A Change of Heart (11 page)

“Oh.” Her eyebrows rose.

“Oh?” That couldn’t be good. Her tone said she’d just figured something out. What? What did she know that he didn’t, and why did he get the feeling he’d blown any chance he’d ever had at being
the man
in her eyes? “What does that mean?” She stared out over the field of soybeans, and he could almost see her mind putting puzzle pieces together. What puzzle? There was nothing puzzling about him. Nothing. His mouth went dry, and his armpits had the opposite reaction.

She glanced up at him. “If it makes you feel any better, I see you as a threat.”

“Hell, no, that doesn’t make me feel better.” He jammed his hands deep into his back pockets and headed for his truck. “You’re the one person I don’t want to see me that way,” he muttered.

“What?” She picked up her pace until she strode along beside him. “Why?”

Shit
.
Good question.
“Because…because, um—”

Cory stopped in her tracks. “Because I’m the troubled employee—your work problem to solve? You don’t want my fear to affect my
productivity
. Is that it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She shrugged and averted her eyes. “Like the groceries, the stun gun and pepper spray. Hungry, frightened employees are less productive.”

Her eyes rose to meet his for a heartbeat, and the hurt he glimpsed there went right through him. “I—”

“It’s all right. I get it.” Starting off toward his truck, she squared her shoulders. “I’m not as flighty or as fragile as you might think. Or I didn’t used to be, anyway. I’m suffering a delayed reaction to everything that happened because I haven’t had time to process it is all. That’s fairly common with PTSD.” She swung his truck door open and climbed in. “I’m not going to freak out or run away, and you don’t have to walk around on eggshells when you’re with me. Don’t forget. I was a soldier for eight years.”

“Ah, yes. The exclusive I’m-a-veteran-and-you’re-not
club
.” Sunday dinner felt like a brick in his stomach. “I’m familiar.”

Once he settled into the driver’s seat, she flashed him a disgruntled look. “That’s not what I meant, Ted.”

“Whatever.” The knot tightening his chest made breathing difficult. The day had started out so well. How had it gone to hell so quickly? Why were things spewing out of his mouth like he had a busted filter?

“I just meant I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m sure you are.” He gripped the steering wheel. “The groceries and stuff? I wanted to do those things for you. Just for the record, Noah said you wouldn’t accept them if I made it seem personal. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be paying me back for any of it.” He glanced at her. Color rose to her cheeks, and her
mouth formed a surprised O. Was she pleased or dismayed? He couldn’t tell. “How tough are you?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

Might as well go for broke, since he’d already ruined the day. “Kyle asked Brenda out for a date.”

Confusion clouded her face. “Yeah, so?”

“Brenda said she’d only go out with him if it was a double date with you. Kyle asked me to be your date.” He turned to catch the play of emotions dancing across her face. None of them resembled
tough
. “Any idea why she’d do that?”

Cory looked everywhere but at him. “Because she’s a bossy, meddling, pushy friend who
thinks
she’s helping me.” Her lips compressed into a straight line. “It’s something we used to do when we were in high school. I’ll explain, but only after you’ve seen where I grew up. Don’t want to tip my hand in the big wager and all. You don’t have to do this, Ted. I’m sure Kyle and Brenda will do fine without us.” She propped an elbow on the window frame and rested her chin on her fist, turning to face the countryside.

“But I want to. We’re going bowling. I enjoy bowling immensely. So, again—how tough are you?”

“I don’t want to date you…or anybody.” She tensed. “It’s not you, it’s just—”

“Fair enough. I get it.” Even if it did suck the
hopeful
right out of his Sunday. “We can go as friends. I never said anything about wanting to date you either. Kyle asked me to do this favor, and I said I’d talk to you about it.”

“As friends, then. Nothing more.”

Damn.
He’d just set himself up for an evening of torture. “Right. Nothing more.”

CHAPTER FIVE

H
ER AFTERNOON WITH
T
ED STILL
fresh in her mind, Cory sat on the couch in her apartment and held her cell phone to her ear. Might as well get the bet thing settled once and for all. After she made arrangements with her mom, she’d have the rest of her Sunday for laundry and getting ready for the coming week. “Hey, Mom, how are you?”

“I’m good, baby. You still enjoyin’ that new job?”

“I am.” She realized with a start that she meant it. She really liked her job and the freedom L&L gave her to do it her way. “It’s challenging, and the people I work with are great. In fact that’s one of the reasons I’m calling. I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

“Would you be interested in having some company for dinner one evening this week? It would be me and a friend.” Her mother’s resources were limited, and asking for anything sent guilt pinging through her. “I’ll pay you back for whatever you spend, and once I get my next paycheck, I want to take you out to dinner somewhere nice.”

“You don’t need to pay me back, honey. I gotta eat anyway, which also means I gotta cook. Besides, I’d love to have you home
for supper, and I’m always happy to meet your friends. Is she someone from work?”

“He. It’s a
he
, Mom.” She braced herself, knowing her mom would jump to the wrong conclusion.

“Well, that’s even better.” Claire’s tone rose to an enthusiastic pitch. “I’m off this comin’ Wednesday.”

