She shrugged a delicate, tanned shoulder. “Eh. Some women go to the gym. I go to the woods.”
He tilted closer and for an instant wanted to claim her mouth, but he knew he had to play it cool. There was no one around to see the act right now. Ian dipped and pressed his lips to her jaw. When he felt her quiver, he drew back a bit, satisfied with himself. “About sleeping together . . .”
She sucked a breath and he busted up laughing.
“Don’t worry, fair maiden. Your honor is safe with me. You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
She chewed her lip, ruining her lipstick. “I don’t want you to have to do that.”
He wiggled his brows. “There is the alternative. I mean, if we really want to make this act seem convincing.”
She swatted at him. “The floor for you, soldier.”
He sighed. “Fine.” But before he released her, he gave her a nice full-body press, and a confident twinkle sparked in his eyes. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
He left her there, frozen, blinking, and he was pretty sure judging just how true that statement was.
Off in the distance, Ian heard mortar shells, the bap, bap, bap of gunfire, soldiers screaming. He tried to rise, but his body was trapped. Thick black liquid held him from the neck down. He yelled, trying to get someone’s attention, but no one came.
His mouth was dry, and his weapon rested only a few feet away. He twisted, trying to get an arm free, but his body could barely move. Up ahead he could hear the enemy moving closer. He stopped thrashing for fear of drawing their attention, but when he did, the black tar he was stuck in made him sink even deeper. Now the back of his head was in it. He had to do something. Hands shook him. Someone was there. Someone was either trying to help him or preparing to kill him. They shook him again, a voice. This time there was a voice. High, panicked. He needed to focus on getting free, then he could help them. Hands closed on his arms. Pain, like claws. Ian jolted. The room was dark except for the smallish figure in front of him. The voice again, soothing this time, saying his name. Through the dark haze, she materialized. It was Charlee.
He drew breath after breath to slow his racing heart. He hadn’t had a nightmare in over two weeks and had thought they were all but a memory. His breath came in short spurts, as did hers.
In the darkness he heard, “Are you okay?”
Was he? Only a moment ago he was trapped. Sinking. Dying. A hand went to his forehead and he found it slick with sweat. He fell back onto the pillow.
“Ian, are you all right?” Now there was an edge to her words, a panic.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” He felt hands reach out and smooth his hair, fall onto his chest where his heart was pounding like a hammer.
“You were having a nightmare.” Slowly, her fingertips glided over his arms, his pecs. She was using her hands to calm him. And it was working.
“Did I scare you?”
“I was just scared for you. It sounded horrible.” Again, her fingers brushed at his hair.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
No. He just wanted to stay there with her hands on him. Rather than answer, he opened his arms.
Even in the dark he knew she was contemplating the situation. When she disappeared, Ian dropped his hands and tried to concentrate on the ceiling fan above. But then she was back, dragging the blanket off the bed and using it to cover them. She nuzzled into the crook in his arm and rested a flat hand on his chest.
There was a new kind of tension now, but Ian let it go. He let it all go. The dream, the memory, everything that had happened in Afghanistan, everything he saw and everything he’d done. There were still safe places in the world. And this, right here, with Charlee folded into his arms, this was one of the very best.
The next morning Ian hadn’t wanted to leave Charlee’s side but he figured the gentlemanly thing to do was let her sleep in and get the heck out of her way when she woke.
He’d showered, shaved, and slipped into a pair of running pants and a T-shirt. He had quite a bit of pent-up energy to release and figured a nice long run would help. Plus he loved running here, on his family’s land. He used to take off down the winding drive and out onto the tree-lined road, early in the morning while the world was still asleep. It was almost daybreak and he paused in the dark kitchen to see if there was any coffee left over in the carafe.
“I just drank the last,” a voice came from the open patio door.
Ian closed his eyes. His dad. He was hoping to avoid conversations without the buffer of his mom.
“I was just going for a run. Won’t be gone long.” He turned toward the front door—his escape route.
“Sit down.”
His father completely ignored the fact that Ian had another destination. Grinding his teeth, Ian stepped through the patio door and chose a seat. Might as well get this over with. “Your mother will be up in a bit to make coffee.”
That burned all the way down. “If I want coffee, I know how to make it myself.”
His dad laughed without humor. “That’s right. You’re right at home in the kitchen.”
“Were you wanting to talk to me about something?” Ian could feel the tension settle behind his eyes where he’d probably have a nasty headache if this went on too long.
His dad was still for a few moments and as the emerging sunlight made its appearance on the horizon, Ian caught the first morning’s glimpse of his dad. The shadows of early sun deepened the wrinkles in his face. Bags rested beneath his eyes and the gray at his temples was getting whiter, growing longer, overtaking the dark hair of youth.
Ian swallowed. For the first time in his life, his father looked frail.
“So, I saw the McKinley girl, your employer.” The last word was said with enough disgust to cause Ian to close his eyes. “She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.”
Ian chose not to speak for fear of tearing into his father.
“That motley crew of artists is weird enough. That one man always wear a skirt?”
