followed his lead, even without a command, pressing her shoulder against his thigh to compensate for the loss of her limb.
The porch was no longer empty. Van stood there, arms crossed over her chest, watching him. Watching them both.
Her expression was...unreadable. Distant and closed. But that wasn’t unusual when he was around. Did she remember the last time they’d seen each other? Or had she been so affected by the alcohol and grief that the memories had disappeared?
Those memories, the way her body had felt against his. The scent of her skin. The tangy, tempting taste of her mouth... He remembered every second.
But, even if she did remember, he fully expected Van to pretend she didn’t. Because they both knew that single night was a...well, mistake was the wrong word because it implied he hadn’t wanted it to happen, which definitely wasn’t true. That night had been a fantasy, even as he’d known Van was grieving and wanted nothing more than a physical release from the pressure of her loss.
It was clear from her expression that the remote, disapproving woman he’d grown to expect was back today. Van hadn’t always been that way with him. There’d been a time when he’d considered her as much a friend as Ryan. But it had been a long while since that was true.
Her skin was still creamy pale. Her hair, loose and blowing in the soft morning breeze, a rich, dark brown that bordered on black. Her eyes were a pale green and he knew, up close, they had flecks of golden brown shot through them.
But it was the tilt of her chin that always got him. The cool, calm bravado she approached everything with. Competence and confidence. Van’s philosophy was very much to fake it till you make it.
Nothing ruffled her feathers, least of all him.
A stinging pain lanced through his chest. Ty stopped himself from reaching up to rub at it, the motion a pointless reflex. He knew by now that nothing would take it away.
He took a step forward. Kaia lurched up, hop-stepping in time with his movements, staying perfectly even with his hip as he moved to close the gap between them.
Something sharp flashed through Van’s gaze as she watched the dog’s halting progress. Her body swayed as they reached the front steps, as if she wanted to reach out. Help.
But she didn’t.
Ty didn’t stop at the bottom. He didn’t even pause at the top. He kept moving until he could feel the heat drifting from her body. Leaning down into her personal space, he pressed his lips to her temple. Her body stiffened. He wasn’t touching her anywhere else, but he could still feel it. Her tension radiated out like a magnet flipped to its opposing pole, trying to push him away.
“It’s good to see you, Van.”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t have to. He knew she didn’t agree.
Pulling away from him, her gaze skittered over his face for several seconds, then down his body, tracing each arm, his torso, legs and feet, until it came to rest at the dog sitting patiently beside him.
“Kaia?” she finally asked in her soft, smooth voice, the one that always sent a wave of longing washing over him. Today was no different.
Ty nodded, placing a hand on the furred head at his hip, scratching behind her ears.
Van slowly sank in front of him. She didn’t reach out to the dog. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her own folded legs, hugging her body into a tight ball. The two stared at each other for several seconds, neither of them moving.
Finally, she extended a hand. Her fingers trembled. If he hadn’t been watching he might not have noticed the tiny crack in her smooth exterior. Van was good at bottling her emotions. Until she wasn’t, and then the explosion...
He’d experienced her anger and passion on several occasions. It was a sight to behold.
Her wide mouth tugged down at the corners, the hint of a frown.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out, her fingers slipping hesitantly over the spot where the vet had sewn up Kaia’s leg. The dog didn’t flinch or move, just sat quietly.
Van’s hand drifted upward, coming to rest on the fuzzy head. She looked straight into Kaia’s watchful gaze and whispered, “Thank you.”
Ty fought against the lump forming in his throat. He wanted to look away, but the motion of Van standing up pulled his attention back.
This time her gaze flicked over him quickly, there and away. She turned her back to him, tossing words over her shoulder. “I guess you should come in.”
* * *
VAN DIDN’T WANT him there. Didn’t want him in her home.
She didn’t bother to look back to see if he was following her inside. She didn’t have to. She knew.
Where Ty Colson was concerned, she had a sixth sense and always had. Growing up, he’d been a fixture in her family. Ryan had been his shadow, following his lead into whatever trouble the wild boy could dream up.
And, oh, Ty could dream up a shit-ton of trouble.
She’d been the annoying little sister relentlessly tagging along. The high-pitched voice of reason always cautioning that they were going to get caught and punished. Quick to say, “I told you so,” when her predictions came true.
But somewhere along the way, her childish fascination with him morphed into something more. An adolescent crush that made her feel awkward around the boy she’d known most of her life.
To her, Ty Colson was perfect. Adventurous. Wild and uninhibited. Remote to almost everyone...except her. There were times she’d envied the freedom he always had, even as she realized it meant no one at home cared enough to rein him in. She’d seen his wounds and wanted nothing more than to soothe them.
Until his antics got both boys in real trouble and sent her brother’s life careening off course.
Her simple, innocent attraction to him had gotten muddled up with resentment and blame. Not that those emotions had stemmed the physical awareness.
So damn frustrating.
Even now, Van could feel him, walking several paces behind her. She could sense the motion of his body as he tempered his gait to match the wounded dog at his side.
She couldn’t seem to turn off the relief she’d felt when he’d first walked up, her gaze devouring him, searching for signs of wear and injury. There’d been a pressure in her chest until she could see for herself that he was okay. Even as her brain told her she shouldn’t care.
God, what was wrong with her? Ty had gotten her brother killed. Maybe not directly, but he was responsible. Ryan never should have been in Afghanistan. Never should have become a dog handler, searching the unforgiving terrain for explosive devices just waiting to maim and kill.
Van walked straight back to the kitchen, which looked out onto the yard. When she was growing up, her family had always gathered in the kitchen. Now, in her own home, the kitchen gave her peace—it was the place she came to when she needed a break from the storm her life could be.
It
