Someone to Watch Over Me Read online

  Someone to Watch Over Me

  The Thorntons Book 5

  Iris Morland

  Blue Violet Press LLC

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  Love, Iris

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Enjoy this exclusive excerpt

  Also by Iris Morland

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Iris Morland

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art by Resplendent Media.

  Rose and coffee vector art designed by Freepik from Flaticon.

  1

  Blood, sand, heat. It smells of copper and he can’t see anything in front of him. He shouts, hoping he’s not the only survivor, and he hears a groan through all of the noise. He wonders if his eardrum is blown from the blast.

  He follows the noise. It’s instinctual at this point. He wonders if he imagined it when he can’t find the source of the sound. Then: he sees something. He kneels next to his comrade, gently turning him over. He doesn’t know if his friend is dead. When he hears him choke and gasp, he realizes he’s alive.

  But given the wound in his belly, he will be dead within minutes.

  He tries to get his friend up, get him help. He can’t die out here when they’re going home in a week. Not like this. His friend has a new baby girl and his wife needs him—

  Another blast rocks him. He collapses onto the sand, hits his head on something hard and painful, and it all goes black.

  Seth Thornton barely caught the scream in his throat as he woke up. Thrashing under the too-heavy bedcovers, he sat up, gasping for breath. He could taste the sand and blood on his tongue, even though he’d been in Fair Haven, Washington, for a year now. After his third tour as a Marine, he’d finally earned inactive duty.

  Except that inactive duty had meant that Seth had no idea what to do with his life now. Who was he, if not a soldier? He knew war; he knew guns; he knew death and he knew victory. But mostly, he knew loneliness, and it was like a pall he couldn’t overcome. Even with his twin sister, Lizzie, getting married and having a baby, even knowing he could do whatever he wanted with his life now, it wasn’t enough.

  He blew out a breath. “I’m turning into a total sap,” he muttered as he got up. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed, he made himself a cup of black coffee—his usual breakfast—and after he’d downed the mug, he decided to get some fresh air.

  It was better than sitting in that apartment and reminiscing about his best friend’s death.

  Outside, it was an obnoxiously beautiful day. June in Washington State heralded the end of the rainy season, and the sun shone so cheerily that Seth scowled up at the sky. What did the sun have to be so fucking happy about?

  It didn’t help that he had nightmares more often than not. When he could sleep, the memories crept up on him, taking over his dreams, until he’d wake up even more exhausted than when he’d gone to sleep. Lizzie had stopped asking about the dark circles under his eyes because he tended to snap at her, but he saw the worry in his twin sister’s expression

  You can’t keep going on like this, she’d said just a week prior. Nobody can.

  He would, because he didn’t have a choice.

  Right then, Seth heard a woman swearing. Very colorfully, in fact. Intrigued, he rounded the corner to see an overstuffed armchair seemingly hanging in midair, the only evidence of human involvement being the slender ankles and feet standing on the concrete. The woman swore again as the chair began to tip onto the ground.

  Seth grabbed the chair just in time. It was heavier than it looked. Grunting, he was about to ask which apartment the woman lived in when he was arrested by a face that he couldn’t forget.

  Rose DiMarco. The woman he’d met outside The Fainting Goat, the most popular bar in town. Those wide blue eyes, that pert little nose. The dark brown hair tipped with blue.

  She stared at him in surprise. “You.”

  “You,” he drawled. “How have you been, princess?”

  That pert little nose wrinkled. She tried to lift the chair away from his hold, but he had at least a foot on her and a whole lot more muscle.

  “How about you tell me which apartment is yours, unless you want to stand out here all day?”

  Rose hesitated before sighing. “It’s number 115. Just right around the corner here.”

  Seth’s eyebrows shot up, but he bit his tongue in time. It just so happened he lived in number 117—right next door.

  What a fascinating coincidence.

  They maneuvered around the corner and into the apartment, setting the chair down with a thud in the mostly bare living room. Seth took in the boxes—most labeled BOOKS—and then he took in Rose herself.

  Her long hair was in a braid down her back, her cheeks flushed. He told himself she was flushed from the exertion, not from him, but it amused him that she not only remembered him, but that she’d reacted to his presence so decidedly.

  He’d seen her outside The Fainting Goat fending off some asshole, and when said asshole had grabbed her, Seth had come to her rescue. Except that Rose had taken issue with his interference, and Seth had wondered where the hell this beautiful, fiery woman had come from. He hadn’t seen her in a month, no matter how many times he went to The Fainting Goat. He’d almost wondered if he’d dreamed her.

