Rachel turned in the seat and peered out the back window into the darkness. “You don’t think I really hurt him, do you?”
At worst her ex would be sporting a bruise tomorrow. Considering the distance she threw it and the rate of speed, it probably wouldn’t leave a mark at all. Instead, her little rock chucking was more like waving a flag in front of a Brahma bull.
“No, you didn’t hurt him,” he barked. “Now turn around and put your seat belt on.”
She obliged, nearly cowering in her seat as she pulled the belt and latched it. “Are you angry at me?”
“I’m only angry that you took off into the parking lot all by yourself. What if I hadn’t seen you leave? What would you have done then?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She was quiet as she tugged the seat belt across her body and latched it in the buckle.
“I wasn’t, I guess,” her reply soft and words a little slurred. “I just wanted someone to feel as bad as I did at the moment.”
Well, if that didn’t make him feel like shit for jumping down her throat. Plenty of times he’d seen his friends do the stupidest shit when they encountered their exes out with someone new. Why would Rachel be any different? But his friends usually preferred to drown their sorrows and lose themselves in the bed of a willing woman. And in Savannah, there had been plenty who were willing, especially when it came to military guys.
But throwing rocks at your ex? He’d never seen anything like that and a part of him couldn’t wait to tell the guys all about it.
Lucky chuckled to himself as the memory replayed in his mind. “I can’t believe you actually hit him.”
“I know, right?” She smothered her laughter at first, but then unable or unwilling to contain it, she let it go. A full-bellied, musical sound that quickly had him laughing right along with her. But it wasn’t long before their laughter died down and her tone softened. “Remember when you asked if there was a friend I could stay with until I moved out, and I told you she’d just fallen off the radar? Wasn’t returning my texts or phone calls and I had no idea as to why? Well, now I do.”
“The woman with him was your friend?” Rachel nodded. “But that was weeks ago. That doesn’t mean they were hooking up then.”
“Maybe not. But I found a pair of underwear in the wash that weren’t mine. That doesn’t happen by accident. A woman doesn’t sleep with a guy and walk out of his place not remembering whether or not she had underwear on when she arrived.”
He couldn’t tell how hurt she was by the discovery. From past conversations they’d had about her ex, it may have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. The reason she needed to leave him for good. And while she was better off without the jerk, he couldn’t imagine how she felt now, learning it was her best friend screwing her boyfriend not only behind her back, but in her home.
“Rachel . . .”
She waved him off, clearly not wanting any sympathy as she turned to look out the passenger window, hiding her face from view.
When they reached the edge of town, she placed her hand on his forearm. “I don’t want to go home yet. It’s still early.”
Stopped at a red light, he seized the opportunity to take in her costume. The strawberry red wig, the laced-up bodice, and extremely short puffy skirt definitely put the sexy in Strawberry Shortcake. Not to mention the stripped socks that stopped just above her knees, leaving her thighs bare. “It’s nearly two. Most places will be shutting down for the night.”
“It’s just . . .”
She cut herself off, once again turning so he couldn’t see her face. But he needed to know what was running through that head of hers.
“It’s just what?”
“I just don’t want to go home.” She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “It’s lonely sometimes.”
He should have known that was it. She was such an extrovert, a social butterfly. She loved being around people and chatting incessantly. Of course it made sense that there’d be times when the quiet of her place would get to her. Hell, he had led a relatively quiet, solitary life when he wasn’t living in the barracks or deployed overseas and the isolation of her place would likely make him crazy.
He reached across the truck cab and took hold of her hand. Finally, she looked over at him, the red glow from the stoplight highlighting her sad smile. “That’s an easy fix,” he said, giving her hand a little squeeze. “You can stay at my house tonight.”
WHILE HER NEWFOUND independence was exhilarating at times, it also had its occasional drawbacks. So tonight she’d gladly settle for the next best thing—sleeping in Lucky’s spare bedroom.
He parked her truck in the driveway, and before she even opened the passenger door he was there, helping her out of the truck. Always the gentleman, he kept a steady arm around her shoulders as she stumbled her way across the yard and up the porch steps.
“I think it’s safe to say those shoes and tequila don’t mix.”
“But I like my shoes.”
If it hadn’t been for the smile on his face, she’d have thought he was angry. “I never said I didn’t like them.” He dug his keys from his pocket, unlocked the door, then steered her inside. “Just a dangerous combination, that’s all.”
After settling her in the recliner, he knelt at her feet, mumbling stuff about broken necks as he worked to remove her shoes. The moment his hand circled her ankle, lifting her foot so he could get a better look at the small buckle of her high heeled Mary Jane, her imagination began to run wild. She could practically feel the heat from his hand as it skimmed along the inside of her leg, his fingers raking along the soft skin of her thighs. His head bowed closer to press a kiss between—
“Are you okay?”
