Not a Hero

by Cherise Sinclair

  “You’re trying, Goldilocks. That counts.” He gave her hair a light tug.

  “I might venture out, but it doesn’t take long before I want to run back to my cabin and away from everyone.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.” He shook his head. “But you’re right—people don’t scare me, and I can get along with them if I want.”

  She sighed. “I wish I could.”

  His brows drew together. “I had men like you in my command. Some guys, like Bull, thrive on company. A few at the opposite end needed alone space, or they’d get weirded out.”

  Alone space. That was it exactly. “I guess that means I shouldn’t try to be a joiner.”

  “Wrong.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Solitary isn’t healthy for herd animals. But in your case, you’ll want to indulge in quiet time, too, or you’ll feel like people are crawling inside your skin.”

  His advice made sense.

  He bent down and kissed along her jaw before taking her mouth in a slow, gentle kiss. As he nibbled her lower lip, excitement heated her blood. She realized he’d abandoned her hair and was playing with the buttons on her shirt.

  She grabbed his wrist.

  He studied her, his gaze watchful. Controlled. “We can stop at this point if you want.”

  She didn’t want to stop—and he knew it. Her whole body hummed with desire. But she didn’t release her hold. They were outside, for heaven’s sake. “What in the world are you thinking?”

  He pulled free only to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his intent gaze. “I was thinking I’d like to strip you bare—right here—and take you, hard and fast and very, very thoroughly.”

  Oh, the thought of him touching her, being inside her, made her heart kick up and stomp the insides of her ribcage. “B-b-but, here? Now?”

  “Ah, having sex is fine, but being outside is what’s throwing you?”

  She nodded.

  He undid one button. Another.

  “No one can see us, sweetheart.” He moved his hand down between her opened buttons and ran his knuckles over the tops of her breasts. “This is a yes or no question. Yes to continue or no to stop.”

  The word slipped out. “Yes.”

  She was rewarded with a devastating kiss. Slow and sensual, tongue and lips, nibbling and sucking. Then he kissed down her throat, between her breasts. Without a pause, he undid the front catch of her bra so he could fondle her breasts.

  Oh, the feeling of his callused hand on her breast was amazing. Lust pooled low in her belly.

  Slowly, his gaze on her face, he rolled her nipples between his fingers, pressing until the sensation was all she felt, the carnal pain sending her somewhere else.

  His lips grazed over her stomach, then he was unzipping her jeans and pulling everything down to her calves.

  She felt a second of worry. “What if something comes—a bear or…”

  “We’ll hear it. And I won’t take your pants all the way off, Julie. I just want them out of my way.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Yep.” Holding her gaze with his, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his fly. His cock was fully erect, a bead of liquid at the head. He pulled a condom from his wallet and sheathed himself.

  “Over you go.” He turned her over and positioned her on hands and knees.

  Hungry shivers sprang to life as her shirt and bra gaped open, leaving her breasts dangling. On the blanket, her knees sank into the spongy ground.

  And he was behind her, his knees straddling her calves, his erection pressing against her pussy.

  “Already wet and ready for me.” Satisfaction was in his masculine rumble. His fingers ran over her, spreading the moisture, and pushing between her legs to tease her clit. He thrust, slowly, firmly, not stopping until he was completely inside her.

  Her pulse went erratic. Her nipples contracted into tiny, tight, aching buds.

  “Damn, you feel good.” But he didn’t move.

  Why didn’t he move? Fine, she’d move. She wiggled slightly, then rocked forward.

  He started to slide out until, with a low chuckle, he gripped her hips and held her in place. “Hold still, Goldie.”

  “But…”

  Pressing in again, he leaned over her, one hand closing on her breast, the other moving between her legs—and finding her clit.

  “Oooh.”

  His laugh was a low rumble in her ear. “Let’s take care of you first, sweetheart.”

  Slowly, he moved his slickened finger up one side and down the other, rubbing firmly, never too long in one place.

