Obviously, this had to be a midlife crisis. Broadrick didn't eat cookie dough. One time, he brought his mini blender to our hotel room and made me his "special" breakfast shake. It had spinach in it. Who eats freaking spinach for breakfast?

He grabbed a large metal bowl from the kitchen island and peeled over the plastic wrap. "I decided the military can't give me what I want."

I shoved the ball of dough in my mouth, chewing so quickly I didn't get to enjoy the chocolatey taste. Good thing I had a roll in my fridge at home. He dipped his finger in the bowl with the dough, and I slapped his hand away. Who knew how long that had been sitting on the counter?

"Now what? You're planning to hang around Pelican Bay and eat expired dough?"

He eyed the dough for another second, as if considering his actions, and then let me take it from him and return it to the counter. "Something like that."

Broadrick might have put the bowl back on the counter, but he hadn't taken his eye away from it. I stepped between him, blocking his sight. "B, you're a SEAL. You love being a SEAL."

He graduated high school at sixteen-way smarter than me, who took the full four years to finish-and then joined the military the day after his seventeenth birthday. Being a SEAL was his life dream. No way he gave it up.

"Eh, there's more to life," he said nonchalantly. "Things change."

The infuriating man stepped to the side and eyed the bowl again. He reached for it and I slapped him on the arm, stopping his progress. "That's bread dough."

His lips pinched together like he was biting the back of them. He had to be suffering from some kind of mental breakdown or midlife crisis. Except he wasn't old enough for a midlife crisis.

"I don't know what you want to hear, Von. Recent events have taught me there is more to life."

I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. Half of me wanted to jump on him and cry into his neck about how much I missed him. At one point in my life, Broadrick was my sun. I had everything for our future planned out. Thinking about those times hurt.

He ruined those dreams and I couldn't afford the loss if he broke me again.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't be the woman he ran to for help with whatever issue he had before returning overseas and leaving me here. Alone. Again.

I deserved more.

"So what? Now you've left the military. Fine. Why are you here?"

Did he come to Pelican Bay to torment me? Remind me of how wonderful we were and how I couldn't have it again?

He ran his finger against his stubble-splattered chin, invoking memories of when I used to run my tongue against it or let the tiny hairs tickle my cheek. Fuck me. I missed the man.

I stepped away and hardened not only my eyes but my heart. It had to happen. I would not fall for him again. Things changed in six months. I'd created a life here and had almost half of the PI hours I needed to get my license. There had been a time when I'd have given it all up to follow Broadrick, but those days were long gone.

He twisted the plastic wrap over the bowl, forcing me to step between them again. I closed my eyes and counted. It had to help at some point. Right?

"Are you done, babe?" he asked, leaning in too close.

His spicy cologne encircled me, bringing back way too many memories for me to ignore. The way his fingers roamed my body. His sweet kisses.

Also, all the promises he made and then broke. I stepped back, but my hips hit against the counter, making my escape futile.

"Yes, I'm good." I popped open my eyes and stared into his. "Why are you here?"

He'd leave eventually and then everything would return to the way it was before. It didn't matter what he said or how long he stayed. I'd get through it.

"I decided I messed up and I'm here to win you back."

"What?" I shouted and then slammed my mouth shut. My gaze fell to the floor as I worked on not passing out.

Broadrick grabbed my chin, bringing my head up to meet his gaze. "I'm here for you and I'm not leaving until the mission is successful. It's my most important one."

"I'm married," I blurted.

"Vonnie." His eyes were full of skepticism.

Probably because I lied.

I rolled my eyes, panicking. "I have a cat."

He had a horrible pet allergy.

Broadrick shrugged. "I'll take some Allegra."

Without twisting, I grabbed the bowl from behind me, looked at the contents, remembering it was bread dough, and slammed it back on the counter. "I'm not a mission, Broadrick. I'm a person."

"Von, I know that," he said, but I wasn't listening. I pushed past him, creating a space between us.

"Look," I said, standing a good three feet away. Emotions, thoughts, memories rushed my brain and I couldn't think straight. I needed air. "I can appreciate you're having a quarter life crisis or something, but I need you to do the normal thing."

"The normal thing?" His left eyebrow rose, and I bit my tongue, trying to think on my feet.

"You know. Like a convertible or something." I waved my hand in the air frantically, hopeful my dramatics scared him.

He couldn't win me. I was unwinnable. Not an object, a game, or a mission.

Also, I had to get out of this conversation so I could hightail it to the freaking animal shelter and adopt a cat.

"Babe, I'm not buying a convertible. I already have a great motorcycle."

"We aren't getting back together." I threw my hands in the air at their most frantic.

I really didn't have time for this. My plate was already full. I had to solve a murder, find Brent, keep Katy's box safe, and think of cat names.

"Yes, we are."

"No, we aren't." I backed up another step and slipped against one of the metal pans on the floor, almost falling on my ass.

Broadrick caught my elbow and his other hand fell to my hip to keep me standing. I slapped at his hands once I had my footing back. Those pans were a damn hazard. Someone needed to pick them off the damn floor.

Oh right. I needed to pick them off the floor.

"Look, I get you're all kinds of pissed off, but that's because you don't understand why I did it."

"I know why you did it." I returned to hand waving, but this time kept my attention on where my feet landed.

He stepped closer, eating up some of the space I risked my life to create. "Babe, you have no idea."

Not true. He did it because he cheated on me, let our age difference get to him, or a host of other reasons. None of them were good enough reasons to break my heart. Not if he was the love of my life like he should have been.

I stuck a finger in each of my ears.

Was it mature?

No.

Did I care?

Also no.

"I can't hear you." I closed my eyes so I couldn't see him either.

The move was totally childish, but I'd finally gotten over Broadrick. Mostly. I couldn't fall for him again.

Next thing I knew, Broadrick was right in front of me, pulling on my arms until I had to drop them from my ears.

"Babe, I'm not going anywhere." He backed me up against the wall and caged me in with his arms.

I used to love the position, but not anymore. He didn't get to be all... boxy with me. I ducked under his arm and backed away, keeping my distance from him and the pans. "I need you to leave me out of this. Seriously. I have a ton on my plate right now."

He leaned against the wall, not following me, and I took my first deep breath. "Let me take you to dinner."

"No."

Why did he have to be so persistent? And hot? And smell good?

Broadrick MacGregor was the worst. The absolute worst.

"Fine, let me drive you to the police station to return the evidence you stole before you get in trouble."

My mouth popped open and stayed that way. I stared at him, my eyes barely slits. He still looked hot, damn it. How did he know?

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

I racked my head for how he might have found out. Did he see it in the cooler? Was he at the police station?

I didn't have time to interrogate him more because the bell above the bakery door in the front section rang, alerting me to either a new customer or Katy leaving. Either option wasn't great at the moment. I couldn't handle more shit at the same time.

"Don't move," I said, pointing at him in case he was confused. Broadrick had a habit of disappearing.