Home to Texas

by Kaki Warner

  “Milton.” He watched her beautiful eyes crinkle as her lips spread in a crooked, teasing smile that made him forget what they were talking about. “I’m sorry. Say again?”

  “Smartass.”

  He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it. Besides, you’re the smartass. I’m . . . just . . .”

  “Really good-looking.”

  He laughed. “Come sit on my lap, soldier, and say that like you mean it.”

  Her smile faltered. “Ex-soldier.”

  “Come sit on my lap anyway,” he dared her.

  Eyes locked on his, she pushed back her chair and came around the table. But instead of sitting primly across his thighs, she threw her good leg over both of his and straddled him. “How’s this?” she asked in a low, throaty voice as she wiggled to get comfortable.

  Which made him very uncomfortable.

  “Perfect,” he managed, keeping his arms at his sides, watching to see what she would do next.

  “You’re really good-looking,” she repeated, as ordered, while running her hands through his hair.

  He almost shivered as her nails gently raked over his scalp.

  “And you have great hair, and I really want you to come with me.”

  “Patience, babe.” He looped his arms around her, more to steady himself, than her. “I’m halfway there.”

  She leaned in to nip his earlobe. “Don’t be nasty.”

  No one had ever nipped Richard’s earlobe before. Not even his dog.

  “I meant come with me to Rough Creek,” she clarified, sitting back and fiddling with his hair again. Thankfully, he was overdue for a haircut so she had plenty to fiddle with. Or maybe all the playing around was because she was nervous about where this lap dance was headed.

  He was, too. A knockout like her probably had guys chasing after her all the time. He wondered how he would measure up. Guess they’d know soon—she was sitting on his lap, after all.

  Maybe she was feeling vulnerable. There was an element of shyness in KD, he’d come to realize. She might be the bravest, most straightforward woman he knew, but she didn’t like showing her emotions. They were alike in that.

  “I’m sure Mama will love you,” she said, finger-combing his hair into this style or that. “She’s partial to muscular young men. But not in a creepy way. And you and Dalton will really hit it off. He’s a big, handsome vet, too. Not as handsome as you, of course.”

  A wink instead of a nip this time.

  What the hell was she up to? Richard didn’t know—with KD he often didn’t—but he was content to wait and see.

  “Raney will worry that we’re moving too fast,” she rattled on, “but don’t take it personally. Worrying is what she does. Luckily Joss won’t be there. She’s easily impressed by big muscles, and I wouldn’t want her reaction to yours to upset her new husband. Since my oldest sister, Len, is off God-knows-where in the Caribbean, she won’t even be there. You’ll only have to deal with Raney and Dalton and Mama.”

  Sounded doable, although he would have to keep an eye on Mama. “No second thoughts about taking me to meet them?”

  “Of course not, Richard. I’ll be proud and delighted to show—”

  He kissed her. Couldn’t help himself. When she didn’t resist, he wrapped his arms around her slender body, pulled her closer and kissed her again. Maybe three or four more times, so lost in the newness of her, he didn’t question the rightness of it. It was pure joy having her body pressed up against his, her arms locked around his neck, her tongue dueling with his. But through it all, the part of his brain that could still reason kept warning him to slow down and think about what he was doing. When KD had first climbed into his lap, he’d been stunned—and grateful—for her enthusiasm. But now he sensed a hint of desperation in the way she clung to him. And that surprised him.

  KD was a unique blend of all the best female traits—definitely not clingy or desperate. She could be everything he’d ever wanted. But he’d been badly burned in his marriage, and had learned to listen to his instincts. And right now, his instincts were telling him something was off. “Hey,” he said. “Wait.”

  She immediately stiffened and pulled back. “What?”

  Not trusting that wary look and afraid she might bolt, he moved his hands up to her shoulders. “What’s going on, KD?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yesterday you tell me ‘not yet.’ Now you’re giving me a lap dance.”