  His shaft was thick within her, and unmoving as he played her, teased her. He pinched a nipple gently—and did the same to her clit until electricity sizzled between the two sensitive sites.

  Involuntarily, her hips wiggled, trying to get him to thrust, but his cock remained unmoving, even as she throbbed around him.

  His finger never stopped, circling, tapping, rubbing, teasing. Driving her right to the edge of climax. The pressure inside grew, desire an insistent pulse between her legs. Her hands clenched on the blanket.

  “Gaaabe…”

  He squeezed her breast, making her gasp—and clench down around him.

  Finally, he moved. Sliding out, pressing in once gently. Then he set up a driving rhythm, one that jolted her hips. Every thrust rubbed her clit against the fingers still between her legs, and each time, he rubbed the side firmly before his cock withdrew.

  Need gripped her with demanding claws, tightening all her muscles, and each ruthless slide inside her became unbearable and wonderful. Each light touch, each deep penetration increased her urgency, until she was trembling and poised on the brink of coming.

  With a low laugh, he thrust harder and moved his finger to the very top of her clit.

  Pleasure flooded her senses, wave after dizzying wave pouring through her body, fueled by the unrelenting pounding of his shaft.

  His hands closed on her hips, and he pulled her back to penetrate her more fully. His low rumbling groan sounded as he came.

  Her breathing was still fast, her heart pounding as she tried to recover.

  His thickly muscled chest was warm against her back, and she could feel the thump of his heart. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “See, no bears. They probably heard your screams and ran.”

  She froze. “I…screamed?” She hadn’t. No, she’d have… “You’re teasing me.”

  His masculine chuckle sent tingles along her skin. “Mmmhmm. I’ll have to work on you some before I get a good scream out of you.”

  Work on her? More than he had? When her pussy clenched around him, he laughed, and slowly pulled out.

  As she rolled onto her side, too drained to move, he dealt with the condom and buttoned his jeans.

  And, to her delight, he lay down and pulled her on top of him. Her jeans were still around her knees, but somehow it didn’t matter. Not when his arms were around her. She rubbed her cheek against his shirt and rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Mmm.” He stroked her hair. “I hadn’t planned for our hike to end this way, but I can’t say that I’m unhappy about it.”

  Unhappiness was the farthest thing from her mind.

  However, she did remember they’d both said one time only. That one night and no more.

  She didn’t care. The sweet contentment of being held, of hearing the slow thump of his heart under her cheek, of inhaling his clean scent washed away any second thoughts.

  His hand stopped moving, and she felt his head tilt.

  “Time’s up, I guess.” Gently, he rolled her off, rose to his feet, and pulled her up, too. “Better dress, sweetheart. Someone is on the path.”

  “What?” Eff-it-all.

  Laughing, Gabe dropped to one knee so he could tug up and zip her jeans.

  Hastily, she fastened her bra and buttoned her shirt. She could hear people on the path now.

  By the time the two men emerged from the forest, she was decently clothed. And felt as if h
er flushed face probably broadcast, “We just had sex.”

  “Folks.” The first man was the hippie who owned the gas station. He had long hair, a patchy short beard, tie-dyed T-shirt, and a peace emblem on a necklace.

  “I take it you closed down the mini-mart to come fishing?” Gabe asked.

  “Hell, yeah. There’s nothing better than dropping a line on a sunny day.”

  The other man was probably about the same age, but looked…rougher. Definitely not a hippie sort of guy.

  “Julie, I don’t know if you’ve officially met these two, although you’ve probably served them beer. That’s Tucker.” He pointed to the rough-looking man.

  Then the hippie. “And Zappa.”

  Only one name apiece. Was this an Alaskan custom or something Gabe did?

  “It’s nice to meet you both.” Julie stopped and then mentally kicked herself. Add to the conversation, girl. “Will you be fishing for salmon?”

