by Skye Taylor
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” Jake wagged his eyebrows. “I don’t think she thinks you’re just friends.”
“She isn’t even twenty yet, for Pete’s sake. Maybe she’s just dazzled by the uniform.”
“I’m guessing it’s the man inside the uniform she’s dazzled by.”
“Or my motorcycle.”
“If it was just a motorcycle, a uniform, and a Cameron brother, then she’d be after Will. He’s got both, and he’s not deploying back to the other side of the world in another couple of weeks.”
“If we’re meant to be together, then she’ll still be interested come Christmas when I get back to the States to stay for a while.” Suddenly, Philip realized just how much he looked forward to Christmas and how far away it seemed.
“So! You admit there’s something there. I knew it.” Jake snapped Philip with his dish towel.
Philip laughed, and then sobered again. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve known her for months. Maybe years. I even seem to know what she’s thinking before she says it sometimes. And like there’s this place for her in my heart I didn’t know was hers until she came and sat down beside me the day of Gran’s funeral. But it’s too soon to know if it’s the real deal. She’s cute and sexy and interested, and it’s flattering, but what if I’m mistaking lust for love? What if it’s just like Holly all over again?”
Jake hung the dishtowel over the oven door handle and turned back to Philip. “Elena isn’t Holly. And you’ve known her for years. She’d never two-time you the way Holly did.”
“Maybe having a family is just a fairy tale. There might not be any happy-ever-after for me. Not with Holly, for sure. Maybe not with Elena, either. Maybe not with anyone.”
“So two weeks from now when you head out again, you’re just going to kiss her goodbye and say nothing? Have a good life and all that?” Jake opened the fridge and grabbed two beers.
“We’ll stay in touch. There is email on the ship, you know.”
Jake screwed the tops off the beers and handed a bottle to Philip. “Well, I don’t think I’ve seen you looking this happy or this relaxed in years, so here’s to you and Elena. I hope this fairy tale comes true.”
Philip tapped the neck of his bottle against Jake’s and took a sip. “Me too.”
Chapter 7
February 2015
Camp Lejeune, North Carolina
WHEN PHILIP arrived a few minutes early for his PT appointment, Elena was on the far side of the room, chatting with an officer dressed in a uniform with an impressive array of ribbons. She tipped her head to one side and smiled up at the man, laughed at something he said, and then reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. The man bent closer.
For a moment it looked like the stranger was going to kiss Elena. A bolt of unexpected jealousy raged through Philip. Then the man turned and walked away. Elena watched him until he was out of sight.
Maybe she was just into men in uniform. That would explain the change in her career direction from helping people like her mom to spending her days with sailors and Marines.
Philip forced himself to look away. You’re over her, jarhead. What does it matter if she flirts with any man in a uniform? Get a grip and get your head screwed on straight.
“You’re early, Gunny.” Elena appeared beside him. “Lose the jacket and just leave your T-shirt on. Then wait for me over there.” She pointed to a padded therapy bench under the window on the far side of the room. “I’ll be right with you.”
He followed her instructions and settled onto the bench. Three sessions into whatever time he was going to spend with her, he’d thought he was doing a good job of just being another patient. But witnessing the easy intimacy between Elena and the black-haired Marine churned uneasily in his gut. He closed his eyes and willed his mind somewhere else.
When she slapped a file down on the little wheeled table beside the workout bench, he jerked in alarm.
“Are you still experiencing range of motion problems with your shoulder?” Her tone was a cross between a drill sergeant and a disappointed mother.
“Some,” he admitted as his pulse continued to race.
“But somehow you didn’t think to mention it?”
She slid her fingers over the soft fabric of his T-shirt and explored the contour of his shoulder. Then she cupped his elbow with her other hand and moved the elbow in a circle.
Pain shot through Philip’s back. He gritted his teeth and said nothing. It was probably a good thing there was pain. It kept him from focusing on anything else. Like the sensation of her warm hands on his bare skin.
She frowned. “That hurts, doesn’t it?”
“A little,” Philip lied.
“Look, Gunny, you have to level with me if I’m going to do the best I can for you.” She let go of his arm and dropped onto a small rolling stool. She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him.
“I know you Marines are a macho bunch of guys. And tough guys don’t like to whimper no matter how much something hurts. But pain is a symptom of something not being right. And the most effective way for me to do my job is to know all the symptoms. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She was so earnest. With her brow furrowed and wisps of her rich dark hair escaping from the ponytail she’d pulled it up into, she looked so much like she had fourteen years ago. Philip found himself wishing he could go back in time and do things differently. The intensity of the wish hurt.
“Good,” she went on in her businesslike tone. “I’m glad we’ve got that straight. So, suppose you start by telling me just how much pain you experience, both with the shoulder and with the hand. And when. Like, does it ache when you’re doing nothing? Do you wake up in pain? On a scale of one to ten.” She pointed to a chart on the wall that depicted ten round faces ranging from smiling and happy to flushed with agony.
