Welcome to Forever (7 page)

Maybe he did need to wear a damn cowboy hat, because his charm was nowhere to be found right now.

Lifting her beer for the first time since he'd sat down next to her, she took a sip. And another. Then she took such a long pull on her bottle that Micah wondered if she'd pass out from the lack of oxygen. After several more swigs, Val and Julie stopped to watch her, glancing at Micah in question.

“What did you say to her?” Val asked, accusations etched all over her face.

“He didn't say anything,” Kat said, raising her voice. “I need another drink.”

As if on cue, the waitress came with bottles for everyone except Lawson, who took another soda.

“If I said something—” Micah leaned in close to her, catching the scent of her perfume.
Damn.
She smelled amazing.

“You didn't.” Rolling her lips into one another, she kept her eyes on the drink. “It's just, well, I'm not engaged any longer.”

“Oh.” His gaze lowered to her ring.

With a shrug, she looked around the table. “That relationship is in the past, and I'm moving on.”

Shit, shit, shit.
He'd really screwed up this relaxing night out for her. He wasn't sure what the story was, but he was starting to suspect it was the reason behind the haunted look he sometimes saw in her eyes. His hand found hers under the table and he offered a gentle squeeze. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“You didn't know.” She forced a smile at him and looked at Val and Julie again. “But tonight isn't about that. It's about catching up with my two favorite women, and enjoying a few drinks.”

“That's not
exactly
what I had in mind,” Julie said, lifting her brows.

Kat wobbled a little on her seat, and Micah instinctively placed a steadying hand on her back. The touch zinged through him, and,
yeah,
he could think of some things he'd rather do than drink, too.

Grabbing the fresh bottle that the waitress had placed in front of her a moment earlier, Kat held it up to the group. “Well, drinking myself into oblivion is
exactly
what I have in mind.”

The room was spinning as Kat tried to focus on Micah's mouth. He was saying something, but his hand on her thigh was very distracting.

And why had she just told him she wasn't engaged? That opened all kinds of doors. Now there'd be questions, and answering questions when you were drunk was never a good idea.

She looked across the table at her sister and friend, who were laughing hysterically at something the other guy had said. What was his name again? All she could remember at the moment was the kiss that she'd shared with Micah the other night. It'd been a nice kiss. Better than nice. That kiss had set off fireworks inside her, lighting up places that had been dormant far too long.

“Kat?”

“Hmm.” She blinked heavily at Micah and felt that dorky smile crawl through her cheeks.
Great, just great.
She'd never be able to face him again, which was too bad. She kind of liked this sexy lawn keeper.

“I think you've had too much to drink.” His brows hung heavily over his chocolate fudge eyes.

“Yum.”

“Yep.” He nodded definitively. “I'm taking you home right now.”

All conversation stopped and everyone at the table turned to him.

“I'm taking her to her home, and I'll be going back to mine.” Micah cleared his throat. “Ladies, you don't have to finish your night quite yet. I can vouch for my friend here. He'll get you home just fine,” he said, leveling his gaze at Lawson.

“And who'll vouch for you?” Julie asked, looking at Micah. “How do we know you're not going to take advantage of my sister while she's falling all over herself?”

“Hey!” Kat objected. “I'm not falling over.” She swayed on her chair as she waggled a finger. “And I can vouch for Micah. He's a perfect gentleman.”

Val's gaze narrowed on Kat, her lips lifting lightly at the corners. “I'll vouch for him. Micah should definitely drive Kat home tonight.”

And either Kat's vision was jumping from all the alcohol, which was possible, or Val's eyebrows waggled over her mischief-filled eyes.

Kat shook her head. Val thought they were leaving to rip each other's clothes off—or at least that's what she was hoping. But she was wrong. Raging hormones or not, Kat couldn't sleep with Micah. She barely knew him, and he was a parent who also happened to work for her. She'd have to be a lot drunker than this to cross those lines.

“Are you ready?” Micah asked, turning to her and smiling.

