Wait For Me

Wait For Me

Cover Art by Kendra
Egert
of Creations by Kendra

Edited by Mary Moran

Copyright
©
2013
Lissa
Matthews

Although this is an eBook, it remains the copyrighted property of the author
.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

For those who serve, thank you. For those who wait at home for outcomes unknown, thank you. Brave men and women fight everyday for freedom, for friends and family, for country. They sacrifice everything for the call of duty, for the call to protect and keep safe. But there are loved ones left behind who suffer loneliness, sadness, fear, who want nothing more than their husband, wife, father, mother, son, daughter, best friend, girlfriend, boyfriend, brother, sister to come home.

I admire these incredible people because the sacrifice isn’t only the sacrifice of the soldier, but also of the ones who love them. This short story, however erotic in nature, is for them.

I must also thank Brandy Walker and Mary Moran for their repeated readings during edits and beyond to make sure I got my facts right. Brandy is former military herself and her husband is still serving. Mary comes from a military family and both these women have been invaluable to me with their thoughts and insights.

And Kendra, who does such beautiful work on all my covers, who allows changes, however small or large, to fit the images in my head, even when they are vague.

Chapter One

Melody Ashford stomped into the workshop. It was several degrees cooler inside than out and felt wonderful on her sweat-soaked skin. She’d stalked several miles from Main Street in her small South Carolina town outside Columbia to her boyfriend’s property.
Vinny
Banks. She wanted to kill him she was so pissed. She would if she could, too, if she weren’t so damned in love with him.

She hadn’t even bothered to grab her car keys when she heard the news he was back in town. The picture off her office wall, oh yes she’d snatched that up, but not the damn keys. That fact, realized as soon as she’d run out of the family hardware store in hurt-filled anger, hadn’t helped her mood any. Rather than go back to face the man who’d brought her the news of
Vinny’s
return, as well as the customers she’d left staring after her, she just kept walking. She had a very capable couple of employees who would take up the slack in her absence, and while what she’d done was hotheaded and not very responsible, it didn’t concern her as much as confronting
Vinny
did.

She gave her eyes a second to adjust to the dim interior then found her mark. She drew her arm back and hurled the picture frame across the room. Unfortunately, her target had lightning-quick reflexes and ducked before it could hit him. The wood splintered, the glass shattered and the picture slid away as it struck the wall. “Shit,” she spat.

“Hello, Mel,” he said by way of greeting. His deep, rough voice melted into her. God, she’d missed him.

God, she was pissed at him.

“Oh don’t you hello Mel me, you…you…” She couldn’t find the word she was looking for. This always happened. She’d get so mad that she was unable to say exactly what she was feeling, what she was thinking. It was why she took to throwing things sometimes. It at least got the point across.

But with Vin? Dear heavens, with Vin, it happened all the damn time and she sounded like an idiot. No doubt, looked like one, too. She didn’t want to be tongue-tied and yelling at him. She wanted to be tongue-tied and wrapped around
him. This didn’t help her mood any either.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Mel drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried the edge. How much should she say? How mad would he be? “D-Dane
Thompkins
told me.” Her voice sounded small to her ears and she cringed.

Vin chuckled and shook his head. “Ah yes, good
ol
’ Dane. Good gossips and pot stirrers are always so hard to find. So nice to know I can count on him to excel at it. You two been dating long?”

She stood straight, to her full five foot five inches and braced herself for the argument that was coming. His conversational tone was just a cover for how he really felt and that was fine by her. If he stayed on the other side of the room, she could handle an argument. She sighed almost immediately and deflated a bit in the process. He wouldn’t stay on the other side of the room though. He’d come closer, and closer, until he had her cornered and then all bets would be off and she’d be down that rabbit hole. “That’s none of your business,” she stated with a finality she knew wouldn’t fly with him.

“No?” Vin queried. “Okay.” He turned slowly, and pinned her in place with a hard, heated stare. “Then why are you here?”

And there it was. The challenge. “Why didn’t you’d tell me you were coming home?” The question burst from her without consent. She knew she couldn’t tip her hand so easily, though in all honestly, they both understood why she was standing in his workshop.

“Why would it matter?” His casual stance and calm exterior belied his true feelings on the subject. She was going to be in a heap of trouble if she didn’t stop beating around the proverbial bush.

Instead, she growled in frustration and stomped her foot, for good measure. “Stop doing that. Stop answering everything I say with a question.”

“You’re the one who came in throwing things at my head.” He glanced down and bent to retrieve the photograph that had been in the frame. “You remember the day this was taken? Down at the lake with all our friends? You and me skinny
dippin
’ late into the night.”

