21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (141 page)

The muscles on his chest flexed as he took control of the wheelchair and maneuvered right next to the shower seat. Months of physical therapy and grueling recovery had taken an already fit body and sculpted his torso, chest, shoulders, and arms to near god-like proportions. Her stomach filling with a completely inappropriate heat, she tapped the side of her nose.

“Good Catholic girl here. I don’t do voyeurism.” She withdrew and grabbed the shower curtain to close it for him.

“I wasn’t asking for voyeurism.” Rebel’s delicious mouth curved into a playful invitation. “I need someone to wash my back.”

Hitting on her wasn’t his usual modus operandi. “Did you get hurt during PT?”

The playful smile on his face dimmed. “Cramp.”

Frowning, she wanted to twist his ear like she did to Joseph when he did something stupid—except, in this case, Rebel hadn’t been stupid. He’d told her before she stepped out. “Where?”

“Shoulders.” He grimaced and shifted from the wheelchair to the shower seat. The muscles along his arms rippled with the action. “Tried to drown myself.” Despite the conversational tone, she respected what it cost him to admit it. It had taken her months to get that kind of trust out of him, so she shoved all her wildly inappropriate feelings down and pushed the wheelchair out. “Okay, start the water and get going, I’m going to grab a bathing suit.”

“I’ll leave the swim trunks on,” he offered.

“I’m a big girl. The naked doesn’t scare me.”

Madre de Dios, Noel
.

“Doesn’t scare me either, so don’t change on my account.” His challenge floated after her and she was grateful that she made it around the corner before the heat scorched her face. It took her a few minutes to run down the hall and grab her suit. She changed, folding her clothes and setting them on a bench, then flipped the door lock to
private
before stepping into the shower stall.

Rebel had his head tilted up, face to the hot spray pouring down on him. His shorts were on the rack next to him, so she kept her gaze above the waistline. She almost hated to interrupt his bliss. Settling on the opposite wall, she tried to ignore the damage the steam would do to her hair. She should have put it in a ponytail.

“Thanks,” he said in a quiet voice, not opening his eyes.

“You’re welcome.” She’d worked with a number of different patients over the years, but Rebel was her favorite. It was no use pretending otherwise. “How are the shoulders?”

“Sore.” A brief smile softened the hard line of his jaw. “But a good sore. I overdid it.”

“I’m surprised Kara let you.” It wasn’t like the therapist. Kara understood the men she worked with. If they pushed themselves too hard, she usually pushed back.

“Let’s call it an object lesson in rebellious behavior.” Self-deprecation marked his voice and he leaned forward to grab the shampoo, lathering a small amount into his thick hair. The first few months, he’d insisted on a buzz cut, military precise. But it had grown out some, and he’d let it. It barely touched his nape, but it definitely fell over his ears.

Hmm
was a safe enough, non-committal response. “Did it work?”

“Hell no.” He grinned for real that time and she laughed.

“Good, I don’t know what I’d do if you suddenly became the poster child for restraint and cooperation.” Jump for joy, especially if it meant he’d be happier. But the simple truth was, the irascible part of his nature sustained him through his recovery and gave him strength to face his future. Not everyone coped with his level of aplomb, and she’d heard more than one doctor comment on it.

“You have nothing to worry about then.” He rinsed his hair and caught her gaze. “Want to wash my back?”

“Are you milking the cramp?” she asked, but her palms itched to get on his skin.

“Maybe a little.” He shifted on the seat and a wince traveled across his expression. She’d never have seen the fleeting change if she hadn’t been watching for it.

“But you are sore.” It wasn’t a question. Stepping into the spray, she picked up the soap and poured a nickel-sized amount. His skin was hot under her palms, but hopefully that was only a reflection of the scalding temperature of the shower. “Damn, I forgot you like to parboil yourself.”

“Shit, sorry.” He rolled the dial down some.

“I’ll live.” She’d do more than live, but she concentrated on getting him clean rather than exploring the way his muscles moved under her fingers. He bowed his head, and she took the time to massage while she washed. His long sigh was reward enough for the action. “How much did you overdo it?”

