Falling for Her Soldier 3

by Ophelia London

  When his voice dropped off, Ellie stopped walking. “What happened?”

  The one light in this part of the course was behind him, shadowing his face. He put his hands in his back pockets and paced a few steps away from her toward a tall oak tree, its branches eclipsing a shallow sand trap.

  “It was on my last mission,” he said, leaning against the tree.

  A chill ran up Ellie’s spine. “When Sam got hurt?” she couldn’t help blurting.

  Hunter looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

  Automatically, her mind flashed to the e-mails from Charlie. She knew he’d been with Sam when it happened. She hadn’t considered that other members of the unit were with him, too.

  “You were there?”

  It took a long moment, but Hunter nodded again.

  A thickness began to build in her throat, the same strangling fear she’d experienced all those months ago, the fear she’d felt a few times since then. “Do you mind— I mean, Sam doesn’t like to talk about it with me and I’ve never pushed him, but…do you mind telling me what happened? It’s like I can’t move on until I know. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Hunter said, his expression troubled under the moonlight. “I can’t disclose everything, but I can tell you some things.”

  She exhaled, then sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself. “Okay.”

  “There were ten of us,” he began, but then broke off, not speaking for a few long beats of her heart. “Ellie, I’ve never… Sorry.” He held the back of his neck then rubbed his head. “I’ve never talked about this.”

  She waited, holding herself in a tight hug, hardly able to breathe.

  Only a few more seconds passed before he took his own deep breath and continued. “There were ten of us,” he repeated. “We didn’t know exactly where we were going beforehand, but we knew the job. In the helicopter before the drop-off, we were joking around, figuring it would be an in-and-out job and we’d be back at camp in a few hours.”

  He laughed, self-deprecating, but Ellie was frozen, glued to his every word.

  “We were dropped off on the side of a mountain, nothing around for miles. We had to hike up to reach our mark. It was dark when we got close and, per orders, we split into groups to take it from three sides…” He clenched his hands into fists and ran one under his chin. “Sorry, I have to skip ahead.”

  “That’s okay,” Ellie said.

  “I was in the last group of three; the others had already gone down the mountain toward the rendezvous point.” He paused and touched his fist to his mouth. A moment later, he lowered it. “We were ambushed.”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear, and her heart stopped.

  “We were under heavy fire for a while, and when we finally secured the location, we were separated.” He pushed off the tree. “There was an explosion.”

  The need to hear more barely outweighed the desire to cover her ears.

  “I thought the bunker was clear, but Sam never came out. We finally found him. It was bad.” He was holding onto the back of his neck again, massaging. “I radioed for help but I knew it wouldn’t come soon enough, so I—we…we got him down. And that’s it.”

  Tears burned behind Ellie’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself even tighter and tried to breathe steadily. She couldn’t imagine the horror…her brother in such danger. Hunter in such danger. Yet they’d stuck together. They’d survived.

  “Thank you for finding him,” she said in a strangled whisper.

  “I wouldn’t have left anyone up there. No one would have.” His voice dropped low, almost a whisper. “I would’ve never left Sammy.”

  Three steps and she was there, pressing herself against him. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears choking her throat as she wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Hunter. Thank you.” She buried her head in his chest and squeezed so hard. When she was able to breathe more steadily, she noticed his arms were hanging at his sides, not hugging her back, not touching her of his own accord.

  He was respecting her wish to keep her single-year streak unbroken. But this was different. She needed him.

  “Hunter,” she said, lifting her chin to look at him. “It’s okay. Please.”

  He stared down at her, still not moving. Fear and need flowed through her body, making her want to burst into tears. Finally, his arms wound around her, tentative at first, but then securely, warmly. She exhaled against his shirt, soothed by the feeling of his strong heartbeat.

  She no longer had to imagine what had happened to her brother. Hunter had told her all she needed: facts without the gory details that would give her nightmares. He’d filled in the holes that Charlie Johansson hadn’t.

  For the briefest moment, her heart stopped again.

  Charlie had been with Sam during the explosion. She already knew that. But Hunter had been there, too. However minor his role was in the story, he’d also had a hand in saving her brother’s life.

  Charlie had been there for her when she needed someone to tell her what the hell was going on half a world away. He’d been there when she had no one else to talk to. They’d formed a bond…him there, her here, talking about football and cookies and surfing, the most superfluous of subjects, just so she could keep the connection to where her brother was. She’d needed that then. He’d filled a purpose, and then he was gone. Where? She still didn’t know.

  But it wasn’t Charlie Johansson that Ellie needed anymore. It wasn’t Charlie she wanted to hold like this, and kiss and gaze at across her next hot fudge sundae.

  “Hunter…” she whispered, melting to his chest.

  …

  Every time she spoke that name, it was like an icepick to Charlie’s chest, a reminder of the guilt. But it was worth it—it would be worth it—he had to keep reminding himself.