  “No, miss,” Tucker said. “The salmon runs won’t start for another month. This is just a plain-ol’-trout day.”

  Trout? She liked trout. She watched as Zappa started putting together his gear. That looked…complicated. How did a person go about learning to fish?

  When she looked up, she realized the men had gone silent—and Gabe and Tucker were watching her.

  “Got an interest in fishing, miss?” Tucker asked.

  “I… Yes?” She pushed her hair back, feeling twigs and grass. “Dante said he’d show me how if I got a license. But he’s been busy.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows lifted. “You have a license?”

  “In my wallet.”

  Zappa looked up with a gap-toothed grin. “Nothing more fun than teaching a new fisher-person. Got your tackle with you, Chief?”

  Gabe also knew how to fish? “Do you know how to do everything in the whole world?” Belatedly, she realized her tone was totally vexed-sounding.

  He only laughed and tucked an arm around her. “If I say yes, are you going to hit me?”

  “With my luck, you’d arrest me,” she muttered, and the two fishermen laughed.

  “Damn straight.” Gabe ran his fingers through her hair, picking out a couple of twigs. “But I do have my fishing tackle, and you can have a fishing lesson right now, if you’d like.”

  “Really?” Delight rose like froth on the waves. “You’d really show me how?”

  Gabe’s piercing blue eyes softened. “Sure.”

  “Hands-on,” Zappa said. “That’s the best way. Get your shit, Chief.”

  An hour later, Audrey caught her first fish.

  On the way back to Julie’s house, Gabe couldn’t stop watching the little cheechako. Yeah, she was a tad uncertain with people. He’d seen moments when she’d start to retreat and then push herself into talking again. She had courage.

  And she’d learned everything they taught with frightening speed, never needing to be shown anything mechanical twice. Fuck, she was smart. However, her physical skills weren’t up to par with her mental ones. It’d be awhile before she got good at casting.

  Hadn’t dimmed her enthusiasm, though.

  She wasn’t a jump-up-and-cheer sort of person. No, she was far quieter, but her eyes would light, her face would pinken, and she’d focus in like a laser sight. He’d had SEALs under his command like her. Smart, brave, determined.

  Yeah, he liked her and for more than her curvy body and sweet lips and generous response. For more than her pretty gasps when she got off.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d told her about the ambush.

  She’d listened. He’d expected her to be horrified at what he’d done, but she hadn’t run. Had simply nodded, her expression showing the same unhappiness he’d felt.

  She’d been…a friend.

  Seemed like she could use one in return.

  He glanced at her and couldn’t keep from asking, “Are you ever going to tell me what brought you here? And let me help?”

  The way she stiffened up gave him his answer before she opened her mouth.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s none of your business.”

  He pulled the Jeep to a stop in front of her cabin and turned to face her. “I’ve been inside you, Goldilocks. Can’t get much closer.”

  She turned red, first with embarrassment, then he saw her eyes spark with anger. “I thought you were a no-more-than-one-night guy. No relationships or ties, remember?”

  His frustration died as her anger lit. As she hopped out of his Jeep, he started to grin. “Seems like you said the same thing. Just once, right? Does twice mean we have a relationship?”

  “No!” She slammed the Jeep door shut so hard the vehicle rocked.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Following the crowd is a fine strategy if you’re a sheep. Are you a sheep, boy? ~ First Sergeant Michael “Mako” Tyne”

  * * *

  A domestic feline call made him late to the town meeting. In the municipal building, Gabe strode past the reception desk, turned into the large meeting room, and stared.

  The place was packed. The number of vehicles on the street should have warned him, but who ever heard of citizens actually attending a town meeting?

  In the front of the long rectangular room, the six commissioners and the mayor sat behind a long table, each with a nameplate in front. Gabe eyed the names and titles.

  Dante, Sarah, and her husband, Uriah, were town council members. So was the Patriot Zealot leader, Reverend Parrish. Two were unfamiliar. Joe Kolbeck was a stocky bearded man who looked like an off-the-grid sort. The other, Eugene Jones, was a tall, lean, fifty-year-old male in casual business attire.

