Falling for Her Soldier 3

by Ophelia London

  When he rotated to pull a clean shirt from his bag, she admired the way his back muscles flexed and rippled, leading down to his narrow waist and the…

  Luckily her eyes stopped right there before she got carried away.

  “Ready?” he asked, then glanced at her, evidently catching her stare of lust. “Unless you’d like to change your shirt next. I’ll wait. I’ll even help.”

  “I’m good,” she said, even though her body temperature was hotter than normal, suggesting maybe she should remove her shirt.

  He slung his bag over one shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

  While they drove in the Impala to the WS, Ellie kept glancing at the space of the bench seat between them. When she’d gotten into the car, why hadn’t she slid over to the middle seat? She was such an idiot.

  Hunter revved the engine as they idled at a red light. What a sweet car, she thought. I wonder if he lets anyone else drive it. Probably not, not from what she knew about guys and their “babies.” Yeah, she’d seen it in his eyes.

  The WS was busy for a Thursday afternoon, and they had to park way in the back. Chick was in one of the group meetings, as was Sam, so Ellie and Hunter took over his office, making phone calls and steadily checking off their long to-do list.

  It was late in the afternoon by the time Chick came through the door. Knowing he’d probably reached a stopping point, Ellie sent Hunter to play pool with some other guys while she and Chick discussed the fund-raiser for a while longer. Since the ad hit the Franklin Standard online homepage six hours ago, they’d sold eight more tables. Everything seemed to be set, not a single hiccup, which was pretty miraculous.

  Ellie wasn’t a worst-case-scenario gal, but she knew something was bound to go wrong at some point. She hoped it would be minor like the napkins or tablecloths being the wrong color, and not a major snafu like the liquor license not getting approved.

  “You’re okay to be interviewed?” she asked Chick as they wrapped up their meeting.

  “I’ll be fine. I did some PR in the service.” He displayed his jovial smile. “About fifty years ago.”

  “You’ll do great. Just speak from your heart,” Ellie said. “I expected them here thirty minutes ago.”

  “Maybe they forgot,” Chick said hopefully, wringing his hands.

  Ellie didn’t think so. Rick Duffy did not seem like the forgetful type. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” Hunter caught her eye. He was standing by the front door with his cell to his ear, gesturing outside. A minute later, he was propping open the door for three men, one holding a pretty intimidating camera. Rick was not with them.

  Ellie took in a breath and walked over, wishing she’d had the brains to run a brush through her hair. But she could still feel where Hunter’s fingers had combed through it, and she preferred that.

  “Hi,” she said to the guy with the square jaw and rather overly quaffed hair. “I’m Ellie Bell. Rick Duffy sent you?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said. “Steven Ealer, Fox News.”

  Wow. Fox. That was pretty big time.

  She also met the cameraman and the tech guy. They chatted for a few minutes while the cameraman set up. There was a bit of a crowd now, and Ellie spotted Hunter and Sam standing a few feet away. Hunter lifted a hand and waved. She nodded back, feeling warmth seep into her pores, just knowing he was near.

  “Should we get started?” Steven Ealer asked, glancing down at his phone. “My producer wants to go live in twenty.”

  “Live?” Ellie balked. “Rick said it would be taped.”

  “Did he?” Ealer said, not looking up.

  A hand of nervousness seized her throat, and she automatically looked to where Hunter had been standing just a few minutes ago. He wasn’t there, though; he was already striding toward her, a look of concern in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “We’re going live,” she said.

  Hunter looked at Ealer. “Rick said taped. No one here is a professional.”

  “Relax,” the newsman said. “Ellie and I were talking a few minutes ago.” He glanced at her. “Say exactly what you said to me, and you’ll be golden.”

  “But…” That fist gripped her throat again. Then she felt Hunter at her side, his hand pressing into the middle of her back, then going around her shoulders. She exhaled and leaned against him. “I’m not doing the interview,” she said. “Chick is.” She pointed toward him standing with a couple of guys outside his office. “Chick Taylor. He’s the one you really want to talk to.”

