One Lucky Hero (2 page)

This time, his cheeks flushed for sure. Vindicated, she downed the rest of her beer in a well-timed gulp.

That's right. Feel the shame, Mr. Jerk Face.

“If you're talking about me, I apologize,” he said. “If I'm being brutally honest, I'm just not interested in women right now. I just wanted to get out of my apartment.”

“Oh, well, if you're looking to experiment, I have a friend named Ian who would drool over you.” Violet knew that wasn't what he meant but loved the way his eyes widened in panic.

“I didn't mean that. I'm not gay. I just meant that I'm not looking to date anyone.”

“I know. I was just messing with you,” she said.

His face darkened to an almost unhealthy shade of red. “I don't have a problem with people being gay, I'm just not.”

“You know when you explain yourself, you only make things worse, right?” Man, did she love making him flustered. Especially since it wiped that stony look off his face.

His eyes narrowed and glittered. “You don't know me well enough to screw with me. I might be dangerous.”

For a half a second, his words kick-started Violet's heart rate. He was right about that, and he definitely had the guns to twist her head off with one jerk.

“Are you?” she asked.

He leaned over her slowly, and she stiffened, her body screaming to step back.

“No, I'm not.”

His soft words sank in, and she let out a huge breathless laugh. “That's not something you should joke about.”

“Hey, you were messing with me first.”

And now the heat radiating off his body was screwing with her senses, drawing her closer to him. The light scent of cologne drifted up, and she had the craziest urge to press her nose against his chest and get a better sniff. Violet caught herself in the nick of time, knowing that there was no coming back from that.

“I wasn't threatening and trying to intimidate you with my very presence. I don't know who told you that you were a funny guy, but you aren't. At all.”

“You're right, it was a bad joke,” he said. “I'm not really used to being around civilized company. Most days, I just hang with this guy”—Dean pointed at Tyler—“and a bunch of other dudes who think I'm hysterical.”

“Are you the boss?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Then they really don't think you're funny, they are just lying because they don't want to get fired.”

She said it all with a straight face and was secretly delighted when he chuckled. He was close enough still that the rise of his chest was only a few inches from her, and her gaze was drawn to the definition of his muscles through his T-shirt.

Geez, was she really so desperate that she was willing to hook up with a jerk with a weird sense of humor? She waited for her subconscious to give her a definite hell no, but apparently, the jury in her head was still deliberating.

“We don't really get fired from the military, unless we are suddenly unable to do the job.”

“Well, regardless, if that's a sample of your humor, you need to watch some comedy. And not dark comedy like
The Cable Guy
or
The Ladykillers
.” Violet glanced over at Tracy and Tyler, who were still nursing their beers. She was running out of witty things to say to Dean and wouldn't mind another drink in her system, but waiting on Tyler to buy another round was slow going.

Besides, it wasn't like she couldn't buy her own alcohol. Especially if it was something other than hops.

“I'm going to grab another drink. You want one?”

“I'll come with you and get one myself.” He drained the remainder of his plastic cup, and she sighed in exasperation.

“It's a beer, not a proposal. You can grab the next round.” Violet tapped Tracy and Tyler on the shoulders. “Another?”

“Sure, thanks,” Tyler said.

Tracy nodded and mouthed,
Isn't he hot?

Violet answered with a large smile, although he wasn't in her opinion. No, she preferred her men with dark eyes and no manners, apparently.

Except maybe the rudeness was an act. For a second there, she'd thought Dean might have a sense of humor. Granted, a dark and twisty sense of humor, but she liked that.

Liked him.

Maybe he wasn't a total loss. He might be suffering the effects of a bad breakup, and saw all women as the enemy.

Or you've been watching too many Hallmark Channel movies.

She could take the pressure off, give him notice that she wasn't looking for a boyfriend. Boyfriends were just one more thing to add to her ever-growing list of responsibilities; they were time consuming, needy, and the last thing she wanted was to put one more person's needs before her own.

