Zone of Action: A Career Soldier Military Romance

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Hey.” I covered her hand where it was still wrapped around the cold bottle. “It’s okay. Sometimes it’s easier to open up to a stranger than it is to people you know. I don’t mind.”

  “Yeah, well . . . I do.” She swallowed and stared over my shoulder. “When I do hook-ups, it’s not to open up and share all my deepest, darkest thoughts. It’s to work off sexual tension, have as many orgasms as I can and then walk away with no questions asked and no hard feelings. I don’t need to tell you about my family or hear about yours. None of that matters, because we’re never going to see each other again.”

  I felt the impact of her words like a series of slaps to my face. The fact that I knew she was right didn’t change that.

  “I didn’t ask you to hear your life story or even for a second date. I just . . .” I waved one hand. “Just said it was okay to vent about your family a little, if you wanted.” I grasped her wrist and pulled until she lost balance and fell onto her back on the mattress, lying alongside me. “I’ve spent more time inside your body tonight than outside it. I don’t think a chat about stuff that drives you crazy is going to make us any closer. Opening up isn’t weakness, you know.”

  “Thanks for the psychoanalysis, but it’s not necessary. I’m good. I’ve got plenty of friends who I can vent to. So . . .” Harper rolled away from me, sat up and slid off the bed again, this time moving quickly across the room to her closet. I watched in silence as she shoved one arm and then the other into a white cotton robe, knotting the belt around her waist. She picked up her phone from the dresser and made a show of checking the time. “Wow, it’s almost three.” She yawned hugely. “I don’t mean to kick you out, but . . .”

  “Yeah, you do.” I reached for my boxers at the end of the bed. “But don’t worry. Just because I was making conversation doesn’t mean I’m suddenly falling for you and wanting more. I’m not going to beg you to let me sleep over. I’m cool with everything just like we said it would be.”

  “Great. I’m glad. I don’t know why you’re getting so huffy about it.” She crossed her arms again.

  “I’m not the one getting huffy, sugar. You got all uptight, but it had nothing to do with anything I did. You’re pissed at yourself because you got comfortable and almost started opening up.” I stood up and tugged on my pants. “It happens, Harper. We had sex tonight. We were as close as two people can be, and even when that doesn’t mean it’s going to lead to promises and forever, it’s natural that you’d be a little . . .” I paused, searching for the right word as I zipped up and buttoned my pants. “Vulnerable.”

  “I don’t feel vulnerable.” She all but snapped out the word, as though it were distasteful on her tongue. “Listen, Jake, tonight was fun. I had a good time, I had some lovely orgasms, and I’m appreciative of that. But I’m pretty sure I gave as good as I got. We both knew what we wanted going into tonight, before we even left the bar, and now it’s over. Time for you go home—or wherever you want to go—and time for me to get some sleep. I don’t want to argue with you over something that doesn’t really matter, since we’re not friends, we’re not lovers and our time together is ending now.” Bending, she retrieved my shirt from the floor and tossed it to me. “Do you want me to call you a cab? Or will you arrange for a RideIt?”

  “I’ll take care of it.” I found my phone still in the back pocket of my pants, and bringing up the app for RideIt, I stabbed at the buttons, requesting a ride. Whether or not anyone would be around to drive me back to post at this time of the morning was doubtful, and even if I did get as far as the guard shack, I’d have to hoof it to the barracks from there, since it was unlikely the driver would have a military ID and thus wouldn’t be allowed onto Fort Lee. That realization made me cancel the request and open a browser to look for a cab company.

  While the site came up, I finished buttoning my shirt, tucking it into my waistband. Harper had turned her back to me and was scrolling through her own phone, the very image of casual indifference. Still, I could tell from the stiff set of her shoulders that she was tense and anxious for me to get the hell out of her apartment.

  “I’m going to wait outside.” I stalked around her bed, pausing for a moment by where she stood. “You want to come lock the door behind me? You need to set the deadbolt.”

  “I know what I have to do. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She turned, her face blank and shuttered. “You’re welcome to stay inside until your ride gets here.”

