Rescue Me (24 page)
“Looked for an apartment and bought an air mattress and sleeping bag in Amarillo.”
“I didn’t know you were looking.” He wore his usual uniform of brown T-shirt and beige cargo pants. He was the only guy she knew who could wear such bland colors and make them look anything but dull.
He pulled onto the highway. “Luraleen came home last night.”
“I know. She was at the funeral and brought a Frito pie afterward.”
He glanced at her, then back at the road. “Which is just one of many reasons I moved out.”
Her brows lifted up her forehead as she studied his profile, his big neck and shoulders in his tight T-shirt. “You found something already? That was fast.”
“I move fast.”
“I remember. The second time I met you, you had your hand up my dress.”
He chuckled and glanced over at her. “You weren’t complaining.”
“True.”
He reached around the back of his seat and handed her a cold bottle of Diet Coke and a bag of Chee-tos.
She looked at the orange bag in her lap. Felt the cold bottle in her hand, and her chest suddenly got heavy. The bottom of her heart pinched a little. In the past, men had given her flowers and jewelry and lingerie, and her heart was getting all achy about Chee-tos and Diet Coke? “Dinner?” It had to be the emotions of the day. “Careful. Next you’ll be asking me to a movie.”
“I have an ulterior motive.”
She opened the bottle, took a drink, and blamed the funny little feeling in her stomach on carbonation. “I’m pretty much a sure thing. You don’t need to ply me with Chee-tos and Diet Coke to get lucky.”
“I never rely on luck.” He glanced over at her and the corner of his mouth lifted up. “I rely on a well-executed plan. It’s called full-circle readiness.”
“Is that in the SEALs handbook?”
“Somewhere.” He laughed, a soft, amused sound that tickled her pulse. “Somewhere between ‘on time, on target, never quit,’ and ‘grab your sack and jump.’ ”
She smiled. “Your rucksack?”
“That, too.”
“Do you miss jumping out of airplanes?”
He looked out the driver’s side window. “Not as much as I used to, but yeah.”
“Why’d you get out?”
Several moments passed before he answered, “Mostly because of family obligations.”
She thought there was probably more to the story but didn’t want to pry. Okay, she
wanted
to pry but felt she couldn’t. “What do you miss most?”
“My teammates.” He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the road in front of him. “Being part of something with a noble purpose.” He paused a moment, then added, “Swimming in the ocean. Attack vehicles tricked out with M–2 machine guns and 40mm grenade launchers. Shooting shit up.”
She chuckled and opened her Chee-tos as they pulled into Lovett. “Sounds like my kind of job. I’m a pretty good shot.”
He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. “For a girl you’re all right.”
“I can outshoot most men. If we have a rematch, I can probably outshoot you, too.”
“That would never happen.”
True. She’d seen his deadly accuracy, courtesy of his government training. “What else do you miss about the military?”
“I miss finning up and hitting the waves.”
“Lake Meredith is about sixty miles west of Lovett.” She took a crunchy bite and added, “My uncle Frasier has a pool a few blocks from here, but it’s past cocktail hour and Uncle Frasier is probably swimming around drunk and naked by now. I could ask though.”
“For the past sixteen years I’ve lived near the ocean. I prefer it to a pool.” He turned onto Desert Canyon Street, then hooked a left on Butte. “Especially a pool with a drunk guy floating around in it like a naked cork.”
Which pretty much described Uncle Frasier.
T
he Casa Bella Apartment Complex was new and was made of terracotta-colored stucco and Spanish tile roof. There looked to be around twenty units, and Vince pulled the truck beneath a covered parking spot. He led her to an apartment on the second story. It was a basic eight-hundred-square-foot, two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath unit. The carpet was clean and it smelled of new paint, perfect for a guy who didn’t know how long he’d be living in the small town. “If I’d known,” she said as she moved into the kitchen and looked around at the mid-priced appliances, “I’d have brought you a housewarming plant.” She opened the refrigerator and set her Diet Coke next to a case of Lone Star and a six-pack of bottled water.