  “This is a lap dance? I thought lap dances were more . . . involved.”

  “You’re dodging the question. What’s going on? Is this you wanting a distraction from all the upheaval you’ve just suffered through? Or something more?” He’d been conned once. Never again.

  Her eyes narrowed. He felt a subtle stiffening in her posture. “You think I’m using you?” When he didn’t answer, she pulled out of his hands and slid off his lap. “You’re right. Maybe this isn’t the time.”

  “I didn’t say that, KD.”

  She turned toward the bedroom, pulling off her top as she went. “I’m taking a shower. I’ll clean up the dishes when I’m done.”

  Richard stared after her. Fuck was that about? The closing of the bathroom door jangled along his nerves and set off an explosion in his head. No. Hell, no. He couldn’t let her get away with that. And the thought of bringing her to heel—or trying to anyway—almost made him laugh out loud.

  He dug through his duffle, grabbed what he needed, took care of business, then headed for the bedroom. She was already in the shower when he yanked aside the shower curtain a few minutes later.

  With a startled sound, she whirled, turning her back to him, a dripping washcloth clutched to her breasts. Thankfully, it didn’t cover much. “What are you doing?”

  “Let’s not play these games, KD.”

  “Games?” She glared back at him over her shoulder, strands of wet hair clinging to her face and neck. “You’re the one playing games! Telling me to get on your lap then pushing me away. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  He watched water pour onto her head, run over her shoulders, and down the dip of her spine to the red puckered hollow low on her hip where the bullet had gone in.

  The fight went out of him. He’d been so wrong. About everything. This definitely wasn’t a game for either of them.

  Still wearing his shorts and T-shirt, he stepped into the shower behind her and drew the curtain closed. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back against his chest and out from under the spray. “You know I want you,” he murmured into her wet hair. He pressed against her, letting her feel the evidence of it. “I want you more than you could believe. But I don’t want to mess this up.”

  She twisted to look back at him. “Mess it up, how?”

  “Look what you’ve been through, KD. You were shot, lost a good friend, had major surgery, and just a few hours ago you had to sign away your career and a lifelong dream. Are you really ready to take on a guy with no job and no idea where he’s headed? Or do you just need a temporary distraction?”

  She stiffened. A shiver ran through her wet body. Anger? Hurt? A chill?

  Not wanting her to misinterpret his words, he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I can be either. Whatever you want from me, KD. Whatever you need, I’m here. But I need to know where we’re headed. And why.”

  Tears pooled in her beautiful eyes. He watched them spill over and mingle with the water on her cheeks. It sapped his strength. “Babe, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck this up so bad. What can I do to fix it?”

  She ducked her head and wiped at her cheeks. Still trying to be tough. Still afraid to let him see her cry. Hell, he’d seen her vomit, for God’s sake. A few tears wouldn’t break him.

  “There’s nothing you can fix, Richard. That’s all on me.” She hiked her chin and
met his gaze with that unshakable resolve he’d noticed in the hospital in Germany. “I’ll get through this on my own. I don’t need to be coddled or rescued.”

  Pride in her made him smile. He adored this warrior woman. “I know, babe. I have no doubt of it.”

  That took some of her anger away. “But I’m at loose ends, too, Richard,” she went on in a gentler tone. “I don’t know where I’m headed, either, or what I’ll do when I get there. Right now, all I’m certain of is that being with you keeps the bad dreams away. You make me feel safe. I don’t know if that’s fair to you, or what it means, or how long it will last. But I want to find out.” She tried to smile, her eyes red and brimming. “Maybe together, we can make sense of it. Maybe not. But I’m willing to try. Are you?”

  “God, yes.” His relief was so great, he pulled her against his chest before she saw the emotion he couldn’t hide. They would get through this. Together, they would make this work. “Then how about tomorrow,” he said in a rough voice, “we get away from here. Put all this bullshit behind us and start again. Just you and me. What do you say?”