  “No, thanks. I think I’d be warmer outside.” It was a low blow, and I felt a twinge of guilt when I saw her wince. “And I don’t want to inconvenience you in any way.”

  “Thanks.”

  We walked to her front door in silence. I turned the lock, remembering with an odd pang how I’d felt when I’d locked it about six hours ago. I’d been on fire then, dying to get my hands on this woman who now stood a few feet away. It hadn’t been at all awkward then, but now that it was over—now that we’d fucked and she’d finished with me—there was nothing whatsoever comfortable about it.

  “Uh, well, thanks. I hope . . .” I stopped talking. What did I hope? That she had a nice life? That maybe we ran into each other again someday and could have a repeat performance? At that idea, my dick stirred a little. Down, boy, I chided it. Ain’t gonna happen.

  “Yeah.” Harper’s tongue darted out, running between her lips. “No need for thanks. Tonight was . . . mutually beneficial, I think.”

  “I guess so.” I felt weird offering her my hand, but she clearly wasn’t coming in for a hug. “See you around.”

  She took my hand, squeezed it once and released it. “Yep. Get home safe. I’m going to bed now—well, to sleep—but if your ride doesn’t show or something, just knock on the door or ring the bell.”

  “I’m good.” I took a deep breath and opened the door. “Bye.”

  Outside, the air was damp and heavy, with a good measure of chill still in it. I found the number for the cab company and called, speaking low so as not to disturb any of Harper’s neighbors. I wondered if they were used to seeing an assortment of men leaving her apartment in the middle of the night, and then I immediately felt bad for thinking that. After all, if I’d had a house where I could be alone with chicks, there would have been a steady stream of different women leaving my front door on the weekends, and I wouldn’t have regrets about that. Why was it so different when it was a woman who could be perceived as promiscuous? My older sisters would kick my ass for thinking that way.

  As I waited for the taxi to show, I felt strangely off-kilter. Usually after a hook-up, I was full of energy and happy to get out of the woman’s bedroom. I was always relieved when there wasn’t a scene or the almost-inevitable questions: Will you call me? Can we do this again? Tonight should’ve been my dream come true. I’d had some of the most creative, mind-shattering, intense sex of my life, and the woman who’d shared it with me hadn’t expected a damn thing from me afterward, other than for me to get out of her house and let her sleep. Like Harper had pointed out, we’d gotten exactly what we both wanted.

  Why the hell did I feel so empty and alone, then?

  A bright yellow cab rounded the corner, slowing at the curb in front of me. I climbed into the back seat and told the driver that I needed to go to the bachelor officers’ quarters on Fort Lee. He nodded with a slight smile, and we pulled off into the night. With every ticking of the meter, I told myself that I’d be fine once I got back on post and slept a little.

  I hoped I was right.

  Chapter Four

  Harper

  “Hey, you look familiar. I think I remember you. Hmmm, let me think . . . Hildie? Haley? Groucho?”

  I rolled my eyes as I slid into the booth across from Samantha. I knew she was only teasing, but the truth was that I hadn’t had much time for her lately, and I felt guilty about that. The restaurant had been so busy that time off had been virtually non-existent. The fact that we’d both had a few free hours today and could meet for lunch w
as a small miracle.

  “Ha, ha, ha, very funny. It is to laugh.” I sipped the ice water she’d ordered for me. “I know my schedule is crazy, but you haven’t exactly been sitting around twiddling your thumbs, either. How’s everything at the National Park Service?”

  Samantha worked in interactive history at the Petersburg Battlefield. While her job wasn’t as intense and demanding as mine could be, I knew she threw herself into everything she did.

  “Oh, it’s great. We just wrapped up a big homeschool program last week, where the students each chose a soldier who was here in Petersburg during the siege and battle. They researched their subject and did some hands-on activities that he would’ve done here, too. It was pretty incredible . . . by the end, some of the students were so invested in the men they’d been studying that they cried when they found out their fates.”

