The Officer and the Secret (5 page)

Skye opened her mouth, but before she could speak, her cell phone rang. She turned the screen forward, then pushed a button and set the phone flat on her desk. “Hey, Madison. Veronica’s here too. You’re on speaker.”

“Hey, guys.” Madison’s voice, firm and loud as always, filled the small office. “Wanted to see if anyone was up for a girls’ night sometime soon.”

“Yeah. First things first, though. Veronica says she’s ready to start dating.”

“Skye!” She wanted to slide off the chair into a puddle of embarrassment.

Madison only laughed. “It’s about time. I wondered when her cute butt was going to start getting out there. So is there a target in mind?”

“She says no. But I’m not sure if that’s true yet.”

“She should start with a gentle model. Someone easy.”

“
She
is right here,” Veronica grumbled, but couldn’t hold back the smile. It felt right, like what all girlfriends would do. Calling about boys, teasing each other. Only the more grown-up, mature version.

“No bad boys,” Skye agreed and tapped a pen on the desk. “We’ll think about it. Pick someone for a test run.”

Test run. Gentle model. Were they picking out a car?

Skye hung up the phone and smiled. “Madison is a good ally in this.”

“She’s not going to think I’m some… freak? For not having dated until now?”

Her cousin waved that away. “Not at all. Madison’s not a judgmental person. Plus, I didn’t say you’d never dated. Just that you were ready to start dating. How she takes that is up to her. Either way, you heard her. She was excited to help.”

Skye tossed the pen on the desk and crossed her. “So tell me really. Who or what spawned your sudden desire to hop into the dating pool?”

Veronica looked toward the big window. She could never lie worth anything.

“Okay. We’ll ignore that for now. How about Madison, you, and I powwow about it this weekend?”

She jumped on the chance to deflect for now. “Sounds good.”

“I have to ask. And you know you aren’t obligated to answer. But I’m curious. Why do you want to keep your past a secret?”

The million-dollar question. “Your parents didn’t mention me. Ever. Did they?”

Skye shrugged. “No, but they aren’t big into sharing their pasts. For all I knew, they were only children. It’s how I was raised, and I accepted it.”

In that, they were the same. “I didn’t even know your mom—my mom’s sister—existed for so long. With my parents dragging me from one ‘God-forsaken,’” she used air quotes, something she’d picked up from Madison, “country to the next, spreading the gospel, I got sick of it. I knew this wasn’t the way normal people lived. Age ten, I begged for us to move back to the U.S.”

“Can’t blame you,” Skye murmured, rocking back in her chair.

“They sent me to live with my father’s parents. I lasted about three months. The kids were merciless. I didn’t know how to make friends, because I hadn’t had anyone my age to talk to.” She smiled a little. “Anyone who spoke English, I mean. I talked funny, I didn’t understand the slang, and I was too hesitant in reaching out.”

“Kids can be cruel.”

“Very,” Veronica agreed. Her fingers automatically picked at, then smoothed over, a fray in the arm of the chair she sat in. “I was sensitive. It hurt. And I thought I would rather be with my parents, so I went back. I tried again at fifteen. Surely, I thought, teenagers wouldn’t be as horrible and mean.”

Skye said nothing.

Veronica smiled a little. “I know what you’re thinking. They’re not as mean as ten-year-olds. They can be worse. I very quickly learned that telling people my parents were missionaries would lead to one of two results. They either thought I was some religious zealot who would try to shove God down their throat at every turn and would avoid me. Or they would treat me like I was some odd science experiment, always asking questions, trying to prove something.”

“At an age when you must have wanted to start dating…” Skye added softly. Intuitive as always, knowing without a doubt what wasn’t being said.

“My parents did not care at all about my comfort or my wishes. I never had friends, because we moved so frequently. I didn’t ever speak the language of wherever we were. And the one time there was someone else who spoke English close to my age to hang out with, it happened to be another teenager, a boy. And we were caught kissing. Just kissing.” She shivered at the memory. “It didn’t go well when my father found us.”

She still had the scar from her father’s belt across the backs of her thighs. Could still hear the harsh, biting tone of his voice as he quoted Scripture like a weapon while whipping her. Could see her mother weeping, crying out why they had been cursed with such a shameful, wicked daughter who couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept her own mission in life… to see to the reform of others.

