Teri was waiting in the driver’s seat, the door open, her knee shorts and thin white tank making him hard as he remembered the body beneath. He stepped between her spread legs, set one hand at her waist, threaded the fingers of the other into her loose hair that he loved.
“Know what I realized as I was talking to your folks?”
“That they were asleep last night and didn’t see a thing?”
He felt his face coloring. “Besides that?”
“What?”
“You don’t live in Crow Hill anymore.”
“Hmm.” She twisted her lips to one side, nuzzled his wrist where it grazed her cheek. “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”
“Or Shannon and I can get a place in Austin.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to her. Uprooting her after all she’s lost? Besides, she’ll need her friends close when you’re deployed.”
He liked that her first thought was of a little girl’s needs. “I don’t want to make things hard on you either. If you need to stay for your job, we can do something long distance.”
“Long distance?” She arched a wicked brow. “After last night?”
He leaned his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and breathed. She was here. She was his. It was almost too much to believe. “After last night I’m having trouble loading up to leave.”
“I’ll be here a few more days. We’ll talk. Make a plan. We’ve got time.”
He shook his head. “I wasted sixteen years. I’m not wasting a minute more. You know that, right?”
“I do,” she said.
It hit him, then, like a shot to the center of his chest, that he wanted to hear her say that while their friends and families, and hell, even his team, looked on, while she wore a long white dress, flowers in her hands and in her hair.
He brought her to him, kissed her hard, fierce and possessive. “I love you, Teri. All these years. I kept you with me.”
“Oh, Shane. I love you, too. I never forgot you. Not for a minute.”
“I’m going to make sure you never do.”
NOT WAVING BUT DROWNING
Jo Leigh
He’d taken his time driving up the mountain. Nine thousand feet was pretty damn high, but most of the way the brilliant colors of September trees had given him some peace.
Dan Hogan was on leave, away from the burning sands of Afghanistan or the warm Pacific of Coronado Beach. He hadn’t been in the mountains in a long time. Three years, he figured, although he didn’t measure time in years but in missions.
Parking the rental Jeep next to Renee’s old Outback, he figured she knew he was there, would have heard the car amongst all this silence. As he stepped out of the vehicle, he registered the speed of the wind on his face, the height of the sun by the length of the shadows, the underscore of quaking aspens and somewhere close, a creek. When he finally looked at the cabin he was there to fix up, Renee Crocker opened the door and stepped out on the front porch.
Seeing her again made his chest tight and his cock pay attention. They weren’t even lovers, but try telling his johnson that when she was so damn beautiful. He’d thought about it, so had she. Talked about it. But the timing had never worked out in college, then he was in training, and once he made it as a SEAL he’d decided it would be better not go there. Ever.
“You waiting for applause or something?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Her dark hair was windblown and wavy, cut blunt above her shoulders. Last time he’d seen her it had been red, a deep red that matched her temper, but this looked good, too. Not as dramatic, but then she was stuck way the hell up on a mountaintop in Utah for a year, so who did she need to be dramatic for? He was pretty sure he recognized her worn-in jeans, but he hadn’t seen her in a flannel shirt before. He preferred her in softer clothes, dresses that showed off her legs, although he’d never tell her that.
“Getting my bearings,” he said. “It smells like Christmas.”
“Pine trees will do that,” she said. Then she smiled at him and the pressure in his chest relaxed. “I was about to have some lunch. Get your gear. You can scope out the cabin after.”
His duffel bag was in the back of the car, along with a present for Renee. He’d bought a painting from a street artist in Soviet Georgia that he’d meant to give her. Instead, he had a bottle of Jameson 18 Year Old Limited Reserve. They both liked whiskey, and this was the best he’d ever tried. She’d like it. She would.
It was weird not to be in load out, although damn straight he had his Sig Sauer and his Recon rifle with him. He took another look around, checked the dirt road to the highway, then back at the cabin. The wind had picked up some. The sound of his boots on gravel carried differently this high up. Sixteen-percent oxygen. There were two windows on this side of the cabin, big enough for a man to crawl through, easy.
She’d left the door open for him and there she was in the dimmer light, her smile taking him straight back to the smell of coffee in the common room, the sound of her laughing so loud in the library they were kicked out seven different times. She was a year younger, thirty-three now, and she looked better than she had at seventeen.
“You’re leaner than the last time I saw you,” she said. “You look good.”
“You do, too.”
Her head tilted to the left. “Something wrong with your hugging muscles?”
He ignored the loud thunk on the floor as he dropped his kit. Two steps later he scooped her up in his arms and let himself have this. He closed his eyes, even though he didn’t know what was behind any of the doors, even though it was pure indulgence, and Christ, she smelled incredible. He buried his nose behind her ear, right where hair met scalp, and he breathed her in as if he could store it up for a rainy day.
But then she was sniffing him back, loudly, and he laughed, which he hadn’t done in too long. He still didn’t open his eyes, though. Just kept on hugging her, the feel of her pressed against him reminding him of everything good. When the lump came to his throat, he backed off, picked up his duffel bag and handed her the whiskey. “Where am I sleeping?”