“Apparently skipping PT several days running wasn’t a good idea.”

Noel snorted. “Really? Good to know.”

Skimming her hands over his skin, she glanced at his lap. He’d draped a towel over himself. Amusement and gratitude transformed into embarrassment when he caught her looking. He scored a mark in the air with his forefinger and winked. “I thought it was better for both of us if I took the chrome out of the equation.”

Inappropriate or not, Noel burst out laughing. “You’re going to Hell, Marine.”

“Yeah, might as well make it worth the trip.” But the sound of his humor was better than sprinkles on a cupcake.

After his shower, she helped him dress. Rebel complained once when she ducked behind the privacy screen to change into her clothes, but shut up when she pointed out no chrome for her, no chrome for him. Riding on the good mood, she tossed his jacket at him and dragged on her own.

He fingered the coat skeptically, but put it on. “You skip this for a walk in the park and you want one on to walk to my room?”

Pulling her ponytail out from under the collar, she shrugged in an effort to downplay her big surprise. “Your room moved.”

“It what?”

“It moved.” She took him out of the officers’ gym and headed down an adjacent hallway toward the residential exits. The size of the hospital wing had been large enough when Captain Luke Dexter first opened the facility, but in the nearly two years since he’d built it, they’d continued to make additions. “In fact, I packed up everything in your room and carted it all over while you were doing your therapy.”

“Where to?” Suspicion filled his voice.

“Hey.” She tapped his shoulder. “Have a little faith. You’re going to love it.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell me where it is?”

“Because.” She grinned impudently at the back of his head and took the double doors that exited to the main walkway. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m being kidnapped.” The mock sigh was laughable. “You want me for my chrome.”

And if that wasn’t a thrilling image, she didn’t know what was. “Hey, you guys have been lusting after my body for years, so turnabout is fair play.”

“All right, I’m game. I’ll let you use me for all your lustful purposes if you promise to return the favor.”

Noel damn near tripped and muttered a silent prayer that he couldn’t see her face when he offered her such a temptation.
Playful, keep it playful
. “Bribes will get you nowhere.”

Rebel canted his head as she followed the winding sidewalk. Despite the curves in the path, it was as level as the designers could have wished, cutting through a greenbelt and right up to the first set of residential apartments.

“Noel….” The breathless note of wonder in his voice sent her heart scampering. It was exactly the reaction she’d been going for.

Pausing at the corner door, she parked his chair and circled around him to hold out the keys. “Your new room.”

“Woman, I could kiss you right now.” He whooped, took the key and, after a moment’s maneuvering, unlocked the door and let them in. The flattened entryway provided easy access to the wheelchair and she let him go in first before following.

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t get one-hundred percent independence until we pick up your prosthetics in the morning. I’ll be bunking on the sofa tonight, but I figured since you weren’t thrilled with all the music and—” she bit off the word
decorations
, “it was time.”

“Seriously?” He spun the chair around like the expert he was. “This is mine now?”

“Yes, sir.” She pushed the door closed and leaned on it. His excitement reminded her of a child on Christmas morning. “Like I said, I’ll stay here tonight. Get you settled, make sure everything is where you need it. This apartment is outfitted for you. We’ve been waiting for one to free up and I heard a rumor, so I sped up the processing….”

“This—this is fantastic.” He wheeled through the doorway and down the wide hall to the bedroom. “You got me a bigger bed!”

Laughing, Noel let him explore and headed into the kitchen. They’d delivered the groceries, so it only took her a few minutes to put away the dry goods. Everything had to be at wheelchair height for now, but he could rearrange it as soon as he was up on his legs.

“You have takeout flyers here from all the local places. You get a twenty-percent discount from most of them,” she called and set up the coffee maker. Her night of driving coupled with non-stop movement since she’d arrived at Mike’s Place wore at her. “They also did a basic foodstuffs delivery—eggs, milk, sandwich fixings, some microwaveable meals, and dry goods. Basic cereal. Oh—and MREs—apparently they like to make you feel right at home.” She pushed the disgusting little packages to the rear of the counter.

