* * *
BECAUSE HE’D KNOWN VEDA WANTED to move his mother’s old iron bed into what used to be his room, Bear had spent the bulk of yesterday working there. His mother had painted the walls a deep plum—almost purple—and between the difficult-to-cover shade and the various dings and dents and nail holes she’d failed to spackle before applying that ghastly shade, it had taken him much longer than he’d anticipated to get it done.
He had, though, and when he finished, he’d moved the iron bed in so that he could start work on the master bedroom today. Veda had been pleased, but oddly nervous last night when she’d come over. She’d made a great meal, had done a few things around the loft—hung pictures, rearranged some bric-a-brac, hung curtains—but, citing being the official “taste-tester” for her mother’s entry into the Fried Festival, she hadn’t lingered as she had the night before. He wasn’t altogether certain what had happened and, though she’d ultimately left, he could tell it had been reluctantly.
He’d been irrationally disappointed to see her go. He’d spent the day listening to her teach the kids downstairs, hearing the various music below his feet and somehow, just knowing that she was close had made him happier than he could recall in recent memory.
He liked the smooth cadence of her voice, the way she encouraged the girls. After listening to his mother scream and shout for years, Veda’s approach was unbelievably different. And much better. While she might miss performing—and he sincerely hated that she wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, at least at the level she was used to—he thought she made an excellent teacher.
Oddly enough, both his mother and Veda had been put into the same situation—forced out of their chosen career paths—and yet they’d reacted so differently. His mother’s self-preservation skills had kicked in, but she’d felt robbed and became bitter. Veda, on the other hand, had given herself a little time to mourn her thwarted plans, but then immediately embraced the new one with determination and enthusiasm.
Veda, unlike his mother, was determined to be happy.
Furthermore, though he wasn’t altogether sure if it was her mother’s interrogation the other night over dinner or Veda’s later admission that she’d never had a backup plan in the event that she couldn’t dance anymore, but Bear had been thinking about what he’d do if he ever left the military. In all honesty, other than going out in a body bag, he’d never thought about it at all.
He’d wanted to join the military—to be a Ranger, specifically—ever since his junior year in high school when the local recruiter had come around. He’d listened to the man talk about his brothers in arms, being part of something bigger than himself, fighting for the greater good, the camaraderie, the sense of purpose shared by like-minded men and Bear had known then that the military would be the place for him.
And it had. He’d never regretted the career choice. He’d made lifelong friends and was proud of his service. But, for the first time in his life, being back here in Hydrangea as an adult—not just a man-child on the verge of maturity—he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed the opportunity to have a different life, one that included a wife, children, a sense of community.
He’d watched a dad and daughter leave Veda’s studio yesterday, her small hand tucked in his, her tutu glittering with sparkles, and a startling ache had settled in Bear’s chest. In a flash of insight, he realized that he’d been so busy protecting his country that he’d never gotten a chance to have what it offered.
And until he came back to Hydrangea, with Veda and Ms. Ella and Harris and even Nancy, who’d been so kind to him, he’d never realized he might have wanted it after all.
It was madness, Bear told himself. It was this place, these people, being back here that was making him second-guess the life he’d chosen, the path he’d set upon. He was due back at Fort Benning in two days’ time, he realized with an unhappy start. He had another six months before his current contract was up and already the powers that be were offering him re-up incentives. The only reason he hadn’t signed the necessary paperwork was because he’d been arranging his visit here, making sure that his leave went through.
To see a mother who’d put some of his baby pictures in the “Salvation Army” pile, Bear thought bitterly, as well as a single photo of a man he suspected was his father. The picture had been torn, then taped back together and staring at it was like looking into a mirror. The man had been tall, like Bear, with wavy, tawny hair and pale brown eyes. Only a first name—Charlie—had been written on the back.
It was more than he’d ever dared hope to learn and was, ultimately, enough. He had a face and a name now. That was all he’d ever really wanted.
“Bear?”
He turned to find Veda behind him, a concerned line between her brows.