  “Wow.” I was impressed. History had never meant that much to me, not even when it was my own ancestors involved in the battles or occasions. “I bet they never forget what they learned here. You make it come alive to them. If I’d had a teacher like you, maybe I’d remember more about what I was taught.”

  “You can still learn, you know. We do programs for adults, too. It’s called lifetime learning.” Samantha winked at me. “Something to keep in mind for all your idle hours.”

  “Yeah, because there are so many of those.” I snorted and picked up the menu. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

  “Hawaiian chicken salad. It’s excellent here.” She tilted her head, frowning at me. “You look tired. Everything all right?”

  “When am I not tired?” I scanned the list of options in front of me, not really seeing any of them. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a long week.”

  “Didn’t you have off last Friday night? I thought you were going out with Corey and looking for looooooove.” She stretched out the word. “Or, you know. Whatever it is you have that passes for that. Wild sexy times and hooking up.”

  I laughed. “Oh, Sam, you’re starting to sound like an old married lady, and you haven’t even had the wedding yet. Cast your mind back to when we were both single, living together, and having those wild sexy times together.” I paused. “Well, you know what I mean. Not together, together. Alongside each other.”

  “Harper, honey, how often did we really do that? Maybe once or twice? When I think about when we lived together, I mostly remember late-night pizza, beer and movie sessions and lots of long talks. We didn’t hit the bars that often.”

  She wasn’t wrong, I realized. My trips to find limited-engagement, one-night-only fun hadn’t really started until after Samantha had moved out. I had a sudden flash of memory from last Friday night—or more accurately, early Saturday morning—when Jake had tried to tell me that opening up to him was okay. I’d told him that I had plenty of friends to talk to, but the truth was that I didn’t spend much time talking to anyone about anything real. I liked Corey, but we were work buddies, and when we weren’t working, we were each other’s bar hook-up support team. But that wasn’t friendship. The deepest conversations we’d had involved which guys had the best ass.

  And while I adored Samantha and had in fact trusted her and shared with her during our years of living together, we were in different places now. Her world revolved around Max and their love and approaching marriage. She was learning how to be an Army wife, and she’d made friends among Max’s buddies and their wives and girlfriends. I couldn’t fault her for that—not at all—but I had to admit that I missed her . . . and that part of me felt left behind.

  I answered her now. “I guess we didn’t. But still. You remember what being single was like, right? When you haven’t had any of the sexy time for a while, and you just need someone else to get you off? Someone who isn’t your own hand or your favorite vibrator?”

  She shrugged. “I guess so. I just haven’t had to think about that for a while.”

  “Okay. Well, lucky you. I don’t have the luxury of a fiancé in my bed every night, so I have to go hunt up a decent candidate.”

  Sam leaned her chin on her hand. “And did you find one last weekend?”

  I sighed. “Actually, I did. We had an amazing time. He was . . . incredible. Like, bang the pictures right off the fucking wall incredible.”

  “Umm . . . nice. I think?” She quirked an eyebrow.

  “Very nice. And then not so nice, when I needed him to be just a little naughtier. He was a dream hook-up. He was rough, but I trusted him. He was in charge without making me feel threatened. And when it was my turn to call the shots, he didn’t have any trouble with that, either. It was one of the most amazing nights of sex I’ve ever had.” I paused. “Times seven.”

  “Seven?” Samantha gave a silent whistle. “Good for you, girlfriend. That’s got to be a record of some kind.”

  “It was for me.” I sighed. “Let’s just say I was very relaxed on Saturday.” That wasn’t precisely true, but Sam didn’t need to know that. I had no plans to share how my night with Jake Robinson had ended.

  “So are you going to see him again? Is this a thing? Oh, you could bring him to the engagement party if you wanted.” She folded her hands under her chin, her eyes sparkling.

  “Whoa there, Sadie, Sadie, almost-married lady. You’re running away without the wagon. Because there is no wagon.”

  She frowned. “In this scenario, who’s the wagon?”