As she grabbed their empty cups, saving Dean's for last, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes and went for broke.

“By the way . . . I wasn't looking for a date.”

D
EAN
S
PARKS STARED
after Violet, stunned silent by her bold admission.

Bullshit.

Dean had known the minute he saw her that she was the love, marriage, and baby carriage type. She wasn't dressed like some of the other women at the concert—hunting for some action—not in her tank top and shorts that were modest by comparison, but even before she'd lifted those bug-eyed sunglasses and flashed those deep brown eyes at him, he'd been struck by her sweet smile and entrancing voice. Then he'd touched her hand, and it was as if she'd burned him with just the heat of her palm. He hadn't meant to jerk away from her, but the sensation had been swift and intense, something unexpected.

Especially since he wasn't planning to stick around.

All he needed was for his pain-in-the-ass psychiatrist to sign off on his psych eval and he could get back to actually being a soldier, going where people needed him. Hadn't he been punished long enough? All because of one moment, one fraction of time in his ten years in the military, when he'd froze. When the bomb went off, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He'd just lain there, trapped under Private Hendrickson's body, his ears still ringing from the blast and impact as he'd hit the ground.

Once the ringing had stopped, the screams started. The cries for help, the moans of agony. Dean could still hear them, especially in the quiet.

Which was why he avoided it at all costs.

When he'd first been transferred to Sacramento and ordered to attend group therapy, he'd been numb. Matter-of-fact and detached. It wasn't until about three months after he'd settled in that the nightmares had started, but connecting with Oliver Martinez, Tyler Best, and Blake Kline had helped with that. They had all been ordered to attend group for different reasons, but Dean had found himself hitting Mick's with them a couple times a week to ease the loneliness of going back to his place.

It was all supposed to be temporary, even his friends. He'd figured six months tops, and he'd be cleared. Aside from the nightmares, he had adjusted to what happened. He was fine.

Instead, he'd been assigned as director of the new military outreach program, Alpha Dog Training Program. They were trying the community program out in the Sacramento area first, but the goal was to eventually have one in every city across the country. It was supposed to be a way to help kids who had gotten into trouble; instead of sending nonviolent offenders to juvie, they were sent to Alpha Dog to serve out their sentences. While there, the kids learned how to care for animals and train them in basic obedience. After their time at Alpha Dog was up, the program would assist them in finding part-time jobs with local animal shelters and veterinary hospitals or ROP programs to continue their education in Animal Health.

Dean was proud of the program, especially since it gave shelter dogs that wouldn't have been adopted otherwise a new lease on life. As the program's animal behavior expert, Best visited local shelters and evaluated dogs set to be euthanized, temperament testing them. If they passed, they found a new home at Alpha Dog, and once they went through basics with a kid, they would be put into a specialty program and trained by one of the experienced handlers. Right now the program focused on military, police, search and rescue, and therapy dogs, but they were hoping to expand the roles in the coming years.

As the director, Dean was in charge of the day-to-day operations and intakes, but some days it felt like he was just a glorified paper pusher. He didn't belong behind a desk; he needed to be back overseas. His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all been military, had worked their way up the ranks through blood, sweat, and tears, not by dealing with worried parents and angry teenagers.

He needed to prove that he could still do the job. That he wasn't done. He wasn't ready to be finished with the field.

Still, it wasn't as if he didn't like Alpha Dog. He enjoyed working with the kids who came through and training the dogs. Hell, he wouldn't have his American pit bull terrier mix, Dilbert, if it wasn't for Alpha Dog, but that was supposed to have been a temporary placement, too. He was committed to finding Dilbert the perfect home before he left; he just hadn't found it yet.

The bottom line was he had never planned to stay this long.

Which was why he'd been steering clear of most women. He hadn't been living completely as a monk, but his hookups had been few and far between. The last thing he wanted was to lead a woman on only to bail as soon as he got his new orders.

Dean's gaze was drawn to Violet again, her gorgeous red hair flowing down her back as she laughed at something the bartender said. She was hot, with legs up to her chest and those perky tits under that blue tank top—but she wasn't hookup material.