“Sorry,” he said, setting the paint roller aside. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I was going to get something for lunch and thought you might want to take a break,” she said, hooking her finger toward the door. She glanced around the master bedroom, seemingly pleased with the way it was turning out. “This looks good.”
He nodded, poked his tongue in his cheek. “As well as it can for being pink.”
She sent him a playful glare. “It’s not pink. It’s sheer rose, almost white really.”
“Only if white is pink,” he said, setting the roller aside. “I should be finished in an hour or so, and then I’m going to put the new fixtures in the bathroom and make sure that outlet is working by the sink. Once I’m done, I think that will complete everything on the loft list, right?”
She blinked, seemingly startled that he was almost finished. A strange expression—desperation, maybe?—briefly crossed her face. She pushed her hand through her hair, tugging the silky strands away from her face. “Er…yeah,” she said, eyes widening significantly. “I hadn’t realized that you were…” She blew out a breath and shook herself. “That’s wonderful. Fantastic,” she said, although her tone didn’t support the adjective.
He knew exactly how she felt.
“We should be able to move the rest of your things in tonight,” he told her. “If I leave the windows open for the rest of the day, do you think the room will be aired out enough to bring Odette?”
She’d been looking at a place on the floor, but at his question, she seemed to jerk to attention. “Yes, I think so,” she told him. “She could spend the night here with you and keep you company.”
Bear rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and smiled at her. He hesitated. Oh, what the hell. He had two days left. Two measly days. “Actually, I don’t see why we all couldn’t spend the night here. You’ll have your room and I can take the spare. Of course, if the idea makes you uncomfortable, then I understand, but strictly speaking—”
“The only thing that makes me uncomfortable about it is the talk that’s bound to ensue. Hydrangea’s a small town.”
Bear grinned. “Veda, they’re already talking,” he said. He feigned a frown. “Women keep looking at me with these disturbing little grins—like they’re privy to something I’m not—and telling me that their paintbrushes need cleaning.” He glanced up at her and noticed her face had gone beet-red. That was the thing about blondes—when they blushed, they really blushed. “Veda? Are you all right?”
She cleared her throat. “What? No, I’m fine,” she said, giving her head a little shake.
“Do you know what they’re talking about? What is it exactly that I’m supposed to be so good at with a paintbrush?” He had his suspicions, of course, but was enjoying needling her.
She blinked innocently, but had never looked more guilty. “No idea,” she said, blowing out a breath.
He laughed. “Liar.”
“How do you know I’m lying?”
“The tops of your ears turn pink.”
She inhaled and reached for one of the offending ears. “That’s only because I’m embarrassed,” she said. “It doesn’t mean I’m lying.”
He’d just bet she turned pink all over. The
thought made a sizzle of heat zip into his groin and he felt his dick twitch in response. Pink, creamy flesh, naked and writhing beneath him… “But you are, aren’t you?”
She looked away and swore, then bit her lip. “I might have mentioned to a couple of people that we’ve done more than just paint with one of your brushes,” she said. “That we might use them in the bedroom as a kind of—”
“Sex toy?” he supplied helpfully.
She winced, casting him a look beneath a sweep of lashes. “Possibly, yes.”
He chuckled and quirked a disbelieving brow. “And you’re worried about spending the night under the same roof after you’ve put that image in people’s heads?” He grunted. “No doubt the whole town thinks that the new shower rod I put in the bathroom is your new dance pole.”
“You got a new shower rod? That wasn’t on the list.”
“It was rusty.”
“Oh.” Her cell phone beeped, indicating she’d gotten a new text message, and she checked the display. Whatever was on there made her scowl. “You know what?” she remarked in a particularly chipper tone. “You’re right. People are going to think whatever the hell they want to. I’m ready to move in.”
He suspected it was more a case of her wanting to move out of the carriage house and away from her mother, but whatever worked. He just wanted to spend more time with her. Breathe the same air.
