by Maddy Barone
“I think he’s had too much to drink,” she observed blandly to Denise.
Dusty and Brutus arrived at the same moment. Brutus braced one of his big hands against Dusty’s chest. “Let me handle this, Wolfe,” he growled.
Dusty had always been handsome and charming and thoughtful. For the first time she saw a resemblance to his family name. His clenched teeth showed in a wolfish snarl as he strained against Brutus.
“What did you say to her?” he demanded of the fallen man.
“Sit down, Wolfe,” Brutus said forcefully. “I said, I’ll take care of it.”
More people were staring. Some were headed their way.
“Take care of Isabel,” Brutus ordered. “Make sure she’s okay.”
That snapped Dusty out of his snarling. He knelt beside her, anxiously looking her over. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine. Just…” She glanced around. “A little embarrassed.” Her shoulders crept up as her head slunk down. “Everyone is staring.”
Dusty grunted. “They won’t stare if we act normally. There’s a slow dance starting. Dance with me?”
Her leg was sore, but she let him lead her out. Anything to get away from the people who were pretending to not notice her. Wrapped in his arms, she felt like she was home.
He smoothed his lips over her ear. “You’re beautiful and brave, and someone that shouldn’t be messed with,” he whispered. “I like that.”
“Well, I used to be an MP. I can take care of myself.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “But I shouldn’t have done it. This is a wedding reception, not a barroom brawl.”
A chuckle shook his chest. “That was the most ladylike barroom brawl I’ve ever seen.”
They danced quietly for a minute. Isabel drank in the sweetness of being in his arms. She forgot they were surrounded by other couples, and the discomfort in her leg, and anything else. All she smelled was him. All she felt was him. At this moment, he was the only thing in her world.
“Ah, Dusty,” she breathed. “Te amo.”
He jerked to a stop, staring down at her, his face tight, his eyes dark. A couple bumped into his back, sending him lurching into her. He ignored the couple and their apologies, simply holding one hand to her cheek while his other arm tightened like iron around her waist.
“You love me?” he whispered.
Chapter Ten
He understood her! Swallowing, she looked around, but no one was paying attention to them. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she gave in to the gentle pressure of his hand on her face and lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Yes. I do.”
His smile was like the first pale gleam of dawn, which grew to illuminate the whole sky with glorious light. His arm left her waist so both his hands could cradle her face.
“I hoped you’d love me,” he said, wonder in his voice. “But it hasn’t been very long since we met.”
“Inez says it doesn’t take long, if it’s the right person.”
“Inez is right.” He dipped his head, and another couple bumped into them, jolting him off course so that his lips skidded over her cheek. “Crap. Let’s get out of here. We need somewhere private to talk.”
“My place,” she offered.
“Good.”
He took her hand and led her off the dance floor back to their table so she could collect her cane. On their way out, he lifted a hand to Brutus, who was dancing with Denise. He helped her up into his truck and headed back to town.
She waited, holding her breath, for him to say something, but he was silent. Eyes fixed on the road, he seemed deep in thought, almost distant. Why didn’t he talk? Dios, why had she said anything? He was trying to find the right words to let her down gently. Now he would say he was flattered, and he liked her a lot, and she was a special friend. Her heart turned to lead and tried to sink through the floorboards. Was he going too fast for her to jump out of the truck before she died of embarrassment?
The silence went on and on. She was not a coward. Better to get it into the open and deal with it.
“Dusty?” Her fingers clenched around the clasp of her evening bag. “Dusty, I love you. But you haven’t said how you feel about me.”
In the glare of the headlights of a passing car, she saw his eyes jerk to the side to stare at her for one quick moment before he returned to looking at the road.
“Didn’t I? I love you, Isabel.” In the near dark of the truck, his voice was rough velvet brushing over her face. “I have loved you for a long time now. I didn’t want to blurt it out and make you feel obligated to love me back.”
The lead melted from her heart, allowing it to soar. “A long time? Dusty, we’ve known each other for only six weeks. When did you know you loved me?”
He was quiet for a while, driving in the dark. “I think it might have been that first knitting class when you shook hands and offered to let me skip the rest of class. Or maybe when you accepted Brutus that night at supper. A lot of women take one look at him and think they know him based on his looks.”
She nodded silently, feeling indignant on Brutus’ behalf. Yes, the big man looked intimidating, but ten minutes of conversation with him would tell anyone what a good man he was.
“Or maybe it was when you tore into your nephews when they caught us kissing after our first Rangers game.” He laughed. “And tonight, when you took Bodie down? That was icing on the cake. You are brave and determined. Some people might have just given up and become bitter after what happened to you in Iraq.”
“I could have.”
“But you didn’t. That’s not who you are. You’re so brave and beautiful you take my breath away.”
That surprised a snort out of her. “Beautiful? I know what kind of women you date, and I’m not beautiful like they are.”
“No,” he agreed. “They were pretty. Very pretty. But none of them come close to your beauty.” He must have seen her disbelief, because he went on insistently. “You are the most beautiful woman I know.”