And that was all he could offer right now.

She came walking back, juggling the four drinks in two hands. When she caught him looking at her, she flashed that wide, friendly smile again. It was like a ray of fucking sunshine, and damn if he didn't want to bask in it.

Before he even realized it, he was moving toward her. “Let me help you with those.”

“I got them, but you can take yours.” Violet held out the beer to him, and he took it, his fingers brushing against hers with a jolt.

Without asking again, he took another beer off her hands. “I'm trying to make up for being rude, but you gotta work with me.”

Violet seemed to study him for a moment, as if evaluating his sincerity. “I appreciate the effort.”

Her tone was soft and husky, and for just a moment, Dean couldn't look away from her eyes and was lost in their twinkly, dark depths. He half expected smoke to rise up between them the air was so charged, and a faint voice hollered deep inside him to look away, but he was too distracted by the soft sound of her breathing as her mouth opened a little. An unspoken invitation for him to come closer, to see if she tasted like her lips looked: sweetly tart, like sun-ripened raspberries.

“Yo, are you two gonna kiss or kill each other?”

Tracy's ill-timed joke broke the connection, and Dean turned from her, silently cursing himself as he brought the beer to Best. He sensed Violet beside him but couldn't look at her. What was wrong with him? Was it the fact that he was trying not to be attracted to her that made her more desirable?

“I come bearing libation.” He glanced her way as she spoke, but she was giving Tracy an angry scowl and wasn't paying him any attention.

“I will accept your libation,” Tracy said.

Dean held Best's beer out to him. “Here.”

“Thanks, buddy. I love it when you serve me.” Best took his cup and gave Dean a raised eyebrow as he took a drink of his beer, silently asking him what he thought of Violet.

Dean shook his head, and Best frowned, confusion muddying up his pretty face.

“Hey, Violet, thanks for the beer,” Tyler called.

“Just returning the favor,” she said.

“I like that. Most women wouldn't offer.” Tyler grinned at Tracy, who tossed her hair.

“Are you assuming I'm one of those women?” Tracy asked.

“Shouldn't I?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah, you should.” Tracy took a sip and shot him a wink, while he laughed.

During all the banter, Dean realized that Violet had made her way back to his side, her shoulder brushing his. The hairs on his arm stood up, and despite the heat, gooseflesh rose up over his skin.

“You aren't drinking your beer. Worried I slipped you a roofie?” she asked.

Dean released a startled laugh and then took a large gulp of his beer, holding it in his cheeks like a chipmunk. Violet giggled, and he swallowed, opening his mouth for her inspection. “There. Now I guess we just wait and see.”

“Don't worry. If I wanted to have my way with you, I'd just go about it the old-fashioned way.” She tipped her cup up to her lips and with only her eyes showing, wiggled her eyebrows.

Dean was intrigued, despite his best intentions. “And what is the old-fashioned way?”

Violet swallowed and stepped closer to him, laying her free hand against his chest. Dean stood frozen, holding his breath as she looked up at him from beneath the fan of her black lashes. Slowly, she stood up on her tiptoes and put her mouth next to his ear, her breath warming his ear and his cock stirred to life as he breathed her in.

“Well, I'd start by getting closer, giving you light, brief touches on your arm, hand”—she moved her hand lightly across his chest—“maybe even the front of your T-shirt.”

God help him, where the hell had this come from? She couldn't have shocked him more if she'd stripped naked and danced around him. Maybe appearances were deceiving; she looked like she should be leading her church choir, not whispering sweet nothings to him in public.

She dropped back onto her feet, and Dean wanted badly to pull her back and press his aching hard-on against her.

He glanced toward Tyler, but he was back to being completely absorbed in Tracy.

“That. . . ahem . . . That's all it would take?” Dean asked.

“Well, I hope not. If you're that easy, then where is the fun?”

Dean choked, and Violet's laugh drew Tracy and Best's attention.

