Crash and Burn (Crash and Burn, Book One) (A Military Romance) (2 page)

A strange throb pounded through my body as we drew closer, until we were only inches apart, our eyes locked on each other’s.

But something interrupted us. I seem to remember that one of his ridiculously immature high school friends, Devon, came barreling over the hill and grabbed the wine bottle to chug its contents, then ripped out a massive burp. Then Cole went away to boot camp a few days later, and our relationship changed permanently. Neither one of us brought up the almost-kiss in any of our correspondence.

Part of me wondered if I simply made it all up, since it was like it never happened. But I still remembered how I felt so vividly in that moment.

There’s no way I imagined that.

But does he ever think about it?

I take another huge swig of my margarita. My cheeks are flushed for some stupid reason. He’s just a friend, I tell myself. And that’s what I need from him so desperately. Cole’s been there for me in all my darkest moments, and I’ve been there for his too.

Thank God we didn’t kiss. Because that would have fucked it all up, and I couldn’t bear to lose him as my best friend. It was hard enough letting him go to boot camp, then do his tours overseas.

I nibble on a nacho and force my mind back to the present, where my new dear friend, Emme, is flagging the bartender down for another round of margaritas. Now this is an idea I can get behind.

“
S
o you’re back
for good?” my brother asks me for the hundredth time since I arrived in Boston yesterday afternoon. From his spot behind the bar, he gives me a toothy grin. The heavy scent of cleaners fill the air as he scrubs everything down. “Don’t suppose you’re looking for a job, are you? God knows I could use the help around here, especially since Rebecca is at home now.”

“I could be talked into doing some work.” I sweep the scattered remnants of fries, nachos, and other mysterious food entities from under the tables and create a big pile. It looks like someone released a toddler in here and let him throw his dinner everywhere on the floor.

My brother thinks the bar and my father’s midlife crisis meltdown are my reasons for coming home now. Yeah, that’s part of it, of course. But deep down I know the biggest reason. There’s one person who could make me pack up my life and return to my hometown without looking back.

He and I work in silence for a bit to get the bar cleaned. Xander closed up early, since Lauren’s going to be coming by soon to show him her ideas for the bar’s redesign. Only, Lauren doesn’t know I’m here—she thinks I’m still back in Charlotte. My stomach gives a painful twist.

I can’t wait to see her eyes light up, hear her squeal in excitement, to throw her arms around me and give me one of those hugs that makes me feel like a fucking king.

I can’t wait to bury my face in her hair and breathe her scent in.

I swallow and focus my attention on the tasks at hand.
Patience,
I warn myself. Besides, there are other more immediate concerns I need to sort out. “So what the hell is going on with Dad?” I ask. Xander didn’t tell me much on the phone last week, other than he’s concerned about Dad and he thinks I should come home for a visit.

Our dad has been a rock. Since Mom died a few years ago, he’s kept himself busy with work, diving into the bar with more gusto than any of us expected. His way of dealing, I suppose.

But sometime over the last few weeks, Xander noticed a difference in him. Dad was distracted, forgetting to do tasks like drop off our bank deposits or reorder tortilla chips. Shit he would have ripped our asses for. Shit that has me a bit worried.

When Xander called me last weekend and said Dad took off on a cross-country road trip out of nowhere, I knew I needed to come back. I was already feeling discontentment with my life; this gave me the boost to stop fucking around and make something happen. So I loaded my truck and drove north, back home to Boston.

Xander sighs and stops scrubbing the corner of the bar. I can see the fatigue lining his eyes. It has to be hard on him, having a toddler, losing his wife’s help at the bar to watch their son at home, and now having to deal with our dad too. Guilt makes my chest tighten. I should have come home months ago, when I retired. Not left him here to handle all the shit while I searched my soul for what I wanted to do with my life now.

“I don’t know, man,” Xander says. “He’s hardly returning my calls. I wonder if this is some kind of reaction he’s belatedly having to Mom’s death or something.”

“I’ll try to call him,” I promise.

“Appreciate that, bro. He won’t talk to me. Maybe you can get him to open up.” Xander resumes cleaning the bar down, then checks on liquor stock. His back is to me, but I can hear the forced casualness in his tone. “So tell me again why Lauren doesn’t know you’re here?”

I keep my voice just as light. “I’m surprising her.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, she’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure. Especially to find out you’ve moved back here.”

It’s been hard as fuck keeping this a secret from my best friend. Which means I’ve basically stopped talking to her in the last week or so, so I wouldn’t spill the beans. But it’ll be worth it. Lauren’s mentioned several times how much she misses me and wishes I’d come home for a visit.