  Ealer gave Chick a clinical glance then turned back to Ellie. “No, you’ll look better on camera.” He tilted his head, regarding Hunter. “Is this the dance partner?”

  Ellie felt Hunter’s body go very still. Was he holding his breath, too? “Um, yeah,” she said. “But he’s not—”

  “Are you two…together?” Ealer cocked an eyebrow.

  She sputtered. “Umm…”

  “Yes,” Hunter said and tightened his arm around her. “We are.” She looked up to find him staring straight ahead, the cutest little crooked smile curling his lips. Her heart sputtered and skipped around inside her chest like a happy hummingbird. Yes, they were together, and she was proud of it.

  “Fantastic,” Ealer said. “We’ll get you on camera, too.”

  Hunter stiffened again. “No.”

  “No, no,” Ellie added in a panic. “Not him. It’s just me and Chick—or just me if you want. No one else.” She leaned into Hunter and whispered, “Don’t worry, I got this.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered back, squeezing her side.

  Ealer was talking on his phone, relaying information to the tech guy, then he pulled a small mirror out of his inside jacket pocket. “We’re on in ten. Get some shots of the room,” he told the camera guy. “Then sweep over to me.” After checking his reflection, he grabbed his phone and started flicking a finger across the face. “Ellie,” he said.

  “Show time,” Hunter said in her ear.

  Just as his arm around her was sliding off, he suddenly gripped Ellie’s waist and spun her to his chest, giving her just enough time to gasp before he pressed his mouth over hers. This would usually cause her body to go into hyperventilation, but instead, it calmed her down, soothed her, as his warm hand held the side of her face, his thumb slowly stroking her cheek.

  “You’ll do great, Eleanor,” he whispered over her mouth. “And I’ll be right here, watching all your greatness.” He kissed her cheek, her nose, then her forehead.

  “Thanks,” she whispered back, holding onto his sides, not wanting to let go.

  He gave her one more kiss, slower this time, releasing woozy chemicals into her bloodstream. “Try not to look too sexy,” he added, resting his forehead to hers. “I’m going to be fighting off half of Indiana after this.”

  She giggled softly, wondering if she would be able to walk away from him without stumbling and falling on her face…on live TV. “I’ll try,” she said.

  When she finally stepped back, Chick was behind her. “Hey, good news,” she said. “You’re off the hook.”

  Chick blew out a breath, tension visibly leaving his face and shoulders. “Yeah?”

  “Yep, it’s just me. I hope that’s okay.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Are you kidding? I was sweating bullets. People would much rather see you than an old jarhead like me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Ellie muttered. “I don’t know what I’m going to say.”

  Chick touched her arm. “Just speak from the heart,” he said, giving her the advice she’d given him a few minutes ago.

  Ellie rolled her eyes at the good-natured irony. “Thanks a lot.”

  Steven Ealer promptly ushered them to another side of the room where there was better light. He inserted a single earbud and spoke in the mic. “You got me?” he asked, probably communicating with someone at the station. “Right. We’re set here.” He nodded at Ellie. “Ten seconds.”

  She shook out her
clammy hands and glanced at Hunter, who was a few feet away out of the shot. He gave her the thumbs up.

  What happened next was kind of a blur. Ellie was too nervous to speak as eloquently as she’d wanted, but hopefully the heart of the message got through. It took all of ninety seconds to answer Ealer’s questions, and while still in mid-sentence, he glanced down at his phone, reading something on the face.

  “Now let’s meet your dance partner,” he said. “This is the real story, folks. He’s never danced before and now he’s being paired with a professional. That’s something out of Hollywood, isn’t it?”

  No! Ellie’s heart stopped dead—Hunter did not want to be in the spotlight. She tried to grab the mic but wasn’t fast enough. The camera followed Ealer as he moved to Hunter and took his arm, positioning him in the shot. “So, I’m sure you’re plenty nervous.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hunter said, seemingly cool as a cucumber. Soldier’s mentality…always prepared to be under fire.