She still held the shame he beat into her about her desire. Though she’d matured, grown, and done some self-searching and realized her desires were not only normal, but healthy, it was a constant battle. But it was a battle she would win.

“It’s a little hard to vocalize to someone that your parents cared more for their mission than their daughter. And to make sure people don’t think you’re some zealot that will start smacking them with a pocket Bible the moment they transgress. My hope is that I can get to know people for a while and eventually bring it up. Once they know I’m not like that.”
Eventually. One of these days. When I get the nerve up to talk about it again.

Skye laid a hand on her knee in silent comfort, then squeezed. “Well, no time like the present to make up for your lack of dating. Think about whether there’s someone you might be interested in.”

Dwayne’s easy smile came to mind. She pushed it aside with effort. Her cousin meant someone who had the chance to be interested back. Dwayne Robertson was not only intimidating, he was out of her league. “Sure. No problem.”

Dwayne jackknifed up in bed, reaching under his pillow for his Ka-Bar. His hand grasped air. There was a deep, rasping sound that he couldn’t place, and he strained his ears to figure it out.

Damn. His own breathing, rattling his chest. And he didn’t recognize it. He wiped a wrist across his brow and it came away damp with sweat. The sheets were wrapped around his legs like a vine and he kicked them away. Nothing confining. Nothing on top of him. He couldn’t handle it.

What woke him up at—he checked the clock—four in the morning, he had no clue. But there was sure as hell no way he was going to get back to sleep now. And he knew, knew with a bone-deep, gut-wrenching sort of dread, that this was the nail in the coffin he couldn’t ignore.

Despite the time, he reached for his cell and punched in the first contact.

“Sup?” Though he’d probably been deep asleep, Tim’s voice was clear, without a hint of grogginess.

“I need help, man.”

“If you need to be bailed out of jail, call Jeremy.”

Dwayne didn’t laugh at the joke. He ran one hand over his head, noting absently he needed a haircut again. When he said nothing, Tim spoke again.

“Start with the chaplain. Email him, set something up. Go from there. He’s a good guy.”

“I hate that I need help.”

“I know.”

Tim would. Asking for help was a Marine’s worst nightmare. Probably any man’s worst nightmare. “I have to do this, don’t I?”

Tim sighed, then he must have covered the mouth of the phone because his voice was muted as he spoke to—Dwayne could guess—Skye. Then he was back. “Yeah. You do. I’m just shooting straight here. If it’s affecting you this much that you’re calling me like this, then you need to talk it out. You never know, it might not be all that bad.”

Dwayne didn’t scoff, but he wanted to. Telling some stranger his problems and admitting there were issues, exposing that soft underbelly, the weakness… it didn’t bring good things to mind. But if it had to be done, then it had to be done.

“Okay. I’m on it.”

He set the phone down a moment later, then stared at it. Something had him picking the phone back up, wondering what Veronica was doing. Craving to hear her voice. When he’d been injured in Afghanistan, it was her voice, her calm presence that got him through.

Just as quickly, he let the phone drop back down to the bed in front of him. First off, he didn’t have her number. And second, he wasn’t calling some chick he’d met three times—not including their computer dates—to help him get back to sleep. She’d think he was crazy. Crazier, he corrected with a smile.

Well, at least his sense of humor was still intact. That was something.

He texted his sister instead, asking about his niece and telling her to call him when she got the message. He knew Natalie wouldn’t see it until the morning anyway, so no worry in waking her. She always put the phone on silent after the baby was in bed.

Not a baby anymore. He smiled at the framed photo on the dresser across the room. His niece was growing up too fast. He’d only met her once, thanks to them still being back in Mississippi. But he’d have to see her again soon, or he’d miss too much.

That finished, Dwayne stretched and laid back, hands beneath his head, and stared at the ceiling until exhaustion took him under.

***

“Let’s get shopping!” Skye shut the car door behind her and bounced in the backseat with excitement.

“Do you have a sadistic bent or something?” Madison pulled out of the townhouse driveway and out of the complex. “I thought when you asked us to be bridesmaids you were going to go all nontraditional and let us just pick our own dresses. Or hell, wear tuxes. I’m down for a bow tie.”

Skye laughed. “Sorry. I have just enough ‘traditional’ in my blood to want you guys to be all prettied up standing next to me. Matching. Like a pair of bookends.”

“Bookends. Hell. What are we—Bobbsey twins now?”

