Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  He made another noise, a different one.

  “You don’t have to believe her if you don’t want to, but the truth is…” Kelly paused. “The truth is that I do, Kee.”

  He was silent now, but Kelly sensed his skepticism.

  “Look, I spend most of my week talking to people, right?” she said. “I’m usually trying to see if they’re telling me the real story or if they’re lying to my face. Maybe lying straight out or maybe lying by just not giving me all the information. Right?”

  He made a small noise of assent.

  “Trish meant it. She had every intention of meeting you the other day and something definitely interrupted her plans. She’s sorry, no doubt about that, and she’s hoping for another chance. She left her cell number with me and she asked if I’d pass it on to you. She said that she hoped you’d use it, but if not, she understood why.”

  Keegan said nothing.

  “OK, now you can talk,” Kelly said wryly. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll think about it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Wait,” he said slowly as something suddenly dawned. “You just texted me what looks like a phone number…”

  “Yep. It’s Trish’s.”

  “Of course it is.” Keegan exhaled hard. “Jesus, Kel.”

  “What?”

  “It’s like handin’ me somethin’ awesome and somethin’ fuckin’ irritatin’ at the exact same damn time.”

  “Yeah I know, but there was no way that I was waiting on you to maybe ask for the number. This isn’t about me, it’s between you and Trish and so I’m taking myself out of the equation completely. Call her or don’t call her – but I won’t be the one holding the piece of information that you need to make contact. Delete it off your phone now or use it – but don’t put me in the position of being an obstacle to either course of action. It’s your life and your call, Kee, all of it. Now I’m out.”

  “Yeah, OK, I get it. If I do call, it won’t be for a little while… I need to think things through.” He paused. “Thanks, Kel.”

  “Sure.” He heard the warmth and affection even in that one word. “You know that I have your back, no matter what you decide, right little bro?”

  “Yeah, big sis. I know that. I always know that.”

  Chapter 8

  Just over one week later, Trish pulled up outside The Cake Walk Café, turned off the engine and took a deep, steadying breath. She was desperately nervous, desperately grateful – and desperately curious about Keegan’s bakery/café. It was Sunday evening after business hours, and Keegan would be alone and waiting for her.

  When he’d called her two days before, she’d almost danced for joy right there in front of Meredith, before dashing down the hall to the privacy of her bedroom. He’d listened to her stumbling, incoherent apology for standing him up, then invited her for cake and coffee with his usual growling abruptness – and she’d accepted with nothing but joy.

  He’d suggested his own café this time and she knew why: if she didn’t show up again, at least he’d be on his home turf. He wouldn’t be left sitting alone in public, humiliated and pissed off.

  She didn’t blame him for choosing a safe place with some built-in escapes and distractions. She would have too, in his position.

  Trish flipped down the sun visor and stared at herself in the vanity mirror. She looked fresh and pretty… and scared to death. She was actually going to be alone with a guy – a big, strong, ex-military trained killer, a guy who was going to put a locked door between her and the world, a guy who knew every inch of the space she was walking into – and that was taking some faith and strength.

  You’ve survived worse than homemade cake with a hot guy who bakes bread for a living. Pull it together.

  One final glance at her face, one final check on her hair and she was ready to go see Keegan. She flipped the visor back up and reminded herself that it was just coffee, a casual date, a little ‘meet and see’. No real pressure or expectations – beyond actually showing up this time.

  So. Don’t leave him waiting. Let’s go.

  But Trish sat in the car, paralyzed, gripping the steering wheel hard. She wasn’t a woman who put any stock in fate or destiny, not even the slightest bit. Life hadn’t given her much reason to believe in magic or mystery or things being written in the stars, and exactly zero reason to believe in heroes and romance and fairy tales.

  But there was something. Something about her and Keegan – the way they met, the way that he saved her, the way that he was a perfect gentleman with a dangerous side, like a knight in dark armor – that made her think that maybe there was a chance that she could be happy with him. Not forever, that was a given, and maybe not even for long.

