Takeoff (Open Skies #5) - Becca Jameson Page 0,1

over her shoulder. “I should get back…”

Deacon reached for her hand and stopped her. “No. You should talk to me.”

She swallowed as she lowered her gaze. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Oh, there’s a lot to say.” He crowded her, his scent overwhelming her.

Why did he have to smell so damn good? And why did her heart rate have to pick up as his thumb stroked the back of her hand? And why did a flush have to crawl up her cheeks at the thought of other places he’d had his hands on her body a month ago?

“You can talk to me right here right now or wait until everyone leaves, but we’re going to talk before this night is over.”

She flinched at his demand. She deserved it, but part of her had hoped he would accept her ghosting and move on without pushing the issue. At the same time, part of her was glad he wouldn’t be so easily swayed.

It would be easier to walk away without a word. Safer. Tidier. Less stressful.

Lonelier.

An unexpected and uninvited tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly swiped it away. Why the hell did she have to start crying? Jesus. She sucked back her emotions and took a deep breath. “After. Please,” she murmured.

He cupped her cheek, tipped her head back, and met her gaze. “Okay,” he said softly, wiping another tear. “Did you drive here?”

She shook her head. “No. Heather did.”

“Good. Leave with me. We’ll talk.”

She looked away. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Leaving with him would end with her dumping on him, and she didn’t want to dump on anyone. She wanted to bury her problems and keep them to herself. That had been the problem with Deacon from the day she’d met him. He drew information out of her easily, and she wasn’t a sharing sort of gal.

They’d spent two weeks together, sort of dating, though they hadn’t slept together. Two weeks during which she pretended she was a regular person with normal relationships. Two weeks of blissful ignorance on his part.

She never should have gone out with him to begin with. She’d been caught off-guard the day he picked her up from the airport to keep her safe from Hawke Richman—the airline pilot who was stalking her roommate at the time, Shayla. It wouldn’t have been safe for Raeann to go home, so she’d gone home with Deacon.

The man was delicious. Six-three. Built. Dark hair still growing out from his Army days. His skin was tanned, and she’d seen evidence of tattoos that peeked out from under his short sleeves. He was also intense. His gaze bore into her as if he could read her mind. He was the sort of man women fell in love with.

She was not the sort of woman who fell in love with men, however. She had no intention of ever settling down with a man. It wouldn’t be fair to him. A month ago, for a pile of reasons, she’d cut ties and stopped returning Deacon’s texts and calls. It had been for the best. But she’d always known she’d eventually have to face him like this.

She’d sort of hoped he might be pissed-off enough with her to think she wasn’t worth the confrontation. Apparently not. And she wasn’t shocked either. After all, he was a good guy. A great guy. Not the kind who would easily walk away, nor the kind who would badmouth her to the other guys, nor the kind who would snub her after the fact, nor the kind who would express anger toward her.

Nope. Deacon Matthews looked genuinely worried and concerned. And he should. Her shit-pile of problems warranted concern. She simply didn’t want to share them.

Deacon lifted her hand and rubbed her knuckles against his cheek before letting her go. “If you leave without talking to me, I’ll follow you home.” He lifted his brows.

She nodded. “I won’t.” Damn. What a mess.

Chapter 2

Deacon gave about one-tenth of his attention to the baby shower. The rest of him watched Raeann’s every move for the entire evening. He knew she was nervous about being at the party and the fact that he was there too. It was obvious in the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, the way she chewed on her lower lip, the way she rubbed her hands together over and over.

There was a story behind her discomfort and he suspected it had to do with more than just ghosting him. Something

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