Soft Target by Mia Kay

to reset certain priorities. Gray had thought the woman was nuts. The FBI had been his priority since he’d heard an agent from the Omaha office talk at a college career fair. Escaping claustrophobic, small-town Nebraska had been his goal for longer than that. How could he want anything else?
    Ted had been the same, from what Gray could remember of their one-sided conversations. The kid had talked all the time. He’d been eager to make good, to make his parents proud, and excited about everything —being an agent, his new apartment, his girlfriend. And he’d given it up. How could Gray dishonor that sacrifice? Did he want to?
    He waited until only the fruit was left on her plate. “I need to get back.”
    “Okay. Let’s go upstairs.” She stood. “Don’t look at me that way. I couldn’t very well lug everything around.”
    Gray put enough cash on the table to pay their bill and leave a tip, he hoped, before following her to the elevator. He kept at her elbow, willing her forward, until she reached her room and opened the door. His diplomas were propped against her suitcases.
    “Are you leaving tonight?”
    She blinked. “With you, yeah. I’ll stay for Nate’s wedding and help you. Then we’ll go home, and you’ll be ready to get back to work”
    His stomach fell as the door closed behind him. “No. You need to move on.”
    She dropped to the edge of the bed. “Explain this to me. We were talking about our future, about getting married . Then you got shot, and I did what agents do for each other—I kicked your ass when you needed it. And I did what Bureau wives do—I stayed by you and helped you. After three months of waiting there, a few more weeks here won’t matter.”
    He sighed. “Technically you were the one talking about marriage. But you’re right. A few more weeks won’t matter.”
    Her frown deepened as his meaning dawned on her. “It’s been two years, Gray. Everyone’s expecting it.”
    “I don’t give a shit about everyone’s expectations.” Not anymore.
    “And I’ve been trapped long enough, waiting on you to give a shit.”
    “Make up your mind, Shel. Are you my wannabe fiancée or a hostage?”
    And just like that, they were back to the same argument. He’d changed and she hadn’t. And she didn’t understand. How could she? Nothing had happened to her. But she wanted the old Gray back, and he was gone. It was like wearing a suit that was too tight.
    Regretting his harsh words, he ran his hand back through his hair and rubbed his scalp. “We want different things.”
    “What is it you think you want?” she asked.
    “I have no idea,” he confessed. “But I want a chance to find it, and you deserve a guy who wants the life you want. Someone who takes one look at you and knows there’s no other woman for him.”
    “Have you met someone?”
    “No.” He snorted. Not after two days. “Of course not.”
    He picked up his diplomas and forced himself not to grimace at their weight or his awkward hold. She was still on the edge of the bed, statue-like. “Goodbye, Shelby. Good luck, and be happy.”
    Back in the parking lot, he eased the package into the truck’s passenger seat and then swallowed more aspirin. This time he chased them with antacids as he climbed behind the wheel. He’d been wrong. That had sucked.
    Shelby’s cloying fragrance flooded the cab, forcing him to roll down the windows as he merged onto the highway and sped toward Fiddler.
    Orrin’s was open when he arrived. Despite the early hour, several tables were occupied by couples enjoying a day off. The guys lifted their beer bottles in casual salutes. He waved back, recognizing many of them from church or from happy hour yesterday, and they went back to laughing and joking. Gray went to the corner of the bar and claimed a vacant stool. All he wanted was to lay his head on the cool, polished oak. Unpleasant memories, harsh words and brutal truths balled together to make him ill. And his clothes reeked.