Hold On (Delos Series Book 5)

by Lindsay McKenna

  There was a quiet confidence and ease to Beau that she appreciated so much. Every time she looked at his hands, she wanted him to touch her, explore her, and she found herself thinking almost constantly about how it had felt making love to him. After their kiss at the door, she knew that she wanted to feel him close again, as close as possible. She just didn’t know when.

  Meanwhile, being around him all the time was giving her the stability and calm she needed right now. He was like an unobtrusive shadow moving in between her family members, never disturbing the energy or what was going on. She supposed it was his black ops background. Beau was just like her grandpa, or vice versa. Callie swore they came from the same mold and began to wonder more about her grandfather’s military experience. He never talked about it.

  “Here you go,” Beau said, sliding over a white mug steaming with the mulled wine in it. He took a stool next to her, his cup in his hand.

  “Thanks.” She took a tentative sip. “Mmm, my mother makes the best mulled wine, doesn’t she?”

  “I’ve never tasted it before,” Beau admitted, “but it’s good. I like the orange flavor in it.” He eyed the strings of popcorn. “Looks like you’re making good headway with that.”

  She smiled and looked at the strings she’d laid out, ready to be put on the tree. “I’m an old hand at this. When Dara was here, she and I would do this together.”

  “Do you miss her right now?”

  Shrugging, Callie picked up the mug, absorbing Beau’s nearness. “I know she’s happy having Matt with her. Plus his family is flying in for the holidays.” She gave him a tender look. “I feel like I’ve already been given the best Christmas present ever: you.” She saw Beau’s cheeks go ruddy and he became almost bashful for a moment as she felt him take her sincere compliment into his heart. In that moment, Callie realized just how sensitive he could be and that as a Delta operator, he had never shown this side to her. Reaching over, she grazed his shaven jaw. “Really, you are a gift to me, Beau.”

  He caught her hand, placing a kiss on her opened palm, looking into her glistening green eyes, which held love in them for him. Beau could feel it radiating off Callie and heard it in her wispy, emotional voice. He almost let fly with the fact that he loved her but at the last second swallowed it. When he told Callie those words, he wanted to be alone with her. “You’ve been a Christmas gift since I saw you dance at Bagram, gal. Nothing’s changed. Did you know that?” Beau saw her eyes go soft, her lips parting. If he’d been anywhere but here, he’d have kissed her until she melted into him.

  “I like the idea of being someone’s gift. That’s nice … thank you.”

  Beau had to get off this line of conversation or he was going to blurt out how he really felt about Callie. “Have you talked to Dara lately?” Beau saw that Callie’s green eyes were clear. He liked the warmth simmering between them. Had one kiss shared between them done all of this? He wrestled with ways to find out what Callie was thinking and feeling. He reluctantly released her hand so she could reclaim it.

  “We talk every day.”

  “Good, because right now you need that kind of support.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Yes, I do.” She reached out, touching his jaw. “But you have helped me so much by just being here, Beau.”

  “Well, you’ve got me for a whole month, so I hope I don’t wear out my welcome,” he teased. He saw Callie’s eyes grow shadowed, then clear. Was it fear? He decided to press it. “What was that look about?”

  “Oh,” she muttered, shrugging. “In my idealistic dream world you wouldn’t go back to the Army. You’d always be here with me.”

  Inwardly, Beau anchored over that unexpected admission from her. His heart blew open. Did Callie mean it? The sincere look in her eyes said yes. Throttling his emotions, keeping them under control, he tried to sound unaffected by her words. This had to be the shock talking through Callie. Beau didn’t think she honestly realized what she’d just said to him. He would ask her later, when they were alone. He knew from his own wrestling with shock that he’d sometimes say things without realizing the depth or importance of what he’d shared with one of his teammates. It didn’t mean Callie was lying, however. Shock made a person say things they truly felt or believed. Under normal circumstances, those things would never come out of their mouth. But shock did funny things to a person’s brain and emotions. If only Callie really meant what she’d said. “Nothing wrong with dreams and idealism, gal,” Beau said gently. “What other dreams do you have?”