  But maybe for a little while.

  That something was niggling at her; it was telling her to give this man a chance. To give herself a chance.

  He’s waiting. Go now.

  And this time, she moved.

  **

  Keegan stood in the middle of his closed café with his hands in his jeans pockets, watching Trish sit in her car across the street. She was staring into space, she had her hands on the wheel and she looked frozen in place.

  She looked like a woman on the verge of peeling away at warp-speed.

  He shifted on his feet, bracing himself for her to do just that. In his office, he had a ton of invoices to go through and he’d deliberately left them for this evening. Just in case.

  Looks like you’re gonna be needin’ them after all. Fun.

  But then – then Trish opened her car door, stepped out and Keegan’s heart stopped dead in his chest. She was walking his way now, just walking towards him like it was totally normal for this beautiful woman to be showing up for him, like having Trish there wasn’t some kind of goddamn miracle.

  Holy shit.

  Right away, Keegan shot to the door, unlocked it, swung it wide open. She looked up at him, gave him a smile that was both luminous and uncertain, then gestured at the bakery/café sign above their heads.

  “I like the name,” she said in that voice that was such an odd combination of sweet and tough-as-hell. “Cake walk. ”

  “Thanks,” he replied, making a sweeping motion to invite her in. “It was Janie’s idea.”

  “Really?” Trish stepped into the café and looked around with interest. “How long have you had this place?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “So she thought of the name when she was… five?”

  “Yeah.” Keegan shut the door, escorted her over to the table by the biggest window. “She asked Kelly what ‘cake walk’ meant – I guess she heard it on some kid’s show – and her Mom explained that it means somethin’ fun and easy. No real work. Janie decided that it also meant eatin’ cake ‘cause that’s fun and not work at all. So when I told her that Uncle Keegan was openin’ a place that made and sold cakes, right away she said that for me, makin’ cakes was a cake walk. We laughed for days about it, me and Kelly, but then Janie said I should use that in the name. I liked it and thought it was clever as hell.”

  “Smart kind, making that association.” Trish sat and smiled up at him. “She’s quick, huh?”

  “Yep. Got her Mom’s brains, for sure.”

  Silence fell now as they looked at each other. Trish looked incredibly nervous, he saw, but she was here and that was all that mattered. She fidgeted in her chair, swallowed hard and opened her mouth and right away, he cut her off.

  “Ain’t no need to apologize again,” he said roughly. “You did all of that already on the phone and I accepted. No need to run over old ground again.”

  “But –” She looked stunned that he’d known what she was going to say. “I still feel horrible. I mean, I should have called Kelly or the café. Or both.”

  “Darlin’, when a sort of emergency comes up, our brains go into short-circuit and all we can do is cope with what’s in front of us. That’s what you did and ain’t no shame in that. No harm and
no foul ‘cause you’re here today. You’re here now.”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “I am. Thank you for the invitation. Your place is lovely.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled and moved away from her a bit with great reluctance; she smelled fresh and pure, like flowers on a spring morning. “Coffee? Or green tea?”

  “Tea, please.” She looked hopeful. “And… any cake left over from today’s sales?”

  “Yep. You got a choice of a few things.”

  “Ooooh.” Trish looked thrilled. “Do tell.”

  “How about I bring over a servin’ tray with a selection?”

  “Perfect!” She beamed at him as he started to pour out the boiling-hot water. “Did you bake all of it?”

  “Most of it, yeah. The brownies and butter cookies and carrot cake was all me.” He contemplated the tray in front of him as he cut the cake into slices. “Oh, and the blueberry cheesecake too.”

  “Damn,” she said in frank admiration. “Where’d you learn to bake like this? I mean, between all your military training and then time oversees, how’d it happen? You always been a baker?”