Ian never thought he’d find himself in a situation where he actually had to defend King Edward. And now, he’d been in two. One at the bar and presently with his father. “It’s a kilt, Dad.”
“You’re not planning on taking up wearing one, are you?” Thomas Carlisle sniffed.
“Was there some point to this conversation? I thought you wanted to talk to me about something.” Like, glad you made it home alive, son. Proud of your service to our country. But Ian choked down those words because they were ones he’d never hear from this man.
“So, this handyman gig. Done in a few weeks, right?”
Ian chewed the inside of his mouth. “Yeah.” And the realization settled in. End of summer meant end of his time with Charlee.
“Well, I need you. Know your sister is wanting to introduce you to some hotshot from Tulsa, but I need you here.” His dad’s hands threaded together in his lap. This was hard for him, Ian realized. And for that he felt bad, but he and his dad working together? No. Not ever.
“Sorry, Dad.” He tried to sound genuine. And a tiny part of him was. “It’s not really part of the equation.”
His dad looked over with steely blue eyes. “What’s that mean? You’re back. I need the help. You finally get home—and the army turned you into something I couldn’t—why would you go to work for someone else when a job’s waiting here?”
Ian pulled a long breath. “I don’t think we would work well together anymore.” And they never had. But back when Ian was young, he took the abuse and kept his mouth shut. “And what do you mean the army turned me into something you couldn’t?”
Thomas’s hands unthreaded and rode over his thighs. “Guess I failed in the father department. You left looking like a vampire girl and came home . . .” He raised a hand to gesture
to Ian.
Ian finished for him. “Looking like a man.” There was irony in his tone.
Thomas’s hand fell with a clop.
“So, this is about you.” Ian knew he shouldn’t be surprised at his dad’s selfish pride. But the sting hurt nonetheless. “This is about me finally being what you always wanted and you being able to walk around town with your head up because your prodigal son finally ditched the eyeliner and came to his senses.”
At the word eyeliner, his dad recoiled. “Just trying to offer you a job. You want to stay a handyman in a geriatric commune for crazies, suit yourself.”
“They’re good people. All of them. And if I could stay there forever, fixing leaky sinks and cleaning gutters, I’d be honored to. Because life isn’t just about having the right job or the right career. It’s about people, Dad. The difference you make in their lives, how you help them. How you honor them.” Ian stood. “That’s something you never did understand. Guess not much has changed around here.”
His father stood too, the light of a beautiful morning casting a glow on the side of his face. He looked hurt by the words, but right now, Ian didn’t care about that. He just wanted to go, to leave, to run because—just like old times—if he ran hard enough and fast enough he could outrun the pain his father was to him.
As the day went on, Ian found himself with a surprising case of nerves. When Charlee asked if he was okay, he’d smiled, kissed her cheek, and told her he was going to find his sister. The wedding planners were setting up chairs outside where a beautiful arch of flowers and greenery anchored the wedding area. Ian rounded the corner and knocked on his sister’s door. “Come in,” she yelled, voice a bit of a squeak.
She wore a white bathrobe, and a giant white dress was hanging from the doorframe behind her. Kristi Carlisle was two years Ian’s junior. Her hair was curled and sprayed, creating long tendrils around her face. When he opened his arms, she came willingly, smashing the curls.
“Nervous?” he said.
She pulled away to look at him. “I guess. Yes. I don’t know.”
He chuckled. “Three answers to one question, I’d say you’re a bit nervous.”
Her slender, manicured hand went to her stomach. “I’m a little nauseous.”
“Have you eaten breakfast?”
Kristi blinked and Ian realized she was wearing fake eyelashes, which he couldn’t figure why because Kristi had always had long, thick lashes like him. “I don’t think I could hold down any food.”
He gave her a half grin. “I could make you crepes.”
Her eyes, glittery with a smooth splash of gold, lit up. “With crème fraîche?”
He shrugged. “Of course.”
Her hand fell from her stomach. “Good. I’m starved.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “That’s my girl. Come on. The kitchen is still fairly quiet. On the way, you can tell me about the plans for the day.”
“The reception is at three. In that big tent at the edge of the house. It’s really going to be beautiful.” Arm around her, giving her the support she needed right now, Ian listened to her yammer on about the day. “Oh, thanks for Wynona. She’s been gluing rhinestones to the place settings, the decorations, she’s like a machine. It looks great.”
“I have a confession, sis.” Ian leaned closer.
Kristi stopped at the top of the steps and blinked those giant hooded eyes at him. “What?”
“The artists came for other reasons.” He leaned closer. “They thought I needed some moral support with Dad and also with Brenna staying here.”
Kristi’s giant eyes narrowed; a smile played at the edges of her mouth. “Charlee’s not your girlfriend, is she?”
He leaned back. Nothing ever got past Kristi.
She poked him in the chest. “If she were, she would have come with you. What girl doesn’t love going to a wedding?”
Ian rubbed a hand over his face. “She’s not your typical girl.”
Kristi shook her head, causing long curls to bobble. “Undoubtedly. And you’ve got it bad for her. So, what’s the problem?”