  Callie looked around the large living room, her eyes softening even more. “I didn’t realize just how much I missed my ranching life. At age eighteen I left, because I wanted adventure. I thought life on our ranch was really dull and boring.”

  “I see. So you went to work for the Hope Charity?”

  Nodding, Callie sipped the warm wine, the taste of the spices on her tongue. “I did. My parents wanted me to go to college, but honestly, I hated school. I’m a hands-on kind of woman. I learn by doing. I didn’t learn from books. Dara did, but I didn’t.”

  “Your grandpa was saying you were a lot like your father. Do you think you are?”

  She gave her father, Connor, who was sitting on a living room couch with her mother sorting through decorations, a loving look. “Me and my dad are definitely a lot alike. Dara is a carbon copy of Mom.”

  “Your dad’s a surgeon. That’s hands-on, don’t you think?”

  She laughed quietly and nodded. “Yes, but I don’t have his smarts.”

  “You have lots of intelligence, Callie. I saw it in Afghanistan. I see it here. You have your dad’s desire to learn by doing. I’m sure that with every surgery he performs on a patient, he learns something new.”

  She tilted her head, drowning in his shadowy gray eyes. “Yes, you’re right, I do. I’ve always been this way.”

  “Your grandpa was saying it’s going to be pretty nice weather for the next five days. I was wondering if you might teach me how to ride. You have that great indoor arena next to the horse barn. Think you could teach me how to stay in a saddle?”

  “I’d love to!” she said, perking up. “I know you said you and your brothers rode the neighbor’s mule.”

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning, “but that doesn’t mean I know how to ride a decent-size horse.” He lost his smile and held her green gaze. “Callie, I’d really like to go horseback riding with you. You could show me your ranch, the trails you use. I know the snow is deep in some places, but in other areas, it isn’t. What do you think?”

  She clearly loved the idea. Her eyes bright, she said, “I can’t wait!” Now the life had returned to her face, and Beau was determined to keep it there. His ass might get saddle sores, but he didn’t care. And Graham was right: getting Callie outdoors, or doing something she was good at, would draw her out. Then he could honestly begin to see where she was at.

  *

  Callie woke up screaming. It was dark and she gasped for air, finding her legs trapped beneath the tangle of covers. Kicking them off, she whimpered, pulling her legs out from beneath the blanket. Oh God, she hated these nightmares! It had been such a wonderful evening with her family trimming the tree. There had been so much laughter and singing of Christmas carols, and so many warm memories from the past.

  A soft knock came at the bedroom door. Callie groaned, pushing off the bed, and wiped her damp hair away from her face. She turned on the light with a trembling hand and opened it. Beau stood in the hall, dressed in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, his eyes filled with concern.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “It was a nightmare, Beau. I didn’t mean to wake you. Oh, I knew this would happen. I’m so sorry …”

  “It’s all right,” he said soothingly.

  “W-what time is it?” she asked, feeling like a storm-tossed ship at sea.

  He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Oh three hundred. I mean, three a.m.”

  Hearing the thickness of sleep in his voice, she felt awful for waking h
im. “Was your door closed?”

  His mouth crooked. “Yeah, but I have wolf hearing, Callie. Is there anything I can I do to help you?”

  Her heart opened to him as he stood there, ready to help and support her, whatever the hour. “I-I don’t know,” she whispered. “When I get these nightmares, I have to get up or it’ll come back if I try to go back to sleep.” She rubbed her face, ashamed to admit it to him. “When I five, I got scared by a grizzly along a stream. My father was with me, but I felt such terror. The grizzly was at least eight hundred pounds and so close to us. I just froze.”

  “Yes?”

  “I had horrible nightmares for nearly a year after that, Beau. Dara and I shared a room at that time. I kept waking her up. She’d get angry and stomp off to Mom and Dad’s bedroom, wake them up, asking them to take me out of the room so she could sleep. I felt so humiliated … so ashamed …”

  He reached out, caressing her slumped shoulder, seeing the shame and understanding now how far back it really went. “How often did you get them after that?”

  “Three or four times a week for about a year. It was an awful time for me, Beau. I’m sure Dara and my family were stressed by my doing it, too.”

