Keeping Guard

by Sandra Owens

  “Are you here to tell me to leave?”

  “No.” Not even. She perched on the edge of the sofa at his feet. “I listened to you and Clint talk.” It was only right that she tell him.

  His eyes met hers. “I know.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked so sad. She was glad she’d cried in the shower. If she hadn’t, she’d be crying for him now. He’d told Clint he didn’t sleep, something she already knew. But he had with her.

  She stood and reached for his hand. “Come with me.” Without commenting, he pushed Lucky off, then let her lead him to her bedroom. She was operating off the cuff, letting her instinct guide her. The warm water of the shower had helped her feel better, and she thought it would him. By the time she finished, she was going to be squeaky clean.

  “What are we doing?” he asked when they reached the bathroom.

  “Taking a shower.”

  “Peyton, I’m really not up for sex tonight.”

  “Not asking for that.” She turned on the water. “Strip.” While he was removing his clothes, she took off hers. She followed him in. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

  “It’s your party.”

  His voice was listless, his shoulders were slumped, and his face and eyes looked weary, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Before tonight, even with his haunted eyes, there had been a strength and confidence radiating from him that was gone as he stood in her shower with his hands braced against the tile and his head bowed.

  There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but he was lost in his memories and wouldn’t hear her. She hoped with her loving care and some sleep, he’d be back to himself tomorrow. Then they could talk.

  She poured bodywash on her hands, then started at his shoulders. When she pressed her thumbs into his skin, massaging the tense muscles at the bottom of his neck, he grunted. She thought it was a good grunt. From his shoulders, she moved down his back, scraping her fingernails over his skin. He shivered.

  Because she didn’t want this to turn into anything that felt sexual to him—that would cause him to feel like she wanted that sex he wasn’t up for tonight—she grabbed a washcloth. After pouring more bodywash, she dropped the cloth over his shoulder.

  “Here. Finish up on the places I missed.” Although, she’d love to clean those particular places, too. Next time.

  She stepped out of the shower, and while he was finishing, she quickly dried off, then put her leggings and his T-shirt back on. By the time she was dressed, he was coming out. She grabbed another towel.

  His eyes dropped to hers. “I’m sorry I’m not—”

  “Shhh.” She put her finger over his lips. “No talking. Not tonight. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “True, but I want to.” She dried him off. “Put some boxer briefs on, then get in bed. I’ll be back in a minute.” He’d slept naked the past nights, but a naked Noah was too much temptation. As if he read her thoughts, he smirked. That smirk made her happy. He wasn’t completely lost in his head.

  Lucky raced into the bathroom as she came out. He hated being separated from Noah, and she was sure that Noah was finally growing fond of the dog, whether he wanted to or not. She smiled thinking how much Noah hadn’t wanted anything to do with Lucky in the beginning.

  Maybe she could be like Lucky and worm her way into Noah’s heart. She stilled in the middle of the hallway. No, she couldn’t think like that. The days were counting down to Noah’s departure. She had to keep him in the box marked “On loan from the U.S. government. Enjoy him while you have him but return him as soon as possible.”

  She hated that box.

  Doing anything about it was out of her power, though. All she could do was appreciate the blessing of having Noah in her life, however short that time was, and learning how it could be, should be, with a man. She padded to the kitchen, poured a healthy three fingers of whiskey, got a treat for Lucky, and returned to her bedroom.

  “Treats for my boys.” She tossed Lucky’s, and he caught it out of the air. “You swallowed that whole,” she admonished him. He looked back at her with eyes that hoped for more. “Sorry, sweet boy. That’s all.”

  Noah was sitting up against the headboard, the cover pulled up to his waist. She was glad for that, even though she wanted to pull it down to admire what was hidden. His mighty fine chest was in view, though, and as much as she wanted to spend much time admiring that, she only allowed her eyes to skim over it. Then she lifted her gaze to his to see him watching her.

  “Drink this.” She held out the glass.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She walked to her side of the bed and climbed in. Normally, she slept in boy shorts and a camisole. With Noah these past nights, she’d slept naked like him, and that had been an odd feeling at first, but she’d grown to like it. For tonight, she kept on her leggings and the large tee. Less tempting this way.

  When he finished his drink and set it on the night table, she rolled over to face him. “Come down here and put your back to me.” He raised his brows but didn’t say anything, just did as she asked.

  She wrapped her body around his. “I’ve got you. Go to sleep.”

  “Thank you, princess,” he whispered sometime later.

  She squeezed the arms she had around him. As she held him, she listened to his breathing slow as he fell asleep. Once she was sure he was out, she pressed her cheek to his back, closed her eyes, and joined him in dreamland.

  “No! No. No. Fuck no.”

  Peyton jerked awake. She was still wrapped around Noah, felt his body jerk, then tremble.

  “God, no,” he said, so much pain in his voice.

  Lucky jumped up, putting his paws on the bed. He looked at her, then at Noah and whined. “I’ll take care of him, sweet boy,” she quietly said. “Go back to your bed.” He lowered his chin, resting it on his paws, his gaze staying on Noah.

