“So,” I said, because curiosity and dumbassery had dug talons into my skin, “did you go on a date with this most eligible bachelor and his hair?”
Chanel chuckled again. “No, never. I’m not interested in him or his hair. There’s something about him I just don’t like. Something I can’t place.”
I grunted but kept my opinion to myself. “Forget about him,” I said. “We were talking about your mother, right?”
Chanel sighed and looked out of the window. For a time, the only sounds were the wheels of the truck on the macadam and the occasional sniff or shift of gears. If she didn’t want to talk, I couldn’t force her.
No, I wouldn’t.
I respected what it was like to have something sitting beneath the skin. An emotion or memory controlling you from the inside out. The world saw your actions and movements, but it didn’t see the turmoil within.
The roiling mess of crap that had ruined everything. I was a different person before I lost control. I listened, shit, I even dated a woman or two.
“I don’t know why, but she doesn’t want me to have a life. I think it’s because she hates me. Or she hates what I’ve become.” Chanel’s words sliced right across my morose reflection.
“That doesn’t sound right,” I said.
“I don’t know what else to think. She’s been angry with me ever since –” She cut off and gulped. “Ever since dad died. I think she blames herself or him, and if she blames him she blames me.”
“Why?”
She flopped her hands into the air. “I don’t know, maybe because I remind her of him? Maybe because she thinks I’m reckless and she’ll lose me too?”
I nodded. “Maybe. But it’s not like you don’t have options, Chanel. You’ve got a marketable skill. If you really wanted to leave Meek Springs behind, you could.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said. “God, why am I unloading all of this on you? It’s not fair. Forget I mentioned it.”
“No, it’s okay. If you need to talk I want to be here for you.” And it was true. I wanted to hear her sob stories and pressures. I wanted to be a support for her.
“Why?”
I couldn’t answer that properly. Not without risking everything again. “It’s what friends do for each other,” I said.
The mood in the truck did a 360. Oh yeah, I’d fucked that up.
“Friends. Right.” She dragged her overnight bag over and dropped it into her lap, then folded her arms on top of it.
We spent the rest of the ride to the base in a silence so fucking absolute it settled in my soul. The term ‘friends’ had effectively iced all potential for conversation. It didn’t help that Chanel’s perfume intoxicated me, that I would have given anything to park the car and take her again, right on the side of the road.
Man, wouldn’t that be a perfect silence-breaker. Her screams filling the cab, her legs around my waist and my dick pounding into her, again and again. I’d last longer this time, we wouldn’t have to rush for fear of discovery. I’d make her come at least twice, then eat her out for as long as it took to get the third time.
And then, we’d fall asleep in each other’s arms, her head on my chest.
Yeah, it was better if she stayed pissed at me.
We parked at the base, and she didn’t give me the opportunity to open the door for her. She hopped out and walked for the entrance.
“Wait,” I called out. “Chanel, wait a second.”
She stopped, and tossed her hair. Those beautiful blues cut right through to my core. How could she be this beautiful, even when angry? “What?”
“You don’t know where your quarters are.”
“Oh.” She sagged. “Fine. Could you show me, please?”
“Yeah, follow me.” The base didn’t have guest quarters, but we weren’t at maximum capacity in the officer’s section. She’d be close to my room in case she needed something and didn’t know who else to ask.
I walked her past the mess hall, down the long gray corridors and into the officer’s section of the building. It didn’t look any different from the quarters those of the soldiers under my command, apart from a few extra potted plants.
“This is you,” I said, and halted in front of her room. The door was open, the single bed neatly made, overhead light on. A steel desk sat in the corner, a lamp atop it. That was the end of it. All the decoration.
“Thanks,” she said, and entered the room. She dumped her bag on the bed, and busied herself with its zip.
“I’ll have your suitcase and notes brought over from my office.” That was where she’d left them after our rendezvous in the helicopter. “Does that suit you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Chanel?”
She faced me at last, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah?”
“If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right down the hall. You can eat in the officer’s mess hall with me, as well.”
“Thanks.”
I hesitated, caught on the brink of asking her again if everything was all right. A ridiculous idea. Of course, everything wasn’t all right. Calling her a friend had insulted her. She wanted more than friendship and I just couldn’t give it to her.
It would probably be for the best if we didn’t fuck a third time. My gaze tracked down the front of her blouse. “I-uh, thanks for trying to help the base and the men. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Please close the door behind you. I’d like some privacy, now.”
“Sure,” I said, and backed off. I shut the door and stared at its plain front. “Shit,” I muttered. I shouldn’t care that she was furious with me, but I did.
I walked off down the hall and toward my room, burning to turn back again. To make her mine, over and over again.
It couldn’t be. We weren’t meant to be together, no matter how much I wanted it.
Chapter 13
Chanel
I shifted the portfolio in front of me, paging through the completed designs, the rooms, the swatches of fabric used in each. Most of them were too fancy or homely for the base, but there were hints of style in each that I could draw from and use.