  “I believe your parents and grandparents would understand, Callie. They love you. I’m sure they worried for you and wished they could do more to help you.”

  She smiled faintly. “Grandpa would always take me out of the bedroom, carry me down the hall, and make me hot chocolate. And then he’d go and get Dara. The three of us would sit at the table drinking it. He’d take us back to our room, tuck us in, kiss our cheek, and we’d dropped off to sleep.”

  “That’s because Graham understood better than anyone, Callie, what trauma and shock do to a person. He knew and he was a great support for you.”

  “I love him so much.” She lifted her chin, looking into his shadowed eyes. “And you’re so much like him, Beau.”

  He smiled a little and continued to caress her shoulder, seeing her respond positively. “This nightmare you just had? Was it because of that time as a five-year-old or the ambush?” he asked quietly, reaching out, smoothing strands of hair away from her pale face.

  “The ambush … damn it, I just hate when this happens! I’m so tired, and I need to sleep, Beau. And I’m not taking sleeping pills, because I hate them even more,” she said with distaste.

  “Tell you what, gal,” he said. “How about this? Climb back into your bed, and I promise, no funny stuff.” He held up his hands. “I’ll just tuck you next to me and hold you so that you go back to sleep. Maybe the nightmare won’t come back that way.”

  She licked her lower lip, thinking a moment. Then she said, “Yes … I’d like that.”

  “Okay,” he murmured, “I’ll hold you, Callie. Nothing more.” He looked deep into her distraught eyes. “Okay?”

  “Y-yes, that’s good. Thank you …”

  Beau wasn’t sure whether Callie would go along with his suggestion or not. But she’d surprised him with her answer. More than anything, Beau had to be as good as his word. He knew his body would react to her closeness even though she wore a frumpy pink flannel nightgown that fell to her ankles. “Okay, let’s go,” he urged her.

  Callie felt a lot of her terror reduce as she slid into her bed beside Beau, who covered them both up. He’d promised not to do anything but hold her. A good part of her didn’t want that at all. But another part of her did. It was a step that Callie was willing to take with Beau. She wasn’t emotionally ready to take that last step. At least not tonight, although her lower body was already reacting to his closeness, his scent, and the feel of him sliding behind her, fitting her gently against his body.

  As he slid his arm beneath her neck and brought her back against his front, she sighed and closed her eyes. Already, she could feel his erection against her, but the way he tucked her down the length of his strong body suggested he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her or the situation.

  “Now,” Beau said gruffly, her head beneath his jaw, her hair silky against his cheek, “you can go back to sleep, Callie. Close your eyes. I’ll hold you, and no more nightmares will bother you.”

  She was utterly emotionally exhausted and closing her eyes. Beau felt warm, hard, and wrapped a strong sense of protection around her. “I will,” she whispered. “Thank you, Beau …” And it was the last thing she remembered.

  It wasn’t so easy for Beau to go sleep. He held Callie, absorbing her warmth, her curves beneath that fuzzy nightgown of hers. She dropped off into a deep sleep almost immediately, and he found himself wanting to always protect her. She never complained. Rarely said anything about the terror that still inhabited her. Callie had never reached out for help like most people would. She behaved more like a military operator than a civilian woman, Beau thought. How much crap did he hold within himself? Did he ever air it? No. And neither did Callie.

  He nuzzled his cheek into her hair, inhaling her sweet, womanly scent. His arm was around her waist and he could feel the slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest. His fingers itched to slide the nightgown upward and feel her slender legs beneath, to kiss her, feel her wanton response once more.

  He loved Callie, and that feeling was growing stronger by the day. Last night, Beau had seen her relaxed as never before. Her family connection was strong, and everyone had showered her with hugs, kisses, and love. They’d all made her a part of the tree trimming.

  Beau liked that her family supported her, although from time to time, he saw worry in Stacy’s eyes for her wounded daughter. And Maisy had the same look of concern. More than anything, Beau saw the strong connection between Callie and Graham McKinley. They were more alike than either had realized. Beau smiled to himself. There was definitely an operator personality to the two men and Callie. Maisy and Stacy, on the other hand, were extroverts, open, warm, and reminded him of his own maternal and nurturing mother, Amber.