Startled from her fantasy, she met his gaze. “I’m perfectly fine. Why?”
His dark eyes studied her intently. “You groaned like you were going to be sick or something. I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to puke on my head.”
Lovely. His mind was obviously not in the gutter.
“You spent a lot of time on the dance floor,” she asked, hoping to avoid another trip to wonderland as he tugged on the tiny buckle of her shoe. “Did you have fun?”
“It was good to get out of the house. Just like you’d said.” He raised her foot higher to get a closer look at the tiny buckle. “These little things are a pain in the ass.”
After a few more tries he finally won the battle and lowered her foot to the ground.
“Are you going to ask that girl out?”
Lucky shook his head and took hold of her other shoe. “She’s too young for me. Nice girl though. What about you and the good doctor?”
The good doctor?
“Oh, shit!” she said, smacking herself in the forehead.
“What’s wrong?” With the second buckle undone, he removed her other shoe and placed it neatly against the other.
“He had gone to the bar for more shots when I followed Curtis and Tamara out to the parking lot. I didn’t tell him I was leaving.”
The idea of Richie Rich wandering around the bar looking for his sure thing made them both laugh to the point of tears. When their laughter died down, Lucky did an impersonation of the guy returning to the table only to find her gone and then they laughed some more.
Rachel held her head in her hands. “Oh, God. My head hurts already.”
“Come on,” Lucky said as he tugged her to her feet. “Let’s get you some water and then to bed.”
“Would you mind if I take a shower first?”
“Only if you promise not to drown.”
She rolled her eyes and immediately regretted doing it for two reasons. One, it sent a stabbing pain to the top of her head, and two, he didn’t even see her do it. What a waste.
Rachel grabbed her purse and followed Lucky into the kitchen,
then continued on to the bathroom. As she switched on the shower to let it warm, he went to find something for her to change into.
As she stood in front of the mirror, she slid the strawberry colored wig off her head, revealing the sweaty mess of hair beneath. She removed the false eyelashes and washed away her heavy makeup. When she finished, Rachel took one final look in the mirror and was surprised to see him standing behind her, just patiently waiting for her to finish. The tie and button-down were both gone, along with the Superman shirt that had been replaced with a simple white tee.
She spun around to face him. “What is it?”
He smiled, shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Just watching.” He shoved a stack of clothes and towels in her direction. “Here ya go. Do you need anything else?”
“As a matter of fact . . .” Rachel turned her back to him and drew her hair up off her shoulders with one hand. “I can’t get the zipper undone. I think it’s stuck.”
She held her breath and waited.
It seemed like an eternity before he finally touched her. His first effort was nothing more than a gentle tug on the zipper, then perhaps realizing she wasn’t making it all up, he tried again, this time pulling in earnest. He crowded behind her, his fingertips ghosting across her skin as they dipped beneath the fabric and took hold.
“It looks like it’s caught in the fabric.”
He stood so close now the warm breath of his words sent a shiver down her spine. After several tries, the zipper finally broke free and he immediately stepped away.
“All good, Shortcake.”
Her eyes met his smiling reflection in the mirror. “Is that what you’re going to call me now?”
“I think so. I kinda like it.”
Then, before she could say anything else, he eased the door shut between them.
“GET A HOLD of yourself, man.”
Lucky pulled a frying pan from the cabinet and tossed it upon the stove, desperately in need of a distraction. The woman needed some food in her belly if she was going to minimize her hangover. Something greasy. Something with bacon.
That he could handle.
He yanked open the refrigerator door and stared inside, letting the cool air wash over his heated skin. It had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from her just then. When the zipper had finally given way, revealing the snowy white strapless bra and matching baby-doll panties she wore, his fingers itched to remove the rest of her clothing as well.
And he wasn’t even going to think about the fact she was using his shower right now. Or what she might look like with soap bubbles and water droplets streaming down her naked body.
Lucky shook his head, trying to rid his brain of the image he’d painted.
Bacon.
That’s why he was standing there with the refrigerator door wide open, cooling the whole damn house, as his father used to say.
When the bacon was halfway done, he heard the shower shut off. Once again, he was hit with a barrage of images. Of her toweling off. Of her massaging lotion into her skin. It didn’t matter that he knew for a fact he didn’t own a bottle of lotion since she probably carried one around in that freaking suitcase she called a purse.
To further distract himself he tossed bread in the toaster and reached for a tomato. If wielding a knife didn’t get him to focus on what he was doing, he was bound to lose a damn finger. And explaining that to his coworkers in the ER would be just tons of fun.
“You made bacon? You are a god.”