An hour later, if he was honest, Philip had to admit to somewhere around a seven. He was definitely flushed, but prayed that his face didn’t display agony. She hadn’t gone easy on him, but it was clear she worried about the level of pain she was inflicting.
“By now, you have to know healing isn’t going to happen overnight, so try to be patient. In the meantime . . .” She reached into a drawer in a cabinet against the wall and handed him a small tub of what looked like brightly colored silly putty. “It might be a little early for this, but if I know you, you’re more than a little anxious to get back to where you want to be so you might as well give it a try.”
“Ya think?” he snapped. Partly due to frustration and partly the pain. He hadn’t been in a good mood when the workout began, and it hadn’t gotten better.
Ignoring his surliness, she pried the lid off and pulled the contents out. Then she reached for his right hand and placed a lump of brightly colored putty in it.
He almost dropped the neon-green ball. He would have, had she not kept two fingertips balancing the glob on his stiff, unresponsive fingers.
“Watch what you’re doing instead of looking at me,” she said. “The sensitivity isn’t there yet, so you need to keep your eyes on what you’re doing.”
He looked down at his hand. And hers.
She pushed the putty toward his palm, then closed his fingers over it and took her hand away. “To build up strength, just make a fist around the putty and squeeze. Ten reps, then rest. Repeat four or five times several times a day. Eventually, we’ll get to tennis balls but for now, just use this.”
She reached behind her and retrieved a second tub. “Put one in your desk at work and keep the other in your quarters. You can try pinching it, too. Like this.” She demonstrated plucking a fold of the stuff between her thumb and forefinger and squeezing hard enough to leave a deep impression.
He tried it and barely made any impression at all. He grunted in frustration.
“Be patient with yourself.”
“Easy for you to say.” His whole life was on hold while he learned to pinch globs of silly putty and did his best not to notice the longing that flooded through his body every time she touched him.
“Well, we’re done here for the day.” She stood, gathered up her file and glanced at her watch. “You want to grab a cup of coffee?”
“Coffee?”
“Yeah, you know. That black stuff with caffeine in it.”
Philip swallowed uneasily. “Why?”
“I thought maybe we should catch up a little. Fill in a few of the missing details. You seem a little down today. Like maybe you could use a friend.”
Just like I needed a friend the day of Gran’s funeral? Why is she doing this?
“But if you’d rather not . . .”
“Yeah,” he answered quickly before he lost both his nerve and any chance of finding out what had changed when she’d gone back to school fourteen years ago.
“If you don’t mind waiting a couple of minutes.” She held up the file. “I have to jot down my notes while they’re still fresh in my mind.”
“I’ve got nowhere else I need to be,” he muttered as she turned on her heel and strode toward the small office at the far side of the room.
WONDERING WHAT had possessed her to suggest a cup of coffee, Elena sat down with the file and opened to a fresh page. She’d been so determined to keep Philip Cameron at arm’s-length and not let even a scrap of her heart get involved again. And she’d been managing it pretty well. Until today.
There had been an odd, faraway look in his eyes several times during today’s workout. She’d wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but kept reminding herself she didn’t care. She couldn’t care.
But then she’d blurted out the invite to get a cup of coffee like they were old friends. So much for keeping her distance. So much for the professionalism she needed to maintain.
Terry Somers, one of Elena’s co-workers, hurried in, turned the radio on, then sat down across from Elena. “You dillydallying on purpose?”
“Huh?”
“He’s still out there.” Terry wiggled her eyebrows.
Of course Terry referred to Philip, but Elena glanced out the office window anyway. He leaned against the wall across from the glassed-in office, his face blank, his eyes focused on seemingly nothing.
“If I had a hunk like that waiting on me, I’d be in a bigger hurry to get out of here.”
Elena closed the file and stood up. “He’s an old friend. Besides, I’ve seen the guy that comes by to pick you up. You keep him waiting, and I haven’t noticed you hustling to get done.”
“Yeah, but that’s just Joshua. He has to wait. He’s my husband.” Terry grinned again and went back to her notes. “You, on the other hand,” she said without looking up, “are single. Just because he’s an old friend doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a new interest.”
“He’s a patient. You know I can’t get involved with a patient.”
“He won’t be a patient forever.” Terry looked up and did that suggestive thing with her eyebrows again.
“Then he’ll be gone and it won’t be an issue anyway.” Elena crossed to the bank of file cabinets and dropped Philip’s folder into the proper slot.
He’d been a lot more than just a friend, but that had been ages ago. Terry had no idea how much water had gone over that dam. Water that could never be called back. And now that he was her patient, new rules applied.
The DJ on the radio started a new set of music, and the opening lyrics to Never Had a Dream Come True filled the small office. Elena froze as the familiar words made her heart jerk into overdrive.