“I can't just leave. I'm the reason we're all here.” Her words slurred on top of each other, as she looked across the table at Val again. “I can't just leave you.”

“It's fine. Really. I'll call you tomorrow and you can complain about how awful your headache is. Because it's going to be painful.” Val smiled as if the thought were a pleasant one.

Kat shifted in her chair, and then relented. “Fine.” Going home sounded good actually. She tried to stand before both feet were flat on the ground.
Rookie-drunk mistake.
The heel of her shoe got caught on the leg of the chair, and her body flung to what would've been the floor, if Micah hadn't been standing there. Instead, her head hit the hard rock wall of his chest.

He pulled her up gently and steadied her on her feet. “I'll help you to my Jeep.”

She nodded, feeling sick as her head started to spin faster. “Okay. I guess. See you at home, Julie.” Her words sounded slurred even to her own drunken ears. How much had she had to drink? She couldn't remember, which was a bad sign. She remembered the first three drinks, and those were buried under several more.

Micah's arm hugged her waist tightly as he helped her exit the bar and walk through the parking lot.

“You're strong,” she said, giggling. Yep, she'd be mortified in the morning. This thought started her laughing hysterically.

Leaning her against his Jeep, he held a hand to her stomach to keep her from tipping over while he unlocked the door. His hand resting just south of her waist lit a fire low in her belly. She was hysterical and turned on, and every other contradicting emotion. Definitely in no condition to be interacting with co-workers and parents of her students.

“What's so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing. It's just, I'm wasted.” She laughed even harder. “I never get wasted.”

“Good to know.” He started to guide her to the passenger seat. When she tried to step up, she wobbled out of control and his strong arms wrapped around her again. “Okay,” he said. Then with one quick motion, he lifted her off the ground and placed her into the seat of his vehicle.

“Have you thought about that kiss?” she asked, as he leaned in close to fasten her seatbelt. She couldn't control what was coming out of her mouth. “Because I have. A little.” She started laughing again. Val had warned her that she was a horrible drunk, and evidently, it was true.

“What have you thought about it?” he asked, his voice low and bristly. Her buckle snapped into place with a loud
click.
He could step back now, but he didn't.

And she didn't want him to. What was the point of being drunk if you couldn't say and do what you wanted, and then apologize for it in the morning? No one blamed a drunk, they blamed the drink. “I thought that I liked it. The kiss. It was amazing.” She held her breath as he lingered in front of her, his hand still resting on the seat's buckle.

“I thought the same thing.”

“You did?” She swallowed thickly, as her heart rode up her throat.

His brow lifted. “You sound surprised.”

“I'm out of practice.” She nibbled on her lower lip, drawing his gaze there. Then his gaze flicked back to her ring. Just the thought squashed the flutterings in her chest, leaving a deep ache that vibrated with the alcohol. “He's been gone for two years,” she said.

Micah's brows pinched together softly.

Explaining about John in her state wasn't a good idea, though. She might start crying, which she didn't do in front of others anymore, and right now all she wanted to do was forget everything but their kiss.
That
she wanted to remember. “You could kiss me again,” she said softly.

His smile deepened and,
damn,
he smelled good
.

Leaning in closer to her ear, his hot breath melted her as he whispered, “Kat, you've had too much to drink. I'm taking you home now.”

Before she could process what he'd said, he stepped back and shut the Jeep's door, the sound as offensive as if someone had crashed cymbals in her ears. A moment later, he reappeared on the driver's side and cranked the engine, another sound that made her wince.

She closed her eyes, unsure of what to do with her drunken emotions.

“If I kiss you again, I want to be one hundred percent sure it's what you want. Not because my almost ex is walking up and you want to help me out. Not because you've had too much to drink and want to escape.”

She suddenly felt very tired, as the Jeep Cherokee headed out of the parking lot. “So, you are going to kiss me again?” she asked. Before she could hear his answer, though, her eyes closed and the sounds of the road and his voice, and the blood thundering in her head, blurred together. She remembered their kiss, the feel of his stubble roughly brushing against her cheek, and the way he had smelled like pine and fudge brownies.

