Falling for Her Soldier (4 page)

Ellie narrowed her eyes in confusion, but then shook her head and walked toward Chick’s office. A few paces away, she glanced back. Sam still had a hold on Hunter’s arm.

…

“I know what you’re doing.”

Charlie blinked, then looked around for a second, wondering if he’d missed something. “What am I doing?”

Sam let go of Charlie’s arm and sat back. “Nothing you do will change what she thinks of you.”

“Oh.” Charlie sighed. Apparently, he wasn’t as slick as he thought. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Really? You’re saying if my sister weren’t involved, you’d willingly volunteer at the WS?”

“Why not?”

Sam chuckled, but it had a dark undertone. “Yeah, right. I know what you think of this place. Everyone knows you’re not comfortable here.” Sam pushed his own plate away. “You think it’s a weakness.”

Charlie felt a pain at the back of his throat. His impulse was to go on the offensive, which was probably a huge overreaction. “That’s not true, Sammy,” he said coolly.

“Look, whatever.” Sam waved him off. “It’s great you want to volunteer, but if you think it’s a way to get to Ellie, you’re wrong.” He interlocked his fingers and laid them on the table, looking very…protective. “Not that you’d stand a chance with her, anyway. She hates bad boys.”

Charlie pointed at his own chest. “I’m a bad boy?”

“Dude, your face is in the dictionary.”

“Funny,” Charlie said, grateful for a joke to break the tension.

“When I first got home, Ellie and I had a heart-to-heart.”

“Was that when you told her Hunter stories?” Charlie asked.

“Among other things. She’s been through a lot of crap, relationship crap I didn’t know about. She’s had bad breakups, dude.” Sam looked down and lowered his voice. “Dated some real losers. She deserves better.”

Better than me
, Charlie couldn’t help thinking, though he did feel affronted at being thrown in the bucket with losers. “Fair enough,” he said.

“So don’t screw around with her.”

Charlie flinched at the comment, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. “I won’t.”

“She’s coming back,” Sam said, glancing past him. “I mean it, Hunter, don’t do anything to upset her. She’s my sister.”

Like Charlie needed the reminder.

It was actually kind of ironic. It wasn’t too long ago that Charlie had warned his now-brother-in-law, Jack, away from his sister, Tess. He might’ve even used the words: “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you and whatnot.” And he might’ve coincidentally been holding a tire iron at the time. Obviously, Charlie understood the power of a protective brother. He respected Sam too much to mess with that.

“I swear, Sammy,” Charlie said. “Hands off.”

They both sat back.

“Chick’s here,” Ellie said as she returned to the table. She was wearing a smile that intrigued him, though he shouldn’t allow himself to be any more intrigued—not if he wanted to remain friends with Sam. “Want to meet him?”

Before he stood, Charlie glanced at his buddy, who gave him a miniscule nod of approval.

“So, how do you think your brother’s doing?” Charlie asked as he and Ellie walked across the rec center. She kept tucking chunks of red hair behind her ears. Charlie knew he was staring, but he couldn’t make himself stop.

“He keeps saying he’s doing better,” she answered.

“Do you believe him?”

A dark expression crossed her face, shadowing her delicate features, paling her already fair skin. Charlie hadn’t meant to make her sad; he’d only meant to distract his own racing thoughts.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “You know how these things are. PTSD is difficult to manage, even in the best cases.”

Charlie nodded, again feeling fortunate that he hadn’t had to deal with anything he couldn’t handle on his own, and grateful that he’d be going back to work in a few weeks. He wasn’t very good at being idle.

“He’s getting a lot of help here,” Ellie continued, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Charlie tried not to ogle the way this caused the front of her T-shirt to pull taut.

“The…the WS is a great place,” he offered, scrambling for something useful to say.

She peered at him, her pale green eyes fixed on his. “You think so?”

“A lot of the guys from the post hang out here,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “And you’re right, it’s helping Sam. I think this will be good for me, too.”

This was true—Charlie had meant everything he’d promised himself that dark day in Afghanistan. Volunteering at the WS was an excellent way to work on the part about giving back more. If Ellie Bell’s presence happened to be in that package, well, he wasn’t about to complain—even though he didn’t appreciate how she flashed him another skeptical look.

Charlie also didn’t like the
other
reputation he had. Did people really think he didn’t respect this place or the work being done here? Apparently so.

They paused outside the administration office door. Ellie swept the hair off her shoulder with one hand, displaying her neck; it was long and graceful, and Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes from following the line down to her collarbone.

Oh boy, this might be a problem.

“I guess we should go in,” she said.

Charlie couldn’t agree more. “Yeah.” He pulled open the door and allowed Ellie to enter first, trying not to inhale her flowery scent as she passed in front of him.

