Here And Now (American Valor 2)

by Cheryl Etchison

  “Well, I just moved home after twelve years in the military. Between working here and going to school and studying, there’s no time.”

  “Oh, boo . . .” Mrs. Hembree said, patting his forearm. “Sounds like excuses to me.”

  He smiled. “Maybe.”

  And then, as if they’d conjured her up by speaking about her, Rachel appeared at the foot of the bed.

  “KNOCK, KNOCK.” SHE smiled at Mrs. Hembree. “Sorry to interrupt, but, Lucky, there’s someone at the desk to see you.”

  “Who is it?” he asked without turning around.

  “I didn’t get her name. Do you have a sister?”

  “I don’t have a sister.”

  The little old woman’s eyes widened with interest.

  “A girlfriend, then?” Rachel asked.

  “Nope. No girlfriend either.”

  “Well, she asked for you specifically. She has long blond hair. Younger. Really young come to think of it.”

  Lucky spun around on the small stool and looked her straight in the eyes. “You’re joking.”

  When Rachel shook her head, he swore under his breath. Then remembering himself, he asked Mrs. Hembree to pardon his French. “I’ll be right back.”

  The little old woman smiled. “Take your time, dear.”

  He grabbed up the chart and lab work, then yanked the curtain closed behind him.

  “I’ve got to run these to the lab. Can’t you tell whoever it is that I’m busy?”

  “Sorry.” Rachel bit back a smile. “I’m just the messenger. Dottie’s already told her you’re here and that you’ll be right out. If you’d like I can take those to the lab so you can go on break. It looks like she brought you dinner.”

  She followed him through the emergency department wanting to see how this little melodrama played out. Dottie and the other nurses watched with bated breath. Even Ferguson was standing there, just leaning on the desk like he didn’t have anything better to do. Sadly, it was the most interesting development they’d had all night.

  Lucky peeked around the corner, catching a glimpse of the young blonde messing with her phone while sitting in the waiting room. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall, and pressed the heel of his hand to the bridge of his nose. “Fuck me.”

  “It’s awfully late. Won’t her daddy be mad she’s breaking curfew?”

  His eyes shot open and he stared down at her. “She’s not . . .”

  “What?” Rachel interrupted. “Your plaything? Your friend with benefits? I have to say I’m kind of hurt. What would your girlfriend think if she knew we went to breakfast together just this morning?”

  “She’s my lab partner. My assigned lab partner.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think she has a bit of a crush on me.”

  Rachel laughed. “You think? Well, good luck with that, Romeo.”

  She headed for the front desk to claim a front row seat, but he grabbed hold of her arm and tugged her back to stand in front of him. “Could you, please, tell her I’m not here? Tell her I went home sick. Tell her anything.”

  “Can’t do that. Like I said, Dottie’s already told her you’re here.”

  “Rachel, please. Help me out here?” Lucky pressed his palms together and begged. “I’ll owe you.”

  She’d swear on a stack of Bibles that a heavenly ray of light shone down when he said those three little words. “Will you help me move?”

  His hopeful look was replaced with disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  She shrugged her shoulders in an “oh, well, tough shit” manner and turned to walk away.

  “Okay,” he called after her. “You win.”

  She turned to face him, unable to hide her triumphant smile. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? What’s the girl’s name?”

  “Brittany.”

  Rachel had to laugh. “Are you serious? Does she dot the i with little hearts?”

  “You know what, maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

  Good Lord, he was such a nice guy. One look in his eyes and anyone could tell he was truly concerned about this girl’s feelings.

  “She’s a nice girl. Very smart as a matter of fact. It’s just that she’s very young. Very innocent.”

  “Oh, honey, you’d be surprised,” she said, patting his arm. “She’s probably not as innocent as you think.”

  LUCKY SHOOK HIS head in disappointment at Chad and the rest of the staff who gathered at the front desk to watch the show. Well, unlike them, he had shit to do. Like take Mrs. Hembree’s blood draws to the lab for instance.

  Avoiding the elevator, he headed for the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall, far from the waiting room. Typically he took the stairs two at a time, but this time he dawdled. Even chatted with the lab tech for a bit to waste a few more minutes before heading back downstairs.

  By the time he returned, the group at the desk had dispersed, the show clearly over. While he waited on Mrs. Hembree’s results, he decided to take lunch and just so happened to find Rachel in the break room.

  “So . . .” He pulled his food from of the refrigerator and sat down at the table. “What did you say to her?”

  She looked up from her magazine. “I promise I was very nice to her. So much so I got complaints from the peanut gallery. I guess they were hoping for a catfight.”

  Assholes. Every last one of them. But he couldn’t help but smile at the visual it painted.

  “So . . .” She closed her magazine and crossed her arms atop the table. “About Monday.”

  “No can do,” he said while stabbing a piece of cold steak onto his fork. “Have three classes and an exam. It’ll have to wait until Tuesday.”