No, wait.
His eyes reminded her of fudge brownies. He didn't smell like them.

Her eyes fluttered open. Yeah, she was definitely going to regret tonight in the morning. Especially the part where she'd offered to kiss him and he'd rejected her. She'd
really
regret that part.

Micah ran toward the parking lot on Monday afternoon.
Shit.
He was going to be late picking up Ben. And it was against regulations to wear his uniform in public. He guessed having his dad as the commanding officer of Camp Leon helped with some things.

Tires squealed as he pressed the gas pedal. This was the sucky part about being a single dad—having no one else to depend on, but himself. Although, he had Aunt Clara and Uncle Rick now, too. That was the great thing about living in Seaside—it came with extended family. Aunt Clara was the equivalent of Mayberry's Aunt Bea. Uncle Rick was mostly quiet, a good listener, and Micah had fond memories of him tossing a baseball a time or two in the backyard as a kid. There were no memories of his own father doing that with him.

As soon as he was off the military base, Micah lifted his cellphone to his ear and dialed Aunt Clara's number. She'd have no problem picking Ben up from school. She was always asking to do more for them, wanting to cook and do their laundry. She was a godsend some days—most days.

He waited, anxiety building with each unanswered ring.

Great.

After dialing Clara again with no answer, he reluctantly dialed the school.

Kat's voice came on the other line after just a few rings. She'd avoided him this morning as he'd dropped Ben off, no doubt embarrassed about Friday night when she'd slurred and stumbled and, in the sweetest possible way, had almost thrown herself at him. Or she was mad about what could be perceived as his rejection. “Hello.”

“Kat, it's Micah Peterson. I'm really sorry, but I'm running late. I'll be there in ten,” he promised, speeding up to make that promise even close to true.

Her voice was soft, reassuring. “Ben's fine. Slow down and don't kill yourself getting over here. I was planning on working late anyway.”

His foot reflexively lifted on the gas pedal. “Of course you were. Thanks,” he said, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

“I guess I owe you after the other night. Thanks for getting me home safely. And I still haven't repaid you for taking me home when I lost my keys. Or for finding my keys, for that matter.”

He tried to bite back his words. He'd been tossing around the idea of inviting her to the Marine Corps ball in a few weeks—ever since she'd admitted that she wasn't engaged. Going alone this year wasn't an option. Single people got stuck at the bar, and he hated the bar. Thanks to his father, he'd learned not to drink at these functions. The old man was adamant that he always keep a professional appearance at work and during off-hours. But there were no off-hours when you were the son of the commanding officer of the military base. Someone was always watching and, according to his father, Micah needed to be an example of exemplary behavior at all times.

The problem was that if you didn't drink at such a function, you got stuck being designated driver for all the other guys without dates.
All
the guys being as many as could legally fit in his Jeep Cherokee last year.

Micah flinched at the memory, and then flinched again as the memory concluded with one of the guys losing the entire contents of his stomach in the backseat of Micah's Jeep.

Not this year.

So he had two options. Invite Nicole, who'd shattered Ben's heart when she'd called him a cripple a few months back.
No way, no how.
Or invite someone else. Kat was the only single woman he knew in Seaside at the moment. She was also attractive.

“We could call it even if you'd agree to be my date to something,” he said, only a few short minutes from Seaside Elementary now. He waited a long moment for her answer, each beat of silence punctuated loudly by his pounding heart. “ ‘Date' is the wrong word. If you'd attend a function with me and save me from a night of prolonged, boring conservations. It's next month. All you would have to do is wear a dress and you'd get a free meal out of it.” He'd wait to tell her it was the Marine Corps ball until after she agreed, he decided. In his experience, women either loved getting dressed up and being paraded around, or they despised it. He suspected Kat, with her workaholic ways, was in the latter group.

The silence continued on the line. At this rate, he'd be waiting for her answer while standing face-to-face with her at the school.

“Actually, if you said yes, I'd owe
you
,” he said, unable to stop talking.