  Eventually, Beau fell asleep. The scent of Callie in his nostrils, his hand against her belly, splayed out across it, the two of them fitting together beneath the warmth of the covers, was a dream come true.

  *

  Bright sunlight spilled into Callie’s bedroom, awakening her. She made a muffled sound, feeling warm and happy. Turning over, her mind groggy, she remembered Beau holding her last night. Slowly sitting up, she saw he was gone, her bedroom door closed. Squinting, she looked at the clock on the dresser opposite the bed. It was ten a.m.!

  Gasping, she threw off the covers, her bare feet meeting the cold cedar floor. She had never slept so late! Pushing off the bed, she quickly gathered her clothes, opening the door. Down the hall she could hear Christmas music coming from a radio in the living room. Where was Beau? She didn’t see him as she crossed the hall to the bathroom. She needed to get awake first. Take a hot shower, wash her hair, and get dressed, in that order.

  By the time she emerged nearly an hour later, she met Beau coming in the front door. He was carrying a huge load of cut pine in his arms for their fireplace. He stomped off the snow from his boots, looking handsome in his leather jacket and the green muffler around his neck, his baseball cap in place.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he teased, shutting the door, grinning at her. “Finally woke up, huh?” He took the wood to the fireplace, opened up the screen, and tossed a few logs into it.

  “Hi, Beau. I think I need coffee,” she mumbled, giving him an apologetic look in return.

  “I just made a pot,” he said, straightening. “You were in the shower when I came in last time.”

  “Bless you,” she whispered, moving to the kitchen.

  Chuckling, Beau took off his cold-weather gear, hanging it on hooks next to the door. Callie’s shining hair fell around her shoulders, and she wore a dark blue sweatshirt with Christmas decorations on the front, making her look more like a child than a woman. It was obvious that she loved Christmas.

  His body ached as he watched her move in those jeans that made her hips and long legs so damn tempting
. She never wore tight clothes, preferring clothes that fit her comfortably. They couldn’t hide her charms from him, though.

  She had poured him a cup of coffee when he sauntered into the kitchen. “Hungry?” he asked.

  “I am,” she admitted. “What about you? Have you eaten?”

  “A long time ago. Go sit down at the table,” he coaxed. “I made scrambled eggs and diced ham with sliced red and green peppers earlier. I put it in the fridge. I can warm it up for you if it sounds tempting.”

  Giving him a grateful look, she moved to the table and sat down. “Sounds wonderful, thank you.”

  He nodded and opened the fridge, taking out the bowl. “That’s pretty much the intention, gal.”

  “You’re spoiling me, Beau. You know that?”

  He arched a brow as he put some olive oil in a black iron skillet. “Every once in a while, I find we all need a little spoiling. It’s good for our soul. Why do you say that?”

  Heat nettled her cheeks. “Well … I just thought that because you’re so caring …”

  He took a fork, pulling the egg concoction out of the bowl and into the warming skillet. “I care about only you, Callie. Okay?” He gave her a sharp look to reinforce his statement. He saw her green eyes flare with hope, and much more.

  He decided to take the light approach. “You seemed to sleep real well after I climbed into bed with you. Did you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I felt as if I’d died.” Then she muttered, “Delete that. I did sleep. I slept a full seven hours after you held me last night, Beau. And no more nightmares. Usually, if I try to go back to bed, it picks up where it left off and I get a repeat.”

  “Hmm,” he teased, giving her a wicked look. “Maybe I should hold you more often in bed …” He saw her lips pull into a slight smile, her eyes telling him that she was considering exactly that.

  “I’m giving it serious thought, Beau.”

  He said nothing but grinned as he warmed up the eggs in the skillet. Callie was careful with her heart and Beau understood that. He felt good that he’d been a man of his word and had not tried to seduce her last night. God knew, he’d wanted to. What kept him from doing it? He wanted Callie’s trust, the way she’d given it to him before at Bagram. Last night, he’d taken a huge risk by making the suggestion to hold her in bed. He hadn’t expected her to agree, but she had. If only he could get inside this woman’s head and heart. Patience was the key. Could that one time with her outweigh her trauma and shock? Or not? He was going to find out.