Irrationally pleased, Bear smiled at her. “Good. Now let’s go get that lunch you mentioned. I’ll let you feed me and we’ll really set the tongues to wagging.”
She nodded, a smile playing over her lips. “Sounds like a plan.”
It did…and he had a lot more where that idea had come from.
10
VEDA TUGGED the bedspread into place, then stood up and braced her hands on the small of her back and stretched. That was it, the last thing on the to-do list here in the house. Bear had gotten Mark to recruit a couple of his friends from the football team and, between the four of them, they’d moved Veda’s bedroom furniture, the remaining linens for the bathroom, all of her clothes and Odette.
What would have taken several hours ultimately took only two. She was nothing short of amazed. Veda might be organized, but when it came to directing things in the most efficient manner, Bear definitely had her beat. She often glimpsed the soldier in him—the certain cock of his head, the way he continually scanned his surroundings, his attention to detail—but tonight she’d seen the leader, as well.
As much as she was thrilled that she’d finally be able to move into the loft—especially once she got her mother’s I’ve-invited-Kenny-to-dinner-again text, which had propelled her to take the leap—there was a part of her that was sad, as well. Every item Bear ticked off the list put him that much closer to walking out of her life again. And she couldn’t think about that without feeling like an elephant was sitting on her chest.
It was awful, terrifying even, because she knew—she’d always known, hadn’t she?—that she was never going to care about anyone else the way she did Bear Midwinter. She was never going to want a man more, she was never going to look at one and feel as deeply, need as wholly as she did when she was with him. He was warm and funny and good and every time he smiled, a little part of her soul sang. Why? Who knew? She sure as hell didn’t. But Bear…something about Bear just did it for her. He always had.
“Veda?”
And then there was that voice—smooth, with a slightly rough finish. She turned and arched a brow. “Yes?”
“Do people still swim in Blue Water Creek?”
Of all the things he could have asked, that question hadn’t even been on her radar. “I, uh…I don’t know why they wouldn’t. Why?”
He grinned at her, his golden eyes alight with mischief and something else, something almost…wicked. “I haven’t been swimming in years,” he said. “We’ve worked hard today and everything is done in here. We’ve earned a bit of a break, wouldn’t you say?”
She hadn’t been swimming in years, either, and no longer owned a suit. Of course, most bra-and-panty sets covered as much as the average two-piece so that really wasn’t an issue. She smiled up at him, excitement curling like smoke through her. “You want to go swimming? Now?”
He nodded. “Now’s good. You game?”
Veda shrugged, grinning. Why the hell not? “Sure,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Bear pulled his rental car onto the small, graveled path that led to the deepest part of Blue Water Creek, where a bend in the flow created a natural pool of sorts, one that generations of Hydrangea residents had been coming to for years. He wheeled the car into a decent spot and climbed from behind the wheel. Veda had brought a quilt, a couple of towels and a cooler stocked with beer. A light breeze drifted over the moonlit water, tugging at the loose tendrils of hair around her face and she breathed in that sweet air, felt it loosen something inside of her.
This had been a brilliant idea. She shot Bear a look and told him as much.
“I’m glad you approve,” he said, shrugging out of his shirt. His skin gleamed where the pale light touched it, casting his impressive frame in as much shadow as unearthly glow. His shoulders were even wider than she’d realized, heavily muscled, a masterful work of sinew, bone and vein. He stretched, shoving his hands through his hair, then straightened, and one hand dropped the snap at his shorts. Without the smallest hesitation, he popped the closure from its mate, his zipper whined in the sudden silence and he shucked his shorts and stepped out of them. For one mesmerizing instant she thought he’d stripped naked, but a closer look revealed he wore a pair of tight-fitting boxer shorts.
With a little quirk of his lips that told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her—and what she’d thought—he winked at her and headed into the water.
