The Long Road Home

by Cheyenne Meadows

  "A fireball, huh?" He tugged at one long lock of her chestnut hair.

  "Oh, yeah. Or explode like a volcano. One of the two." She eyed him for a couple of seconds. "Does that make you too hot to handle?"

  He shook his head, thoroughly enjoying the byplay. "Aiming to find out?"

  "Ummm…" A blush tinted her cheeks a pretty rose color, adding to her alluring beauty.

  With a bark of laughter, he patted her rear. "Come on. Let's get inside before we turn stiff as Popsicles."

  "Stiff?" She arched an eyebrow and glanced down at his groin for the briefest second.

  He shook his head and gave her a nudge. "Back inside with you before you catch pneumonia."

  If she only knew the truth. Despite the below freezing temperatures, his erection throbbed with her proximity. He'd love for her to lead him inside, dig through her collection of condoms, and do a personalized fitting prior to some hot and heavy sex. Slow down, soldier. He was her houseguest. Period. While they might be taking the first tentative steps of a budding relationship, he didn't need to push the pace. Not if he wanted to see where they were going as a couple.

  She shot him a teasing smile, then hurried to the passenger side, grabbed a suitcase, and stood waiting. He did the same, taking the remaining items in hand, then followed her to the front door.

  Stepping inside, his eyes adjusted quickly. He found a typical living room with a couch, a couple of recliners, and one wooden rocking chair. Together, they comprised a square shape directly in front of the unlit fireplace. Thick beige carpet covered the floor as far as he could see, leading from the main room, down a hallway, and presumably into the side rooms as well. To the right, he found the entryway to the kitchen, allowing a peek at a dining table and four chairs waiting on hungry people to take a load off.

  Gwen shut the door behind him and secured the lock. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you the spare bedroom."

  Easily shouldering his duffel bag and the one suitcase, he trailed along, unable to keep his eyes off her swaying rear as she led the way. Damn fine ass. The curves, the solid mounds. He licked his lips and nearly plowed into her when she suddenly stopped.

  She looked at him askance before shaking her head. "I hope this is okay."

  Stepping around her, he entered the bedroom, noting the queen-sized bed commanding the majority of the room. An oak dresser sat to one side, the closet door to the other. Bright sunlight streamed in from a large window opposite the bed's headboard. If he slept too long, the morning light would cover him like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer.

  "The bathroom is right here." Gwen set his remaining suitcase on the floor and pointed to the corner of the room.

  He glanced inside and found sparkling white tile and a shower with doors, both encouraging him to shuck off his clothes, step inside, and let the hot spray warm his bones. Definitely later. After he unpacked.

  Taking a moment to survey the room, his gaze automatically found his host with a nervous, concerned expression her face. Logan smiled gently. "I think it's perfect."

  She sighed in relief and smiled widely. "Great."

  Their gazes held for the longest time, neither one willing to break the momentary spell. "I guess you want to unpack."

  "Probably should."

  "Need some help?"

  The image of her fondling his boxers came to mind, sending a cascade of desire over him. "Nah. I've got it."

  "Sure?"

  "Yep."

  With a wave of her hand, Gwen started backing toward the door. "If you need help, just holler."

  "Okay."

  She thunked into the doorjamb with a thud.

  Logan's lips twitched.

  "I'll go… check the food." She turned and hurried out.

  He shook his head, chuckled, and tossed a suitcase on the wedding ring quilt covering the bed. One thing was for certain. He'd never be bored with Gwen around. Without further ado, he unzipped the bag and began unpacking.

  By the time he finished the chore, a delicious aroma led him directly to the kitchen. "Homemade bread."

  Gwen grinned at him, a metal pan with a golden brown loaf in her hot-pad clad hands. "I did promise."

  "That you did." His mouth watered at the tantalizing scent, combined with the beauty that appeared quite at home in the kitchen. Walking to the fridge, he pulled the door open, found the butter, and plucked the small tub from the shelf. Setting his find on the small dining table, he went in search of utensils, guided by Gwen's gesture as she dumped the hot bread onto a waiting platter. No sooner had she cut several slices than he spread margarine over each one. Snatching the first piece, he took a large bite, closed his eyes, and groaned with pleasure. "Fantastic. Store-bought bread will always pale in comparison."