  Now here she was. His new neighbor.

  A smile tipped up his lips, and when she saw it, she put her hands on her hips.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said in a prissy voice, “but that was my biggest piece of furniture.”

  “So you’re saying I should leave?” Now he was definitely amused.

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Are you always this kind to people who help you?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it, looking very much like she’d like to stick out her tongue at him. Instead, she decided to turn around and say nothing.

  Seth followed her to a hatchback outside. He wondered how she’d gotten that chair in her car in the first place. He saw boxes and more boxes, along with random odds and ends: pillows, blankets, picture frames. Except that the picture frames held no pictures in them, and her pillows and blankets and lamps and everything else were as nondescript as Rose was colorful.

  He picked up two boxes, and when she looked like she’d balk, he just raised an eyebrow.<
br />
  By the time he’d helped her get everything out of her car, her apartment looked slightly less depressing. He noticed she had no bed to speak of. Would she sleep on the chair? On her floor?

  He suddenly wanted to know everything about her. What kind of a woman carts five boxes of books and no bed to a new apartment? No pictures, no knickknacks. He hadn’t seen boxes labeled clothes or shoes or jewelry like his sister Lizzie had had when she’d moved in.

  “Is there a moving van coming?” he asked, intrigued.

  Rose looked up from the box she’d begun to unpack. “A van? No. This is it.”

  “Are you getting a bed later today?”

  She wouldn’t look at him as she began to stack books. “No, I’m not.”

  Well, that said plenty. But at her warning look, he decided not to push his luck. He started to help her unpack her books, glancing at the spines as they started to shelve them in a tiny bookshelf that wouldn’t hold even half of her collection.

  Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell, John Keats, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens—so many books, most of which had clearly been read over and over again. Some were falling apart, barely glued together. When he took out a copy of Frankenstein, the cover fell off entirely.

  “Oh, poor guy. This one has been through a lot.” Rose took the book from him, smiling.

  That smile burst something inside him. Something hot, something dangerous. Something that felt exactly like longing. He caught his breath and forced himself to look away before he got burned.

  After they’d shelved as many books as they could, Rose stood up, wiping her hands on her shorts. “Do you want something to drink?”

  She didn’t wait for his reply. She returned with two glasses of water and handed one to Seth, which he took gratefully. And he realized, with an inward start, that helping Rose DiMarco move in had made him forget this morning’s nightmare.

  At the thought of her last name, something itched in the back of his mind. He knew that name, didn’t he? He looked at her more closely, trying to find a clue, but all he saw were those bright blue eyes, like the lake on a sunny day. He’d never seen eyes like hers. As he gazed at her, he watched as a blush climbed up her cheeks.

  So she wasn’t as indifferent toward him as she pretended to be. That only heightened his attraction. His blood thrummed.

  But then something fearful flickered in her eyes, and she looked away. He recognized that look all too well: he’d seen it in the eyes of his men when they were facing down death. He’d seen it in his own face.

  But what did Rose have to be afraid of?

  Rose DiMarco, in all of her twenty-seven years, had never encountered a man as stubborn as Seth Thornton.

  Yes, this was the second time she’d met him. No, she didn’t really know him. Yes, she had thought about him more often than she cared to admit after he’d saved her from Rich, one of her ex-boyfriend Johnny Porter’s cronies.

  She’d moved to Fair Haven to escape—and to escape from men who wanted to use her for their own gains and pleasure.

  She recognized desire in men’s gazes. She was no stranger to those heated looks, those looks of anticipation. It was rather like having a large predator spot you and decide to hunt you down. Running only made them want to hunt you more.

  Rose had no intention of being the gazelle to Seth’s lion.

  He looks more like a panther, she thought as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. All muscle and darkness. And those blue-green eyes. Like turquoise.

  A dog barked from her bedroom. Rose jumped, feeling foolish. She’d left her German shepherd, Callie, in her bedroom while she’d been moving in, forgetting her when Seth Thornton had appeared. Guilt assailed her as she went to let Callie out of her tiny bedroom.

  Callie was all black, and small for a German shepherd. Rose had gotten her from the shelter three years ago, and Callie had proven herself a worthy companion and guard ever since. Rose had needed a large dog to keep people at bay; Callie had fit the bill perfectly, even though she was more likely to demand belly rubs than take a bite out of some villain.

  Callie woofed, her tail wagging. She followed Rose into the living room, going alert when she scented Seth. She sniffed him. Rose couldn’t help but notice that Seth allowed the dog to smell him without moving. Most people tended to reach for dogs without considering the consequences.