  “But I can’t wait until Tuesday.”

  “What’s the rush? Do you have to be out of your place by the end of the day or something?”

  “Yes. No. Not really.” She avoided eye contact by staring at the tabletop. “I just don’t like the idea of having to spend one more night with Curtis.”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected.

  “Oh. He doesn’t know you’re moving out.”

  She shook her head.

  “So tell him you’re picking up an extra shift and go stay somewhere else. What about staying with your parents?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Okay, a friend, then.”

  “My only friend who isn’t married with children recently stopped returning my calls and texts. No idea as to why.” She pushed back her chair and gathered her things from the table. “It’ll be fine. I can tolerate him one more night, I guess. Just be ready to go first thing Tuesday. I need to have all my stuff out of there by the time he gets home from work; otherwise, he’ll destroy what’s left once he realizes what’s going on.”

  “Hang on a second.” Lucky called out to her before she went back to work. “If you need a place to stay, you can stay with me. I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Damn,” she said, smiling. “I almost feel guilty about blackmailing you into helping me.”

  Chapter Five

  RACHEL WAS SURPRISED to learn Lucky was living in the same house he grew up in, not more than a few blocks from the playground where he played basketball with her little brother. The neighborhood was filled with homes that were nearly eighty years old, but not the historical kind with fancy stained-glass windows and architectural details that had renovation snobs frothing at the mouth. These were utilitarian, bare bone kind of structures that were nothing more than one giant square box with more boxed-off rooms inside. Located just a stone’s throw from the cemetery and the railroad tracks in the run-down part of town, these homes weren’t a
nything special when they were built and they sure as hell weren’t special now.

  His house, however, stood out from the others on the block. Whereas most were likely rental properties with landlords who didn’t care about anything else aside from whether you paid the rent on time, this house was loved. No peeling paint. No broken steps or railings. No half-dead trees in the yard.

  She parked along the street and made her way across the stepping stones leading to the front of the house. Without warning, the door swung open before she reached the bottom step.

  “So you’re my girlfriend now, huh?”

  “You wanted me to get rid of her,” she said, not really feeling the slightest bit guilty.

  Lucky folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder into the door casing. He narrowed his eyes at her and attempted a whole pissed and threatening look. Instead, his expression was more faux-mad, like beneath it all he was fighting hard not to laugh.

  “I take it you saw Brittany today?” And of course she couldn’t help but raise her voice a few octaves and accentuate the syllables when saying the girl’s name.

  His mask cracked, finally giving into a laugh. “Sure did. As a matter of fact, she made a point to track me down after our exam.”

  Holding the front door open with one hand, Lucky took her duffel bag with the other, gesturing with it for her to lead the way inside. “You’ll be in here,” he said just before disappearing through a doorway immediately off the living room. When he returned he had her follow him as he gave a quick tour of the place. The front room, as he called it, was cozy but not cramped, with a sofa, recliner, and coffee table. They passed through the small dining room to the kitchen and past it, at the very back of the house, was the only bathroom.

  “My room is there,” he said, nodding at the closed door off the kitchen as he pulled open the refrigerator. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Bottled water? Jack Daniel’s?”

  He smiled at the last one and for a split second she was halfway tempted to take him up on it. Not because she was a whiskey drinker, but mostly just to see his reaction. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Okay, then, here’s the deal,” he said, shutting the fridge. “Glasses are in the cabinet by the sink, drinks are in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you’d like. The lasagna will be ready in forty minutes. In the meantime, I’m going to hop in the shower.”

  “You made lasagna?”

  Lucky shook his head. “Can’t take the credit for that. Every once in a while I come home and find that my dad’s girlfriend has stuffed all kinds of food in my freezer. Not that I’m complaining.” He smiled then. “Anyway, make yourself at home.”

  As he headed for the bathroom, she wandered back through the small dining room, stopping briefly to look at the collection of school photos hanging on the wall. On the round oak table that seated four sat a laptop along with a stack of books. Organic Chemistry. Microbiology. Modern Humanities. Psychology.

  Rachel picked up the one on top and flipped through the pages until it sent a shudder down her spine. She couldn’t imagine going back to school at her age. No way. The year before she’d looked into an online master’s program that would certify her as a nurse practitioner but decided against it. For one, the small salary increase wasn’t enough to justify the expense. Secondly, Curtis thought any kind of higher education was stupid. Which said a lot about him.

  And even more about her for dating him as long as she did.

  In the living room, her cell phone chirped in her purse. Text message. If she had to guess, she’d say it was Curtis texting because he just received her note about picking up an extra shift. Which meant she wouldn’t be there to wait on him hand and foot and he would have to figure out dinner on his own. Again.

  A door opened and she turned just in time to see Lucky go from the bathroom to his bedroom. His hair was wet and water droplets still clung to his chest. With one hand, he held the ends of the towel together at his hip. His eyes met hers and the corner of his mouth lifted in a polite smile before he disappeared into his bedroom.