I think Xander suspects I have more than friendly feelings toward Lauren, but he hasn’t pushed me about it. Yet. I’ve been careful not to give anything away to him or anyone else, mostly because I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

Lauren and I have been best friends since the first day of middle school. I’ve been in love with her since, oh, the second day of middle school. And she has no fucking clue how I feel.

So yeah, it’s past time I did something—I’m done trying to protect the friendship and not acting on my feelings, which is basically how I spent my entire damn childhood. Big rewards require big risks, and Lauren is worth it. Besides, over the last decade, I watched far too many good people die for me to squander the opportunity of finding happiness with the woman who got me through some dark-as-fuck days. Sometimes, the only thing helping me stay strong over there was seeing her face, hearing her voice in my ear.

Knowing she was safe and sound at home and wanting me to return. That has to mean something to her. It sure as hell does to me. Lauren was a ray of light, and her brightness dragged me out of the depths of my pain more than once.

I’ve stalled long enough. I need to try. Do or die time.

I turn my attention toward mopping the floor. Lauren will be here at eighteen hundred hours. I have enough time to get this place in shape, head to Dad’s to shower, then rush back here for the surprise.

A sudden thought pops into my head, and I do the mental math. “Hey, isn’t this year a big anniversary for Mom and Dad? I wonder if that’s one of the reasons he’s suddenly changed. Maybe he’s having a hard time dealing with it.”

Xander pauses and turns to eye me. His lips thin. “Holy shit, I think you’re right. Wouldn’t this have been their…thirty-year anniversary?”

My heart sinks.

My mom and I had a difficult relationship when I was a growing up. She was the very definition of Helicopter Mom, kept me inside the house whenever she could, too afraid of me getting hurt or sick. Didn’t help that Xander wouldn’t let her steamroll him, and snuck out whenever he felt like it, damn the consequences, so she took all her anxieties out on me. One random nosebleed would send her into fits, sure I was dying.

It was no wonder I needed to escape from that, and the military was the perfect option to force me out of my comfort zone. Well, it sure as fuck did that.

But in spite of my struggles with my mom, she and Dad were happy, in their own way. He liked her fussiness, despite his mock scowls. I know he has to feel lost without her, even though he never showed it when she died.

“I’ll call Dad tonight,” I tell my brother firmly. After I see Lauren, make plans for us to get together soon.

That hum of anticipation slides across my skin again, and I clean out the mop and bucket and dump them into the closet. Her name is always right on the edge of my mind, without fail. Lauren. The woman I crave with an intensity I’ve never come close to feeling for anyone else.

God knows I’ve fucking tried.

Xander’s cell phone rings, and he tugs it from his pocket. “Hey, babe. What’s up?” He pauses for a good minute or so and frowns. “Oh God, seriously? Calm down, babe. It’ll be fine. It can all be cleaned up, I’m sure. He’s just in that stage.”

I can’t help the laugh that barks out of me. My toddler nephew, James, is a handful to say the least. My brother has reaped all the shit he sowed as a kid, and has a son with an independent streak as wide as the Mississippi River. The kid is a terror, part of the reason why Rebecca quit work. Apparently he was too much of a handful for the sitters she hired.

Xander glares at me and flips me the bird. “Babe, babe,
babe,
okay, calm down. Don’t lose your shit. I’ll figure something out. Lemme call you back, okay? Take a breath and lay him down in his bed for a nap. I’ll call you back.” He ends the call and sighs, raking a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, that kid is going to kill us.”

“What did he do this time?” Not gonna lie, I get off on the paybacks. I’m sure up in heaven, Mom is laughing her ass off too. My brother deserves it, though I don’t know if his wife does or not.

“Rebecca is having a meltdown. James was out of her eyesight for, like, thirty seconds, and managed to draw on the whole bathroom in red permanent marker. Well, as high as he can reach, anyway. Toilet, tub, floor, wall—everything. Not to mention he managed to get most of his exposed skin covered too.”

I shake my head. “That’s balls, man.”

“I want to go home and help, but Lauren is coming by soon, and I don’t want to reschedule, since she said she’s busy during the day tomorrow and Friday.” He shoots me a pleading look.

“I got it covered,” I say. “She can show the design to me, and I can just explain it all to you tomorrow morning.”

“You sure?” He comes around the bar and stands in front of me, indecision in his eyes. “I don’t want to dump this all on you last minute…”

“I have learned a thing or two working in construction, you know,” I say drolly. “Not to mention serving our country.”