Feeling as if she was hot-and-embarrassed and hot-and-bothered all the time, Veda decided cooling off was definitely in order. She spread the blanket, kicked the flip-flops off her feet, then shrugged out of her T-shirt and shorts. She considered going behind a shrub to change, but he was going to see her anyway, so why bother? Her bra and panties were a nude shade, accented with sheer lace. She knew she looked naked and had the privilege of watching Bear’s mouth drop open when he caught sight of her. He went comically still.
She reached up and tugged the ponytail holder from her hair and then shook it out before starting toward the water. She knew she wouldn’t pass for a Baywatch girl, but there was a certain level of satisfaction in Bear’s reaction all the same.
She waded in and let the water cool her heated skin. Bear was several feet from her, floating on his back, the water lapping over those wonderful shoulders, tightening the masculine nipples on his chest. She was hit with the sudden urge to taste one, to lick it, bite it.
She dunked herself, counted to five, then came back up again. He was right in front of her, all six and a half feet of hard-muscled, masculine perfection. Veda smothered a whimper.
“You startled me,” she said, staring up at him.
His eyes drifted over her bare shoulders, dipped down into the deep V between her breasts and lingered over her taut nipples. Despite the heat, gooseflesh skittered over her skin.
“You went under and didn’t come back up.”
She couldn’t look away from him, held nearly breathless, a captive of that amber gaze. “I was cooling off.”
He stared hungrily at her mouth and his voice lowered an octave. “Did it work?”
She swallowed, balled her hands at her sides to keep from reaching out and tracing the muscles on his chest, sliding her fingertips along the edges of his pecs, over every bump and ridge of his abdomen. “Not particularly,” she said.
Need screamed along every nerve ending, vibrating between them like some living, breathing thing. She watched the pulse beat at the base of his neck, the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. A rivulet of water slid next to his mouth and she was jealous of that little bit of moisture because it clung to his skin the way she wanted t
o.
“No one is here, Veda,” he said, his tone low, almost foggy.
She frowned uncertainly.
“There is no audience.” He reached up and slipped a finger along her cheek, the gentle touch rocketing through her. Her breath caught and she bit her lip. “No one to put on a show for. Just you and me and the moonlight.” He bent down and slid his nose alongside hers, his mouth hovering just out of reach. She could taste him already, could feel the heat licking between them. “Here’s a secret,” he whispered, his breath fanning against her lips. “I haven’t been pretending at all. It’s all been real to me.”
Her gaze tangled with his, then she melted against him and kissed him the way she’d been dying to do all week. He was hot and hard and wet and he tasted like sin and salvation, like beer and chocolate—no doubt one of the stars Ms. Ella had given him—and she wrapped her arms around him, pushing her hands into the short hair along his nape, feeling his muscles tense and bunch against her fingers.
He groaned low in his throat, lifted her up and licked a path along her neck, his clever tongue tracing the delicate shell of her ear. She shuddered against him, felt his big hands settle on both sides of her ass and squeeze, and she responded in kind by wrapping her legs around his waist. She framed his face with her hands once more and brought his mouth back to hers for another frantic kiss. It was deep and dark and purposeful, a mating of mouths. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, mimicking another sort of oral play and his moan of pleasure vibrated through her. She could feel the length of him pressing high against her sex and that simple nudge tripped an on switch inside of her, making her mindless with want, desperate with need.
She slid her hands all over him, savoring his warm, wet skin against her palms, and continued to feed at his mouth and rock herself shamelessly against him. Every pulse beat hammered in her blood, resonated in her womb. He started walking her toward the bank, as though she weighed nothing, his big hands still on her ass.
He carefully laid her on the quilt, then slid a hand down her middle and followed the path with his tongue. His hot breath fanned over her skin, over her aching nipples, and he sucked one pouting peak through the wet, thin fabric of her bra. A second later, he’d popped the front closure, baring her to him, and then he tasted her once more, rasping his tongue against her, laving her as she’d thought about doing to him. She bucked against him, looking for that divine weight, the one true thing that would make the madness recede. And then his fingers were on her, beneath her panties, stroking the heart of her.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VII: The Steadfast Hot SoldierWild Thing Page 7