  I waved my hand. “Not a who, a what. The wagon is my supposed relationship with the guy from Friday night. It wasn’t that at all. It was just a hook-up.”

  “But still, you could—”

  “No, I couldn’t. We didn’t exchange numbers. We’re not seeing each other again. We met at the bar, we had one fantastic night of sex, and that was that.”

  The waitress appeared at our table just then, smiling as she took our order. I hadn’t had a chance to think about what I wanted, so I copied Sam and had the Hawaiian chicken salad, too.

  Once we were alone again, Samantha heaved a sigh. “Well, damn. I was hoping you’d met someone and maybe he’d turn out to be the one for you.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, sweetie. If the one really exists, which I’m not sure he does, this dude wasn’t him.” Something clutched in my stomach as I said the words, and the restlessness I’d been experiencing since Saturday ratcheted up a little. It felt as if I were lying to both my friend and to myself.

  “Well, maybe you’ll meet someone at the engagement party this weekend. You’re all set to be there, right? You got the time off work and everything?”

  “I did, and I will. I can’t wait. Are you excited?”

  She grinned. “I really am. It’s starting to feel so real now, you know?” In a move that I was fairly certain was unconscious, she lifted her left hand, where the diamond solitaire glittered. “Sometimes it’s hard for me believe that Max and I are . . .well, Max and I. Or Max and me, more correctly, I guess. Some mornings I wake up in his arms, and I have to pinch myself to be sure I’m not dreaming.” She lifted one shoulder. “I’m not saying we have something perfect, because nothing is that. But I’m so damned happy, and I think he is, too. I never imagined it could be like this.”

  “I’m glad for you both.” I really was, too. I liked Max, and Samantha deserved every bit of happiness she could find.

  “And if I found my forever, there’s no reason to think you can’t. That’s why I’m saying, on Saturday night, come with an open mind, all right? A lot of Max’s friends—his single and very attractive friends—are going to be there. I think you’d hit it off with at least one of them.” She tilted her head, thinking. “I wish Derek were coming. He’s funny and really smart, and you two would hit it off. But he was injured a while back, and Max thinks he’s dealing with post-traumatic depression. So that wouldn’t work.” She brightened. “Oh! Owen Hughes. He’s single, and he’s a really nice guy.”

  The name rang a bell in the back of my head, but I couldn’t figure out why exactly. I didn’t think I knew anyon
e named Owen. I was just grateful that she hadn’t mentioned any of Max’s friends named Jake. I’d realized after he’d left that I didn’t know his rank in the Army or what he actually did. He’d said he was stationed at Fort Lee, but beyond that, we hadn’t gotten into details. But I figured it was a big post; the chances that he might be acquainted with Max and Samantha had to be pretty small.

  “Look, Sam, I appreciate the sentiment, and I know that you want me to be happy because you are. I love you for that. But I really am happy now. I like my life. I don’t need a husband, a fiancé or even a boyfriend. I like my occasional nights of fun with no strings.”

  “Hmmm.” She stared at me, and I wasn’t sure I liked the expression on her face. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I didn’t trust the tone of her voice, either. “That’s it?”

  “Sure.” Our salads arrived then, and we were quiet as the server placed the plates in front of us. When she’d left again, I frowned at my friend.

  “I don’t trust you.”

  Sam flashed wide eyes at me. “Why would you say that? Look, Harper, if you tell me you’re satisfied with your life, with your lonely, solitary and empty life, who am I to tell you that you’re wrong? I only hoped you might meet someone you’d like at the party this weekend. That’s all. But if you tell me you’re not interested, you know me. I don’t push.”

  Stabbing a chunk of pineapple, I stuck it into my mouth. “Uh huh.”

  “Now let me tell you about how wedding planning is going. Do you think you can carve out an afternoon next month to go bridesmaid dress shopping? Your schedule is the most demanding, so if you give me a date, I’ll make sure everyone else can work around it.”

  For the rest of our lunch, Samantha chattered about the wedding, the party and other topics that had nothing to do with my love life or lack thereof. I should have been relieved and thankful.