“Maybe your brother and all his conservativeness is rubbing off on me.”

“Other way around, I’d say. You’re rubbing off on Tim. And it’s a good thing. Someone had to yank the stick out.”

Veronica sat in the front seat, watching the landscape and letting the teasing surround her. Their teasing didn’t bother her anymore. Before, she might have taken things too literally. She could almost laugh at herself as she remembered she used to think they were serious when they went at each other like this. She’d come quite a long way. “I think it’s nice to want bridesmaids. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Skye’s voice was smug.

“Veronica, where’s my backup? Roomies stick together.”

Veronica shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. Madison looked so disgruntled in the driver’s seat, her mouth set in a pout like a belligerent child in time-out. “Sorry. I like it.”

“You suck,” was all Madison could say as they pulled into the empty parking lot of the formalwear shop. “At least it’s not birthday ball season, so the place won’t be full of spouses and girlfriends looking for gowns.”

Skye and Madison started to walk in, but Veronica stopped.

“I forgot my purse. You guys go in.” She ran back to Madison’s car, used the keyless entry code Madison had given to her before, and grabbed her purse. As she shut the door, she stepped back and right into a wall.

Or a chest, she realized, as arms steadied her at the elbows.

“Easy now. In a rush?”

She’d know that accent anywhere. The heat from his body almost soaked through her shirt, warming her skin. His thumbs caressed the inside of her elbows. Unconsciously? Or on purpose? And why wasn’t she jerking away? Men made her uncomfortable. Especially this one, she reminded herself as she took a step forward and turned.

“What are you doing here?” That sounded nice and calm, she congratulated herself.

Dwayne rocked on his heels and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Tim didn’t want uniforms, so we’re getting fitted for tuxes. Lucky for us.”

“Lucky?” When he tipped his head, she fell in step with him walking to the door. “I would think you were used to the uniform.”

“Cammies, sure. Those aren’t so bad. Not the one we’d wear for a wedding. They’re hot as a bitch in heat and twice as annoying…” He trailed off and she looked up. His neck was bright red and he looked sheepish. “Sorry. Uh, I just mean they’re uncomfortable. A monkey suit should feel like pajamas in comparison.”

Hmm. Though she’d become accustomed to cursing, not hearing it much before moving to the States, rarely did anyone apologize for it. It was almost sweet that he would be concerned for her and check himself. When he reached around her back to open the door, she tried hard not to feel the little thrill at the contact, at the security of his huge arm sheltering her body.

This was definitely not her assignment. She was supposed to be thinking of available men who would be interested in
her
. Not emotionally unavailable, never-going-to-want-her, too-much-to-handle men.

“Good luck with your fittings.” Before he could answer, she scurried through the racks of dresses toward the left side of the store, where her friends were flipping through a binder with pictures. Her purse caught once on a rack and she had to stop and detangle herself.
Please
don’t be watching me. Please don’t be watching me fight with a rack of clothes like an idiot.
She wouldn’t look. She wouldn’t look. She… okay, she looked back and watched Dwayne melt into the sea of display tuxedos on the right side of the store. One tiny peek at his back couldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t be that bad of an idea if she let her eyes just drift down the line of his back to his butt either. Not a problem at all. No problem—

Something sharp jabbed her on the temple with enough force to have her eyes water and stop her in her tracks.

“Ow!” With some quick footwork and unique hand placement, she managed to barely catch another rack of dresses before they toppled to the floor. This place was a death trap.

Rubbing the spot on her forehead, she kept her eyes straight ahead and sat down next to Madison. Madison was peering over Skye’s shoulder, who was flipping through a binder full of dresses and color swatches.

Skye pointed to a pretty floor-length gown in teal. “I really think you should try this style on. The A-line is flattering for anyone and—”

“And my shoulders will look like a linebacker in that cut.” Madison’s tone said she’d rather take a bullet than wear the dress on page seven.

Skye blew out a breath, shifting the hair that frizzed around her face. “Okay then. Let’s try this one on page nineteen. I think—”

“That green color will make me look sickly? Yes, I agree.”

“Madison,” Veronica murmured.

“Sorry.” Deflated, Madison sank back into her chair. “I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?”

“No,” Veronica tried to soothe, though she sort of agreed.

“Yes,” Skye said at the same time, then patted her knee. “But I still love you. And this dress comes in several colors.”

“Oh.” Madison was appeased.

