Capturing Peace

Chapter Five

Coen—­August 29, 2010

REACHING FOR MY phone in the cup holder when it started ringing, I glanced at the name and a smile pulled at my lips. “Beautiful,” I said in way of greeting.

She laughed softly. “Delusional?”

“Good to know you still can’t take a compliment. What are you up to?”

“Parker’s at my parents’ again tonight,” she said after a few seconds of silence. “My parents wanted to keep him for the night because they want as much time with him as possible before he goes back to school next week. Or that’s what they used as an excuse anyway.”

My blood heated, and I swear my jeans shrunk. “Are you in need of a distract—­shit.”

“What?”

“I’m on my way to a shoot, and the guy already paid me.” The second I’d seen her name on my phone, I’d forgotten I was even driving.

“Okay, well, have fun.” Her voice had the same sweet softness it always did, but I could hear the disappointment in her words.

This was bad, and it wasn’t me. I was getting ready to call off a shoot—­something I never did—­all because of a girl. “Come with me,” I said suddenly.

“What? No, it’s fine.”

“I’m serious, Reagan, come with me. It’s just going to be at my studio.”

“Coen”—­she laughed softly—­“go to your shoot. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You’re going to make me late if you don’t get in your car and get your ass over here.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you figure that?”

I pulled into the back lot at my studio, but didn’t put my car in park as I said, “Because I’m about to turn my car around and come pick you up.”

“Do you always get your way?”

“Yeah,” I said without hesitation.

After a few moments of silence, she sighed and gave in. “Fine. Fine, I’m on my way.”

“See you soon.”

I pressed the END button, put the car in park and turned it off before climbing out of it. Knowing Reagan was about to see what I’d given up my career to do, I couldn’t stop smiling as I got everything ready for the shoot. My client arrived a handful of minutes later, and after talking more about what he wanted and throwing around some ideas, we started. I tried not to think about the fact that Reagan should have been there ten minutes before. Turning music on as loud as it would go and putting my phone on vibrate so I would know if she called, I tried to focus on my client and what we were going for with this shoot, and not where my mind was wandering to.

By the time the hour-­long shoot ended, I was irritated and worried, and had this annoying feeling crawling up the back of my neck. I was trying not to snap at my client and wondering how I’d managed not to break my phone yet.

Reagan hadn’t shown, and she hadn’t called.

After he left, I flipped through the pictures and was glad I’d somehow managed to get more than enough shots that were perfect for what he wanted, but I felt bad that my client had had to put up with me. As I went through more pictures, I suddenly realized what the annoying feeling was that I’d been having, and my body stilled. Someone was watching me . . . but even as I realized it, I didn’t turn around. I knew it was her. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did.

“Can I help you?” I asked, never looking up from my camera.

“Get anything good?” Her voice was soft and gentle. Like she didn’t care at all that I’d been flipping out for the last hour.

“You could have called.”

“Why would I have done that?”

I lowered my hands and lifted my head at the same time and just stared, seeing nothing, for a few seconds before turning to look at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought you were coming here and you didn’t show!”

“I’m here aren’t I?” The knowing grin never left her face. “You said you always get your way . . . I had to make sure you didn’t this time. Besides, if you really wanted to know if I was coming or not, you could have called me.”

Setting my camera down, I began stalking toward her. “I can’t just stop a shoot so I can check up on you. You told me you’d be here, I trusted you were coming. Reagan, I’ve been going out of my mind wondering where you were. I didn’t know if you’d gotten in a wreck, if you just decided not to come . . . a thousand possibilities were running through my mind. I was acting like a dick to my client because of you, do you realize that?”

Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry you were worried, honestly I was just waiting for you to turn around . . . and right now, Coen, I’m just playing with you. I’ve been here for almost an hour, but because you didn’t notice me until just now . . . I thought I could tease you about it.”

“Don’t try to—­”

“I’m serious! Call that guy and ask him! I walked in when he was changing into his red shirt, and we waved at each other! I just didn’t want to bother you during your shoot, so I waited back here and watched; I’m sorry you got that worried, I didn’t know. I kept thinking you would turn around, Coen, I swear to God.”