Some of the guys actually said they liked them and she’d tried one on a dare.
Blegh
.

“If you want anything specific—” She was still yelling when she turned around and found Rebel sitting in the doorway to the kitchen. “Holy hell, you’re quiet.”

Unrepentant glee warmed his expression. “Pizza. We’re getting pizza. Did they bring beer?”

It was her turn to frown. “No, they did not bring beer.”

“Why the hell didn’t they bring beer? Do you know how long it’s been…?”

“Because you, sir, are not cleared for alcohol.” She walked over to him and wagged her finger. “And don’t try to sneak any in. I’m wise to you.”

He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can live without the beer. Thank you. Seriously—thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and went to find the phone and order pizza.

The apartment was damn near close to perfect. Unsurprisingly, Noel turned out to be great company. She conceded to his desire for a Coke with his pizza, the sugary drink almost too sweet after months of not having any, but worth it. They watched reruns of
Alien
, and
Aliens
before crashing, but even though his bed was comfortable—Rebel didn’t sleep well. Noel lay fifteen feet away, sleeping on the sofa in the front room, and his painful awareness of that fact didn’t prove very conducive to sleep.

Focusing on the restive silence helped—so much so that the moment he heard her moving in the other room and the quiet shush of the bathroom door closing, he eased out of bed and into his wheelchair. By the time Noel emerged, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, he had coffee and toast ready.

Damned if he couldn’t handle his own place. Her grateful smile punched him in the heart.

“Nice.” She sighed and wrapped her hands around the cup. A second sigh followed the first after she took a sip. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Glad you like it.” He savored her reaction even more than the black brew in his cup.

“Hmm.”

To his amusement, she ignored him, nibbled her way through the toast and drank her coffee. It wasn’t until she was halfway through another cup that she finally focused on him again. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He’d managed a full slice of toast, but he really wasn’t hungry.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re not a morning person.” Surprised didn’t begin to cover it. She’d always been so upbeat with him from the moment she first breezed through the recovery room doors and took charge of his case. Brisk and straightforward, she treated him with respect and no small amount of teasing. It was the lightheartedness of her attitude, the way she’d call him on his crap, and her open cheer—all elements he’d looked forward to every day.

“Never have been.” Noel shrugged.

“I had no idea.” What else didn’t he know?

“I’m usually on cup number three by the time you see me. Coffee and I? We’ve had an ongoing affair for years now.”

A knock at the door interrupted before he could respond. Instead of leaping up to get it, though, she looked at him.

Oh. Hell. My place. My door
….

Ridiculously happy at the idea of not having someone fetch him anything, he wheeled away from the table and headed over to answer. Pleasure and pride twined along his spine. His good mood faded when he opened the door to a four-foot decorated pine tree and a young woman carrying a basket over one arm.

“Happy holidays, Sergeant Brun and welcome to the residential—”

Rebel slammed the door and rolled his chair backward.

“Reb!” Noel shot out of her chair and across the room. “What the hell are you doing?”

He steered back to the table and his coffee. Why the hell would they interrupt what had been a great morning with more holiday crap? Hadn’t he managed to escape it with the apartment? But all he said was, “I don’t want a tree.”

“That didn’t give you an excuse to be
rude
.” She growled the last word and jerked open the door. “Hey, Margie….”

Rebel ignored her conversation with the young woman and picked up his piece of toast. Eating it methodically gave him something to do. The sound of the door closing was his only warning before a large basket was deposited on the table in front of him. He narrowly caught his coffee cup before it tipped over from the bounce.

Silence.

Refusing to look up was childish, but he tilted his head to look around her first. No sign of the tree.
Good
. Only then did he glance at her. Noel watched him, arms folded, her expression dangerously neutral.

“You were rude,” she said the moment their gazes clashed. “Unacceptably rude. That’s not like you. What’s going on?”