  “Not only is this your first time dancing, but in a public venue. You’re pretty brave, son.”

  “I have an amazing teacher,” Hunter said, then winked at Ellie.

  Winked at her. On live TV. She loved this man, all right.

  “You’re Army,” Ealer said, glancing at his phone, obviously reading notes.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, again, you’re a more heroic man than most, uh”—he glanced at his phone—“Staff Sergeant Charlie Johansson, very heroic. As always, you’re in our prayers. Best of luck to you both. Ellie, any final words?”

  But Ellie’s entire body was numb, though she was vaguely aware that the mic was hovering under her nose. After a moment, she managed to tip her head and look at the man at her side. “What did he call you?”

  The man didn’t answer.

  Steven Ealer pulled the mic back. “I’m sorry.” He frowned at his phone. “Did I get your name wrong? Or your rank?”

  “No, sir,” the man said. But he wasn’t looking at Ealer; he was looking at her. “Charlie Johansson. That’s me.”

  Ellie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t understand what was happening. “I don’t…” She put a hand to her cheek and swayed back. Ealer said a few more things that she didn’t hear, then he lowered the mic and walked off toward the camera guy.

  “Ellie—I’m sorry.”

  She stared at him, at his blue eyes with the golden rings, too blindsided to fully process.

  “I wanted to tell you the truth,” he continued, “but I…”

  “But what?” She backed away from him, bumping into people.

  “I wanted to tell you,” he repeated, following her through the crowd. When he got close, she put out her hands to stop him.

  “You’re Charlie,” she managed to say. “And Hunter?”

  He lowered his eyes briefly, nodded, then looked up, his lips pressed together.

  She backed up some more, like she was seeing a ghost. “The Charlie Johansson who e-mailed me from Afghanistan?”

  The guy put a hand over his heart. “You have no idea how much those e-mails meant to me. You were so sweet and…and you changed me, you helped—”

  “Stop,” she snapped. “Don’t ruin that memory.”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you at first. I wanted you to like me, trust me.”

  “Trust?” Her mind went blank, wiped so clean from shock that she couldn’t think. But she could feel…and what she felt the most was betrayed. Tricked. “You knew I had no clue who you really were—you kept it from me. The whole time we were together.”

  “Yes.” His next words came out in a rush. “It was stupid—I shouldn’t have. But when I saw you that first day”—he touched his chest—“when I realized I was about to meet you, I didn’t know what to say.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “So you said nothing?” She heard the shriek in her voice. “You let me keep believing…”

  “It just happened,” he insisted, stepping forward. Ellie moved back. “Sam introduced me as Hunter and I didn’t correct him—”

  “Sam?” Her eyes shot to her brother a few feet away. His face was white.

  “Ellie,” Sam said, spreading his hands, “it’s not what you think.”

  “You knew about this? Ha! Of course you knew. He’s your Army buddy, right?” She was suddenly aware of the decent-sized crowd watching them, as well as a damn news crew.

  She clenched her jaw and stormed toward the exit, not making eye contact with anyone she passed. She was a few steps out the door when someone grabbed her arm.

  “Ellie, please.”

  She turned to see Charlie Johansson staring down at her.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, blood whooshing behind her ears. “That was on TV.”

  “It should not have happened that way. Let me explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain,” she said hotly. “I know exactly what happened.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure.” She folded her arms. “What did I expect? You’re the Big Game Hunter.”

  He flinched like he’d been slapped. “That’s not it at all. I wanted to tell you.”

  “Yeah, you said that three times, Charlie. But you didn’t tell me, did you? For four days you played me, just like every other man in my life, just like Hunter plays every girl.” She felt nauseous at her own words, the truthfulness of them.

  He shook his head. “I’m not that guy anymore. I swear. Remember our e-mails?”