  “I’d like that. But . . .”

  Fuck. There was always a but. “But what?”

  She pulled back far enough to see his face. “But I still want you to go with me to Rough Creek.”

  “Oh. Sure.” He could do that.

  Her smile hit every nerve in his body. “And I want you to take off those wet clothes.”

  He could do that, too, and quickly pulled down his soaked shorts, kicked them aside, and looked up to find her staring at his manly parts with what he hoped was awe.

  “You’re wearing a condom.”

  “Better safe than sorry, I always say.”

  “But . . . when did you put it on?”

  “Earlier. Luckily the water in the pool is heated.”

  “Earlier? How much earlier? But that’s . . . it’s not . . . you can’t be serious.”

  He struggled to get his soaked T-shirt off his wet back, then dropped it on top of his shorts and away from the drain. “Never hurts to be prepared. Turn around so I can wash your back.”

  She continued to stare. Part fascination. Part shock. Not so much awe. “That can’t be right.”

  “I know. Impressive, isn’t it? Forget the back. We’ll start directly on the front. I’ll go first.” He cupped her breasts. “These are amazing. What are they called?”

  She lifted her head. That dumbfounded look again. “Breasts. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sorry. I’ve been living with men so long, I forgot.”

  The expression on her face would have made him laugh out loud if he hadn’t been so distracted by the most beautiful breasts he’d ever held.

  “Tell me you’re kidding about all of this,” she said.

  “I’m kidding about all of this.” Grinning, he slid his hands down her ribcage to her hips. “Where’s the soap, Miss Gullible?”

  “I knew you were kidding!” She punched his shoulder. “Jerk!”

  It was the longest foreplay Richard had ever endured, and might have gone on even longer if the hot water hadn’t run out. After quickly drying off each other—another excruciating assault on Richard’s fraying control—they finally made it to the bed.

  And to the quickest, most explosive climax in the history of the Western World. He felt like he might have had a stroke. For a minute or two he could hardly move. “Good thing I’m not a pig,” he panted as he lay staring up at the ceiling, so spent he was still a little dizzy. “I’d be dead by now.”

  Breathing hard, she brushed hair out of her face and looked over at him. “What’s a pig got to do with it?”

  “Their orgasms last thirty minutes. My heart would have burst.”

  “Thirty minutes? No wonder there’s so many baby pigs running around.”

  “Piglets.” Looping an arm around her to pull her against his side, Richard gave her a kiss. “You’re amazing,” he murmured into the damp hair at her temple. “Next time, I’ll do better. I’ll light you up and watch you burn, I promise.”

  “Sounds painful. But interesting. Make sure I’m awake.” And within seconds she was asleep.

  It took him at least a minute longer.

  * * *

  * * *

  As it happened, she woke him up. And what a wake-up it was. This time, he took it slow and easy, exploring, teasing, learning what set her body quivering, and how to keep her going until he couldn’t hold off anymore. It sickened him to see the scars left by Farid’s attack and the surgery. She deserved more than a Purple Heart for what she’d gone through.

  And he’d see that she got it.

  Later. After a short nap.

  CHAPTER 11

  They overslept Friday morning. KD had barely enough time to shower and dress, grab their last two energy bars, and herd a sleepy-eyed Richard into the car.

  This time, she drove. They made it to the Hood airfield for his flight to MacDill Air Force Base just as the plane was warming up. As soon as she stopped the car, Richard leaned over the console and gave her a hard, possessive kiss. When he drew back, she saw worry in his eyes. “Promise me you’ll still be here when I get back,” he said.

  “If you promise me to come back. I still need a bodyguard.”

  “I mean it, KD.”

  Did he truly think she could walk away after the night they just had? But something had him upset. Which upset her. Leaning over, she pressed her lips to his, putting into the kiss all the emotion she felt for this remarkable man and how desperately she needed him to come back to her. “You’re my guy, Richard Milton Murdock the Third,” she told him. “And I’ll be waiting for your text when you land in Killeen. No matter what time it is.”

