Page 72 of Phoenix

“Why? I don’t need you to be my hero, Case! He was a drunk asshole. That’s all, and he clearly knew you, so he was trying to get a reaction. Congrats. You gave him just that.” I try to leave again, but he grabs me by the arm to stop me.

“It’s a small city, Phoenix. I run into people I’ve arrested all the time. He clearly has issues with me and with authority in general. I needed to put myself between you because you never know what someone like that is capable of.”

I pull my arm away from his touch. “Exactly. That’s my point exactly. You could have been hurt or killed.”

“I can’t live in fear and do my job.”

“Protecting me isn’t your job.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Just don’t put yourself in the middle like that anymore if you don’t have to, okay?”

I can’t handle the thought of something happening to him all in the effort to protect me.

“I won’t make that promise. It’s not the man I am.”

I know. That’s the problem.

Case

“Can we please just pretend like this didn’t happen? I don’t want to taint my last days here.” She takes a breath and wipes the tears from her face.

I don’t want her to regret any part of her time with me, so I step forward, cup her face in my hands, and kiss her lips softly. “Sure.

We take the walk back toward my truck in near silence, but her hand is clasped in mine. That is enough to let me know we are at least okay enough that she isn’t going to disappear on me.

Savannah is surprisingly quite at night for a tourist town. It’s one of my favorite things about it. If people are out, they are in the bars, and when they spill onto the street, the noise doesn’t follow.

“Do you feel like having a drink with me?” I ask. “There’s this little Irish pub around the corner with excellent craft beers.” She laughs and it makes my lips turn up in a grin. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t peg you as a craft beer kind of guy. That’s so…California.”

“What kind of guy do you peg more for, then?”

“Tennessee whiskey. Straight up. You like the burn.” She looks up at me and the moon lights up one side of her face.

“That’s scary.”

“What?”

“That you knew that. I hate beer, but you’re from SoCal. I figured that was the way to your heart.”

She rolls her eyes and I love it. “Let’s get this drink.”

“Want another?” I ask as she finishes her Jack and Coke.

The bar is quiet tonight. The TV on the wall beside us is tuned to the Weather Channel. I can hear vague discussion of a hurricane brewing in the Atlantic, but my full attention is squarely on the woman in front of me.

“If I have another, I’ll end up on the floor, and there is nothing sexy about that.” She giggles then chomps down on a piece of ice. She feels more relaxed, I can tell. Two drinks will do that to a lightweight. Her cheeks are flushed a glorious red, much like they are when we have sex.

“You’re staring,” she adds, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Of course, I am. Hard not to.” I take another sip of the one drink I’m still nursing. “Beauty should be admired.”

“Was that a line?” She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

“Are you biting?”

“I do sometimes. Only if it’s just that good,” she purrs quietly with a sexy grin. “So,” she announces loudly. “What was with that guy in the alley?”

The abrupt subject change makes my head spin. I assume I have the alcohol to thank for her line of questioning.

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