“Ted is my boss. We’re just friends.” Even if she longed for more, it wasn’t meant to be. “I owe him. He gave me an advance on my salary so I could stock up on groceries, and…um.” Did she really want to tell her about the pepper spray, the stun gun, or the bet? No. Especially not the bet part. Her mom had done the best she could, and Cory didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “He’s been really welcoming and helpful. I want you to meet the man who started Langford & Lovejoy Heritage Furniture, and I want him to meet you.” With another start, she realized this was the truth. “I’ll bring dessert.”

Her mother was the sweetest, most generous and hardworking soul in the world, and she’d raised her only daughter right. Claire Marcel hadn’t had access to higher education, and it wasn’t her fault she’d lost her husband in a war overseas. She’d been left a single parent struggling to make ends meet, moving to Indiana to be close to Cory’s paternal grandparents. Her mom had hoped her in-laws could help her out, but they hadn’t been much better off. Babysitting had been the only support they could offer, and they did so willingly, glad to spend time with their only grandchild, especially since they’d lost their only son.

“All right. I know just what I’m gonna make. I’m lookin’ forward to seeing you and this new friend of yours.” Her voice wavered. “It does my heart good to know you’re nearby and doin’ so good.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mom.” The backs of her eyes stung.
“Things are going great, and I’m feeling better every day. If Ted is free that evening, we’ll be by around six. I’ll call tomorrow and let you know.” They said their good-byes and hung up, and Cory busied herself with cleaning and preparing for the week ahead, keeping occupied until bedtime.

She settled on the recliner and opened her laptop to check her e-mail, looking for any word from the Yale law clinic. Her nightly ritual—she ended each day hoping for news that would…what? Free her? Not likely, but checking every day had become her obsession, and every day she hoped for good news, news with the power of vindication.

She shut her laptop and leaned back, closing her eyes. Nothing today.
Unfit to serve.
The bitter disappointment darkened her otherwise bright, shiny day, one of the best she’d had for a long, long time. Steering her mind in another direction, she pictured the piglets she’d tried to hold. Their wiggly bodies darting zigzags through the barn brought a smile to her face. Ted’s smug expression, his gray eyes alight with amusement flashed through her mind. Her breath caught. Such a great guy, if only she weren’t damaged goods.

Her thoughts started to drift, and she rubbed her tired eyes. She should get up, get ready for bed. Instead, she remained where she was, her mind taking her back, going over everything for the thousandth time. Lord, she wished she could’ve changed the outcome…done something differently…The memory took hold, and she was back in Afghanistan, back in base camp with its never-ending grit blowing into everything…

“Go out with me, Marcel. I’ll treat you right.” Staff Sergeant Barnett crowded her space, backing her into a corner of his cramped office, running his hands up and down her arms while his eyes raked over her with lascivious intensity.

Shivers of revulsion followed the path of his gaze, and goose bumps covered her forearms. “We’ve had this discussion before, and I haven’t changed my mind. Thanks, but no.” She tried to slip by, tried to put some space between them. “You’re my commanding officer. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

He grabbed her wrist before she could get away. “That’s right. I’m your goddamned CO, so you gotta do what I tell you to, soldier. I’m telling you I want you. One way or another, I’m going to have you. Now, you can make this easy, and we can have some fun, or you can make things difficult for yourself. What’s it gonna be?”

“No, thank you, SIR!” She jerked her wrist out of his grasp. “Leave me alone.” Not waiting for his reply, she hurried toward the commissary, a more populated area on base. Note to self: carry your handgun with you at all times, and always move around camp with someone you trust. Barnett had a reputation—all bad. She’d seen what happened to women who reported abuse—passed up for promotions, demoted, given the lousiest possible assignments or worse. The best she could do was to be prepared, and stay far, far away…

Cory jerked back to the present, guilt and shame pulsing through her. She hadn’t followed her own advice. Sergeant Dickhead had left her alone, and she’d believed he’d moved on, targeting easier prey, or at least focusing on someone more willing.

Wrong
.

Her skin crawled, and her stomach lurched. She shot up and beat a hasty path for the bathroom, barely making it before the dry heaves hit. Leaning over the toilet, she tried once again to purge herself of the violation. No good. Heaving didn’t help. His vile pollution remained intact and dead center—the fulcrum of her life.

She straightened, turned on the shower full blast, stripped
and stepped under the scalding spray. What would Ted think of her now? How would he react if he saw her bent over the toilet, retching her guts out? She had no business spending time with him. The army had it wrong. She wasn’t unfit to serve. She was unfit to relate. Unfit to carry on in any kind of normal way with the rest of the population.

Once the bet and the bowling night were done, she’d explain to Ted what a mistake it would be to continue putting himself anywhere in her proximity. Yep. That’s what she’d do. The sudden, burning constriction in her chest brought tears to her eyes. No matter. They merged with the rest of the water pouring down the drain—one more failed attempt to rid herself of the fetid reminder of the violence infecting her soul.

“How was yesterday’s dinner with the Lovejoys?” Paige swept into their office. Dropping her purse into a drawer, she took her seat. “Overwhelming and smelly? Did Ted win the bet?”

“Not by a long shot.” Cory snorted. “Ted has an amazing family, and their farm is really pretty. I loved it despite the stench, and after awhile, you don’t even notice the hog smell. There are so many good things about his home and family, the hogs don’t carry much weight. He’s lucky to have grown up where he did.”

“Huh.” Paige pursed her lips. “If you say so. Were Noah and Ceejay there?”

“No.” Ceejay’s warning came back to her in a rush of hurt pride.

“Hey,” Paige murmured. “What’s wrong?”