Free First Class Male by Jillian Hart

shot to the head and turned their guns on the rest of us.”
    “That’s so horrible, I don’t even know what to say.” She stood stock still in the street, tears in her eyes. She could imagine that terror, but she couldn’t imagine the pain of the loss he’d been through. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, felt the tension in his muscles, the inner strength.
    “I felt so helpless,” he confessed, “when they made us get down on the floor. I remember laying there, terrified for Opal, and I didn’t know how to help her or defend her. You see, I used to be a schoolteacher.”
    “You?” She couldn’t picture that. Those wide shoulders, hard muscles and invincible might contained in a classroom, patiently teaching long division to children? Well, maybe she could see it, she reconsidered, tilting her head to look up at him. This man could do anything.
    “I know. The guys still tease me about it now and then.” He shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips at the memory of that teasing, the sadness of his loss dark on him. “The teller wasn’t fast enough, they were yelling at him, saying he’d kill one of the customers if he didn’t get the money out faster. The teller was young, it was his first job. He’d been my student the year before. A good kid, and he was doing his best but he was panicked, kept dropping the money and missing the bag, so the outlaw turned his gun on Opal and pulled the trigger. Just like that. It happened so fast, I couldn’t launch myself over her, no one could have stopped it. One minute she was holding my hand, looking into my eyes for reassurance and the next she was dead. He’d shot her in the back, right through the heart right in front of me.”
    “Mason.” She slid her hand down to his chest, over his slow, steady heartbeat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She couldn’t stand what he’d been through. “So that’s why you became a marshal.”
    “I signed up the day after the funeral.” His voice choked, the only show of emotion. “I went straight to the new marshal’s office in town and demanded they take me on. I’d do whatever I had to. I didn’t want anyone else to die that way.”
    “And now you spend your time trying to keep outlaws from tearing innocent people’s lives apart.” Gentle, those words, filled with understanding. “How long has it been?”
    “Nine years. Hard to believe all that time has gone by.” He swallowed, fighting to tamp down the emotions he wanted to keep private. “It seems like yesterday.”
    “Life has a way of pulling you forward, even when you don’t want to go.” Her hand lingered on his chest, somehow softening the pain he felt there. “So you’ve simply been too busy to think about marrying again?”
    “Something like that.” While the grief would always be there, it had faded, and Callie was right, life had pulled him forward. He’d just been too busy and focused on his work to notice it. “It’s my job that’s important. It’s all I do these days.”
    “No time for a personal life.” She nodded, as if she understood perfectly. “Be careful, Marshal. You might look up one day and realize another nine years have whipped by and you haven’t noticed them either.”
    “That’s likely.” He couldn’t stop from reaching for her, even though he’d vowed not to. He cradled her face in his hands, such a dear, amazing face. Thick curling lashes, violet-blue eyes, lush, soft mouth. The blinding urge to kiss her rocked through him, sharp as a bullet. Desire tripped through his veins, part need, part wish. Hell, he wanted to kiss her, really kiss her, until her breath turned ragged and her need matched his.
    He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant, fighting for control. When he leaned forward, closing the distance between them, he pressed a kiss against her cheek. She was silken soft, warm woman, and he was close enough to hear her soft sigh. It was hard to believe she was feeling anything close to this, and that