It'd been the first time she'd worn a bathing suit in front of him, the first time they'd really spent any time with people since they'd started seeing each other. She'd thought her curves were too much for the suit, but Vin had thought them just right. He'd made her feel like the most beautiful girl, the sexiest girl.
“Of course I remember it. You left a week later for boot camp.”

“It’s my favorite picture of us.”

“Well, now you can have it back.”

Vin shook his head. “Don’t need it. This one is yours. I have a copy in my wallet, but thank you for the gesture.”

“Y-you carry it in your wallet?” Her voice and her heart softened. She didn’t know why his words affected her as much as they did or why the idea even surprised her. He’d been surprising her for years. She should be used to it by now. “Why?”

“Now who’s answering a question with a question,” he remarked before turning his back to her once more. From her vantage point, she could see he was dismantling a gun on the table. “You know why I carry it. Nothing has changed on my end.”

Mel closed her eyes as if somehow that could shield her from the power of his statement. Yes, she did know why. “Why didn’t you tell me you were home?” she asked again.

When he still didn’t respond
and
kept his back to her, some of her defiance rushed out, leaving her deflated. She clasped her hands together, wringing her fingers around one another, anything to keep from reaching for him. “Vin, please…”

He sighed and braced his weight on the workbench. She’d spent a lot of time on that surface. It was rough and hard and could hold the weight of two full-grown adults without creaking. She and a few of their friends had helped him build it that same summer before he left. She’d been the only one who helped him christen it, though. “I’ve been home all of an hour, Mel. I’ve barely unpacked anything more than my duffel, and as you can see, I haven’t cleaned myself up either.
Kinda
figured you deserved better than the grime and grease and road dirt.”

“That’s it? An hour? But then how could Dane have known before me?” The last was an inquiry more to herself than to him.

Vin laughed, low and dark and without any humor at all. “I’m
gonna
guess he saw my bike as I rode through town and couldn’t wait to run over with the news that you’re prodigal lover had returned.. I’m also
gonna
guess he wanted to see the look on your face, and I wouldn’t put it past him to be waiting just down the lane to see how long it’ll take before you leave here. He’ll want to console you again.”

“Things aren’t like that between us, aren’t that way. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Wait or want to console? He would. He’s not a stupid man, Mel. He
gettin
’ it often? He
talkin
’ marriage? Kids? Pretty white house with a pretty white picket fence?”

“Vin—” She started to speak but he cut her off and talked over her.

“You should take him, baby girl. You should take his ring and his bed and get over me. You clearly want something that I can’t give you yet.”

“That’s not fair and you’re being mean. He hasn’t offered or asked.” In truth, she didn’t want Dane. Never had. They were friends, of a sort. Nothing more or less to her. Dane had always wanted more, but she belonged to Vin. Always would.

Vin’s words were meant to sting, to hurt, to drive her away. She wasn’t falling for it. And that little word that he tossed in at the end?
Yet.
That one gave her hope. “You could have dropped by Mama’s to see me. She wouldn’t have minded.” She was always eager when it came to Vin. Too eager to see, to touch, to talk to him. Being vulnerable in front of him was always a problem for her because she couldn’t seem to stop. She was strong and independent with everyone else, but with him? No, she was putty around him. “How long are you home for this time?”

“You’re dating another man.” His voice was even. It might be considered neutral to someone not used to him and his moods. Lucky, or unlucky for her, she was one of the few who knew him better than anyone else. Why would—”

“I’m not dating anyone and it does matter. It always matters.”

When he didn’t say anything more, she whispered, “What would you rather me do? Sit around? Count the days and the hours? Mope? Cry? I do those things already, but yes, I go out. I go out with a guy, but it’s not what you think or what you think you might know.” She wanted him to say the words he never uttered but assumed she’d abide by anyway.

“How long have you been dating Dane?” he retorted, purposely ignoring her question. No matter how many times she asked, he could never answer that one. He would expect her to answer his though, especially since she hadn’t taken the out he’d given her. She was just too damn stubborn to take the easy way.

“I keep telling you it’s not like that. How did you know about him anyway? Do you have spies in town, Vin?” Some of her defiance came back and wouldn’t allow her to back down again. “Why does it matter how long you’re home for? Why does it matter if I’m seeing someone? It’s not like you’re here.” She stomped her foot in frustration. Her last statement was a cheap shot and one she shouldn’t have given voice to. She knew why he wasn’t around, at least in general, and it made her look petty.