“What's so funny?” Tracy asked.

“Nothing, Dean and I were just getting to know each other. Right?”

Everyone was looking at him, but while Tracy and Tyler did so with curiosity, Violet's gaze held a definite challenge. Was she daring him to spill the beans or agree with her?

“We were just talking about the concert, and I told Violet that I was just glad I wouldn't have to sit through Gaga.”

Tracy crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, I know you're lying, 'cause Violet loves Lady Gaga and would never laugh at you dissing her.”

“Actually, Trace, I have a confession . . . ” Violet paused, and Dean saw Tracy's eyes narrow. “I actually hate Gaga. I just went to all those concerts to be a good friend.”

Tracy put her hand to her forehead and pretended to faint. Best caught her in his arms, grinning at Violet and Dean. “Is she always this dramatic?”

“She was a double major at Sac State,” Violet said. “English and theater.”

Tracy blinked up at Best with a sigh. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Anytime.” Best almost sounded sincere, except Dean knew his buddy well. Tracy would be lucky to get a phone call after tonight.

Tracy looked at Violet with a grim expression. “I forgive you for this horrible betrayal.”

“That's magnanimous of you,” Violet said.

“One of my many qualities.” Tracy fixed Best with a sly grin. “I'm also incredibly generous.”

On that note . . .
Now that their friends were distracted again, he asked Violet, “Do you really hate Gaga?”

“No, do you?”

“Yes.”

Violet winked at him, the action comfortable and disarming. “I won't tell if you don't.”

Damn, it was one thing to be attracted to her, but to actually like her and enjoy the way she surprised him made her hard to resist.

She raised her cup to her lips, her eyes closing. When she lowered it again, she licked her lips and sighed. “So much better.”

“What did you get?” he asked.

“Wine. Want a sip?”

She held the cup out to him, and all he could do was shake his head. Why the hell couldn't he look away from the bridge of her nose, where a dozen or so small freckles kissed her skin? He had never thought freckles were sexy before, but on her they were irresistible.

She was getting to him. He had let his guard down, been charmed by her despite his reservations, and he was confused as hell. Was she just being an outrageous flirt? A tease?

He needed to put some distance between them. Because he wasn't sure letting her “have her way with him” was such a good idea.

“I've got to go,” he said suddenly.

Dean almost missed the hurt in Violet's eyes, it was gone so fast. Best's glare, however, stayed firmly in place. Best was so chill, always the one to razz other people and give them shit. Rarely did he get angry about anything.

“Where?” Best asked.

“Bathroom.”

“I'll go with you.” Best gave the girls his classic player smile. “Don't go anywhere, ladies.”

“Hey, you have ten minutes, and then no promises after that,” Tracy said.

“Fair enough.”

Dean looked toward Violet but she'd turned away, glancing around the beer garden as if searching for someone else to talk to. He couldn't blame her; he wasn't smooth with women when he tried, but he was an expert when it came to alienating them.

“Come on,” Best said.

Dean walked alongside him, waiting for Best to blow up. Finally, when they were out of earshot, Best snapped, “What is your problem?”

Dean wasn't about to share his feelings with Best. They were buddies, but when it came to feelings, well . . . Best wasn't the most sensitive listener.

“I came to listen to music, not spend all night chasing girls,” Dean said.

Best looked at him incredulously, almost bumping into a group of giggling teenagers. “Are you crazy? That is the
only
reason to go to a summer concert with another dude. You are my wingman; act like it.”

“Fuck off. You don't need
my
help getting women.” Which was really true. If Dean left right now, he didn't think it would take much for Best to take Tracy home.

And if Tracy went home with Best, what did that mean for Violet? Would she go home alone or look for someone else to pass the time with? The thought of her hooking up with another guy was like drinking his mother's old-school cold remedy; it left a rotten taste lingering in his mouth.

“Dude, did you just growl at me?” Best asked.

Dean flushed. He hadn't realized he'd made a sound. “Of course not, I was just clearing my throat.”