  “Don’t.” She waved a hand angrily, but tears crept up her throat. “You stopped e-mailing me,” she blurted. “Out of the blue, no warning, no good-bye. Why?”

  “Things had gone too far. I was becoming too…interested in you, attached, and I couldn’t, not with you being Sam’s sister. Despite how I felt—there’s a code.”

  “A code?” she echoed, her mind spinning. “So instead of being honest about it with me, you disappeared. Then poof, a month later, you reappear as Hunter…all nice and reformed.” She shook her head at her own blindness. “I can’t believe I fell for it. I can’t believe I trusted you, after everything I knew. The Charlie I thought I was e-mailing would not do that to me, but it’s exactly what Big Game Hunter does.”

  He flinched again, another slap. “I’m not that guy anymore,” he repeated.

  “You’re exactly that guy.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You lied to me, you humiliated me in a room full of people, and you made me fall in…” Before she could finish, she slapped a hand over her mouth, turned, and stormed away.

  …

  Charlie stared after her, completely paralyzed. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. Chasing after her wouldn’t help, he knew that. While only a few feet away, Ellie suddenly turned back, a hand still covering her mouth. Charlie couldn’t help feeling an inkling of hope.

  “Give me your keys,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Your car keys. I didn’t drive here.” She glanced past his shoulder, her green eyes growing wide.

  Charlie peered behind him. Some of the crowd had trickled outside to watch. “I’ll drive you,” he said in a low rush, knowing she might not be in the best condition to be behind the wheel. “Anywhere. No questions asked.”

  “No.” The venom in her voice and eyes froze him in place. “Give me your keys.”

  Wordlessly, he pulled them from his pocket and handed them over.

  She didn’t look at him, didn’t say a word. She just grasped the keys and ran toward the back of the parking lot. Charlie could only watch her go, more powerless than he’d ever felt.

  She was right. No matter how he tried to justify the reason, he’d lied. Maybe it was one of those white lies, the ones used strictly to not hurt the other person. But he’d definitely, purposefully withheld information. For four days. And he could not explain that away.

  “This is my fault,” Sam said, coming up from behind. “I shouldn’t have made you keep it from her after I found out.”

  “It’s not your fault,�
�� Charlie said flatly. “It’s mine. All mine.” A cold, raw hollowness spread through his chest as he stared straight ahead. “Why did I do that?”

  “It seemed harmless at the time.”

  Charlie rounded on him. “Harmless? Did you see her face? Did you hear her?” He turned back in time to see his black 1967 Impala screeching out of the lot. But he didn’t care about some damn car. He cared about Ellie.

  “At least it’s out in the open now,” Sam said. “That’s what you wanted.”

  Charlie shook his head, kneading the back of his neck, staring toward where she’d disappeared.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Sam added. “She’ll be mad at me for a while, but it’s not like you’ll run into each other very often after today.”

  “You don’t understand,” Charlie said, kneading his neck with both hands now, desperation building in his throat like a primal scream. “She has to forgive me. I don’t know what to do.”

  “About what? Why are you so worried about… Ohhh.”

  Charlie was still staring across the parking lot at the last spot where he’d seen her. But then Sam walked into his field of vision.

  “You’re in love with her.”

  It was like a machete to the heart. Charlie couldn’t answer for a few moments, but then he dipped his head and nodded.

  “Hell,” he heard Sam say.

  Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what to do. No strategy, no plan of attack, no orders from his commanding officer. And it was too late to protect the home front—his heart was long gone. It had just driven off.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, Ellie sat in the parking lot, fingering the plain silver key ring. She hadn’t slept all night and her head pounded from stress and fatigue. But life didn’t stop just because one woman was stupid enough to fall for the town’s biggest player, then get pissed off because she’d been played.

  It was worse than cliché; it was her pattern.

  She took one last clinical glance around the car, knowing she’d never be inside it again, then climbed out and walked to the studio. Jane was at reception and greeted her with a much-too-chipper hello.