  Julie’s friend, Lillian, was the mayor. Interesting.

  As Gabe entered, Sarah was speaking into the mic about the council’s goals. That they hoped to balance the rural quality of life, protect the natural environment, and support the area economy. With the resort opening, the town needed to prepare for increasing numbers of tourists and to decide how to direct the growth.

  She was an optimistic one, wasn’t she? Cynically, Gabe studied the audience.

  The left rear corner was filled with men, some barely in their twenties to seniors in their sixties. Country clothing predominated—work shirts, jeans, and boots.

  Where were their women?

  Most of the preppers and off-the-gridders were scattered through the left side. The right half of the room held the business and town folk and many families.

  As Gabe moved to stand along the right wall, he spotted Julie in the back row beside Regina.

  If it came to watching her or the speaker, he knew which he’d choose…so he stopped where he could watch her profile. He hadn’t seen anything so pretty in a long, long while.

  Her hair was damp from a shower and forming springy waves as it dried. Freckles sprinkled her nose and sunburned cheeks.

  He also noticed that whenever someone shouted, she flinched.

  Dammit, he wanted to help. When would she realize that?

  Seated with Tucker on the anti-business side, Guzman rose and pointed to the council table. “Did you see all the new businesses? You’re turning this place into some damn tourist trap.”

  “Now, Guzman,” Uriah said, then stopped as if unsure what to say.

  Near the front of the room, Bull rose and faced the back-to-the-lander. “What businesses make this place a tourist trap? Is my bar a problem? I noticed you’ve been enjoying the beer.”

  The crowd laughed—and Guzman had a rueful grin.

  Bull continued, “Have you noticed the new art gallery also has a crafts section for people who like to make things? I don’t know about you, but I get bored in the winter. You can even pick up an embroidery hoop and pattern to keep your wife from murdering you before winter solstice.”

  People exchanged looks. Anything to relieve the long, dark winters was welcome.

  “If you’re skilled with your hands, you might find a way to bring in a few extra bucks. The store only sells Alaska made crafts and artwork.�
��

  A hum of interest ran through the room.

  Bull folded his arms across his chest. “The hotel at McNally’s Resort is pricy and not every skier can afford to stay there. We’re going to have bed and breakfast places. One place at the end of town will open in two weeks. More people in town means there will be enough customers to support a pizza place. Happens I love pizza, so I’m happy someone wants to start that business.”

  Interested comments ran through the room. Bull wasn’t the only person who liked pizza.

  Bull smiled. “A woman wants to open a video rental next to Dante’s, and I’m good with that because I don’t like those empty buildings. They look creepy as all get out.”

  Before Bull could go on, the rising noise cut him short.

  Alaskans had no problem expressing their opinions…loudly.

  The councilor wearing business attire tried to talk above the crowd. “We’re not planning drastic changes, and we want to keep a small-town atmosphere. No box stores or franchises will be given a license.”

  That got a roar of approval from both sides, and Gabe almost grinned. Rescue residents could be a pain in the ass, but they got involved. That was impressive.

  “Yes, increased tourism means we need a police presence,” Uriah said, “but also means money for our elementary school. People, these are our children, and even homeschooling takes money.”

  Gabe remembered the correspondence school’s tests and materials. He doubted the process had gotten less expensive to the town and borough.

  A few rows back from Bull, Caz rose. “The projected increase in population means the health clinic received enough grant money to reopen.”

  That won a few cheers.

  At the council table, Reverend Parrish frowned. His gaze shifted from Caz to the mass of men in the back left.

  Gabe followed his gaze and recognized some of the men in that corner. The man who’d followed Parrish into the coffee shop. An older man who’d been at the table with the asshole who’d slapped Julie.

  The men of the Patriot Zealots had shown up in force.