He turned to see her leaning against the small island, her damp red hair piled in a bun on top of her head. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the shower, making her even more beautiful than when she was completely done up. Not to mention, she looked hot as hell wearing his old gray ARMY T-shirt.
But why, oh, why, did he give her his old black PT shorts to wear?
Unless he was mistaken, she’d rolled the waistband a few times making them even shorter, like they weren’t short enough to begin with. Thank God the silky running shorts came with built-in underwear; otherwise, he really wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all tonight. Knowing she would be sleeping only feet away would make things hard enough.
He was hard enough already.
Lucky poured a glass of water for her, then one for himself since he clearly needed to cool off.
“Hydrate,” he said, handing her one of the glasses.
After the toaster popped, he went about making their BLT sandwiches, adding cheese to both and leaving off the lettuce on hers. Instead of sitting at the table, they stood side by side, hovering over the small island as they ate their sandwiches in silence. When she was finished, he cleared away their plates and loaded them in the dishwasher.
“I’ve got one last thing for you.” Lucky grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from a nearby cabinet and shook out two tablets into his palm. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
With a nod and a weak smile, she took them from his hand and peered over the rim of the glass with those hypnotic bright blue eyes as she swallowed them down.
And just like that he was transported back to the first time he saw her after transferring in the middle of seventh grade. How those blue eyes stared up at the new kid as he shuffled past her desk to reach an empty seat in the back. Every day, he would wait until the very last minute to arrive for math class, just to see if he could get her to look at him that way again.
Then, without any warning, she rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. At first he took it as a simple thank you, nothing more than a friendly gesture, until she grew bolder, taking his head in her hands and guiding his face down to hers.
Her lips were chilled from the water she’d just drank, but warmed almost instantly as they kissed. Her tongue tasted of bacon with an underlying hint of tequila. But none of that mattered because, dear God, how he’d wanted this for weeks, years even, if he were completely honest.
Lucky wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her body flush with his, neither of them holding anything back as they kissed. When he grew light-headed and desperately needed oxygen, he trailed his mouth across her cheek to her ear, down the column of her throat. Clearly she was just as affected, her chest rising and falling in heavy pants, a soft gasp escaping her lips when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear. Her hands roamed over his chest, down his stomach until she reached the bottom of his shirt where they snuck beneath the cotton fabric, her fingertips skimming across his bare skin, then edging beneath the waistband of his jeans.
The first tug on his button snapped him from his delirium.
They had to stop. He needed to stop this.
Using every ounce of willpower, he took hold of her wrists and stepped back, putting space between them. “We can’t do this, Rach. I’m sorry but . . .”
A few seconds passed as her initial confusion gave way to understanding.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Before he had a chance to explain, she rushed from the kitchen to the guest room, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, because he did. So goddamn much.
But just an hour before, she was upset from seeing her ex with her best friend. He refused to be the stand-in, the rebound guy, the one to help her temporarily forget, despite the fact his body was so very willing to oblige her. Then there was the little matter of just how much she drank.
All he knew was it couldn’t happen like this. He wouldn’t let it happen like this.
If a time came when they did cross that line, he’d make damn certain she was of clear mind and heart because the last thing he wanted to be was a regret.
Chapter Twelve
WHEN SHE WOKE the following morning, Lucky’s house was quiet. Despite her throbbing hea
d, she eased out of bed and made her way into the kitchen. The clock on the stove told her it was nearly ten and on the small kitchen island, next to a bottle of red Gatorade and ibuprofen, was a note from Lucky.
Meeting Dad for breakfast, then off to class. Have a project due tomorrow so it’s going to be a long day.
Great. He’d essentially left her a polite but firm brush-off for the entire day.
Rachel gathered her things and pulled the locked door shut behind her, choosing to wear his clothes instead of changing back into her costume for the short drive back to her house. But even after she returned home, she stayed in the T-shirt and shorts he gave her, telling herself it was so she could finish all of her laundry in a single day.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact she liked being surrounded by the scent of him or could lift his shirt to her nose anytime she wanted throughout the day and have a sniff. Of course each time she did so, it brought to mind a different memory from the night before, each one more embarrassing than the last. How he threw her over his shoulder and hauled her across the parking lot after she threw rocks at her ex. How her fantasies ran wild as he helped her out of her shoes. How she completely threw herself at him and he turned her down.
Lucky was by far the best friend she’d had in a very long time and in a single night she’d succeeded in screwing it all up. All because she’d gotten drunk and lost her head.
She didn’t hear from him at all that day or the next. She was even more surprised when she arrived at work on Friday night only to find out he’d called in sick. During her lunch break she tried calling him a couple of times, with each one going straight to voice mail. She also sent a few text messages during that same time. And another as she walked out the doors at the end of her shift. So either he was really sick or something terrible had happened.
Here And Now (American Valor 2) Page 11