What was the problem? “She was in a bad relationship recently. Think it tore her up.”
Kristi shrugged. “And she’s too stupid to spot a good thing when it lands on her doorstep?”
He laughed. “I’m just trying to take it slow, you know. One step at a time.”
“Do you remember when we were kids and we went to the swimming hole?”
“The one with the rock ledges?” He remembered. There were rocks you could climb and jump into the water from varying heights. Only the bravest went to the top.
“Yes,” she said.
“You didn’t bother to test the lower ledges the first time I took you there. You climbed straight to the top.”
Kristi laughed. “And froze. Everyone was laughing at me.”
“You were braver than most of them for just climbing to the top.”
“I started to climb back down, but you came up. You wouldn’t let me back out.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Do you remember what you told me?”
He remembered wanting her to jump. If she didn’t then, she never would.
“You told me to jump. You said my courage was waiting for me at the bottom of the ledges.”
Ian pointed to himself. “Smart guy.”
“And you were right. There was no fear after that. At the end of the day you said, ‘Good job, kid. I wanted to swim with my sister today.’”
Ian cast a glance heavenward. “How do you recall all that?”
“You were my hero back then, Ian. My big brother hero.”
He kissed the top of her head, unconcerned with what it might do to the curls. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.”
Ian sat in the front row with Charlee at his side. She looked amazing in a pale pink dress that made her tan look three shades darker. Her hair was down and her lips shimmered with a juicy splash of dark pink gloss. She needed to be kissed. He hoped the day would warrant that. When Charlee crossed her legs, one angled toward him. Tall heels elongated her luscious legs and it was a darn good thing they were leaving to go home after the reception because he didn’t think they could stay in the same room again and he continue the gentleman act. The slit in her skirt offered a glimpse of skin that also shimmered and he wondered if she’d used some kind of lotion with glitter in it.
Charlee leaned over. “You’re staring at my legs.”
“Was I?” he said, trying for innocence, but just sounding ridiculous.
“Mm hmm.” He watched her bite back a smile.
Ian’s eyes narrowed. “And you like that, you little vixen.”
Charlee filled her lungs, causing her chest to expand, and recrossed her legs, causing the slit to ride a bit higher and exposing more of her flesh.
He leaned closer and growled in her ear. “You’re lucky you’re going home tonight. I promise you’d be in danger if we were in the same room again.”
This caused a bright red stain to settle on her cheeks as he watched the thought of that tick over her features. Her silvery-gray eyes danced and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was breathing a little harder.
It was a moment before they realized something was wrong. The earlier case of nerves returned as Ian cast a glance behind him, only to see people getting fidgety. He looked down at his watch. Twenty minutes late. Probably not that unusual, except they’d seated everyone and all the preliminaries were complete. There should be a wedding march.
“What do you think is going on?” Charlee whispered.
“Don’t know. Think I better find out.” And he slipped off the seat and out the side so he wouldn’t make more of a spectacle.
Ian made his way into the house, where he found his mom guarding the library door. Her face was a wash of horror, pale and frightened.
Ian rushed to her. “Mom, what?”
“He’s gone. Allen. He just . . . flew in and told Kristi he wasn’t ready for this, and he left.”
Ian’s mind spun to catch up. It was rather difficult to have a wedding without the groom. His heart sank for Kristi. He pointed to the door. “Is she alone?” Surely not, her mother would never leave her.
“She wanted to be. Asked me to leave, give her some time, but your dad barreled in there.”
Ian didn’t need to hear more. He sailed past his mom and into the room. Kristi was sitting on the edge of the long leather couch, her perfect hair a strange frame for the tear-swollen face. Makeup gone, save for streaks on her cheeks. His dad stood staring out the window.
He figured it wouldn’t help to say the I’m sorrys so instead, he walked to her, dragged her up from the spot and held her in his arms. Within minutes the tears stopped. “What can I do, sis?”
Behind him, his dad shifted to stand closer. “We gotta send these people home. Someone’s gotta tell them. Guess that’d be my place.”
Kristi raised her eyes to look at Ian and his heart broke. She was shattered. “Sweetie, what do you want? How do you want this to go?” Because Ian knew his sister and knew that a simple “sending everyone home” wasn’t her style. “This is your call.” And he knew it was a little bit like the rock ledges.
Kristi mustered her strength. He watched determination enter her, the tilt of her head, the squaring of her shoulders. “All our family is here. Some of them came from twenty hours away.” As she spoke, her voice grew stronger. “No one is leaving. We’ve got a beautiful party facility set up. We’re not going to let it all go to waste.”
Ian smiled. Proud of her. So very proud of her. He cast a look to his dad. “Can you tell them the reception is now a party? And any of the bride’s guests are welcome to stay.”
Thomas Carlisle, hands in his pockets, frowned. “I . . . I can do that.” His piercing eyes landed on his daughter. “You sure, honey?”
“Positive.” A hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Ian, I’m so sorry, but Allen left with his cousin, the one who had the job.”
Along the Broken Road (The Roads to River Rock Book 1) Page 15