She wanted to believe it. Her mirror told her she wasn’t beautiful, but Dusty sounded completely sincere.
“You don’t see yourself the way I see you,” he said, almost fiercely. “But I’ll convince you. It might take a lifetime.” He paused, voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “That would be fine, as long as I spend that lifetime with you.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Your turn,” he said. “When did you know you loved me?”
She took a deep breath. “That’s easy. It was the night we first went to Rick’s. You treated me like a person.”
He frowned into the glare of oncoming headlights. “How else would I have treated you?”
She gave her head a small shake. “A lot of people don’t see me when they look at me. They see a cripple. You never did. Right from the first, you treated me the same way you would have treated anyone.”
He downshifted to take the exit onto the freeway. Traffic was getting heavier, so the glance he sent her was brief. “You’re not a cripple.”
She acknowledged his annoyance with a dip of her head. “No, I’m not.” She was quiet for a moment, debating how much to say. “A few years ago, my brother Eddie set me up with one of his foreman. Chuck was a great guy. Eddie said he was a hard worker and looked after his men before himself. He was a widower with a little girl. He wasn’t as handsome as you are, but he was nice-looking. We enjoyed some of the same things. He was really nice. Eddie was sure that Chuck and I could live happily ever after.”
Dusty’s pleasant expression looked forced. She saw his hands flex on the steering wheel. “So what happened?”
“When he looked at me, he saw a cripple. No, he really was nice, so don’t glare like that,” she added quickly. “He was so nice he practically smothered me. He constantly asked if I was okay, or if there was something he could do for me, or if he should get one of those complimentary wheelchairs for me when we went to the mall. He never forgot that I have a prosthetic l
eg, so I could never forget it either.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You know, you remind me of a little boy I once met.”
“A little boy?” The look he shot at her was indignant. “Sweetheart, not so little over here.”
No, he was a grown up man, and he loved her. She had to suppress a bubble of unbelieving joy. He. Loved. Her! “Let me tell you about this boy. It was about a year after I was shipped home from Iraq. I was sitting in my wheelchair in the waiting room at the local clinic, where I would have my prosthetic refitted. Again. I was depressed and angry. In fact, I was one big, messy ball of self-pity. There was a mom and a little boy in the chairs facing me.” She could still see him in her mind. A cute kid with a jaunty fedora over a mop of black curls, and the biggest, most beautiful dark eyes that looked right at her with innocent curiosity. “He came over to me and started talking, like he had never met a stranger. He asked me if I had a special body, too.”
Dusty’s mouth curled in a half-smile as he listened to her story.
“Well, I was taken aback. Special body? Kids look at the world differently. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and really, it was nice to have someone talk directly to me. So many people spoke in my general direction but not actually to me. And not with such open, friendly interest. So I said yes, I had only one leg, and I asked him if he had a special body.”
She glanced at Dusty to see his reaction. He was watching the road, but his head was tilted toward her as if to hear her better. “Go on,” he said.
“He said yes in a matter-of-fact-voice. ‘My body has allergies and my brain has autism.’ He was so simple and honest and non-self-pitying that I felt a little bit ashamed of myself.”
“Wow. What did you say to that?”
“I told him I thought he was a wonderful boy. He looked at my leg with my jeans folded up and pinned over the stump, and asked questions that most people avoided like the plague, like where my leg was, and if I was born without it, and how did I walk with only one leg.”
Streetlights flashed over his face, showing his smile. “I suppose kids aren’t born with society’s rules already embedded in their little brains. How old was he?”
“I don’t know. Six or seven, I suppose. I answered his questions as honestly and plainly as I could. He looked at my leg with a frown and asked me if it hurt. The only people who ever asked me that were medical personnel.”
“Everyone else knows it’s rude to ask that.”
“But it’s not. I said that sometimes it did hurt, and then he said the most amazing thing.” She turned in her seat to look at Dusty, anxious for him to understand how important this next bit was to her. “He said, ‘I think you must be very brave.’ And I sat there, trying not to cry, because I’d spent the whole morning feeling sorry for myself. This little boy gave me an attitude adjustment. I have never forgotten him. His name was Grayson. I know that, because about that time his mom stood up and gave me a friendly smile. She held out her hand to him and said, ‘Grayson, the nurse is ready for us.’ He gave me a hug and ran over to the nurse. I’ve liked that name ever since.”
“It’s a good name,” he agreed. “I wonder what he’s like now. He must be, what? Fourteen or fifteen now, and that’s the age most boys turn into little demons.”
“True. I remember my nephews at that age. They are slightly better now. But maybe Grayson won’t be like that. He was a very unusual boy.”
“Yeah, he sounds like a special kid. You think I’m like him?”
“Well.” She cleared her throat and cast him a demure glance. “You have beautiful, big, dark eyes like his.”
He narrowed his beautiful, big, dark eyes in a frown. “Uh-huh.”
She laughed. “You do have beautiful eyes, but I think it’s your matter-of-fact sincerity that reminds me of him. He never looked at me like I was some pitiful creature too deformed to be treated like real person. And you’ve never looked at me like that either.”