Xander slugs me in the upper arm and winces. “Your muscles are ridiculous. You shouldn’t be more ripped than me. That’s wrong.” I smirk and flex my pecs at him, and he groans. “Stop showing off, dick. Okay, fine. We’ll meet here in the morning, first thing, and go over the plans. Thanks, bro. Owe you one.”

I owe him way more than he owes me. “Seriously, it’s fine,” I tell him with a shooing gesture. “Go, before Rebecca loses her mind.”

Xander gives me a quick one-armed hug then takes off. The thick wooden door closes behind him.

Left in silence, I look around me. The main level is large, with dark hand-carved wood trim and a copper-plated ceiling. The bar is also crafted wood, with a slab on the top that’s glossy with small nicks in the surface from years of us. Large smoky windows let in natural light. Small tables are scattered along the natural wood floor, mismatched but kind of charming.

I can see why Dad bought this place, though I didn’t understand it as a kid. The bar looked old and oppressively dark to me, and I hated having to visit here. But a savvy redesign will make this place feel fresh, bright.

Lauren’s always been creative, even as a kid; if anyone can make this old joint shine, it’ll be her.

I glance at my watch. Time to head home and shower, shave, get ready to see her. The near-constant ache in my chest has been getting lighter with every moment that passes, because I’m going to see her very soon. And I can’t fucking wait.

I
stand
on the cement landing of the bar and glance down into my bag to make sure I have everything ready. After smoothing the soft, loose curls of my hair, I clear my throat, lift my chin, and rap on the door.

After a few moments, it opens.

And my jaw drops.

“Oh my God!” I cry out, dropping my bag and throwing myself at Cole as fast as I can. My heart’s in my throat, sheer shock rendering me speechless. I cling to him, and with a hearty laugh he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight.

I sink into the warmth of my best friend holding me, and for a moment forget everything—why I’m here, the distance and time that’s passed between us. The feeling that comes over me is blissful comfort. Hot tears burn my eyes and I squeeze them closed. I’m not going to cry. He’s here, and it’s the best surprise I could have gotten.

Finally we part, and I look up into his face. His dark brown eyes are dancing, and his full lips are curved into a smile. “Hey, kitten,” he murmurs, stroking a lock of my hair. “Long time, no see.”

My chest gives a funny squeeze as I suddenly remember Emme’s comment last night at the bar. How she called him a hottie. I slug him in the chest in an effort to cover my momentary discomfort. “You ass! You came to town and didn’t tell me? How long have you been here?”

He steps back and rubs the nape of his neck, having the decency to flush in discomfort. “Just a few days. Or maybe closer to a week.”

“A week?” I screech. I swat him again. “Seriously? You’ve been here a week and haven’t told me? You suck!”

He opens the door wider. “You going to come in, or just stand outside and beat me up for an hour?”

I give a haughty sniff, grab my bag from the ground, then sweep past him. Cole’s cologne wafts to my nose, and I find myself breathing deeply, locking his scent into my memory. After he closes the door behind him, I turn and jump back into his arms, which earns another chuckle. “I missed you, you big jerk,” I murmur against his white dress shirt. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were here.”

Once again, his arms wrap around me. Now that I’m not overwhelmed with the shock of seeing him, I notice how warm and strong his body is, how small I feel against him. Small and…feminine. Another twinge hits my chest, and I bite my lip. I’m going to kill Emme for planting this seed in my head about Cole. It’s just wrong.

Business,
I remind myself to shake off these errant thoughts. I’m here in a professional capacity. There will be time to catch up with him soon, but I need to meet with his brother and go over my design. I pull away from him and say, “Where’s Xander?”

“He had to go home. Toddler emergency.”

I frown. “James okay? He’s not sick or anything, is he?”

Cole’s lips quirk, and I find myself noticing the curve of his Cupid’s bow. “He’s fine. Just being a little shit. He covered the bathroom and himself in marker.”

I give a laugh that feels a bit too forced and drop my attention from his face. “Wow, he really is rotten. I’m sure Xander is remembering some of the crap he put your parents through.” My gaze catches on the breadth of Cole’s muscled chest, his biceps, his trim waist. Army life has done his body right. Wow. Good for him, I tell myself. I’m sure his dates love how…
attractive
Cole is. I can be honest enough to acknowledge that my best friend is looking good and cheer him on for it.

“Xander is definitely getting payback in spades,” Cole says. “Anyway, I’m here, and you can show me the plans. I’ll relay it to my brother tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind delaying the meeting. Or I can meet with your dad when he gets back in town, if you prefer?”