“How about this one?” the bride asked, pointing to another page.

Skye finally chose two different dresses that she wanted to see. A quick consultation with the store clerk found she had one of each dress for Madison and Veronica to try on.

“I only have the dress from page nineteen in a size four.”

“That’d be my size.” Madison stood.

“And it’s only in the green. But you can order it in any of the other colors, of course,” the clerk reminded them quickly when Madison’s face clouded over. “The important part is seeing how it fits.”

“Just head to the dressing room, oh sickly green one.” Skye gave her back a gentle shove and off she went, holding the dress with the interesting color palette.

The sales clerk held out the second dress, which happened to be Veronica’s favorite. “It’s a size too big for you, but when you come out we can use clips to hold it back so you get a good idea of what it will look like when it’s properly sized.”

It was a dusty rose color, with a strapless sweetheart neckline. The hem, at least on the model, hit right above the knee. Shorter than she was used to, but not too bad. Her favorite part, though, was the little belt that had rhinestones on the buckle. It added a fun little eye-catching pop. Something she wasn’t used to, but couldn’t resist. Veronica took the dress and made her way to the middle of the store, where the fitting rooms were.

“Madison, I’m going to need your help here in a second with the zipper.”

She quickly shucked her clothing and pulled on the cute dress, but when it came time to zip the dress up, the zipper caught. She twisted her arm, tried to shift the material of the dress one way and the other, but nothing worked.

“Madison?”

No answer.

“Skye?”

Neither woman seemed to be around. They’d likely walked onto the mirrored staging area to check out their dresses.

She tried for the zipper again. No way was she leaving the dressing stall with the thing halfway undone. She might have graduated from wearing, as Skye called them, schoolmarm clothing to shopping for more contemporary styles that actually showed her arms and legs, but there was no way she could just flounce out onto the showroom floor and let her dress droop down around her back. If it fell, she’d be mortified.

Just as she started to wedge herself into a corner for leverage, thinking this time she finally had the right angle, the curtain shifted behind her.

“Oh, thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief and let her forehead drop to the wall. Her prayers had been answered. Madison heard her calling. “I apparently lack the third arm necessary to get into this dress myself.”

The material tugged together in the back, drawing it tight across her breasts for a moment. The fingers that fumbled with the hook on the back felt thick, almost clumsy. After a moment, she couldn’t breathe. No, it wasn’t the fit of the dress. It was the realization that it wasn’t Madison behind her, seeing her exposed more than she ever would have wanted.

She tried to turn, but couldn’t. Though hooked at the top, the dress would still fall. All she needed for the humiliation to be complete would be to actually flash the intruder.

“Please go away.” Her voice was so quiet, distant even to her own ears. The flush that crept up her neck and into her face burned almost painfully.

“Easy. I’m just trying to do you a favor. No ulterior motives here.”

Dwayne. She should have known. For some reason she couldn’t explain, the panic subsided marginally. But it was only replaced with a new form of tension when the back of his fingers brushed against the skin of her lower back, working to line the zipper up. Goose bumps spread up her back, over her arms, causing her to shiver.

“Cold?” He leaned forward and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, where her braid was flipped forward.

She should pull away. Cover her front, jerk away, and scream. Men didn’t just… come into women’s dressing rooms like this. Did they? But her body was paralyzed from doing anything but shaking her head.

As the zipper found its track and he pulled it up, the rasp of metal on metal was one of the most intimate sounds she’d ever heard in her life. How bizarre, to be, what was the phrase? Turned on. To be turned on by getting dressed, and not the other way around.

“There.” His voice was low in her ear, husky almost. “All trussed up.”

She turned then. It was time for a blistering lecture on being rude, on assuming, on the arrogance of walking in on a woman undressed.

“Thank you.”

Wait, that wasn’t it. But she honestly couldn’t form any heated words. She wasn’t feeling them. They weren’t coming from her heart.

Hallelujah. She was finally shedding her former mentality.

“That’s quite a sight.”

“Hmm?” She focused her eyes back on him. “What?”

He twirled a finger, and catching his meaning, she faced the mirror.

She still held one hand over her chest, since the dress was a size too big. But despite the awkward stance, she liked what she saw. There was a flush to her cheeks, just enough to add some color to her normally pale complexion, which complemented the dress’s color. Her eyes were wide, amusement shining. And her mouth was split into a huge grin.