Philip had chosen that number by S Club 7 the first time he had asked her to dance. With her head tucked against his shoulder, she’d listened to the refrain and felt like they were singing it just for her. Just for them.
She spun away from the file cabinet, her eyes drawn to him like filings to a magnet. Philip was studying his phone and didn’t look up.
Everybody’s got something they had to leave behind.
Philip was her something.
Chapter 8
August 2001
Tide’s Way, North Carolina
“WANT TO DANCE?” Philip stood and held out his hand.
“I was beginning to think you didn’t like dancing.” Elena set her soda down and took the offered hand. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her as his hard calloused palm closed around her fingers.
Philip’s Uncle Linc owned the Code-Seven, a little pub that was mostly a cop hangout. With a jukebox and a tiny dance floor, it was close enough to the college to attract students, but the presence of the local law enforcement kept the place respectable. Elena had never been there before, but she liked the atmosphere of comfortable familiarity and had been hoping Philip would ask her to dance.
He moved with remarkable grace in spite of his height, and with as much sensual appeal as Patrick Swayze. Another Johnny Castle! A surge of desire made Elena’s insides melt.
“They teach you how to dance like that in the Marines?”
“Hell, no. In the Marines they teach you how to march and crawl, and jump out of perfectly good airplanes, but dancing isn’t part of the curriculum.” He raised his arms and pumped his hips. “This is the real me.”
The real Philip was making her nipples harden and her panties damp.
Then the number ended, and disappointment swept through her as the dancers began to leave the floor. Philip shoved his hand in his pocket and brought out a few quarters. He dropped them into the old-fashioned juke box and punched a few buttons before turning back, his arms spread in invitation. She grinned. Apparently, Philip enjoyed dancing as much as she enjoyed being the center of his attention.
The machine keyed up the requested song, and the mellow sound of S Club 7 filled the room. Never Had A Dream Come True—a perfect song for dancing close with the man of her dreams. As Philip took her into his arms, the strangest sensation swept through her. A sensation oddly familiar, yet excitingly different.
“I feel like we’ve known each other forever.” She tipped her face up to murmur in Philip’s ear.
He held her away to peer down into her face. “We have. I remember you in pigtails and braces.”
“That was different.”
He laughed and pulled her close again, wrapping both arms behind her back. “You’re still Andy’s kid sister. Just all grown up.”
She rested her cheek against his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, seeming inexplicably right. A part of me will always be with you. She hummed along to the refrain. She belonged in this man’s arms tonight. Maybe forever.
The first number flowed into a second. And then a third. Moving to the music, feeling Philip’s hard, muscled body moving in sync with her own, Elena wanted the night never to end.
Disappointment flooded into her when the last of the requested numbers had played, and the speakers went silent.
“Want to ditch this place and go somewhere less . . . less crowded? Or should I key up a few more songs?”
“Where did you have in mind?” Elena grabbed her purse and started for the door before Philip could change his mind.
He tossed a couple of bills on their table and followed her.
The warm night outside the air-conditioned bar felt mysterious and romantic.
“We could walk along the boardwalk by the river,” Philip offered as they crossed the lot toward the car he’d borrowed from his mother. “Or there’s always the beach. Just so long as I don’t have to take you home straight off.”
“The beach,” Elena decided as she waited for Philip to open the door for her. That was another difference between Philip and everyone else she’d dated. No one had ever
opened a door for her. Except on the night of her senior prom, and then it had been the limo driver.
Philip waited for her to slip into the car, and then shut the door. Had she been asked for an opinion beforehand, she’d have said such formal manners would feel patronizing and unnecessary. She wasn’t a princess. She was an independent adult. But with Philip, it just felt like gallantry. And she could definitely get used to it.
They left the lights and busyness of downtown Wilmington behind and headed toward Tide’s Way. Philip turned the car radio on, and a moment later, the S Club 7 was back, singing the same song he’d chosen at the bar. He hummed along. Elena rested her head against the seat and studied his profile.
She had the strongest urge to reach out and touch his hair, just to see what a super-short haircut felt like. The sides were cut so close and his hair was so blond, it was barely even visible. A brief fringe of bangs fell over his forehead, but even that was shorter than any guy she’d ever dated. Her high-school crush had sported a ragged surfer boy image, and Eli’s hair was long enough to put in a ponytail when he worked out.
While she was still wondering what the military cut would feel like beneath her fingers, Philip pulled into the little sandy lot at the remote end of the beach in Tide’s Way. She waited while he came around to open her door.
“I’m not used to such special treatment,” she said as she climbed out.
Philip frowned. “Special?”
“All the door opening and stuff like that.”
“I may not be an officer, but I am a gentleman.” He laughed as he closed the door behind her. “My mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”
They passed the ancient, old-fashioned anchor at the edge of the dunes and Philip tapped the ring at the top.
“If you don’t touch the anchor, does that bring bad luck?” Elena asked as she copied him.