  Another quick kiss and he was out and sprinting to the plane just before the ground crew rolled away the stairs. KD waited until the plane lifted off, then battled tears all the way to the Friday morning group session.

  She was utterly exhausted, her emotions in turmoil, still riding high on a cloud of euphoria, yet terrified she’d never see him again. Which was disturbing. She’d never gotten this wound up over a guy before. What lingering anger she felt about being run out of the army seemed unimportant now. That part of her life was over. It was time to move on. And hopefully, with Richard by her side.

  The group session started on a solemn note. Tommy TBI had suffered seizures since their meeting on Monday, and had been admitted to the neuro center at the hospital. Laura, the woman with the burn scars, was on suicide watch and being counseled privately, and would be absent from the group for a while, as well.

  “So,” Dr. Prescott concluded, blinking rapidly behind his thick glasses, “until new people are assigned to our little group, it’s just us five chickens.”

  A poor attempt to make light of their diminished numbers, KD thought.

  For a moment it looked like Sarge might kick over the mild-mannered psychologist’s chair. “I ain’t your chicken, Conan.”

  While the timid man tried to soothe the sergeant’s feathers, KD studied her fellow group members. Shirley-the-amputee, big angry Sarge, and the fidgety, overmedicated finger drummer. With people like that around her, she almost felt sane.

  “Who would like to share first,” the doctor asked cheerfully, once Sarge had settled down.

  KD raised a hand.

  All eyes turned her way.

  It moved her that they actually seemed interested in what she might say. Or maybe they always had, but she’d been so filled with self-pity she hadn’t noticed. She felt her eyes burning again and blinked hard, realizing she would actually miss them. “I’m leaving, too.”

  Sarge smirked at her. “We too mean to you last Monday, Snow White? Hurt your tender feelings, did we?”

  “Not at all, Sarge. In fact”—she smiled directly at him—“you told me exactly what I needed to hear. And
it really helped.”

  The smirk wavered. His dark eyes narrowed. “You fucking with me, Snow White?”

  “I would never fuck with you, Sergeant,” she said with sweet innocence. “That’s a promise.”

  Shirley coughed into her fist. The drummer stopped fidgeting. Dr. Prescott blinked faster, watching the big sergeant for signs of eruption.

  Instead, Sarge relaxed back in his chair. “You sassy, ain’t you?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Maybe a lot. Why you quitting group? We not sick enough for you?”

  “Oh, you’re plenty sick,” she said with a smile. “And I’m not quitting. I was forced out.” Not bothering to hide her bitterness, she told them she’d been threatened with charges unless she kept her mouth shut about what had happened in Afghanistan and accepted a medical separation. “They were so desperate to avoid a scandal, they even tossed in a shiny new Purple Heart to sweeten the deal. And now that you know all of it, you’ll each have to sign nondisclosures since everything I’ve told you is now classified.”

  “I have the SF-312 forms,” the doctor told her. “I’ll see that they sign them before they leave today.”

  “Bastards,” Sarge muttered.

  Shirley nodded. “CYA. Happens all the time. I’d be pissed, too.”

  “I’m more sad than pissed,” KD admitted. “I wanted to be a soldier since my first day of high school. It’s hard giving that up.” Yet today, it didn’t seem to matter to her as much as it had yesterday . . . pre–sex with Richard.

  “Women don’t belong in the military anyway,” Sarge muttered.

  KD whipped toward him. “There’s a difference, Sarge, between having a pussy and being a pussy. I was a good soldier. I would have made a difference. Given the chance, I might even have been able to convince a hardheaded asshole like you that the army is better off with women in the ranks.”

  “Watch yourself, Snow White,” he warned.

  “You can still make a difference, Lieutenant Whitcomb,” Dr. Prescott cut in before tempers ignited.