“I don’t want a plant.” He grabbed her hat and tossed it on top of a box sitting on the counter. Then he slid his hands to her waist. He pulled her back against his chest and kissed the side of her neck. “I didn’t work much at the Gas and Go today. So I shouldn’t stink.”
She smiled and tilted her head to one side to give him better access. “Does that line work for you?”
“Does it work for you?”
“Apparently.”
He unzipped the back of her dress and slipped it from her shoulders. “Your bra’s black.”
“It matches my panties.”
“I noticed.” The crepe dress fell to the floor, and he said against her bare shoulder, “I wanta fuck you with your boots on.” His fingers moved to the back of her bra. “Does that work for you?”
Oh yeah. She turned, and her bra joined her dress. “Yes, Vince.” She pulled his shirt over his head and ran her hands up and down his hard muscles. She kissed the side of his throat and her hand dived down the front of his pants. “You work for me,” she said, and wrapped her hand around his thick, corded erection. “You’re on time, on target, and never quit.” He sucked in a breath and she smiled against the warm skin of his neck. “I believe you called it your ‘full-circle readiness.’ I like a guy who is fully ready with a really nice, big, hard”—she slid her hand up and down his shaft and over the plump head—“body.” She bit the lobe of his ear and whispered, “Fuck me with my boots on, Vince.”
And he did. Right there against the refrigerator with her legs wrapped around his waist. It was fast and furious and so hot their skin slid and stuck and she felt burned up from the inside out.
“You’re good. So good,” he groaned as internal combustion raged through her and she gasped, unable to catch her breath. Her heart pounded and her whole world blew apart. When it was over, when every cell in her body reassembled, she felt different. Not
in love
different. More like
not so alone
different. She’d been surrounded by a crowd of people all day. Hardly alone, but with Vince she felt alive.
“Are you okay?” he asked against the side of her throat, his warm breath tickling her still sensitive skin.
“I am. Are you? You did all the work.”
“I like this kind of work.” He sucked in a breath and let it out. “Especially with you.”
For how much longer?
she wondered for the first time since that first night he’d come to her house. She’d known he would fill her nights. She just hadn’t counted on him to fill up her life so completely. And it was scary as hell. And letting her mind wander down that scary path meant she cared. Caring wasn’t necessarily bad, but caring
too much
would really be bad. Something that at the moment she probably shouldn’t think about. She’d think about it later when she had to think about every other screwed-up thing in her life.
Afterward, she sat cross-legged on his back patio, drinking Lone Star. The hard concrete chilled her backside as she watched the setting sun.
“I booked a flight Monday afternoon for Seattle.”
Sadie wore her panties and his brown shirt that hit her just above the knees. “Why?”
“Now that I know I’m going to be here for a while yet, I need to get some of my stuff out of storage.” He sat beside her with his back against the wall. His bare feet rested on the bottom rung of the wrought-iron railing. He wore his cargo pants and nothing else. “I’m renting a van and driving back.” He took a drink. “I’ll stick around for a few days and see my sister and hang out with Conner.”
“Your nephew?”
“Yeah. And I’m sure I’ll have to see the son of a bitch.”
“Sam Leclaire?”
“Yep. God, I hate that guy. Especially now, since the rules of engagement have changed.”
She took a drink and squinted her gaze at the orange sun sliding below the trees. “Since he’s engaged to your sister, you mean?”
“No. Since the SOB bailed me out, I can’t hit him now.”
Sadie choked. “Out?” she sputtered. “Out of what?”
“Jail.” He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. “I got into it with some guys at a bar last December.”
“Some? How many guys?”
“Probably ten.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “They thought they were big bad-ass bikers.”
“You fought ten bad-ass bikers?”
“They
thought
they were bad-ass.” He shook his head. “They weren’t.”
Still . . . “Ten?”
“Started with only two or three. The others just piled on until it was a full-on brawl and everyone was swinging at anything that moved.”
“What started the brawl?”
“A few guys wanted to run their mouths off and I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”
“What?” Her mouth fell open then snapped shut. “You got into a fight with bikers because they
said
something you didn’t like?” That was crazy. It didn’t even make sense. “Couldn’t you have just left?”