  “I guess you’re staying, huh?” She slid her hand over Noah’s chest and then down his arm. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Now that she knew what had happened, she didn’t doubt the nightmare was of that day. “You’re not there, Noah,” she said, keeping her voice soft and low. “Sleep, baby.”

  She kept caressing his arm, up to his shoulder, down to his wrist. He settled, and his breathing slowed again. If he had these nightmares every night, no wonder he refused to sleep. But he couldn’t go on like that, and she could only hope his therapist could help him. And just maybe, Peyton thought, she could play a part, however small, in his healing.

  A few minutes after Noah quieted, Lucky disappeared from view, his nails clicking across the wood floor as he returned to his bed. “He loves you,” she whispered against Noah’s back. And maybe she did a little bit, too.

  * * *

  Noah woke wrapped around Peyton’s warm, soft body. Sometime during the night, they’d changed positions with him now holding her. What she’d done for him last night...he had no words for what it meant to him.

  For the first time since arriving in Asheville, regret settled over him that he would leave her. It was selfish to not go now so she could get on with her life, find a good man who would love her the way she deserved. Although it was wrong of him, he was going to be selfish.

  He glanced at her bedside clock. Even though it was only five in the morning, he was now wide awake, but damn, he was tired. So tired of the guilt, the nightmares, and the PTSD, which the head doc had assured him he had. He’d never thought those letters would apply to him. Hell, he’d watched his mother’s murder. It couldn’t get worse than that, right? He should be able to deal with this without falling apart.

  When he’d found Peyton’s door locked to him, and although he’d expected it, the disappointment and hurt had taken him by surprise. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings for her. And in that
moment of being locked out of her life, he’d had a meltdown.

  Because that was what had happened last night. Then when he’d expected Peyton to tell him to leave, she’d surprised him. No one after his mother had taken care of him like that. She couldn’t possibly comprehend what that meant to him. She was one special princess.

  Also, sexy as hell. Since he’d given in to the inevitable and spent that first night in her bed, he couldn’t get near her without wanting her. It would have been easier to leave her when the time came if he hadn’t allowed that to happen, but he didn’t regret it.

  He trailed his hand over her arm, then slipped under the T-shirt she’d kept. He liked her in it, something that had belonged to him. She sighed when he brushed his fingers under the curve of her breast. Those noises she made...they were his undoing. Every single time. More than anything, he wanted to bury himself inside her and make slow, sleepy love to her. But she’d been up half the night taking care of him, so this morning, he’d take care of her.

  While she slept, he’d take Lucky out, and while they were out, he’d see what time the bakery opened. Unable to resist copping one more feel, he stroked a finger around a nipple, smiling when it peaked at his touch. Even in sleep, she responded to him, and wasn’t that a turn-on? His erection jerked against her ass, and before he forgot she needed her rest, he eased away.

  “Don’t go,” she drowsily said.

  He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the fresh, citrusy scent he would forever associate with her. “Go back to sleep, princess.”

  She reached for his hand, bringing it back under her shirt to her breasts. “You were playing with these. I liked it.”

  “Did you now?”

  “Hmm-mmm.”

  He loved that sleepy voice. They hadn’t made love in the morning, and mornings were one of his favorite times for sex. There was always a soft, dreamy feeling to it. He danced his fingers down her stomach, slipped them under her leggings, and toyed with her clit for a few seconds before sliding one and then two fingers inside her.

  “So wet for me,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Only for you.”

  God, how he wished that could be true forever. He stilled, realizing he really meant that. Still half-asleep, she probably didn’t even realize what she’d said or the implication. He wanted to be her only for as long as she would have him, but it couldn’t be.

  “Noah?”

  He took his hand away. “Turn over and put your leg over mine.” He needed to be inside her, wanted to be buried deep while she was still drowsy. “Wait. Clothes off.” For both of them. He pushed his boxer briefs down, then kicked them off. After helping her out of her clothing, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom out of the box.

  Once the condom was on, he pulled her against him. She was waking up and looking at him. He didn’t want her awake. “Close your eyes and let yourself drift off.”

  “But—”

  “Do it.” That came harsher than he’d meant for it to, but he had this burning need for sleepy, lazy morning sex, something he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had. “Close your eyes, princess. I’m going to make love to you and sing you back to dreamland.” Where the hell had that come from? He didn’t sing anymore.

  “Ooooh,” she breathed out. “I want that. All that.” She closed her eyes. “Sing to me, Noah.”

  So he sang. He didn’t even think about what song. As he softly sang Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is,” he wondered if she understood that because of her, he did want to know.

  When her body relaxed, he eased into her. Inside Peyton Sutton was where he could live forever. It was where his demons weren’t able to torture him because she’d drive them away if they dared to try. Somehow, he knew that about her.

  Thinking that, a hazy memory hovered. He’d thought he was in the beginning of a nightmare during the night because he had a hazy memory of telling himself to wake up. But it had slipped away, so he must be thinking of some other night. Yet, he could almost hear her soothing voice, but he must be imagining that.

  As he moved, slow and easy, she made a noise that made him think of a purring kitten. He decided it was his new favorite sound.

  “Feels so good,” she sleepily murmured.