  It was no big deal that he strode through his own home in a state of undress. They were both medical professionals.

  Theoretically, Lucky James didn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before. And even if she hadn’t, she’d seen quite a bit of him just the week before. But she must not have gotten a good look the first time because holy good God he was beautiful. A word she couldn’t ever remember using to describe a man. And at the moment, she found herself a little breathless. And light-headed. She needed to sit down before she fell down, because that was not the kind of impression she wanted to make.

  So she scuttled into the living room, taking a seat on the brown leather sofa. The front room was like the rest of the house: neat, clean, and very masculine, decorated in brown and beige. A brown leather recliner to match the couch. A dark wood coffee table. Only blinds on the windows, no curtains. No pillows. On the fireplace mantel there were several more frames filled with photos of Lucky, mostly with his father. The only other decor was a wall-mounted television currently tuned to ESPN.

  Several minutes later, a door opened once again, followed by footsteps on the linoleum floor. The refrigerator opened and closed before the footsteps came closer. Now dressed in basketball shorts and a plain gray T-shirt, Lucky dropped into the recliner and placed an unopened bottle of water on the coffee table in front of her. “Just in case,” he said.

  He cracked open his bottle, tilted his head back, and drank down half in just a few swallows. Entranced by the sight of his Adam’s apple working in his throat, she suddenly found herself a little . . . parched.

  She reached for the bottle of water he’d brought her. “So you didn’t say if Brittany was upset.”

  “Far from it,” he scoffed. “In fact, I think she’s regarding you as a challenge. She was also quick to inform me she’s not looking for anything long term and only wanting a ‘taste,’ ” he said, adding the air quotes. “ ‘A little fun on the side.’ Something ‘no one will ever have to know about.’ ”

  “She did not.”

  “What am I gonna do about this girl?” He held his hands up in surrender and all she could focus on was the snug fit of his T-shirt that was dampened in interesting places and highlighted the flex of his biceps. “She’s coming at me with the full court press.”

  Rachel attempted to smother her laugh, but Lucky wasn’t having any of it. He pointed directly at her. “It’s not funny.”

  “It is. Kind of.”

  “I don’t get it. Why is she chasing after me? Why do her little friends giggle every time I walk past?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Explain it to me, please.”

  This poor guy. He really didn’t have the slightest idea as to why these girls were following him around. “You’re a unicorn.”

  He scowled, a little crease appearing between his brows. “What the hell does that mean?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “First off, you’ve got this whole mysterious vibe going. The dark hair. The beard. Then there’s the fact you were in the military. And it’s not like you were a file clerk or something. You were doing the kind of stuff they make movies about. You’ve traveled the world and haven’t spent your entire life in this Podunk town.”

  “And that makes me a unicorn?”

  A timer buzzed in the kitchen, signaling dinner was ready and ending their discussion.

  In sharp contrast to her life with Curtis, and every other man she’d ever lived with, Lucky wouldn’t let her help make the salad or garlic bread, saying she was a guest in his house and her only job was to eat. After badgering him for fifteen minutes, he finally relented and let her set the table. While she stood there, placing knives and forks on napkins, her phone chimed again with a text message. And again. And then a third time.

  Even though leaving Curtis was the
right decision, she couldn’t stop that niggling of guilt for sneaking out like a thief in the night. Until she officially informed Curtis she was ending things between them, she was no better than him. She was a cheater.

  For the fifth time since she’d arrived, her cell phone chimed. Rachel pulled her phone from her pocket and quickly scrolled through the messages. Out of habit she nearly sent a reply, but caught herself in time, choosing instead to delete the string of texts before setting her phone to silent.

  “Someone’s popular tonight,” he said, trying to be funny.

  But she felt anything but amused.

  “Given the choice, I’d rather not be.”

  THINGS WERE PRETTY quiet the remainder of their dinner, which suited Lucky just fine. His friends in the 75th were always commenting on how calm and quiet he was. That an entire week could pass without some guys hearing him say a single word. His verbal thriftiness was never considered a negative though. If anything, the veterans said his quiet demeanor showed the hallmark of a great special ops medic, because when everything went to shit and someone’s life was on the line, the last thing that person needed was a medic who was highly excitable.

  So a quiet dinner for two wasn’t something he ever considered awkward or uncomfortable. Probably because most of the meals he shared with his father while growing up were virtually silent.

  But this Jekyll and Hyde thing with Rachel? It bothered him. A lot.

  When she arrived at his house, she’d been her normal chatty, happy self and within a matter of minutes she spiraled into a woman who would barely speak or make eye contact.

  Clearly, it had something to do with those text messages, which if he had to guess were from her ex.

  No wonder she was in such a hurry to move and didn’t want to spend one more night in his presence, let alone share a bed with him. Just the thought made him sick. He didn’t even know the guy and he wanted to commit bodily harm.