The whole thing was easier than he’d thought. Because the Warrior Station wasn’t connected with the Army or the government but was charity-run, there was none of the bureaucratic red tape. A few initials on a single piece of paper, and it was a done deal.

Chick Taylor ran the WS. He was retired Marine Corp, well over six feet tall, still had the arms of a gunman, and looked to be in his late sixties, which would have put him squarely in the middle of Vietnam. Charlie loved hearing stories from past wars and greatly respected the older generations of veterans. Chick was friendly and jovial, and Charlie liked him immediately.

The one thing he did
not
appreciate was after Ellie introduced them, Chick raised an eyebrow and said, “So
you’re
the famous Hunter, eh?” To which Ellie followed up by muttering something about his reputation preceding him.

No, Charlie didn’t like that one bit. But he’d made his proverbial bed and had to lie in it. Alone.

Ellie gave Sam a good-bye hug after he racked the balls for a game of pool he was about to play with another guy. Charlie also said his good-bye and walked Ellie out. He tried to make small talk with her as they crossed the parking lot toward her white car, the one she’d been leaning on when he’d first seen her. When she pulled a key ring out of her purse, Charlie moved to her side, not ready to let her out of his sight.

“Will you go out with me tonight?” he asked. It was a pure Hunter reflex. He would deal with Sam later. “Grab a movie. Anything.”

The smile that immediately brightened her face made Charlie’s head feel light. But a moment later, the smile was gone. She looked away and rubbed her nose, the bright expression replaced with fortitude.

“I can’t. Sorry.”

That was it. No further explanation. She did seem disappointed in her own answer, which was confusing.

She unlocked her car, about to climb in, but then turned to him. “You’re really going to volunteer here? Of your own accord?”

Charlie leaned an elbow on the roof of her car. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“And it won’t be a problem that I just shot you down?”

He laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too self-deprecating. “I think I’ll get over it.”

“Good, because, since we’ll be working together…I need you to promise not to hit on me again.”

Charlie chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Ellie,” he said, backing up. Even though she was Sam’s sister, there was no way he could agree to that.

Chapter Four

“What does he look like?”

“Tall and gorgeous…sexy blue eyes, sexy smile,” Ellie reported after wiping her mouth on a napkin, then grabbing a new one off the kitchen counter. “Sexy all around. Why else would a guy get the name Big Game Hunter?”

“He’s in the Army,” Jane said as she speared a square of bread with her long, skinny fork then dipped it in the pot. “Could be because of that and not only because of his womanizing ways.”

Ellie s
tabbed her own cube of bread, submerging it in the bubbling cheese. “Maybe,” she admitted, pulling it out and blowing aw
ay the steam. “But he was all charm and teeth and smiles and muscles. It was blinding.”

“Sounds just awful.” Jane laughed, then popped a cube of bread in her mouth.

“It’s moot. You know I can’t get involved right now. Especially not with someone like him.”

“Even with all those blinding muscles?” Jane ticked her tongue. “Shame.”

“If it were a year ago, I wouldn’t think twice—which is probably a huge sign to stay away.”

A lot of other things have changed since last year
, Ellie could have added.
It’s not just my dating freeze, but I also set a goal, an actual goal…on paper.

When she was growing up and focusing on her budding ballet career, goals meant everything. It was how she progressed: specific objectives leading to a specific end. “Old goal-setting Ellie,” that’s what her mom used to say when she’d see the chart tacked on Ellie’s bedroom wall, each item labeled “long-term” or “short-term.” Metaphorical baby steps were massively important in dance. She had to walk before she could fly.

Setting goals was also how she’d managed to
not
go to pieces after her injury, when all she wanted to do was stay in bed and cuss out her knee for being so damn weak.

Jane didn’t know about this. She also didn’t know that Ellie had stopped setting goals cold turkey when her mother died. She’d lost heart, lost the drive to achieve, maybe even lost a little faith in herself. This new goal—the 365 man-less days—it was the first she’d set since then. True, it wasn’t about ballet, but it was a start, and she was determined to see it completed, no matter how cray-cray her best friend thought it was.

Jane dunked another piece of bread. They’d been huddled around the fondue pot for more than an hour, and this was only the first course. “You’re such a tramp,” Jane said, her mouth crammed full.

“At least I was more open to adventure back then.” Ellie shrugged. “Speaking of adventure, want to skip the meat and go straight to dessert?”

“Chocolate, bread, and cheese for dinner,” Jane said. “We’re so French.”

Ellie laughed and they started preparing their second course.

“Tell me something, though,” Jane said as she sliced strawberries. “Is your dating strike about Drew?”

