Protecting Cheyenne (SEAL of Protection Book 5) by Susan Stoker

like to hear Cheyenne feeling this way about herself, about her job. “Shy, I have a story to tell you. Will you listen with an open mind and really hear what I’m about to tell you?”
    At Cheyenne’s nod, he simply raised his eyebrows at her.
    “Sorry, yes, I’ll listen.”
    “I’m a disappointment to my parents.” Dude could tell Cheyenne was about to protest, and he cut her off. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me or anything. Just listen.”
    Cheyenne nodded and watched as a muscle ticked in Faulkner’s jaw. Whatever he wanted to tell her was serious.
    “I skipped school one day when I was about thirteen. I came home from surfing, expecting to get shit from my parents for skipping, and saw blood all over our kitchen. My parents weren’t there. There was no note or anything. I had no idea where they were or what had happened. All I knew was that the house was empty and there was a shitload of blood on the counter, sink, and even on the floor of our kitchen. I completely freaked out. I dialed 911 and was hysterical. The lady who answered the phone was an angel. She got me calmed down and asked me to answer some simple questions. She used a technique I’ve since heard will engage the right side of the brain and make people think less with their emotional side, and more with the rational side of their brain. She asked what my name was, she asked how old I was, and she asked what my address was. I’m sure you use these techniques too, but by the time she got to the next question I was able to think a bit more clearly.
    “I looked around and saw a butcher knife resting next to the cutting board along with a slew of vegetables. While I described what I was seeing, the 911 lady had been doing some investigating of her own. She told me that my mother had been signed into the emergency room by my father. She’d cut herself badly while making dinner and had bled all over the place while she’d waited on my father to help her wrap it up and put pressure on it.”
    Dude smiled as Cheyenne put one hand on his bicep and stroked him. She was still looking up at him, brow furrowed, and chewing one lip. Unconsciously, she was trying to soothe him. Dude liked that.
    He quickly went to finish his story and make his point. “I was embarrassed as all hell that I’d jumped to conclusions and thought my parents had been stabbed and kidnapped. I never forgot the feeling of relief I had when that lady answered the phone. She was my lifeline, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if she hadn’t been there for me. You do that for people Shy. You’re a lifeline for every person having a crisis that calls and you pick up the phone. I don’t know that lady’s name, I never met her and never had a chance to thank her properly. I regret that to this day. I wish you could meet every single person you help, Shy. I wish you could see first-hand how much you help them.”
    Dude paused and brought his scarred hand to the back of Cheyenne’s neck. He tilted it up to his and forced her to look into his eyes. “What you do is important, Shy. You touch more lives than you’ll ever know. The people you talk to will never forget you and what you do for them, even if their loved one doesn’t survive. Own it, hon. Be proud of yourself.”
    Cheyenne closed her eyes briefly, loving the feel of Faulkner’s thumb at her chin and his pinky on the back of her neck. It felt awesome. “I’ll try,” she whispered.
    “You do that.” Dude got closer into Cheyenne’s space and brought his other hand up from the counter to her side. He stroked his thumb against her waist. “I’m going to kiss the hell out of you, Shy. Then I’ll probably touch you way too intimately for having just met you yesterday. I can’t stop thinking about you wearing the thong I picked out for you and having it snug against your core as we sit here. Once I force myself to pull away from you, hopefully before I go too far, I’m going to get