  Talking about his mission had been more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He’d almost stopped a few times, but he knew he needed to say those words, to get it out, and he was grateful it was Ellie he could share it with. Some details had to be changed, for security purposes and to save her from unnecessary pain. She did not need to know that her brother nearly bled to death in his arms, half his face split open, or that Charlie himself was severely dehydrated and half dead by the time he made it down the mountain with Sammy unconscious on his back.

  Charlie knew she could heal now. He was glad to give her that. Surprisingly, his mental load about the subject felt slightly lighter. Had simply opening up to someone eased his burden? Maybe if he decided to continue with that, his emotional wounds could heal, too.

  So much had changed in his life since meeting Ellie. He bent his head and closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of her hair, so thankful to be holding her in his arms. When she made a little moaning sound and nuzzled into him, his eyes popped open.

  “Umm.” He leaned back and lifted his chin off her head. “I think we’re done here.”

  “I’m not,” she said, gripping him tighter.

  He chuckled, remembering the fortitude in her e-mails about her big goal; he was going to help her succeed even if he went blind. “Come on, I’m not going to be the reason you don’t reach your goal.” He dropped his arms and stepped back, forcing her to let go. “I can tell it’s important. I want to support you.”

  “You were supporting me.”

  “Funny.” He took another step back and ran a hand over his head, still not completely in control of his faculties. “Let’s talk about something else—anything else.”

  “Okay,” Ellie said. “How about the fund-raiser. We need to decide what you’re wearing for the dance.”

  Charlie shivered, the sensation of his flesh crawling. “Perfect way to kill the mood. Thank you.”

  “The idea of dancing with me kills the mood?”

  “That is the only appealing part. I meant, I hope we can save the WS, too. The other guys need it.” He shrugged. “I need it.”

  Ellie’s lips curved into an endearing smile. “So do
I.” She took one step toward him. “And dancing with you happens to be my bonus, too.”

  “See.” He wagged a finger at her. “You can’t say things like that and expect me not to want to…dance with you. Right now.” He nodded to the side. “Against that tree.”

  “Why don’t we?”

  At the suggestion, every muscle in Charlie’s body clamped down while his stomach flooded with a fiery heat. “Ellie…”

  “We could use the practice,” she added. “Only a few days till the ball.”

  He couldn’t help bursting into laugher, turning away from her for a few seconds to regain his composure. She was right, though. More tango practice was definitely needed. They’d had two pretty solid sessions today, but he still felt like any second he was going to trip over his feet and kill them both. If it hadn’t been for Ellie’s confidence in him, he’d rather face the Taliban.

  “Okay,” he said, glancing around, making sure they were alone. “But there’s no music.”

  “That’s okay,” Ellie said, stepping up to him, her arms spread, waiting for him to take the starting position. When he reached for her, she moved them into the tango stance.

  “I need to warm up first,” he said, then took her right hand in his left and placed her left on top of his shoulder. “I’ll lead.” He slid his right hand around her back and leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Forward-slide-together,” he whispered, moving her in a slow box step. “Back-slide-together.”

  If someone told him a week ago he’d be ballroom dancing around a deserted golf course, he would’ve called them crazy. But there was something about Ellie. Obviously he was willing to put himself through any kind of humiliation to make her happy, to see her smile, to give her what she wanted.

  What she wanted right then, he suddenly realized, was to slide her hand off his shoulder and grab his butt.

  “Miss Bell,” Charlie said, holding her out by the hips to keep her at arms-length away.

  “Sorry.” She dropped her gaze. “I slipped.”

  Holy hell.

  “That was a pretty huge mixed message I just sent,” she admitted. “Not cool of me—sorry.” When she tried to back up, he kept his hands on her hips, following as she stepped away, almost like they were still dancing.

  “Care to explain your actions?” he asked, forcing sternness into his voice, mostly to keep it—and his hands—from shaking.

  “Well, you see…” She paused and tucked some hair behind an ear. His fingers pressed into her hips in response. “I was hearing Michael Bublé in my head, and I thought maybe you could help take my mind off that.”

  When she leaned in and kissed his neck, his stomach muscles coiled, screaming for any kind of release. “Well now, we can’t have you thinking about Bublé,” he said, then framed her face with his hands and pulled her in.

  The way she responded to the kiss, how she made him feel, sent blood racing through his veins like a NASCAR Viper. Her mouth was moist and sweet, hints of syrupy brown sugar on her tongue. He combed his fingers through her hair, then one hand cupped her head as he dipped her back, his other arm secured around her waist.

  She giggled joyfully and tipped her chin, her hair spilling out behind her like a fiery waterfall. Still holding her against him, Charlie straightened, making her stand. “Bublé still in there?” he asked.

  Her pretty eyes glanced up and to the right, then she gave him an answering smile.

  Charlie never backed down from a challenge. “Take two, then.” He pulled her to him, pressing her tall, curvy body against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled back and hit the tree, his head spinning like a top.

  As he swept her glossy hair back and ran his mouth down her neck, she exhaled a moan so sweet that Charlie knew the sound would echo through his heart forever. Her skin felt like silk to his mouth, and smelled like flowers, tasted like honey, her breath hot against his own neck.