“Really?” she finally asked.

He smiled to himself. What was he doing? He needed to ask someone who didn't make his heart sputter all over the place every time he caught a glimpse of her. He liked Kat, which was all the more reason
not
to take her to the Marine Corps ball.

Except taking her almost made going sound fun. The thought of dancing with her, holding her close—
yeah, I could get excited about that.

“Okay,” she finally said.

Her answer was so soft that he had to wonder if he'd imagined it.

“My sister and Val have actually been getting on me about going out more. Maybe this will shut them up.”

“So we'll be helping each other out. Win-win.” He parked and climbed out of his vehicle, breaking into a slight jog as he approached the school's entrance. “I'm here, by the way.”

“I'll go get Ben. See you in a minute.” A dial tone replaced her voice.

His chest was already swelling in anticipation of locking eyes with hers. Yep, something about her had his heart pouncing in his chest like a dog after a treat. And as much as he wanted to avoid her, he also needed to see her. It'd been better when he'd thought she was engaged. At least then his attraction had promised to never amount to anything.

With her being single, attraction could only escalate to more. He wasn't ready for more, and might never be—at least not until Ben was grown. That's what his brief “thing” with Nicole had shown him. His son needed his parents right now, but with Jessica out in the desert, he would have to make up for her absence by being that much more involved.

He pulled open the front door of the school and came face-to-face with Kat as she walked beside Ben's wheelchair. They were smiling and something inside him ached seeing them together. Ben needed a strong woman figure in his life, who accepted him for who he was—a boy, not a problem.

Her smile dissolved as she looked at him and her gaze traveled down his body. He remembered that he was still in his uniform, which was against regulations, but there'd been no time to change.

“You're a Marine?” she asked, taking a small step backward, her face growing pale and accentuating those large green eyes of hers.

That's when it hit him. She hadn't known he was a Marine. Had she thought he just took care of people's lawns for a living? That was the plan eventually, yeah, but not yet.

“Hi, Dad.” Ben wheeled forward, oblivious to the disapproval radiating from his principal.

“Hey there, buddy.” Micah forced a smile, keeping his eyes locked on Kat. “I guess I've never formally introduced myself. I'm Sergeant Micah Daniel Peterson.”

Her eyes glistened in the dark hallway. Most people were impressed by his title. Not her. She looked like she'd seen a ghost as she took another step backward.

“Dad?”

Micah reluctantly looked down at his son. “Yeah, buddy?”

“Why are you still in uniform?” Ben asked. “Isn't that against the rules?”

Scratching his chin, Micah wished he wasn't. “I was in a hurry to get to see you, buddy.” His gaze shifted back to Kat.

“I, um, have to go,” she said quietly.

It was an excuse. She didn't have anywhere to go. He'd mowed the lawn here enough to know that she stayed late and was always the last person to leave. He also now knew that she had no fiancé to go home to, either.

“Kat?” He started to go after her, but she didn't turn back.

“ 'Bye, Ben. See you tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder, her voice as shaky as the long legs walking away from him.

Turning back to his son, he hooked his head. “Come on, Ben. Time to get home.” He'd talk to Kat about her reaction later, when he didn't have his son as an audience.

Just before they reached the double doors of the school, he turned to look at Kat once more, but she'd already slipped back into her office, hiding from him and the uniform he wore with honor. But he had no idea why.

Kat watched the father and son leave through the front doors of the school.
Oh, boy.
What had she gotten herself into? She couldn't go anywhere with him. A Marine?

Plopping into the chair behind her desk, she cradled her head in her hands. Why'd he have to be a Marine? He was just supposed to be the sexy guy who kept the school's campus looking pristine. Only, how in the hell had she not known he was a Marine? His hair was a buzz cut and the friend he'd been out with the other night was obviously in the Corps. She'd seen the
SEMPER FI
tattoo on his arm.

She hunched over her knees, feeling like she was going to be sick. How had she let herself have feelings for this man without even knowing this aspect of his life? Well, the feelings would subside, and she'd just back out of the “function” he'd mentioned on the phone earlier. Maybe one of the teachers who worked here wanted to be his date. There was a laundry list of single females at the school who'd probably claw at the chance.