My breathing was ragged, and at some point I’d pinned her up against the back wall. My head understood that she was safe, I could see her, smell her, feel her chest pressed against mine. But my body was still shaking from the amount of adrenaline I had coursing through my veins at the thought of something happening to her, and then her playing me.

Dropping my head, I shook it to the side once and whispered gruffly, “What are you doing to me, Reagan?”

“I don’t know wh—­I’m sor—­do you want me to leave?”

“No, I don’t want you to leave. I want to know why you’re consuming me this way. I want to know why you’re all I can think about. Why the thought of something happening to you, or you standing me up, can completely ruin me like this. I want to know what it is about you that has me so fucking turned around for the first time in my life.”

She touched the side of my face and put pressure there until I looked back to her, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and filled with wonder. “I’ve avoided men for six and a half years, Coen . . . what is it about you that has me anxiously waiting for a chance to be near you again?”

I pressed my body closer to hers and dropped my forehead onto hers.

“Everything about you scares me,” she admitted quietly.

I ground my jaw and mentally cursed myself for letting her see me frustrated just then. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Reagan.”

“Don’t. You know you and your demons don’t scare me.” She shook her head slowly. “What you can do to me . . . what you can do to Parker. What letting you into our lives can do to us . . . that is what scares me. You have the power to ruin him, Coen, and knowing that makes me want to grab Parker and run.”

“Or maybe I’ll surprise you,” I whispered against her lips. Interlocking our fingers, I raised our hands above our heads and pressed them against the wall. “I respect you for what you’ve done for him. I respect you for being scared for your son. But I know that if you let me in, I’m getting you and Parker . . . not just you.”

Reagan’s eyes met and held mine, and I moved both her hands into one of mine and brought my free hand to cup her cheek.

“When I met you, I already knew what you came with. I don’t want to see what I can get from you only on nights when your son is gone, Reagan. I want to see what we can be together, and I know that includes your son getting to know me.”

“I’ve never introduced a guy to him,” she confessed after a few silent seconds, and I smiled.

“Technically, you’ve already introduced us, and we already know he likes me.” Reagan’s eyes narrowed and I brushed my lips across her nose. “You’ve also never had a guy pursuing you who wasn’t afraid of your walls or the fact that you have a son.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Pursuing me?”

“Yeah, Duchess. Glad you finally caught on.” Pressing my mouth firmly to hers, I teased her lips with my tongue and squeezed my hand tighter around hers when she opened her mouth to me. “Let me surprise you,” I begged against her lips.

“I’m waiting,” she challenged, and when I looked at the heat in her hazel eyes, I knew the direction of the conversation had changed.

Her breasts moved against my chest with each breath she took, and when I looked down to her parted lips, it was her turn to squeeze my hand from where I still kept them resting high up on the wall. With the hand that had been cupping her cheek, I moved my fingers down her throat, and my lips twitched when I felt her pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips.

Placing my lips on her pulse point, I let my fingers continue a trail down to the low cut of her shirt, and pulled it down even more, revealing her lace-­covered breasts. Making a line of openmouthed kisses down the path my fingers had just taken, I took one of her breasts in my mouth and sucked on her hardened nipple through the lace.

Reagan moaned and arched her back against the wall, and her fingers dug into my hand almost to the point of pain when I raked my teeth across her nipple.

“Coen, please,” she whimpered. “Touch me.”

I let my hand lazily glide down to the top of her shorts, and had just started trying to unbutton them when I remembered where we were. Remembered that I had her pressed against a wall. Releasing her shorts and breast, I moved my mouth back up her chest to her neck, and used my hand to right her shirt.

“Not here,” I whispered against her neck.

She pulled back, her eyes wide. “You . . . you want to stop?”

I looked at my studio and shook my head as I released her hands. “I just don’t want to do this with you here. Let me take you back to my place.”

I’d had meaningless sex in my studio too many times over the years, and the thought of being with Reagan on the same furniture seemed wrong. Like it would cheapen everything about us. Not that there was technically an us yet, but she didn’t deserve that, and I didn’t want that. I wanted somewhere that didn’t have drunken one-­night memories attached to it.