“Out back. I dug a ditch just for you. Figured you’d like to feel at home.”
“You’re hilarious, Renee. And you better not be putting me in some futon crap. I’ll steal your bed from right under you, I swear to God.”
“You and what army?”
He gave her his most evil squint-eye. “Say what?”
“Wow, you are such a cry baby. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.” Her lips twitched in a faint smile, and she turned as if she expected him to follow.
He did, toward the back of the cabin where there were three doors off a tiny hallway. One had to be her bedroom, one the bathroom, and one her office, so he had every reason to be concerned about a fold out crap thing. She’d done it to him before.
She turned left at the first door, and he stopped. “This is your office.”
“What was your first clue?”
His gaze was already on the back wall, on the huge map of tacked up pictures, note cards, business cards, torn out pages, all kinds of crazy things, some with brightly colored yarn connecting them via push pins. “That’s some fancy mural you have going there.”
“That’s three years’ worth of research on that wall, so watch your step in here.”
Dan turned to face her. “If there’s any chance I could screw this up, even by accident—”
She touched his upper arm, gave it a squeeze. “You’re the world’s most stealthy fighter, Danny. I trust you not to walk into the wall, even if you do drink all the whiskey.”
After stepping closer to the queen-sized bed, he put his shit down, checked out the lock on the window.
“I’ve done everything I’m supposed to,” she said. “Window guards everywhere, that dead bolt you told me to get. And my rifle is clean and ready for bear.”
He smiled. “When’s the last time you shot it?”
“Uh . . . ”
“Add that to th
e to-do list. You said something about lunch?”
Renee nodded. “Unpack, freshen up. After, I’ll show you the tools and materials and we can go over the work schedule. I’m not gonna let you relax for a minute.”
“You’re not, huh?”
She wanted to go hug him again, and she wasn’t sure why. “You can have nights off. There’s a fine bottle of whiskey in the house, and I want to hear all about your top secret missions.”
He chuffed a laugh, and she left the bedroom, her smile dropping the moment she walked into the hall. Something was off. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It was a feeling, and when it came to Dan she trusted her instincts.
They’d known each other since freshman year at Northwestern. They’d both lived in the same dorm, and for awhile, they’d both been pursuing pre-law. That’s not how they met, though. She’d been dating Mark Hunter. Mark Hunter had been in ROTC with Dan. While things had fizzled with Mark, Renee’s friendship with Dan had not just continued but grown deep and strong. She loved Dan. Not quite like a brother, but not like a lover, either. Although she’d dallied with the idea, she doubted they’d have lasted this long if they had hooked up, so she was happy.
She saw him as often as anyone outside of his team and his parents. In fact, she wondered if he was going to visit them in San Diego after he finished helping her fix up the cabin.
As she pulled out a platter of cold cuts from the fridge, she thought about how little she knew about Dan’s life, and yet how well she knew him. Since day one in SEAL training, he hadn’t spoken a word he shouldn’t have. She never knew where he was, what he was doing, how he was doing. If he were alive or dead.
That was the hard part, naturally, but she’d signed up for it. He’d wanted the SEALs from the age of fifteen, swore he’d been born for it, and he’d been right. He was not just the smartest guy she’d ever met, but he was also the single most focused individual. Nothing could keep Dan Hogan from getting what he was after, and he’d proved that too many times to count.
He was also aware of the fact that he was the smartest guy in the room, and that he could outmaneuver, outfox, outrun and out gun pretty much every person on the planet. Modesty was not a prized characteristic in his circle.
She’d never cared about that part, because Dan was also the best guy she knew. He walked the walk, and he’d move heaven and earth to make sure the people he loved were taken care of. Not to mention the fact that he put his life on the line day in and day out to serve a purpose so much greater than himself it humbled her more than the all the forests and the oceans and the stars.
That something was off bothered her one hell of a lot. She got out the bread, the mustard and mayo, pickles, of course, and beer. Then she pulled out one of the treats she had stocked up on just for him. Salt and vinegar potato chips. He was gonna be working with her for four days, so she had four bags.
He was normally a disgustingly healthy eater. He liked his beer, good hard liquor, sometimes even a soda, but he never indulged himself. Except when he was with her. Probably had something to do with him being there for so many of her breakups. She’d show up on his doorstep with chips, salsa and ice cream, and she’d eat herself into a coma. She was convinced he ate the junk food with her as a humanitarian effort. Sometimes he made it hard to be his friend.
“That looks more than decent,” he said. “You spoil me, I swear. It would be even better if you did the extra five miles I’ll have to sweat through after eating all this evil food.”
“I would like to see the day you’d let me run five feet for you. You’re a glutton for punishment.”
He pulled out a seat at the table and plopped himself down. “Must be why I keep coming back to you.”
She whacked him upside the head before she put his beer in front of him. She thought about asking him what was wrong, but that would be about as useful as asking him what his last mission had been. He’d learned the fine art of keeping himself bottled up, and he’d done as well at that as he’d done in sharp shooting. That was his specialty. Amazingly, she was allowed to know that bit. Just not what weapons he used, or any other detail.