A shadow crosses Cole’s face. “If you can find him, be my guest.”

I reach out and take his hand, my heart squeezing. “Is he okay? I don’t want to pry, but I know Xander’s having to take over this project, and…” I shrug. “I can be flexible if I need to.”

He sighs, his gaze dropping to the ground, and grips my hand. “It’ll be fine. I think Xander wants this to keep moving forward. I don’t know what’s up with Dad, but I suspect he’s still dealing with shit from my mom’s death.”

Cole’s mom died of sudden pneumonia a few years ago while he was overseas. He was given leave to return home for the funeral. Between the shock of his mom dying and the crap he was dealing with in the army, he was so depressed for a while that I was worried about him. I made it my mission to reach out to him as often as I could, to be there to listen whenever he wanted to talk.

Cole never took me up on that, didn’t open up about what he experienced overseas or how he was coping with his mom’s passing. But I know it was a difficult time for him.

“What can I do?” I ask softly.

He takes a step toward me and gives a small smile. “Show me your plans. I want to help Xander too, and right now this is what he wants.”

“Okay, then.” I nod and dig the papers out of the bag. Suddenly I’m nervous to show Cole.

He takes them from me and studies the drawings for a good minute. His gaze is intense, focused, as he looks over all the pages. I stand there and let him absorb this material first before getting into my spiel, knowing this is how Cole works—he’s a very visual person.

Then he looks up at me and nods. “Okay, tell me everything I need to know.”

I take the papers back and point to specific spots. “I know your brother and father love the original woodwork in here, and I want to preserve and repair as much as I can. But I think stripping the old varnish off all the exposed wood and refinishing will brighten the room considerably. The color is too dark, so this place always feels a bit too small and enclosed, even with those large windows. I’d like to change the color back to its original maple, which will look stunning.” I shuffle to a particular piece of paper, moving it to the top of the pile, then point to the bar. “I’d also like to install a new countertop to be more of a feature and pull in copper elements from the ceiling for continuity.”

I spend the next twenty minutes or so explaining the rest of my vision for the main room, how I want to knock down one of the non-load-bearing walls near the back to open the floor up, layer in various bright textiles, rearrange seating to add coziness and intimacy. As I talk, Cole nods, quietly absorbing, only asking a few questions here and there. I admit, part of me is distracted by how muscled he is, the way he moves quietly like a panther, how he appears to have every sense turned on and is absorbing everything around him.

This intensity seems new, and it’s kind of throwing me off. Cole was always deep and resonant even as a kid, but never quite this…predatory. I don’t know how else to think of it. Every action, every movement is purposeful. I tell myself it’s just the newness of this personality change, the difference from how he was in the past that makes me keep stealing glances at him.

We move back into the kitchen next, and I show my idea about moving the storage from here into the basement to allow for more cooking space, plus upgrade the appliances. Cole stays by my side as we walk toward the back patio and I explain Emme’s idea, all the stonework we’d like to incorporate, the fireplace.

A stiff breeze more reminiscent of early March than mid-spring dances across the patio and skitters a few dead leaves in the corner of the chipped cement block. But the thick patch of grass that expands a good fifty feet before ending at a privacy fence is bright green, and the thin tree in the corner is blooming with buds.

“This will be a great space for entertaining,” he says, raking his gaze over the space like he’s envisioning the renovation completed, and something about the huskiness of his voice as he speaks makes my skin tighten.

I clear my throat and ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask. “So how long are you visiting for, by the way? Will we have time to get together before you head home?”

He turns that chocolaty gaze to me, the corner of his mouth curving. “We’ll have all the time you can spare for me, Lauren. I’ve moved back here to stay.”

My mouth dries. I’m both intensely pleased and feeling a growing discomfort in the middle of my chest. I don’t know why, but the dynamic between us has shifted since I got here. The way he’s looking at me right now reminds me of the memory I was just thinking of last night. That crackling tension that made us almost kiss.

Cole is staring hard at me like I’m the focus of all his thoughts, and I don’t quite know what to think of it. Is this intensity just part of who he is now, post-military? Or is there something else at play here? I don’t know, and part of me is thinking I’m being super weird and assuming things about him that probably aren’t true.

This is Cole, the kid who didn’t learn how to ride a bike until he was thirteen because his mom wouldn’t let him, so we snuck around and I helped him learn on mine. Who saw every zit on my face when puberty hit me hard—at age sixteen. Yeah, I was a horrendously late bloomer. Our youthful awkwardness bonded us fast, back in those days.