  “This is Callie,” Rose said.

  Seth waited another moment until Callie had completed a thorough sniffing. Deciding that Seth wasn’t a threat, she sat on her haunches, watching him with her dark eyes. Sometimes Rose wondered how much Callie perceived in people.

  Seth kneeled down, and when Callie wagged her tail, he began to stroke her silky dark head. Callie woofed in pleasure, her tail wagging harder. A smile spread across his face.

  “Pretty dog,” he murmured. He gave her one last pat before rising. “Is that it?”

  “Is what it?”

  His smile widened. “Is that everything you needed out of your car?”

  “Oh!” Rose barely stifled a blush. “Yes, thank you. You don’t need to stay.” She winced and, feeling foolish, decided to focus on unpacking the few things she had.

  But what could she do with blankets and pillows without a mattress? She hadn’t lied when she’d said she didn’t have a mattress being delivered anytime soon. Her brother, Heath, had said he’d buy her whatever she needed, but she’d declined. She’d taken care of herself for this long; she didn’t need anyone’s charity. Although, if she thought about how she could barely afford this apartment, she knew her pride would only last so long. She had agreed to borrow his car for the move, but that had been the extent of the charity she’d been willing to accept.

  She tossed a blanket, annoyed with herself, and she heard Seth grunt a laugh.

  “What did that blanket do to you, princess?”

  She almost growled. “Will you stop calling me that?” She moved past him to go into the kitchen to get…something. More water? Maybe I’ll just hide in a cabinet until he finally leaves.

  Callie sensed her sudden tension and pressed her wet nose against her palm. Rose stroked along Callie’s spine absentmindedly.

  “Are you stalking me?” she blurted. At his raised eyebrow, she added, “Because isn’t it kind of weird that you keep showing up to help me? What do you want from me anyway?”

  His lips twitched. “It’s a small town.”

  “It’s not that small.”

  “True. I haven’t seen you in a month. Usually people run into each other more often than that.”

  That’s because I’ve been avoiding you. She’d seen him at The Fainting Goat, where she worked as a waitress. Every time she’d seen him at a booth or at the bar, she’d somehow sneaked into the back or persuaded a coworker to get his order.

  She hated people helping her. Treating her like a princess. Princesses were kept in towers, hidden away, waiting to be rescued. Rose refused to wait to be rescued, because she knew all too well you’d be waiting for the rest of your life.

  “Were you looking for me?” She wanted to sound accusatory; instead, she sounded breathy.

  “I wanted to know if you’d gotten rid of your stalker. Did you?” His eyes darkened ever so slightly. “Did that asshole leave you alone?”

  “For now.”

  When he looked like he wanted to ask more questions, she shook her head. “I still don’t get why you’re at my apartment complex at all.” A frisson of fear coursed through her. Had her instincts been wrong again? Was Seth no different from Johnny?

  Ice coated her veins at the mere thought.

  But Seth only laughed. “Nothing like that.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I’m in 117.”

  “Wait. You live here?”

  “Generally more than one person lives in an apartment complex, yes.”

  “You’re my neighbor.”

  “So it would seem.”

  She blushed scarlet, and then when he steppe
d closer to her, she blushed even redder.

  “I think you’re the one stalking me,” he said in a low voice that made her blood simmer. “Although I can’t say that I dislike the idea.”

  She wondered if he would kiss her. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be a gazelle when a lion spotted you. Yet the question begged to be asked—did she want to be caught this time?

  She swallowed. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. With his height, his dark brown hair, his chiseled jaw, and those bulging arms, she would have to be deaf and blind not to notice how attractive he was. A faint beard darkened his face, although he probably had a five-o’clock shadow every evening despite shaving in the morning. She couldn’t help but notice the cleft in his chin, and the way his upper lip curved. All of him seemed hard, unyielding. Ruthless. A white scar cut along his left cheek, and he had smaller scars on his arms and his hands.

  Callie barked, the moment shattered. Rose jumped away and tugged at her braid. She felt dizzy. She wished Seth would leave so she could find her equilibrium again.

  “Let me take you out for drinks,” Seth said suddenly.

  She almost laughed. She hadn’t gone out for drinks—gone on a date—in years. An eternity. Rose wasn’t the dating type. That was for women who didn’t wake up terrified of the memories, the past, the ghosts who would never let her go. Dating was for women who weren’t scared of every man they encountered.

  Dating was for women who didn’t see danger around every corner.