A sliver of jealousy ran through Kat with the thought. Then she jerked her head upright, gasping at the sound of a loud crash on the other side of the school. There it was again, coming from just beyond the west wing. She recognized the noise. The Seaside vandals.

The heels of her shoes clicked loudly as she walked down the long, shadowed hallway. If the kids could hear her, they'd better run because she was in no mood to be understanding tonight.

The
click, click, sheeesh
of the spray can grew louder as she neared the school's side entrance. She was going to march down there and collect those kids by their scruffs. Then she was going to call their parents and tell them what a bunch of spoiled, misbehaving brats they'd raised. At least that's what she wanted to do.

Pushing through the double doors, she was temporarily blinded by the light of the sinking sun. As she crossed the door's threshold, her heel caught on the doorframe, flinging her body forward onto the rough pavement
.
Omph!
The wind was knocked out of her in one quick
whoosh.

She didn't move for a long second. The kids were gone, she was sure of that. She could hear their laughter trailing through the woods in front of her. She was also sure that she was going to feel like someone had beaten her with an umbrella tomorrow morning when she woke up.

“Kat?” a deep voice asked.

She lifted her head to see Micah standing there, watching her. She groaned.

“Are you all right?” He moved quickly toward her and crouched down to inspect her leg, which had bright red blood from a large gash spilling onto the sidewalk.

She shook her head. “Did you see them?”

“Who?”

“The kids. The Seaside vandals?”

Micah glanced around. “No one. Just you.”

“I heard noises. I know they were here. I heard—” She followed his gaze and cursed under her breath at the large dark letters still wet and dripping down the side of the school.

CHANDLER SUCKS
.

Nice.

“Here. Let me.” Micah offered her a hand and helped pull her up, waiting to let go until she was steady on her feet, his gaze still heavy on the gash.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked numbly.

“Ben said he left his sketchbook at the picnic table.” He held up a wired notebook. When he did, a folded piece of paper slipped out. He bent to pick it up, his lips pressing into a hard line as he opened the paper and looked at the drawing inside. “Not one of Ben's.” He handed it over.

Kat studied the poorly drawn stick person sitting inside a wheelchair. The words “dumb” and “ugly” were scrawled across the top. “Who would do this?” she asked, looking up into Micah's dark eyes.

“I don't know. But I'm going to go find out,” he said, turning and walking with a mission.

“Wait, I have a better idea.” She stopped following him as pain seared through her leg. “Ow.”

“You sure you're okay?” he asked, looking back at her. His brows hung low over his eyes, no longer angry, but tilting with concern.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He walked back toward her and took her arm. “There's a first aid kit in my Jeep. Let's get that scrape cleaned up.”

Her body jolted with his touch, and something about his concern made her heartbeat quicken. But he was a Marine. And Sergeant Micah Peterson's fate could end up being the same as John's. He could die, and leave her more alone than before she'd met him.

When they reached the Jeep, Micah pointed at Ben. “You and I are having a talk tonight.” Ben's face paled as he handed him the notebook with the drawing on top. Then he turned back to Kat. “First things first. Sit and give me your leg,” he commanded.

Her blood drained to her toes as his hands closed around her calf and he reached for a first aid kit in the glove compartment. Betraying her, her body grew warm and tingly, though it could have been from loss of blood—she hoped. She didn't want to like his touch, even if he was only smearing an alcohol wipe on her gashed knee. She didn't want to find his callused hands intoxicatingly sexy or let her mind wonder how his skin would feel rubbing against other places.

“How're you doing?” His eyes met hers.

She swallowed the thick knot of pain and bone-melting lust in her throat. “I can't go to that function with you,” she said, her voice quiet.

He watched her for several long seconds, his grasp still tight on her leg. “You've already said yes, Kat.” He reached for a Band-Aid. “You don't strike me as one of those people who goes back on their word.”