  “Yeah, it does.” He closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the moment. She was soft and warm, a haven for his troubled soul. “That’s it, baby,” he said when she clenched around him.

  “Good. So good, Noah.”

  It was, and as they climaxed together, he held this woman he could never have in his arms, committing everything about her to his memory. After he was gone, there would be sleepless nights when he would relive his time with her, and he wanted to remember everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Strike!” the umpire exclaimed.

  Jack slung the bat over his shoulder and turned to glare at the umpire, disbelief on his face. “Dudette, you need glasses. That was so not a strike.”

  Peyton laughed when the umpire got in his face, and the two of them argued over the call. “She’s a riot.” Nichole’s friend, Rachel Denning, visiting from California, was the umpire. She was also a stunt double, and that was just crazy cool.

  “I love her.” Nichole cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, ump. Don’t put up with his crap. Eject him from the game.”

  “Hush, woman.” Jack scowled at his girlfriend. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  The guys, Noah, Jack, Clint, and Nichole’s brother, Mark, were playing ball—Noah and Clint against Jack and Mark. Jack’s friend, Deke, was the designated pitcher. Apparently, he had a bad knee, hurt when he was in the military, and didn’t want to risk messing it up by running the bases.

  The four dogs, Dakota, Rambo, Maggie May, and Lucky, were in the middle of it all, stealing the ball whenever they could snatch it. Dakota was the only one who brought it back to Jack. The other three had to be chased down.

  “Strike three,” Rachel yelled, poking Jack in the chest.

  “What? That was only strike two.”

  She smirked. “Strike three is for arguing with the official.”

  “What? You can’t do that.” He put his hands on his hips and turned his glare on Nichole. “Tell your friend, the one that also used to be my friend, that baseball is sacred. She can’t make up new rules.”

  “Sure, babe. Rach, baseball’s sacred, so apparently you’re not supposed to mess with the rules, but I say go for it.”

  Noah jogged up. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I thought I taught you better, son. Never face off against two women. You’re not gonna win.”

  “You’re just trying to butter up the ump so she won’t call your balls strikes,” Jack said.

  “Is it working, ump?” He winked at Rachel.

  “Let’s play ball, people,” Clint yelled from centerfield.

  Peyton, sitting in a lawn chair on the sidelines with Nichole and Deke’s wife, Heather, marveled at the difference from last night’s Noah to today’s. He was actually laughing and joking around with everyone. It was a beautiful thing to see.

  Speaking of beautiful, her gaze roamed over the guys. “Man, they’re hot. Every single one of them.” Even Nichole’s brother, a good five or six years younger than the rest of them, was a cutie.

  “Amen, sister.” Nichole held up her hand for a high five.

  Peyton slapped her palm against Nichole’s. “Not to start a who’s the hottest debate, but my vote’s on Noah.”

  “Puh-lease.” Nichole rolled her eyes. “Your hottie’s hot, but my Jack would win.”

  “You’re both delusional,” Heather said. “It’s Deke hands down.”

  “Says you,” Peyton and Nichole said together, then grinned at each other.

  Peyton was loving her new friends. As she sat in Nichole and Jack’s ba
ckyard laughing with these amazing women over which of their men were the hottest, she wondered if they’d still spend time with her after Noah left.

  Don’t go there, Pey. Not today.

  There would be plenty of time to be sad after Noah was gone. There was too much laughter here with his friends to get teary eyed. The group was interesting. Deke was a detective with the Asheville Police Department, Heather was a physical therapist, Nichole a potter, Rachel a movie stunt double, Clint and Mark were gamers. Then a SEAL, and a former SEAL now training therapy dogs. She felt that as a beer brewer she could hold her own in such an eclectic bunch.

  “Over the fence!” Noah said, drawing her attention back to the game to see him running around the bases with Lucky chasing after him. As he passed Jack, standing behind second, he turned and ran backward and smirked. “Hey, Whiskey. You see Double D hit a home run?” At Jack’s raised middle finger, Noah laughed.

  “What’s Maggie May doing?” Heather asked when the dog dragged the bat up the stairs to the deck.

  “Oh, jeez. Silly dog.” Nichole stood. “Give that to me, Mags.” She wrestled the bat away. “Maggie May’s a kleptomaniac. She’ll steal anything not nailed down.”

  Heather laughed. “That’s funny. What does she do with the stuff?”

  “She hoards anything she can filch in her bed. Cell phones, the remote, shoes, bras, panties, you name it. She never chews the stuff up, just wants the goodies.”

  “Like a dragon with his treasure,” Peyton said.

  “Where’s the bat?” Clint looked around home plate with a puzzled expression on his face.

  Nichole waved it in the air. “Maggie May decided y’all are done. It’s about time to put the burgers and hot dogs on the grill, anyway.”

  After the meat was cooked, everyone filled their plates and found seats on the deck.

  “This is really good beer,” Deke said. “You have a new customer.”

  “Awesome!” Peyton had brought two cases of assorted Elk Antler beers as her contribution to the cookout, along with an Elk Antler logoed beer bucket. On their way over, Noah had stopped at a convenience store and bought four bags of ice. Everyone but Heather had grabbed a bottle from the bucket.