I’d been allocated a small office in a quiet hall. The tiny window let in natural light and a view of the outside of the base, complete with chain link fences and a tank. An actual tank.
The atmosphere should’ve made me uncomfortable, but I felt right at home. This reminded me of my father – I couldn’t possibly be uncomfortable with him in my thoughts.
I turned another page and tapped the end of my pen on my notepad. I’d already chosen a light, yet pleasant color scheme. I understood why the base had to retain an air of neutrality, but gray was just… depressing.
“Blue,” I said. “Shades of blue for calm, touches of cream.” I noted that, then moved to my next book of samples – fabric. I could source all of this in the quantities I needed from a supplier out of town, especially since I had the backing of Ryan and the friggin’ Navy.
“But blue sofas?” I scratched the end of my nose with the pen. “No, not that. Cream wouldn’t work either.”
“Talking to yourself?” A man’s voice came from right in front of my desk.
I jerked my gaze upward. “Holy crap,” I half-yelled.
Jack Whitmore, the very same dick who’d given me trouble yesterday, grinned at me from the entrance. His hand rested on the doorknob. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Then maybe knock first?” I leaned on the portfolio, arms folded. “What can I help you with?” I didn’t want to help him with shit. He was friends with Ryan, from what I’d gathered, but I couldn’t fathom why.
The guy gave me every type of creepy crawly feeling imaginable. On the outside, he seemed handsome and valiant, and all those thing Navy SEALs should be, but I wasn’t fooled.
His core was rotten. I always trusted my gut, another piece of advice my father had given me growing up, and it hadn’t failed me yet.
“Help me,” Jack said, and gr
inned. “What makes you think I need your help?”
“Charming as always,” I replied, and tilted my head to the side.
“I’m just kidding,” he replied, and slapped the air. What a weird gesture. Dude had anger issues. “I wanted to have a serious talk with you about the base.”
“The base. What about it?”
“Mind if I sit down?” He shut the door, then grabbed hold of a chair and dragged it out from behind the desk. He plonked down before I could give him an answer, so apparently, we were doing this. Whatever this was.
“What about the base?” I repeated.
Jack thumbed his nose, then placed his palms together and rested the steeple on the edge of my desk. “Things are going to change around here, right?”
“Yes, that’s the idea,” I said, and gestured to the portfolios. “It’s what I’m working on, right now.”
“Right, and you’re sure you’re equipped to handle that change?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, it’s going to be a lot to take on.”
“I’ll have help,” I replied. Ryan promised there would be no end to the hands available. It was a base full of soldiers, after all. They were used to taking orders and keeping things neat.
“Ryan’s help.”
“Lieutenant Commander Baker has promised me help with the implementation of my designs and ideas, but I still have to create a presentation. We’re not quite at that stage yet,” I said, in my best professional lingo. What was this guy’s deal? What the hell did he want, anyway?
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll give you all the help you need.”
The implication wasn’t lost on me. “Why are you really here, Petty Officer Whitmore?”
“Call me Jack.”
“I’d rather not. And I’d really rather have you come out and say what you want to say. I can sense there’s something on your mind.”
Jack laughed, then bit his bottom lip and winked at me.
My cringe alarm flew into overdrive. Red lights flashing. God, I’d need an allergy shot after this. Were my ears ringing? Had I traversed into another dimension? “Uh – wh-what do you want? I mean, what are you here for?”
“I think you know,” he said, and tapped the desk.
“Honestly, I don’t.” Other than to freak me the hell out.
“Oh come on, girl, don’t play dumb. You and I both know what happened between you and Ryan in that hotel room, and it wasn’t playing spin the fucking bottle. Get what I’m saying?”
“I don’t see how what you believe is relevant,” I snapped, then measured my tone. This guy was older than me, and he probably thought he was smarter too. If I showed anger or emotion, he’d capitalize on it.
Shit, having spent years with my passive aggressive mother might actually pay off for once.
“Touchy.” He smirked. “I know you think you’ll get to spend more time with Ryan now that you’re on base, but trust me when I say he didn’t hire you because he wants you.”
This was highly inappropriate. I didn’t want to hear it either. “You’re absolutely right. I was hired because I’m good at what I do, and I’ll prove that in my presentation.”
“Right. I’m sure you will,” Whitmore said, then ruffled his hair. “Listen, I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ryan’s great. You and I both know that, but if you continue down this road, you’re going to wind up hurt.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Jack snorted. “You don’t need to pretend. He’s an eligible bachelor. A military man. I know you’re physically and romantically interested in him, you two spent the night together.”
“This is none of your business.” I rose behind the desk.
He put out his palms to placate me, but it didn’t do much to quash the anger in my gut. How dare he come in here to talk to me about personal shit like this? And he’d winked at me too. My mind was all over the place thanks to this conversation.
“I’m not trying to pry. Ryan was my – he was my best friend,” he said, and for a second a hint of sincerity crept into his tone.
I lowered myself into the squeaky, uncomfortable receptionist’s chair again. I didn’t know much about Ryan and I did want to know more, despite his weird and ever-changing attitude. Baker reminded me of that Katy Perry Hot n’ Cold song.