  She followed suit, taking a smaller nibble. "I agree." Swallowing, she sank her teeth in once more. "How did it go with your parents? You sounded a bit tense before."

  He shrugged and finished chewing. "Strained, I guess. They love and support me, but they're having problems adjusting to my disability."

  "I'm sure it's hard for them. Parents will always worry about their kids. At least that's what my mother tells me."

  He nodded. Presently, he had enough issues of his own adapting to the new normal, he wasn't about to try to shoulder more with his parents' concerns.

  "Maybe they just need some time?" She sliced the rest of the loaf and dug through the cabinet until she stood up, a plastic storage bag in hand.

  Finishing the first slice, he picked up another and slathered on the butter. Why did everyone always want to discuss his leg? "Probably." He caught the slight crease of her eyebrows and the pinching of her lips. So he came across a bit curt. His own feelings were still a little raw. Belaboring the topic wasn't helping.

  "Do you want to go out or stay in tonight?" She flashed him a small smile and proceeded to stuff the remainder of the bread into the bag, leaving the end open most likely to allow for cooling.

  Relieved with the change of topic, he placed the butter knife in the sink and slipped the lid back on the tub. "It's Sunday night. Probably not much to do out on the town."

  "True. Good thing there's a gazillion college football bowl games on TV." She stared at him a long moment before returning the butter to the fridge. "I recall you just happen to like college football."

  He smiled wide. "Oh, yeah." How long had it been since he'd spent an evening doing nothing but watching football? Too damned long. "Wonder who's playing?"

  "No clue. However, I purchased the whole ESPN package two days ago. So there should be plenty of games to keep you occupied."

  He blinked, then wrapped her up in a tight embrace, chuckling when she squealed at his fast action. Meeting her gaze, he nuzzled his nose against hers before gently meshing their lips. Slowly and lazily, he kissed her for the longest time, asking no more than she share this special moment. She met him with enthusiasm, following eagerly as he schooled her in the fine art of kissing. Licking her bottom lip, he took advantage of her sudden gasp, inserting his tongue between her lips. Searching and exploring, he tasted butter and sweetness, a heady combination that had him deepening the show of affection. He tapped her tongue, entreated her to a quick wrestling match, and sought the recesses of her mouth, eager to explore every nook and cranny.

  Gwen's eyes sparkled as she tried to catch her breath. Pink stained her cheeks. Never had he seen a more beautiful sight.

  "Thank you."

  "For what?" she whispered.

  "For remembering how I love football and doing something about it. For inviting me to stay with you. For caring."

  A ghost of a smile covered her lips. "And I thank you."

  He tilted his head in question.

  She met his gaze steadily. "For inviting me to stay with you during the ice storm. For your service and for your dedication to be the best you can be. For adding spice to my boring, vanilla life."

  Her words buoyed his heart, strengthened his resolve, and lit a tiny fla
me of hope through him. With one more chaste kiss, he linked his fingers with hers and led her from the room.

  "You've done enough work for today. Let's go see what games we can catch."

  "What if we're rooting for opposing teams?"

  He grinned like a Cheshire cat and pulled her down next to him on the couch, grabbed the remote, and turned the television on. "When the team you dislike scores, I'll give you a commiserative kiss."

  Her eyebrow shot up. "And if my team scores?"

  "I hope you'll do the same."

  "I like it." She seemed to ponder the arrangement for a few seconds. "What does the winner of the game get?"

  "A trip to second base?" He waggled his eyebrows.

  She giggled and leaned against his side. "You're on."

  Reclining against the back of the couch, he pulled Gwen close and counted his lucky stars. No one knew what the future would bring. He could only live in the present, but tonight looked pretty damn good.

  * * * *

  "Faster! Run faster! Catch him!" Gwen fisted her hands and hollered at the television.