Grabbing her hand, I shut off the lights in my studio as we walked through it, and locked the door behind us once we were outside. I noticed Reagan grabbing her keys out of her purse and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I just figured I’d follow you,” she said, and her cheeks turned red. “You know, so I could leave, um, after or . . . or in the morning.”

Biting back a smile, I nodded and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “So you plan on staying the night, huh?”

“No, I—­”

“I never said that was a bad thing, Duchess.”

Reagan’s tense body instantly relaxed, and when I pulled away from her she was biting down on the inside of her cheek and her face was red. Fuck, she was adorable.

I walked her to her SUV and waited until she was inside before going to my car and getting in, and as soon as we were on our way to my condo, the direction of my thoughts changed.

Now that I could think clearly without Reagan’s body pressed against mine, I knew that taking her back to my place was the wrong move. I’d just told her I was different. I’d just told her I didn’t want to see what I could get from her on nights when her son wasn’t with her. And yet, the first two nights we were alone—­the first two nights we even spent time together—­things progressed quickly, and only stopped because of a phone ringing, and the fact that I didn’t want to be with her on a couch where I’d fucked random women.

The fact that I could still feel her body against me, the fact that the way she’d softly moaned was still replaying in my mind, and the fact that I was still hard as shit had me wanting to continue the drive to my condo. But I couldn’t do this to her.

Pulling over into an Italian restaurant’s parking lot, I got out of my car and waited for her to do the same.

“Uh . . . this isn’t your place,” she said, her confused tone making it sound more like a question.

“I know.” I nodded and pulled her into my arms. “But I just told you I wanted to surprise you, and the path we were on was the opposite of that. So I’m going to take you to dinner, and at the end of dinner I’m going to walk you back out here, kiss you good night, and go back to my condo alone.”

I held my breath as I waited for her reaction, and told myself again that this was the right thing to do. And as soon as her face lit up in the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, I knew it had been. Brushing a soft kiss across her lips, I slid my arm around her waist and walked us toward the restaurant.

Reagan—­August 31, 2010

MY PHONE RANG as I pulled into my parents’ driveway, and I couldn’t have contained my smile no matter how hard I tried when I saw his name on my screen.

“Hey!”

He laughed quietly. “I love that you don’t try to hide the fact that you’re excited to talk to me.”

I made a face and looked around as I turned off my car. “Uh, that’s not a good thing, actually, I’m pretty sure that’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Do you know how annoying that whole mysterious, playing hard-­to-­get voice is? You can never tell if the girl is ready to cry, yell at you, or tear off your clothes. With you, I always know exactly what I’m getting.”

I rubbed at my forehead and laughed uneasily. “Okay . . . ? I guess?”

“And I just made this conversation awkward. We’re starting this over.”

“No! No, we’re—­Coen? Hello?” I looked at my screen and scoffed. “You really just hung up on me?” I asked when he called back.

“Ooh, pissed off, Duchess.”

“I’m not—­”

“Hi, Reagan,” he said, cutting me off. His deep voice somehow calming and warming every part of my body.

“Hey,” I said softly, and smiled as I played with the ends of my hair. “I didn’t think I was going to talk to you until later.”

“Is that why you were so excited?”

I laughed and covered my face, groaning into my hand. “Yes, that’s why I was excited. I’m going to be a robot every time we talk from now on. You’ll never have any idea.”

“That would be depressing for me.”

“And probably impossible for me.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d say so. Hey . . . have you gotten Parker yet?”

I went back to playing with the ends of my hair and glanced at my parents’ house. “I’m just about to, I’d just pulled in to pick him up when you called.”

Coen was silent for a few seconds.

“Why?” I asked, drawing out the word.

“I know you’re scared of him getting to know me . . . but I’d really like to take you and Parker out tonight.” When I didn’t respond, his voice filtered through the phone again, his tone now borderline worried. “Reagan?”

“Um,” I began, and licked my lips. “Well . . .”

I looked toward the house again as I tried to come up with an excuse. I have work tomorrow. True. I have to do laundry. Not true. I have to clean. Unfortunately true, but I won’t get to it tonight regardless. I have to watch my plant grow. I don’t have any plants. I need more time to sit here playing with my hair while I think of a really good reason not to go! I straightened in my seat and stared at my steering wheel as I thought. Just last week I hadn’t been ready for the three of us to hang out, but I also hadn’t known how serious Coen was about this relationship—­and he was right: Parker already adored him.