Ellie paused from breaking chocolate bars into chunks. A sudden headache loomed at the name of her most recent ex. “Not really,” she said. “Although he certainly didn’t help.”

“Why are you letting a guy like that mess with your head? He was a big jerk who didn’t know what a great thing he had when he had it.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not finished.” She set down her knife. “You took him on as a fixer-upper, stayed with him through all the job hunting, and then he cheated.”

“Which was why I broke up with him,” Ellie said, staring down into the saucepan of melting chocolate.

“So move on. It’s been a year.”

Ellie held up one finger. “Almost a year.”

“Here we go again.” Jane took the wooden spoon from Ellie and stirred the pot. “You’re insane, you know that? You’ve got the perfect guy to help get you over the proverbial dating hump and you blew him off.”

“I didn’t blow Hunter off. We both signed up to volunteer at the WS.”

Jane glanced at her while pouring their second course into the fondue pot. “When did this happen?”

“Today after lunch. I told him I was doing it—”

“And let me guess, he suddenly had the burning desire to volunteer.”

“He sounded sincere. And the WS really needs it.” She bit her lip in thought as she walked the plate of sliced apples and strawberries to the table. “I think something’s going on at that place. I got a weird vibe today.”

“That vibe is called lust, babe. It’s a completely natural biological reaction.”

Ellie tossed a mini marshmallow at Jane’s head. “You have such a one-track mind. What I mean is, when I was talking to Chick, the guy who runs the WS, I don’t know, it was just a feeling.”

“When I get a feeling like that, I grab a man and find the nearest dark corner.”

Ellie couldn’t help remembering what she’d said about dragging Hunter into a janitor’s closet. And Hunter had been sitting right there. How embarrassing. What had she been thinking?

She’d been trying to tell her brother that she was still capable of choosing who she dated. She shouldn’t have unloaded all her dating horror stories on Sam when he’d first gotten home—he’d had enough to deal with.

Actually, at the time, she’d been kind of working up to telling Sam about the e-mails. The point she’d wanted to make was how different it was, how good it felt to be getting to know a nice guy like Charlie Johansson.

But she couldn’t parley her way to the subject. By the time she’d finished telling Sam about Drew, he was ready to send her off to a convent. If her brother had control of her dating life, she would be single until she was forty. And if Jane had control, she’d be in a dark closet with Hunter right now, running her hands through that sexy hair…

Wow, Ellie. Where did that come from?

Why had her mind jumped from sweet Charlie Johansson to sexy Hunter? Not good. And it didn’t matter what Charlie looked like; she was interested in
him
—how easily they communicated, how funny he was, and how much they seemed to have in common—and not just how potentially nice his body might be.

“Anyway.” Ellie violently stabbed an apple slice and plunged it into the middle of the chocolate. “I don’t know Hunter’s deal. He could be shipping out in a week.”

“Do they call it shipping if it’s not the Navy?”

Ellie rolled her eyes and dropped the coated apple on her plate, untouched. “I’m not a fling kind of girl. Even if Hunter were staying around, or any guy for that matter, I don’t think I could get serious with someone in the military. I know that’s awful to say, and it’s not even about living the military life; I wouldn’t mind traveling, actually. But after what happened with Sam, I don’t think I could handle it…the worrying when he’s deployed, thinking about how he’s constantly in harm’s way. Even with my brother, it scares me to death.”

She paused, automatically thinking about Charlie. With a guy like that, the man who saved her brother’s life, a man she knew had to be brave beyond anything imaginable, would she feel more assured?

“I know,” Jane said, lowering her fork. “That scared us all. But Sammy’s okay.”

Ellie nodded, feeling tears behind her eyes for too many reasons.

“Sweetie.” Jane touched her arm. “We’re not talking about Sam now. Or loser-ass Drew, or about marrying you off to the nearest airman bound for Fort Bragg. We’re talking about having a good time.”

“I will,” Ellie assured her, toying with her fork. “In twenty-four days. Now if it were someone like Charlie Johansson”—she couldn’t help grinning—“that’s a different story.”

“Ahh, the mystery pen pal.”

Ellie picked up the apple slice and slid it into her mouth, chocolate melting down her throat. “He’s not a mystery,” she said around chews. “I just haven’t met him yet.”

“But if
he’d
asked you out today instead of Hunter, you would have broken your strike?”

Ellie had to think for a minute. “No,” she said, licking a blob of chocolate off her fingertip. “But it would’ve been much more of a struggle. So I guess it’s a blessing Charlie’s not around.”