“He’s not your best friend anymore?” I asked.
“Not really. Well, we’re friends, right, but we’re soldiers first. I guess, he’s just not the man I used to know.”
“Why?” I couldn’t help myself. I was in a desert, thirsty for information, and Jack had control over the oasis.
“He was normal before he was deployed,” Jack said. “A regular soldier. I wasn’t happy we were separated but what could I do, right? And then he came back from Iraq and it wasn’t the same anymore. He was a broken man.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to think of what he might’ve seen out there. My father had served and been in action, but he never came home ‘broken’ per say. He had PTSD, he got help, and he suffered, but he survived.
Ryan must’ve experienced something terrible to be ‘broken.’ Was it right for me to ask what that was? I shifted. “Perhaps, it’s better if we don’t –”
“You see, Ryan was in charge of men out there. He was a commander,” Jack continued, and ignored the look of horror twisting my features. It wasn’t right to talk about this. “But he made a bad decision and he ended up getting them killed.”
“No.” I pushed my chair back.
“Yeah. He was the only survivor. He hasn’t recovered from it since,” Jack said. “To make matters worse, there was an investigation into his behavior, whether he compromised the troops willfully or not. Naturally, he didn’t, but the review took it out of him.”
Silence fell and I shifted my gaze away from Jack. I didn’t want this conversation to continue. This was private information. He could keep his oasis, the lake, the camels and whatever else he had.
“He can’t be in a relationship,” Whitmore said. “He’s not ready. I know he’s slept with you, and I thought you ought to know that he doesn’t get feelings. He won’t ever be capable of loving you. He’s fucked in the head.”
“Get out,” I said, and glared at him. “Get out of my office, right now.”
“Don’t take it like that,” Jack said. “He’s using you. That’s all I wanted you to know, okay?”
Here I’d thought Whitmore had a spine. That he actually wanted to help his ‘friend.’ “Leave now, before I call –”
“Relax, I’m going. I didn’t expect you to take it this way.” He got up and sauntered to the exit, oozing swagger which made me gag. God, had Paula actually slept with this creature? I had to phone her and warn her about him. “I just wanted you to be prepared for the heart break. I thought it would be fair on you.”
I didn’t answer.
“After all, there are plenty of men on this base who would treat you right.” He gave me another wink, then left my office.
The door stayed open after his departure and I didn’t have the constitution to get up and close it. I trembled, a mixture of fury and sorrow.
It made sense that Ryan would be distant, now. I didn’t want to believe Jack, since he clearly had an agenda, but it added up. Ryan didn’t want to get emotionally involved, but he sure enjoyed the physical aspect of our ‘relationship.’
But was he using me?
“Stop it,” I whispered. “Don’t listen to that asshole.” I focused on my portfolio, but the swatches of fabric blurred together. I couldn’t pick out colors let alone patterns with this crap on my mind.
I didn’t come out here to obsess over a man! I came out here to find liberation from Meek Springs and my own uncertainty.
Two sharp knocks on my door and I sat bolt upright again. Shit, was he back?
Ryan leaned against the jamb and gave me an easy smile. “Hi,” he sa
id.
“Hi,” I replied, “friend.”
Baker’s smiled turned upside down. “Yeah, about that –”
“There’s nothing you have to tell me. No excuses you have to make,” I said. “I don’t want to hear them, anyway. I know why I’m here and it’s not for… you know.” I couldn’t verbalize it properly, but he had to grasp my meaning.
I paged through my portfolio, absently.
“How’s work going?” he asked. Great segue, Ryan, real great.
“It’s interesting.”
“How so?”
“Just a lot of different color schemes to choose from.” I sighed and kneaded my forehead. I couldn’t rub my eyes without messing up the makeup I’d painstakingly applied in front of the tiny mirror in the bathroom this morning.
“You look like you could use a break. Why don’t we go grab a bite? It’s just about lunch time,” he said. “I hear we’re having Mac n’ Cheese today.”
“You had me at ‘Mac.’ I could eat a horse,” I said.
He laughed. He actually laughed. God, had Baker decided to lighten up? I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair, slipped it on, then walked over to him.
Ryan placed his hand in the small of my back, a light touch to guide me from the room, and every cell in my body practically burst into flame. I couldn’t afford to become emotionally involved – whoops, too late – and I certainly couldn’t risk touching him again if I planned on preserving my sanity here.
I stepped out of his reach, ignoring the swell of desire. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 14
Ryan
"So about that friend thing," I said, and stuck a fork in my Mac n' Cheese.
"I said we don't have to talk about it. I've got all the interior decorating stuff to worry about," she said, and gobbled down some food.
The officer's mess hall was quiet. Not many folks came down for lunch. They'd either skip or eat something at their desk while they worked. We had the room to ourselves, for now, and the wide windows looked out on the base and the gathering clouds.
It was a pretty miserable day - no outdoor exercises or tests to speak of.
Protecting Her Heart Page 50