  “Always. I was raised by a stay-at-home Mom and she was OK at cookin’ but loved bakin’. So it was a thing that Mom taught me and Kelly before we could even see counter level, but Kel hated it from the word go. Liked eatin’ all the cakes and stuff that we made, but zero interest in learnin’ herself. The woman can’t cook or bake, actually, but she’s got the bucks for takeout and lunch delivery at the office so she and Janie don’t starve.”

  “Have you always wanted your own business?”

  “Nah. I always wanted to be a soldier. Dad was and to this day, he’s proud of havin’ served his country.” Keegan came to her now, carrying the tray of goodies and a steaming pot of tea. He set everything down in front of her, went back to the counter to get plates and forks. “I thought I’d be a lifer in the military, maybe trainin’ others after I aged out of active duty. God knows I spent enough time gettin’ the skills and when I was assigned to special ops, I thought I’d made it.” He shrugged and set the plates and cutlery in front of her, then headed to the gleaming silver coffee machine. “But life don’t always turn out the way we think it will, so when I lost my leg and got my honorable discharge, I didn’t have a fuckin’ clue what to do. I had money and I had time – and I didn’t have the first idea what to do with the rest of my damn life.”

  “When did you decide to do this?”

  “About two years after I lost my leg and got back state-side.” He poured himself a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar and returned to join her. “I was bummin’ around feelin’ sorry for myself, tryin’ to get used to the damn prosthesis and bein’ a general prick to everyone. My parents were amazin’ and Kelly was especially patient and lovin’, but after a while even she’d had enough of my bullshit. She sat me down and gave me a serious ‘come to Jesus’ talk and believe me, when that woman lets you have it with both barrels, ain’t no survivors.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Help yourself, darlin’.” Keegan waved at the tray and watched as almost dove at the brownies. “Whatever you don’t eat, you take on home to Meredith, OK?”

  “Oh, thanks.” She smiled at him. “When I told her that I was meeting a baker for coffee, she almost hitched a ride in my purse, I swear. I think her plan was to hide under the table and hope we didn’t notice the hand sneaking out onto the table.”

  Keegan laughed. “No need for stealth. Anythin’ leftover I take to the homeless shelter around the corner, so you can have whatever you want.”

  “I will.” She bit into a cookie and closed her eyes. “Mmmmm.”

  “It’s OK?”

  “Better than OK.” She opened her eyes. “So… how’d you decide to open your own bakery café thing?”

  “It was Janie’s idea. Again.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “I think you should be paying that kid a consultant’s fee.”

  “I do. I pay her in cookies.”

  Trish laughed and took another bite of the butter cookie. “I think that’s a totally fair trade.”

  “She ain’t complainin’.” Keegan grinned as she downed her cookie and reached for another one; he loved seeing people enjoying his food. Also, he was thrilled that Trish wasn’t one of those girls who nibbled at the corner of a single cookie then set it down saying that they were ‘so full’ or ‘on a diet!’ He thought that a woman who ate was sexy as hell. “So she just said it one day when I was over at Kel’s place. I’d baked some banana bread and chocolate cherry chews just for somethin’ to do other than stare at the walls and sulk, and brought a plate over to Kel’s. Janie ate everythin’ and said that I should start a bakery. Me and Kel laughed, but later after Janie went to bed and we got to talkin’ over a beer, she asked me why I didn’t think about it for real.”

  “It happened that easy?”

  “It really did.” Keegan shrugged. “Truth be told, as soon as Janie said it, I felt somethin’ inside me kinda move. Like… I knew this was the answer somehow.”

  “Your gut talking to you.”

  “It does that. It ain’t never wrong.”

  “So you found this place for rent and that was it?”

  “That was it. Started just as a café and made my own sweet stuff for the customers, then expanded to a sandwich business, goin’ out to the offices around here with baskets full of different choices and sellin’ them every mornin’. Then I started gettin’ requests for parties and caterin’, so I added that to what we offer and included salads on the menu. And that’s where we are now: the café has great regular business and I also have a really strong caterin’ and delivery side. Birthday parties are big, especially kids’ parties. It’s comin’ together. It took two years, but we’re gettin’ there.”