No way is he thinking of me beyond anything but friendship. He knows way too much about me; I’m more like a sister to him than anything else. There has to be something else going on here. At least he’s in town now, and I have the time and space to be able to get him to open up about it.

“That’s great,” I tell him with enthusiasm that’s mostly real but also a tiny bit forced. I have to stop thinking about things that aren’t real. It’s probably because I haven’t been on a legit date in months, and I’m reaching that point where I’ll hump anything with a dick. Even my best guy friend. That’s just not cool. I refuse to be that creeper who doesn’t respect the friend zone. “We’ll have to have a party or something to celebrate your return. Where are you staying?”

“With my dad for now. The apartment I rented in Charlotte was furnished, so I just loaded up my truck and moved back. Easy as pie.” He shrugs those broad shoulders of his, and I try to not be aware of how ripped Cole has become.

Confidence. That’s what is different, the intangible element about him that I haven’t been able to pinpoint. Cole oozes confidence, and it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. It’s like he knows he’s attractive and he owns it. Not cocky, but self-assured.

This is definitely not the Cole I remember from our school days.

No, this Cole is all man, someone who’s gone through life experiences that made him grow up fast. This Cole is having some kind of an effect on me, not just physically but mentally. Making me realize far too many uncomfortable things about my own life and how, despite our near regular communication since he moved, he’s changed in ways I didn’t expect.

What else has changed about him that I don’t know yet? Will those differences enrich our relationship, or will we grow apart? With him being home now, will we go back to the way we used to be before he left, practically two peas in a pod? Or will Cole not want to hang out with his dorky old friend like he did before?

Will he start dating once he gets settled in and finds a place of his own? He’s not one for random hookups, never has been. And how will I feel about him if he gets serious about a girl? Will there still be room in his life for me?

“—like your ideas,” Cole’s saying, and I jerk my attention back to the conversation at hand. “I think I have a good grasp on it so far and feel pretty confident explaining it to him.”

“Oh. Yes. Great.” My cheeks are burning from my runaway train of thought. I lift my chin and lead him back inside. My skin is itchy and I fight the urge to scratch. Cole can read me far too easily, and I can’t let on that my stupid brain is being insane right now.

“I’m going to work here,” he says. “Xander desperately needs help. So I’ll be around to help with the reno. Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

I can feel his presence just a foot or so behind me, like my body has become homed to his location. It’s just because I missed him, I tell myself. That’s all.

We move toward the basement door, which is heavy and awkward to tug open. Cole follows me down the creaky stairs. It’s dark in here, and when I reach the bottom I flick the light switch, which stutters on. Not that it does a lot of good—the corners are still dark.

I cringe. “This looks like the perfect place for a murder.” Ugh, I hate being down here. It’s creepy, a stereotypical basement. I clear my throat and dig for the sketches to show the basement reno. “Too bad I can’t just fill this in with dirt and call it a day.”

Cole gives a throaty laugh, which turns the corners of my own mouth up. “I forgot how much you hate spaces like this.” He inches closer to me and peers over my shoulder to the drawing. I can feel the heat of his chest warming the space between our bodies.

“Um. So. Since we’re losing storage space upstairs, we’ll take out that shitty ancient bathroom against the far wall and make more shelf space for storage down here. I’ll also reorganize the basement’s shelving and storage to make it more useful and functional. We can save on the cost by getting pre-fab shelving units and customizing those.”

“Xander will appreciate that,” he murmurs, and the small hairs on the back of my neck rise at the brush of his breath on my bare skin.

It has to be this murder basement, making me hyperaware of everything around me.
Right
, I think with a scoff.
Keep telling yourself that, Lauren.

I turn to face him, schooling my expression. “Do you have any questions about what I’ve shown you?”

His eyes peer down into mine, and I fight the urge to squirm. What the actual fresh hell is going on with me? “Nothing comes to mind,” he says.

I give a curt nod. Time to go home, regroup, maybe have a glass of wine and reactivate that dating website account I let lapse. Clearly it’s overdue. “Okay, thanks.” I grab my phone and start banging out a text to Xander, letting him know I’m available to talk anytime tomorrow. I’m in the office all day.

When I try to hit send, the message won’t go through. My single bar of signal is sketchy at best. “Crap,” I mutter. “I’ll have to try again upstairs. Your brother needs to get some damn Wi-Fi in this joint, too.”

Cole laughs. “I’ll make sure to tell him that.”