  "Go. Go. Go." Logan sat beside her, cheering his team on. "Yes!" He grinned brightly as his man crossed the goal line, scoring the winning touchdown as time ran out.

  Gwen shook her head. "No fair. Your guys were faster than mine." Her smile matched his as she soaked up his excited and enthusiastic mood. Throughout the game, each time a team had scored, they'd kissed. What began as chaste pecks, soon turned to deeper, more intimate explorations, the last one leaving her breathless.

  He snorted. "Your offensive line outweighed mine by an average of fifty pounds."

  "Size isn't everything, you know," she answered, tongue in cheek.

  He barked with laughter. "Do tell."

  Her face heated. She couldn't resist teasing Logan, anything to keep the amusement painted on his face, the twinkling in his eyes, and the wide grin on his face. After everything he'd been through, she wanted to make up for some of the sadness with an abundance of happiness.

  "Well…"

  Leaning closer, he rubbed his nose against hers. "Well?"

  Squirming with the risqué topic, she decided a distraction was in order. "I don't think you have anything to worry about in the size department." Glancing down at his crotch, she raised an eyebrow. "You know. Big hands and big feet mean…" Taking his hand in hers, she compared the size of their palms. His easily covered hers and then some.

  "He's a strange-looking dude?" Logan grinned.

  She shook her head and giggled. "Not quite what I was going for." Sealing her lips over his, she softly initiated a gentle kiss. He quickly took control, licked her bottom lip, then surged in when she mewed in encouragement. His tongue greeted hers, then delved deep, as if needing to taste her farthest reaches once more. In turn, she followed his lead, giving back with gusto and fiery passion. The television forgotten, her world narrowed down to Logan and his skillful touches.

  A need of oxygen forced them apart. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes to read his face. Half-lidded eyes met hers, full of sensual delight, carefully banked fire, and a hot desire for more of the same. She was happy to comply.

  "It means you're one hunk of a man that I'd like to taste again."

  He groaned, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her down for another glorious merging of their mouths. "Happy to oblige a beautiful woman any day."

  She nipped at his lips. "Just any woman?"

  The corners of his mouth curled up. "Just you, Gwen. You and only you."

  "Good. 'Cause I want only you, too." Without another word, she returned to the ever wonderful task of kissing him senseless.

  Chapter 20

  Nine the next morning, he followed a medical assistant from the physician's exam room, down a long hallway, and through a set of double doors marked "Physical Therapy."

  "This is the main physical therapy gym. Let's see. Tyler should be around here somewhere," the short brunette in scrubs rattled on.

  "Tyler?"

  She nodded and waved across the vast room filled with weight machines, treadmills, and a large array of other work out equipment. Probably nearly two dozen men were scattered across the area, some resting, others working. Workers wearing bright yellow oxfords with the red letters "STAFF" and name badges moved from person to person.

  "Tyler is the head physical therapist. He sees everyone on their first visit, checks the doctor's recommendations, assesses your needs and abilities, and then constructs a physical therapy regimen designed just for you."

  The man in question stepped from behind a treadmill and started their way. While a few inches shorter, Tyler carried his strength in leanness, resembling a long distance runner. Short, dark hair topped his head, matching dark brown eyes.

  Logan blinked. Tyler's loose shorts did little to cover his above the knee amputation and resulting prosthesis. Despite the artificial leg, the man moved with ease and very little limp.

  Damn impressive.

  "Tyler, this is Logan. It's his first day."

  Tyler held out his hand, which Logan immediately shook, noticing the tight grip and friendly grin on the man's face. "Good to meet you." The cute assistant handed over a pile of papers to the physical therapist, spun on her heel, and showed herself out.

  Logan nodded and absently watched her go before turning his attention back to Tyler. "You too." He gestured toward the other man's prosthesis. "If you don't mind my asking…"

  "Roadside bomb in Afghanistan nearly six years ago."

  "Which unit?"

  "Fifteenth Marine Expeditionary Unit."

  Logan whistled low. "First ones in."

  "Yep." Tyler raked Logan with a professional interest. "How about you?"