  “And –” Trish hesitated. “And you’re OK with – with what happened to you?”

  “You mean my leg?”

  “Yeah. That can’t have been easy, Keegan. Maybe it’s still not easy, in some ways?”

  “Yeah, it was fuckin’ devastatin’ for the first year. So much to learn you know? Everythin’ from walkin’ to keepin’ my balance to lookin’ at myself in the mirror and not wantin’ to puke or just go back to bed and wish for death. But Kel found me this support group for men who have lost limbs in battle, and after I bitched and whined and kicked up a fuss about not needin’ any help, she brought Luke to my apartment one Saturday afternoon to tell me to cut it out. Just ambushed me.”

  “Luke?”

  “Luke Rhodes. He started and leads the group.”

  “He’s an ex-soldier too?”

  “A damn good one, yeah. He was an IED specialist in Afghanistan.”

  “IED?”

  “Improvized explosive device. Luke was one of those guys sent in wearin’ the big suit to disarm and defuse bombs.”

  “Oh my God.” Trish stared at him in horror. “That’s so dangerous.”

  “It’s right up there with the baddest of the bad. He saw lots of roadside bombs, bombs put in schools and markets, all homemade and totally fuckin’ different from each other. Luke never knew what was inside or what he was dealin’ with until he was standin’ in front of it.”

  “And he – what happened to him?”

  “Lost his left hand.”

  “Oh God.”

  “He struggled hard, I think, especially when he got back here. Couldn’t find any group that really worked for him, so he started his own. Started off just for ex-military guys but he accepts others now, guys who’ve been injured and lost limbs in accidents and stuff like that.”

  “You’re still in the group?”

  “I am. There’s about a dozen of us, all at different places in our recovery. One guy named Danny has been with Luke pretty much from the beginnin’ and our newest member is Nick. He joined about a year ago.”

  “Nick?” Trish cocked her head at him. “Nick who just got married to Mia Nick?”
<
br />   “That’s the guy. He lost his leg after a bad karate injury.”

  “Holy Lord. I didn’t know that. I mean – I noticed nothing. He was walking, dancing, no problem.”

  “Right? He’s worked hard to adjust.”

  “Wow. I guess… I guess you just never know what a person’s been through.”

  “I’ve learned that the hard way, darlin’.”

  “So you’re OK now? But you still go to the group meetings?”

  “Yeah, well.” Keegan sighed and shifted in his chair a bit. “The thing about losin’ a limb or being badly burned or anythin’ like that is: it ain’t the physical part that’s the killer. Not really. I mean, at first it’s all you can see and all you deal with. It’s the immediate, in-your-face thing, so you just go day-to-day ‘cause that’s all you can handle. Most times, it’s way more than you can handle.”

  “I can only imagine,” she said quietly. “I can’t think how hard it has to be.”

  “It feels impossible at first and even after it starts to get better, you have days when you go backwards. But after a while, you kinda learn what your body can do and what you have to change, and you figure out how your prosthetic parts work and don’t work. You just fuckin’ make it happen, ‘cause the only alternative is to sit around and hate everyone. Hate yourself more.”

  Trish nodded.

  “So you finally get it together physically and you feel awesome about that – and that’s when you get hit in the face that there’s way more to recovery than just lookin’ at your body or walkin’ or whatever. That’s what the group does for me even now – keeps my head straight and I can talk about everythin’. Lots of stuff comes up that has to do with my leg, but none of it is about my leg itself, if you know what I mean.”

  “You mean the emotional part.”

  “Damn right. That’s the one that takes your legs out from under you – sorry for the pun. I just mean that that’s the work that takes it out of you in a way that you just don’t see comin’. That’s the stuff like, how other people react to you missin’ a body part or bein’ burned, how to date when you’re missing limbs or have bad scars. How to feel like a full fuckin’ man again when you’ve got parts missin’ that ain’t never comin’ back.”