…

Charlie didn’t hear his cell at first. He was driving, jamming out to “Suspicious Minds,” the song his drill sergeant used to play to get them fired up before a long march. The flashing face caught his attention and he reached for his phone on the passenger seat, checking the caller ID first, then he clipped on the Bluetooth.

“
Little sister, don’t you…little sister, don’t you
…” he crooned, mimicking another Elvis song.

“Where are you?” Tess asked, ignoring the serenade.

“On my way home,” Charlie said. “Why?”

“Okay, good. Jack and I are heading to your place. How far are you?”

“Almost there, maybe three minutes.”

“We’re, like, one away. Is the key under the brick?”

“Do not break into my apartment, Tess,” Charlie warned, although with his sister, he knew he was wasting his breath. “You can wait three minutes.”

“My overstuffed womb is housing a future football player who is currently tackling my bladder. That cannot wait three minutes. And I wasn’t going to break in—Jack was.”

“Tell your football coach husband I can still bench-press more than he can.”

Charlie smiled as his sister relayed the information.

“He says he’s shaking in his boots.”

Charlie laughed. “Two minutes now. Can you wait?”

“That one right there, Jack. No, that one. Does it look like I can bend over comfortably? Just pull back the brick.”

Charlie shook his head, giving up. “I expect dinner on the table when I arrive.”

“Hey Charlie.” It was Jack now. Tess must have passed off the phone to her husband while she rushed inside his place to…well, to do whatever eight-months-pregnant women did. Charlie didn’t want to know.

“Hi, Jack. What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know. She’s a bear and eats everything in sight, but she’s never been sexier.”

“Gross. That’s my sister,” Charlie said as he turned onto his street. He heard Jack laugh before hanging up.

The TV was on when Charlie walked through his front door. “Honey, I’m home.”

“Food’s on the way,” Tess said from the couch. Jack was next to her, flipping through the channels. Her feet were on his lap.

“You look cozy,” Charlie said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We were house hunting,” Jack said.

“You’re thinking of moving this way?”

“We don’t know,” Tess answered. “Maybe. It’s farther from the high school but closer to Jenna. Plus, we need to upsize.” She rubbed her belly.

Jenna. Sometimes Charlie forgot that Jack had been married before and had a daughter. He shared custody with his ex. Jenna was maybe five or six years old. Or nine? He had no idea; he wasn’t any good at guessing kids’ ages. She was a cute little tyke, but Charlie never knew what to say to her, or to any kid. They were so…small. He was hoping he’d feel a real connection with his future niece or nephew.

“Huh, really?” he offered. “That’s cool.”

“We haven’t found anything,” Tess said. “Still looking. But it would be nice to get this out of the way. Football season started, and I already feel like a single mother.”

Jack leaned over and kissed her. “Just try to keep me away from you.”

When the doorbell rang, Charlie went to answer.

“That’s the food.” Jack leapt to his feet. “I’ll take care of it.”

Charlie stepped to the side and let his brother-in-law hustle by. He peered over his shoulder at Tess, wondering what was up.

“We invited you,” she explained, as Charlie wandered back to the couch. “He’s all stressed about the kid, being a
provider
and all that jazz.” She patted her belly.

“You know me, Tessa, I’ve never turned down a free meal.” Charlie helped her up, and they walked to the kitchen where Jack was unloading a brown paper bag of Chinese takeout cartons. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where are your plates?” Tess asked. “Do you
have
plates? And I don’t mean paper.”

Charlie pointed toward one of the cabinets. He did have plates—non-paper, though they were seldom used. In fact, they might have been Tess’s old ones from before she was married, or maybe they were his parents’ before they retired and moved. He couldn’t remember where he’d inherited them from.

“So, what’s new in your world?” Charlie asked Jack. “When’s the next game?”

“Thursday.”

“How’s the team? Anyone poised to break my passing record?”

“Your stats are safe,” Jack reported. “I have a few promising kids this season, though. We’ll see.”

“How much time off are you taking for the baby?” Charlie asked Tess as he scooped noodles onto her plate. “Do you have a sub to cover your music classes?”

“The woman who used to own the school will teach for me,” Tess said, licking a finger. “I’m thinking of taking about a month off.”

“At
least
three,” Jack inserted.

“Okay, maybe three. It’s not like my job is all that grueling.”

“Babe, you can’t exactly have a newborn with you while you teach a violin class.”

“It’s a viola.”

Charlie couldn’t help smiling. If he ever did settle down and get married, he hoped he had a relationship like Tess and Jack’s. They really were best friends, and it was clear to the world just how much Jack cherished her. He treated her like a queen. Charlie wondered if anyone would label
him
as treating a woman that well. Knowing the answer, he pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, feeling a little like his heart had just shriveled.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing back a chair and sitting at the table. “What else is going on?”