He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes like she was the crazy one. “I’m all for freedom of speech and shit. But with that freedom comes the responsibility to know what you’re talking about. And if you’re going to accuse the military of being uneducated rapists, then I have the freedom to shut you the fuck up. No. The
obligation
.”
“A biker said that?” She would have thought bikers would defend military guys.
“It was Seattle,” he said as if that explained it. “Washington is filled with some crazy liberals.”
Now might not be a good time to tell him she’d voted for Obama.
He reached into the side pocket of his pants and pulled out his cell phone. “You drained my energy and I’m starving. Chee-tos aren’t going to cut it.” He ordered a pizza, then helped Sadie to her feet. “If I keep eating junk and hanging out with you instead of working, I’m gonna get fat.”
She stood in front of him and put her hand on his flat belly. “I don’t think you have to worry about it.”
“I’m out of shape.”
“Compared to who?”
He moved into the apartment and she followed him to the kitchen. “Compared to when I trained every day.” He tossed her hat from the top of a box on the kitchen counter. “My sister sent me old photos and crap when she sent me my tax information for the past five years.” He reached inside the box and pulled out a handful of photos. He tossed several onto the counter, then handed her one.
She looked at the young man with the clearly defined chest muscles and wet shorts. “Goodness.” She hadn’t thought the guy could get any more buff. She looked from his wet pecs in the photo to his face. “You look so young.”
“I was twenty. That was taken the day I passed drown proofing.”
She was afraid to ask what that meant and picked up a photo of Vince on one knee in front of a bullet-ridden wall, a machine gun by his side and decked out in full camo and black scruffy beard. In another he was clean-shaven and doing push-ups with two scuba tanks on his back. “How much do those weigh?”
He turned his head and glanced at the pictures. “About eighty pounds. I didn’t mind pushing out reps. I hated ‘get wet and sandy.’ ”
They’d already established that he loved the water but hated the sand. She reached for a different photo of the younger version of Vince with his arms around a woman and a red-haired teenage girl. He wore a white sailor suit with a black neckerchief, white hat, and a huge smile.
“That’s my mom and sister at BUD/S graduation.” She could see the resemblance to his mother somewhat. To his sister, not at all. “What exactly does BUD/S mean?”
“Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL.”
She could also see the pride in his mother’s eyes. If her daddy had a son like Vince, he would have been proud. May have even given him three pats on the back. “Was your father there?”
“No. I’m sure he had something more important to do.”
From the little bit he’d said about his father, she wasn’t surprised by his answer. But what could be more important than your son graduating from SEALs training? “Like what?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know.”
“My father didn’t attend my high school graduation.” But at least she knew what had been more important. “He was branding cattle.” She thought of the events of the day and all the Clive stories. Good and not so good. The last time she’d seen him, they’d made more of a connection than they had in years. She got a glimpse into her father that she’d never seen before, but it had no way been the big emotional connection she’d always longed for. “Your father is still alive, maybe he’ll change.”
“I don’t care.” He looked into the box and pushed stuff around. “I don’t think people change unless they really want to. No one changes just because someone else wants it. And even if he does, it’s probably too late.”
She didn’t think that was true, but who was she to argue? She’d never made true peace with her father. Not the kind of big, satisfactory Hollywood ending that would have tied things up in a nice bow for her. If he’d lived another ten years, she probably never would have gotten that from him. She looked in the box and pulled out a blue helmet with “Haven” written in white on the front and “228” on the sides. “What’s this?”
“Second phase BUD/S helmet.” He took it from her hands and set it on her head. It fell to her brows. “It matches your eyes.”
She pushed it up. “It covers my eyes.”
He took out a gold medal from a velvet box and pinned it to the T-shirt. “You look really hot in my helmet and Trident.”
“Really?” She chuckled. “How many women have you let wear your helmet?”
“That particular helmet, none.” He lowered his mouth to the side of her throat and said against her skin, “You’re the first woman to touch my Trident.”