He started building his sandwich straight off, and she sat across from him. Taking a sip of beer, she looked at him while he was occupied. It wasn’t the least bit fair, but the man was so good looking it hurt. Just under six feet, he’d never gone after muscles as much as he’d wanted strength and speed. He’d been a swimmer in college, won a lot of races. He also fenced, which she’d made fun of since the day they’d met, played tennis, baseball, ran track and was an expert archer. That was aside from his love affair with guns. That had been his father’s doing.
“Most of the work’s gonna be on the roof, I assume?”
She watched him pile ham on his turkey. “Thanks for asking, Dan. I’m doing well. The book is gonna be a challenge, especially given the deadline I’ve got, but I’m looking forward to being away from L.A. and all that mess. And, no, I’m not seeing anyone. I was, but he turned out to be a real jerk, so I sent him packing. The only thing I’m wondering is if I should break down and get myself a dog. Course I won’t be able to get too large a breed, because he’ll have to fit into my life back home. You?”
Dan took a big bite out of his sandwich, then chewed, his jaw muscle flexing like crazy. He stared at her as if their conversation was every bit as normal as his wholewheat bread. Finally, he swallowed, took a hit off his beer, then nodded. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “You drive me crazy, but it turns out I like that from time to time.”
“I’m so delighted to serve.”
He put down the food, rested his hands on his thighs. She knew from experience how hard those thighs were. Like rocks. His whole body was like that. Well, all the parts she’d felt. There were a few she couldn’t comment on, but his chest? His legs? His back? Not an inch of anything but muscle and sinew. Enough fat to keep him from freezing on a bitter night, not that it showed. He’d gotten her into shape way back when, and it had always seemed easier to maintain it than to have to start from scratch, so she ran, did yoga, stretched, lifted weights. She wasn’t insane, though, and if she wanted some damn macaroni and cheese, she ate macaroni and cheese.
“It’s been a tough year,” he said. “Full of challenges. I’m not acclimated to the real world yet, you’ll have to forgive me.”
She sighed and moved over to the chair next to his. “It’s good to have you here,” she said. “Especially considering I’m making you work your ass off when you should be out cattin’ around with hot and cold running women all over you.”
He looked out the front window. “It’s quiet up here. Nice. But you’re gonna have snow up to your eyeballs come winter.”
“I know. It’ll be a whole new experience. I’ve got enough cut wood to last at least two months and more will be delivered when necessary. I have a satellite phone and internet, and also a nice couple with a really big truck who’ll come and save me come the apocalypse. So I’m all set.”
“It sounds great.”
She slapped him on that iron thigh. “If I hate it, I’ll leave. Go back home.”
“There you go.” He picked up his sandwich again, but the moan she heard wasn’t about meat and cheese. “You got my chips.”
She’d understood him, even though he’d had a mouthful. “Yes. I did.”
He had that bag open so fast the salt and vinegar smell hit her like a slap. “You are the best.”
“I know. It’s the least I could do.”
He swallowed this time, before he said, “I think you’re right. It is the least.”
“I also got you Rocky Road ice cream.”
He closed his eyes and rolled his head all the way back. “Oh, my God. You’re trying to kill me.” He straightened and stared at her. “How much?”
“Four pints.”
“Damn, you are the perfect woman, you know that?”
She got up, went to get more napkins. Put them down on the napkins that were already on the tabl
e. “How are your folks?”
“Good. Fine. Busy. Dad’s got some big conference next month up in Paris, and he’s taking Mom along so she can shop.”
“You going to see them after here?”
He grunted something as he chewed, which she thought might be a yes.
“I hope you know something about plumbing,” she said. “Although I did pick up a how-to book that’s for people who aren’t Rhodes Scholars, so even if you don’t, together we can tackle it, yes?”
“What’s wrong with the plumbing?” His voice was low, guarded.
She went to the sink and turned on the hot water. Noises, mostly unholy loud bangs, started way before any water showed up. The entire sink vibrated like it was trying to get away from the banging as quickly as possible. Finally, a trickle came out, not quite as rust colored as it had been when she’d first arrived.
“I don’t think there’s gonna be enough time to replace all the pipes in this cabin before I leave,” he said.
“I didn’t say we had to replace all of them. According to William, a few will do. He wrote down their names. I bought them. The man at the store marked them in the book. I bought an internal nipple wrench. And other tools with less interesting names. I have no doubt whatsoever that you’ll be able to figure it all out with one glance.”
Dan looked at her with his deep blue eyes and an attitude that fit him better than his stone washed jeans. “First, you are the least helpless female that I know, so knock it off. I’m going to help, whether you bat your eyelashes or not.”
“I did not—”
“Second,” he said, cutting her right off, “why the hell didn’t you rent a cabin that was functional? There must be plenty of places like that on this mountain.”
“I’ll address the second issue. Because William needs this cabin to be in working order next spring so he can rent it out for decent money. He’s getting up there in years, and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to keep this place up. I need solitude with minimal opportunities for distractions until I finish this damn book.”
SEAL of My Dreams Page 27