  Ellie suddenly grabbed him around the waist and pulled him forward, away from the tree, spinning them in a slow one-eighty turn, her mouth still pressed to his. Charlie had no idea where she was taking him; he simply held on and allowed himself to be led.

  “Bublé,” she whispered as explanation.

  Charlie stumbled backward, his feet sliding down a dip in the grass. He realized he was standing in the sand trap, Ellie balanced on the edge, a few inches taller than him. His heart pounded almost painfully hard as he gazed at her, unworldly in her beauty under the moonlight.

  She leaned down, touched her forehead to his and whispered, “Hunter.”

  He tried to ignore the word and the way it tore at his chest. He wanted to stop her, stop them, but knew he didn’t have the strength. All he could do was not move, not think, not feel her soft hands take his face and tilt it, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered. “What just happened?”

  He could have used the excuse that he didn’t want her to “slip up” again, but that wasn’t the issue. He shut his eyes and swallowed, clueless about how to form the words. “I don’t…” He knew his voice was shaking. “I don’t…feel worthy,” he finally admitted, being as honest as he could.

  When he tried to back away, she sucked in a breath. “Hey.” Her hands were on his cheeks, holding him in place. “Look at me.”

  It took a moment before he inhaled long and steady, and did as she asked.

  She was gazing at him, her lips parted, a broken, loving expression on her face. “You are,” she whispered. Then she took his head in her arms and cradled him against her chest.

  Charlie could hardly breathe. Never in his life had he felt so taken care of. He felt cherished when he was with her, and loved—the same feelings he wanted to give to her.

  Helplessly, he surrendered, and wrapped his arms all the way around her hips, never wanting to let go. Ellie shifted forward, leaning her full body weight against him. Charlie tightened his grip and pulled her off her feet, stumbling farther back into the hazard.

  Still cradling his head, she wrapped her legs around his back, and Charlie slowly knelt, lowering them onto the sand, Ellie on his lap. She shifted again, guiding him until he was lying on the sand. He pulled her onto his chest and kissed her, running his hands through her hair, feeling lost in the rhythm of their breathing, the sounds of her soft, welcoming moans every time he moved to her neck.

  “Roll me over,” she whispered, her mouth touching his ear.

  “You’ll get sand in your hair.”

  She didn’t move for a moment, then she bit his earlobe, shooting a jolt up Charlie’s body. “You think a little sand will keep me away from you?” she said as she pulled back. Fiery tendrils fell like a curtain over one eye. Just as Charlie reached up to sweep the hair back, she hugged him tightly around the middle and rolled them so he was on top, hovering over her.

  She breathed hard and giggled, seemingly proud of the accomplishment. Her hair was splayed across the sand, and her big, wide, beautiful eyes gazed up at him as he balanced on his elbows. She reached up and ran a hand across his cheek, his mouth, down his shoulder. She stopped just above his bicep, gliding her fingers in a circle over his Army tattoo. For a moment, she pressed her whole hand over it.

  “What?” he asked.

  She was quiet at first, then sank her teeth into her full bottom lip. “I…I love that you’re a soldier,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.” He noted the catch in her voice, like it had been a difficult thing for her to say.

  Charlie didn’t know how to respond to that. It must’ve had something to do with Sam. He didn’t want to think about Sam at a moment like this—not while he was hovering over Ellie, feeling her long, firm body beneath him, needing to kiss her like he needed oxygen in his brain.

  But he did think about Sam. He thought about some other things, too.

  “We suck at this,” he said.

  Ellie ran a finger across his mouth. “I beg to
differ.”

  He dipped his chin and laughed, then rolled off her and lay on his back, their shoulders touching.

  “Sorry,” she said, breathing hard. “I take full responsibility for that slip-up.”

  Charlie laughed again, louder this time. “I should think so.” He glanced at her, then up at the starry sky. “That one was all you.”

  “No more slip-ups,” she said while running her foot up his leg. “I promise.”

  Charlie groaned and draped an arm over his eyes. “That’s not helping, Eleanor,” he said. “Look, I want to give you these twenty-two days. Well, I don’t want to, but I need to, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, sitting up.

  Charlie’s impulse was to reach out and touch her hair, but he wasn’t sure he was fit to move yet.

  “We still have to dance,” she said.

  “That might be a problem.”

  Ellie gazed down at him. “Need a little help?” she asked, giving him the flirty eyes.

  Charlie groaned. “No, thank you.”

  She touched a finger to his cheek, then ran it to his ear. “What is it that men think of when they’re trying to not think about sex?”

  Charlie closed his eyes and released a sharp exhale. “Baseball,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We think about baseball, baby. But in my case”—he cracked open one eye to glare at her—“I’ll think about Bublé.”

  She took her hand off his face, folded her arms, and exhaled her own groan. “Damn that Bublé,” she muttered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ellie missed the turn into the parking lot twice. Her mind was so totally not focused on where it should be. She should be planning what to say to Rick Duffy, who she was about to meet at his newspaper office in downtown Franklin. But instead, she was thinking about Hunter, the way he’d kissed her last night, the way he’d held her and danced and laughed and was just so fun and sexy and amazing.