With school starting in less than a week, the only time I’d be alone without Parker would be the Fridays my work was closed . . . I knew this needed to happen soon, or eventually I would start thinking of reasons for us not to be together because of the time apart.

“We can wai—­”

“What’d you have in mind?”

There was a heavy silence before Coen added softly, “Don’t do this if you’re not ready.”

“You already know him, Coen, I’m just being dumb.”

“No, you’re not. You’re protecting your son.”

I smiled and thought again about Coen getting Parker to eat. My dad couldn’t even do that. “I’m unnecessarily protecting him from someone he already knows and likes, and someone I’m dating and kinda, maybe, sorta like too.”

“Kinda, maybe, sorta,” he said, his voice monotone.

“Yeah,” I teased. “So what did you want to do tonight?”

“We can do easy. We can just grab dinner. Or we can—­”

“Easy sounds good.”

“All right, easy it is. Can I pick you both up in an hour?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Can we meet you wherever you want to eat? Unless you want me to pick you up? Otherwise I have to move the booster seat to your car and it’ll just be weird.”

“Booster seat?”

“Yep . . . problems you’ll come across dating a mom.”

“I don’t ever remember being in one of those.”

I laughed and stepped out of my car. “I can’t remember it either, but it’s the law now.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, Steele, seriously.”

He paused before saying, “Don’t call me that. It’s weird.”

“Don’t call me Duchess.”

Coen drew out a groan. “I’m not sure if I can commit to that.”

“Well then, that’s your problem, not mine. I have to get Parker, text me where you want us to meet you.”

“You don’t play fair, Duchess.”

“Neither do you, Steele. See you soon.” I grinned and tapped END before opening the door and almost running into my brother. “Hey! I thought you were moving into your apartment with Erica.”

He pulled me into a hug and moved me away from the door so he could shut it. “I am, we’ve been moving all day. I just ran back here to get the last truckfull. Erica’s been unpacking all day, so it actually looks decent. You wanna come by tonight and see it? I’ll order pizza.”

“I can’t. Parker and I have something going on tonight.”

“Like . . . ?”

“Um . . .”

“Well, shit, Ray! You’re playing with your hair, so now you’re freaking me the fuck out. Tell me what it is.”

“Keegan!” I hissed, and smacked his arm as I looked around for my son. “Do you have to cuss in front of Parker?”

He cringed for a split second before relaxing. “No, we’re good. He’s out back with Mom. Now, tell me what you’re doing tonight.”

Dropping my hair, I straightened my back and tried to look directly into my brother’s eyes. It didn’t work. He’s eight inches taller than me. “Coen’s taking us to dinner.”

“Coen’s taking you and Parker to dinner?”

“Yes, he is, and why do you look like that? I don’t understand you. Why would you try to set me up with your best friend if you would ever have this worried look on your face! I know you told me you didn’t think we’d actually date, but come on, Keegan. Tell me why you’re acting like this! Is there something I should know? Something I should be worried about?”

“No,” he huffed and rolled his eyes. “No. Steele’s one of the best guys I know.”

I shrugged and put my hands up to the sides of my head before dropping them. “Then what? I don’t understand!”

Keegan looked past me for a while before clearing his throat and asking, “Does he sleep?”

“What?”

“When he’s, uh, with you. Does he sleep?” he gritted out, and then mumbled to himself, “I’ll kill the bastard for touching you.”

“What? Keegan! No, we haven’t done anything! He’s kissed me, that’s all. But even if we had, I wouldn’t tell you about it.”

Keegan sighed in relief and I crossed my arms over my chest.

“No killing Coen. And don’t punch him either.”

“I’m not promising the last one. No fucking way.”

“Keegan—­”

“Ray!”

“Whatever!” I groaned, and ran a hand through my hair agitatedly. “Tell me why you wanted to know if he slept.”

“I—­” he cut off and breathed out heavily through his nose. “It’s not my story to tell you. The only reason I’m worried is, well, other than the obvious of you being my little sister, and Parker being my nephew, and I would be worried no matter what. But, I know Steele’s seen some things, and I know that it’s fucked him up—­”

“His demons,” I whispered.