  "Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment." He glanced away. "Until about three months ago, that is."

  Tyler shook his head. "First lesson. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger."

  "I wish I could believe that." The truthful words poured from his broken spirit. He felt a small jolt as the therapist slapped him on the shoulder.

  "Give it time. You might be surprised what a little rehab and therapy can do for you." He sucked in a breath. "Believe it or not, I was in those same shoes a few years back. If I can do this, so can you."

  With a glimmer of tentative hope, Logan bobbed his head.

  Tyler grinned. "Now, let's see what your doctor recommended." Reading from the page, he tapped his lips. "Hmmmm."

  "What does it say?" Curious, Logan leaned closer to try to catch a peek.

  "To work your ass off."

  Logan snorted and rolled his eyes, already fond of the outgoing therapist who suffered the same injury years earlier.

  "Don't believe me?" Tyler arched an eyebrow, held up the papers, and pointed to circled words. "No restrictions. That means I'm working your tail off."

  "Great." Logan groaned dramatically. "Just what I need, another sadist drill sergeant."

  Tyler laughed. "Think of it this way. You don't have to salute me or call me sir, and I promise not to send you to clean the latrine with a toothbrush."

  "Wonderful," he grouched but couldn't hold back the twitching of his lips.

  "I'll chip in for a real mop instead."

  Logan lost the struggle and chuckled heartily. "Why don't I think you're lying?"

  "Because I'm not." Tyler flashed straight white teeth in a wide grin.

  He wasn't sure what he expected, but his nerves settled while the promise of optimistic improvement glimmered within his reach. Tyler made him feel right at home and offered himself up as inspiration. With a common background and injury, Logan immediately held confidence in Tyler. Who better to advise him on exercises, skills, and tricks of the trade than a man who had been in his shoes before?

  "Then let's get you started." Tyler led the way through the maze of equipment.

  Chapter 21

  Hearing the front door open and shut, Gwen hurried from the kitchen and into the living room, eager to see Logan after hi
s first day at rehab. Deep down, she knew he worried about his ability to match up with the physical demands and rode himself harder than anyone else probably ever would. He seemed to take the loss of his lower leg to heart as a tragic life changer instead of realizing, with time and practice, he'd be able to do just about anything he wanted to do. She believed in him. If only he could learn to believe in himself once more.

  Logan dropped off his gym bag at the door and entered the room, his face completely blank and unreadable.

  Concern gripped her. Rushing over, she smiled brightly. "Hey there, sexy. How did it go?"

  His chin lifted as his gaze met hers. A flash of happiness and welcome crossed his features as he grinned in return. "Sexy, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah." Stopping directly in front of him, she hugged him tight before sliding her hands to lightly stroke his chest. "The stuff of wet dreams."

  "Wet dreams?" He laughed heartily, the sound music to her ears.

  "Well, okay. Maybe some men would have wet dreams about you, but all the women will definitely fantasize." She prodded his sense of humor, thrilled when he responded.

  He shook his head. "You're delusional."

  "Nope. I just know a quality specimen when I see it."

  "Specimen? What am I, research for your work now?"

  "Well…" A blast furnace crossed her face. "Now that you mention it, I suppose I could use an actual human model." She tapped her lips as if pondering the very idea.

  "Damn, you're good for my ego." Logan wrapped her in his embrace, planting a kiss to her crown.

  "Ditto." She melted into his body, enjoying the moment of closeness. Hesitant to break the light mood, she tossed out the question on top of her mind. "You never said how your day went." Stepping back, she searched his face for answers.

  "Actually, not too bad. Kicked my butt in the physical therapy gym, but the people are good there. Tyler, the head therapist, is an amputee as well. He's promised to get me back in shape, and judging from my abbreviated workout today, he's trying to make good on his word."

  "So, all in all, not as bad as you thought?"

  "Today? No. The rest of my therapy, we'll see." His lips straightened into a tight line. "I thought I'd kept up most of my strength, but I haven't. Weights I lifted with ease a few months back were too damn much now."