Protecting the Dream (4 page)

Chapter 3

“Ty.” Jordan sat up in the bed. “Ty,” she called out again, reaching for his arm.

He bolted upright next to her. “What? What, baby? What is it?”

She looked at him and felt herself flush with heat. “I . . . I don’t know.” A disturbing combination of guilt and arousal settled over her. “I think I had a dream.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her head. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He pulled her close. “Are you okay? Can I get you something? A drink? A cold cloth?”

“It wasn’t a
bad
dream. At least I don’t think it was,” she murmured.

Ty rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. “Was it a vision? Something connected to a case?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Since the Titus bust, she’d been sleeping peacefully most nights. Only once had she dreamed about her family’s murders. Ty had been there to hold her, to ease the bone-deep trembling and sickness that often accompanied those memories. His solid presence was a definite perk of being in a relationship. But this dream had been nothing like the ones about her family. In fact, it had been kind of nice. In a twisted sort of way.

“I think it may have been just a
dream
dream. You know, the kind normal people have.”

But admittedly, this dream had been strange. She’d never felt any confusion about a vision before. Typically when a spirit connected with her, it was to show her an event that had happened or would be happening soon. She would see it play out like a movie in front of her. But she’d been a part of this dream. She’d sure felt that kiss.

“What happened in the dream?” Ty asked.

Embarrassed that she’d dreamed about another man, she simply shrugged. Or maybe he hadn’t been another man. The feeling of Ty’s embrace, of Ty’s kiss, was better, stronger, more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. She wasn’t likely to confuse Ty with anyone else. Surely the dream had been about their relationship and the house. But why had he called her Ellie?

“Do you know anyone named Ellie?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” She looked into his sleepy eyes. “I’m good. Lie back down. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Because of the subtle glow hedging the windows, Jordan decided it was nearly dawn. The bedroom had four large windows. The one on the back of the house was a huge arch. She vaguely wondered if she’d need to cash in her retirement plan to afford shades that would allow them to sleep past the ass crack of dawn.

After using the bathroom, she tiptoed to the huge money-sucking window and peered out. That was when she decided it would be a crime against nature to ever cover the view with anything. To the east, streaks of sunlight were beginning to weave through the tall branches of the trees. Evidently the temperature had dipped below freezing—a light dusting of ice crystals glimmered when the rays of the sun hit them just right.

A light snore had her turning to the bed. Neither of them were morning people, that was for sure. Ty was stretched out, one leg covered by the blanket. She walked to the foot of the bed and stared in awe at him.
Christ, he’s beautiful.
If you were going to get stupid about a man, she chastised herself, might as well be one who looked like sex on a stick.

And as tempting as it was to crawl into the bed and curl up next to him, there’d be no going back to sleep now. Ideas about the dream and its significance were still brewing in the back of her mind. In the forefront, she continued to debate the wisdom of committing to a house—not to mention a life—with Ty.

Ty was good for her, there was no arguing that point. He offered her love and family and stability, all the normal assurances that had slipped through her fingers when her parents and sister had been murdered. But what did she bring to his life? When the novelty of hot sex had run its course, why would he choose her over all the other women in the world?

Would
he choose her?

Had he ever bothered to ask himself that one tiny, but important, question? She shook her head and slipped into her jeans, but tugged on his shirt. Since she thought they’d been headed for vacation, she had clothes, hair products, and even a few snacks in his truck. But they’d never bothered to bring anything inside the house last night. Looked like she’d have to go sans bra temporarily since he’d destroyed her favorite one.

The fire had died to embers and the room was chilly, so she flipped the space heater back on. Ty rolled over and exposed his gloriously naked backside. Christ on a cracker, the man’s ass was a work of art. Picking up his jeans, she gave herself a mental shake and fished in the pockets for his truck keys. He’d never actually let her drive his big black F-350. The attachment he had to it was beyond borderline obsessive. She chalked that up to boys and their toys.

Still, if she didn’t shoot some caffeine through her system, she would not be responsible for her actions. Sex had taken priority over food last night, but right now the flaking paint on the walls was looking appetizing. The fleeting thought that Ty had made sure the house had a bed for sex but hadn’t put food on his priority list amused her.

She headed for the door, then turned to look at sleeping beauty in the middle of the large old room. It was ridiculous how tightly her heart squeezed as she watched him sleep. He’d drawn the short stick when he’d fallen for her. Against all logic and reason he loved her. She knew it, she felt it radiate from him, like power straight from the source, especially when they were making love. She loved him, too. Loved him ridiculously. The probability was high that she was never going to deliver June Cleaver. Maybe it was time to concentrate on what she could give him.

If this house was a part of his dreams, she could give him that. She really didn’t care where they lived. Unless hot coffee was more than ten minutes away. If she had to travel farther than that for her morning caffeine, the deal was off.

***

Luckily for Ty, Jordan traveled only five minutes down the main road before a sign advertising a giant coffee cup and bear claws snagged her attention. She pulled Ty’s obnoxiously big truck to a stop at the side of the building, an aging combo donut house and gas station.

Inside, Jordan inhaled the heavenly scents of coffee and breakfast. An older man with white hair held a steaming pot and greeted her from behind the counter.

“Hey there, little lady. What can I do you for?”

She smiled back at him. “I’d kill for a cup of that coffee.”

He chuckled, flipped over a mug, and filled it. “Have a seat.” He motioned to one of the stools at the counter. “Cream and sugar?”

Her intentions had been good. She’d planned to grab food and coffee and get back to Ty before he woke. But when the man placed cream and sugar next to the mug, she nearly wept, the coffee smelled so good.

“Can I get you a menu?” he asked.

