Page 22 of Fast Currents
His rough features softened, some of the strain around his eyes easing. That brief moment of connection made me glad I’d yielded to the impulse to take care of him.
“Marry me.”
His gruff proposal froze me in place. For a flash, I wanted his words to be real. But this was the game we played. I smoothed my features.
“I don’t take orders. I barely take suggestions.”
He winked. “Someday, Lucifer. I’m going to catch you in a weak moment.”
I straightened my shoulders. I’d been weak once. Never again. “It’ll never happen, Robertson. Quit fooling around, or I’m spitting on your burger.”
Something danced in his eyes. An emotion I didn’t want to name.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to bring dinner,” he said, returning to the guise of the calm park ranger, completely in charge of his feelings and everything around him.
“But I wanted to.” It hurt to admit it, but it was true. I didn’t need him to turn me into a sap. I was doing just fine on myown. That was the unique power of Clayton Robertson: he could charm the devil herself.
A woman I recognized from the fire department helped me clear a spot for my bags. I handed Clay his burger, then arranged the popcorn, pub pretzels, and other snacks before diving into my dinner.
“Still no sign of the hikers?” I asked as Clay wolfed down his burger.
“No. We’re searching grid-by-grid. Shouldn’t be long now.”
Something about the grim way he said it opened a pit in my stomach. Like he didn’t expect a happy ending. It was easy to forget the dark side of managing public parks. Not every visit resulted in photos of smiling families with tired legs.
“VIP Murphy, Command.” I recognized our friend Lee’s deep voice over the radio, tensing.
“Go ahead, VIP Murphy.”
“We have the Douglas family. Heading back to base now.”
Clay’s expression eased. “Everyone’s able to move under their own power?”
“Affirmative. Mr. Douglas is moving slow, probably an ankle strain, but you can call everyone in.”
“Command, clear.” Clay spent the next few minutes calling in the other search teams.
I faded back, heading for my car and home. Clay didn’t need me in his way. He had work to do.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the new side of Clay I’d witnessed. I’d grown used to seeing him in uniform. Watching him interact with park visitors and with my art class. He was always easy-going. Affable. Tonight, I’d gotten to see a different side to him. Authoritative but calm. More than the flirt who kept proposing to tease me.
First, he’d tempted me into kissing him. Now, I was tempted to take him seriously. Not as a husband. But as a man. Onewho made my pulse race, who made me want to abandon my carefully chosen rules about dating again. One I wanted to high-five with my genitals.
The thought alone should have had me pumping the brakes. My reservations hadn’t disappeared. Dating someone I’d have to see over and over if things went south would suck. The fear was still there. Lurking. But every minute spent with Clay made that voice in my head less convincing.
When I was with Clay, I was really living. In the moment. Teasing. Matching wits. He challenged me without flinching when I bit back, letting him see the jagged edges, not just the carefully sanded and polished bits.
I had spent years guarding my heart, convinced that letting someone else in meant losing a part of myself. But with Clay? It didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like possibility. Like maybe I didn’t have to choose between being strong and being myself. Maybe I could have both.
Chapter 11 – Clay
Lucy’s sweet gesture, bringing me dinner, broke my vow not to propose again. Even I didn’t know if I was joking after that first offer of marriage. If I ever was joking. And that thought scared me.
Because I wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for more.
What started as a way to wind her up, see those dark eyes flash, had become something else entirely. A test of where we were headed.
I could wait—maybe forever—but every moment with her left me feeling like I was sliding, bit by bit, down a steep hill. As inevitable as gravity. As scary as tumbling, out of control. Toward my doom, or my salvation? Either way, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