“What?”

“He told me something about that the other night before we met up with you and Erica at his condo, when you kept calling us.” Keegan just stared at me like he was waiting for me to continue. “Keegan, it was kind of personal.”

“Reagan. My guy told you about his demons, and you’re not gonna tell me what he said, and you expect me to let you take my nephew to dinner with him?”

I rolled my eyes and huffed. “He said I could silence his demons just by looking at him. He said it was because of his time in the army, about things during that time that he couldn’t tell me.”

Keegan no longer looked worried, or like the big, protective older brother. He looked shocked. “He said that to you?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “Why?”

He looked down, and a small smile crossed his face as he nodded softly. “Good for him,” Keegan said as he turned and walked toward the stairs.

I just stood there staring at his back, completely dumbfounded for a few seconds before I took a step toward him. “Wait, so you’re just okay with this now?”

When he looked back at me, he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, and finally just shrugged. “Yeah, Ray. What he told you that night . . . that’s about as honest as he can get with what happened, and what’s going on with him. Knowing that he’s not keeping anything from you . . . and having seen how good he is with Parker. I think you’re just as good for him as he is for you.”

I was still staring at where Keegan had been when Parker came racing through the house. “Mom!”

“Hey, baby! Did you have fun today?”

“So much fun!” Parker launched into a play-­by-­play of their day, and I tried not to laugh when my mom walked in behind him and rolled her eyes before smiling.

“That crazy, huh?”

“Oh, it was nonstop today,” she said. “Did you want to stay for dinner?”

I shifted on my feet for a second before glancing down at Parker. “We can’t. Coen’s taking us to dinner tonight.” I’d barely looked up to see Mom’s reaction when Parker jumped up in front of me.

“Me too?”

I smiled widely at him. “You too, buddy.”

“No way! Come on, Mom, let’s go!”

“Okay, just a second, let me talk to Grandma first.” Looking up at my mom, my body tightened when I couldn’t read her expression. “Too soon?”

“We liked him.” She shrugged. “He does have an awful lot of tattoos, though. You don’t want Parker thinking those are okay.”

I suppressed a groan. “Mom. Really? Keegan has tattoos.”

“Not like that.”

“Mom!”

“Okay, okay!” She held her hands up. “We did like him. Despite the tattoos,” she threw in. “He seems like a wonderful young man. Keegan had a lot of great things to say about him when we asked him, but, I would trust his judgment on this.”

It was there, on that last bit that I realized Keegan must have told my parents his worries about Coen and his demons. Whatever they were. I could see it in my mom’s eyes. She was worried about this too, just as Keegan had been. But she didn’t understand, she didn’t know Coen. What was I saying? I barely knew Coen.

“I approve,” Keegan said as he appeared from out of nowhere.

I pointed at him. “He approves!”

“You do?” Mom asked, eyeing him warily.

“One hundred percent. I think he’d be good for them, and she’d be good for him.”

Turning, I sent him a thankful smile, and he winked at me as he opened the front door and walked out. Looking back at my mom, I saw her blink a few times before clapping her hands together once.

“Well, since I just put it all on Keegan, I guess that settles that.”

“It’ll be fine, Mom,” I said, hoping to reassure her. “You ready to go, buddy?”

Parker was studying his forearm intently, so he just nodded as he started walking toward the front door. “Mommy, do you think Coen will still have his stars?”

My eyes widened and I turned to look at my mom. “Uh, yeah, Parker. He will.”

“Because he’s old so his won’t wash away.”

“Right.”

“I’m gonna get old so mine won’t wash away, because I’m getting stars just like Coen’s.”

Mom groaned and rolled her eyes, and I tried covering my laugh with a cough, and failed miserably. Blowing her a kiss, I put my hand on Parker’s back and led him outside.

“Why don’t we wait a decade or so until we think about that, okay? Right now, let’s just go have dinner with Coen, sound good?”

“Cool!”

I smiled and followed my son to the car. The entire time I chanted to myself that this dinner was a good idea. That one day I wouldn’t regret letting my guard down for a guy like Coen and letting him into my son’s life.