“Actually, I thought I’d see if I could get breakfast to go, but your evil pot of caffeine lured me to this stool.”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, it does that to a lot of people. I keep telling my wife it’s my handsome face that draws them in. She insists it’s the coffee.” He slid a menu in front of her. “Even if you’re ordering to go, you’ve got to wait for your food to be cooked, right? Might as well do it sitting down with a cup of joe in your hand. We have vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate flavorings if you’d like one.”

Jordan might possibly love this man. “Your evil temptations know no bounds, do they? But I think I better order and get back home with some food. How about two number threes to go?”

"Two number threes bagged," he said through the kitchen window. He turned back to Jordan. “Are you new in town? Or just passing through?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. “Sort of,” she said, stumbling through the explanation. “My boyfriend and I are considering buying the old Henderson property. We’re looking it over, deciding how much of an investment it would take to get the house up and running.”

The old man’s smile spread wider, and he held out his hand. “Bill Tucker,” he said. “You and I just might end up neighbors then.” He turned and shouted into the kitchen. “Lizzy, come out here, honey.”

An attractive, fifty-something wisp of a woman rounded the corner, wiping her hands on an apron.

“Liz, this lady is thinking about buying the Henderson house. We might finally get some company out our way.”

“That’s great to hear. The house has been empty for so long and it’s such a shame. That place was amazing when the Hendersons owned it.” Liz held out her hand. “Our properties back up against each other. If you need anything, just come on up to the house. I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jordan. Jordan Delany. My . . . ah, boyfriend is Tyler McGee,” she said, feeling the oddity of the new and strange declaration roll off her tongue. “With coffee this good, and donuts on the menu, you'll probably be seeing a lot of us. We're both cops.”

“Goodness, our neck of the woods will be extra safe with two police officers next door, won’t it?” Liz laughed. “Hmm . . . Tyler McGee. Honey, wasn’t there a Tyler in the McGee family over in Longdale? Now that I’m thinking about it, I kinda remember that one of those boys became a police officer.”

“That’d be him, I’m sure. I’ll have Ty stop in and say hi.”

Mr. Tucker snatched a bag out of the window and handed it to Jordan. Then he poured coffee into two giant foam cups and topped each with a lid. “No charge,” he said, scooting all of it toward Jordan. “Consider it a housewarming.”

“That’s not necessary—I’m just happy to have hot coffee. This smells amazing, thank you so much. It was good to meet you.” Jordan smiled at the Tuckers. She headed for the door, then turned back. “Just out of curiosity, do you happen to know what the Henderson’s first names were?”

“Mary Ellen and Joe.” Liz's eyes softened. “They were such nice people.”

Jordan nodded.

“Nobody called her Mary Ellen, though,” Bill chimed in. “Whole town called her Ellie.”

***

Jordan eased onto the bed and opened the containers, waving the smell of eggs and bacon in Ty’s direction.

“Mmm,” he murmured, opening one eye. “What smells so good?”

“Wake up and find out.”

He rolled to his back, stretched, and sat up.

She arranged the containers picnic-style on the bed. “I even have coffee. And it’s good coffee. Strong. Just how you like it.”

“This looks great. Man, I’m starved. Where’d you get all this?” He nabbed a fork, jabbed it into the eggs. Then his sleepy eyes opened wide. “
How’d
you get all this?”

“I found a neat place just a few miles up the road. If you think this looks good, you should see the donuts. Some of them were as big as my head. And the cinnamon rolls, good God, they were . . .” She glanced at him, noticed his expression had sobered. “What? I have everything you need—salt, pepper, butter for the toast.”

“You drove my truck?”

She tilted her head and studied him.

Ty had wrestled and killed a drug runner from the Delago Cartel. He’d delivered seamless reports to both of their superiors with effortless grace. Formidably kicked ass in an interrogation with the one drug runner who’d been arrested.

And never once had she seen a hint of a tell on his face.

But now—
right
now
—he looked like someone had kicked his kitten simply because she had driven his truck. She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so insulted.

“No, I hoofed it five miles down the road and back. Strapped your eggs and bacon to my ass so I could carry two giant cups of coffee in my hands. How do you think I got it?”

“It’s just . . .” He tipped his head forward, obviously weighing his words. “The truck is kind of big for you. And it barely fits in and out of that old gated opening. There can’t be more than a couple of inches to spare on either side.”

Seriously? Was he seriously giving her shit because she’d driven his truck?

“Oh, I didn’t need to use the gate.” She smiled like the village idiot. “There’s a big muddy spot twenty or thirty feet down where the fence has fallen. The only problem was that I had to push through a ton of tree branches and brush to get to the road. But I can see why you’re so in love with that monster.” She stabbed up a forkful of eggs and excitedly shoved it into her mouth. “That big sucker of yours just plowed right through all that crap,” she said around the eggs.

His jaw stopped mid-chew. His eyes opened wide and he struggled to swallow, as if he were choking down a large mouthful of glass. “I don’t usually take her off-road much.”

For God’s sake, he called it a
her
.
“Well, you should,” she said enthusiastically. “What’s the point of having that big badass truck if you don’t go plowing through the mud and brush once in a while?” She tossed down her fork and folded her arms across her chest. “I think she liked it.”

“Jordan, my truck doesn’t have a scratch on it.”

“Relax, cowboy.” She snapped the words at him, unable to hide her irritation anymore. “I was joking about driving through the brush. But just so you know, criminals who carry illegal drugs don’t always pull over kindly and wait patiently for a cop to catch up. I’ve been in plenty of high-speed chases and can’t remember one where I was outmaneuvered. But if you’re going to strand me out here in Green Acres and get your tighty-whities in a bunch because I get breakfast, you damn well better get me a vehicle to drive.”