“Because you’re not deformed or pitiful.” Was he angry? He took the corner onto her street a little more sharply than he should have. “You don’t need two legs to be lovable. You’re beautiful, and I love you.”
She was quiet so long that he cast her a quick, worried glance. She stiffened her shoulders. “You’ve said the words, but you haven’t done anything about it. We’ve kissed. Nothing else. If I’m beautiful, and you love me, why do you always stop?”
He took one hand off the wheel to shove through his hair. “I wanted to see—”
“Where this is going,” she finished, cutting him off. “Yes, you said that. A tiny little bit of me can’t help but wonder if it’s not my leg.”
“No!” It was a shout. “No,” he went on more calmly. “I want us to be special. Not casual sex. Not friends with benefits.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Dusty, for me it would have been special anytime. I’ve loved you for a while now. I don’t know where you want this to go, but I want it to be long term.”
“Yeah. I want something long term too. I don’t see my feelings for you changing any time soon.”
“That sounds good.” She twisted the end of her shawl into a corkscrew. “So now we have a pretty good idea where this is going, right? Do you know that every time you came over, I changed my sheets just in case?”
He swallowed as he maneuvered his truck down the narrow alley that led to her apartment. “Just in case?” he echoed. “In case what?”
“Madre de Dios!” She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “You’re a man. Use your imagination.”
He brought his truck to a halt in her parking spot, threw it in the park, and turned the key. “Honey, I have quite an imagination. Did you change your sheets today?”
“Do you care?” she shot back.
“Nope.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I did.”
He stared at her, and she stared back, her heart pounding. He reached out one finger and slid it over the arch of her cheekbone. “Let’s go mess up your sheets.”
Chapter Eleven
Isabel did not shout, “At last!” She thought she showed superhuman self-control. She just turned her head and caught the tip of his fingers with her teeth. After giving him a quick nip, she unbuckled her seatbelt, gathered her shawl around her shoulders, and opened her door. Dusty raced around the truck to help her out. She stood for a moment with the warmth of his hands on her hips.
“Do you remember when we came home from Rick’s after your first knitting class?” She smiled up at him. “We stood just like this for a moment. You asked if I needed any help to get up to my apartment. I wondered if you were hoping for an invitation to come up.”
His answering smile was warm. “I think I was, but I wasn’t surprised when you said good night.”
“I wanted to invite you up. I wondered if you’d kiss me. I didn’t know you very well then. Now I do.”
He gave her a long, lingering kiss. “Isabel, do you need any help getting up to your apartment?” he whispered.
“No,” she said, and he drew back a fraction of an inch, his face flashing surprise until she continued. “I don’t need help, but I’d love for you to come up with me. Will you come?”
His smile returned, all hot male with a drop of sweetness. “I sure will.” He lifted her cane out of her hand. “Will you need this?”
“Not if I can lean on you.”
“Always,” he said in a low whisper. “Can I lean on you?”
She knew he wasn’t talking about climbing the stairs. “Yes.” The single word was a heartfelt vow. “Come on.”
As she went up the stairs, he was a solid, comforting warmth behind her. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was unsteady when she stabbed her key in the lock. It wasn’t exertion from climbing the steps; it was excitement, anticipation, and —a little— nerves. Not counting doctors and nurses, she hadn’t been naked with a man since before Iraq. Her body wasn’t what it had been then. Even if she still had two legs, she wasn
’t a physically fit twenty-year-old anymore. Her hips had broadened with extra flesh and her boobs weren’t as perky as they had once been. And Dusty… She flipped on the light as she stepped in and turned to look at him. That suit barely hid the body of a god. He was way out of her league.
He slid her cane into the umbrella stand, closed the door, and turned the lock before turning to cradle her face in his hands. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, and kissed her.
Enveloped in his scent and heat, she forgot her imperfect body. She wanted him. She wanted his broad chest pressed to hers. She wanted the passion of his mouth devouring her. She wanted his arms to hold her close. And she wanted all that without clothes separating them. Her shawl slid soundlessly to the floor. His coat followed. They moved step by step down the hall to her bedroom, leaving a trail of garments behind them.
In the bedroom, Dusty began stripping off his shoes, socks and trousers. Shy again, Isabel turned away to take off her bra and panties. A shiver skittered down her back. She hesitated over her prosthetic. She’d never made love with it on or off, and wasn’t sure which would be better.
She peeked over her shoulder to see Dusty magnificently naked, a bronzed Adonis watching her with avid eyes. Quickly, fingers trembling, she unbuckled her leg and set it aside. She drew in a deep breath to steel herself and turned around.
He looked her up and down, smiling. When she was home alone, she hopped to get around without her leg. That was too undignified for this moment. She gave him a wobbly smile back and crooked her finger. Going by his arousal, he wasn’t put off by any part of her body at all. He walked toward her, bent and lifted her stump to give it a thorough inspection.
“My leg,” she faltered.
He flashed her a smile. “Looks a lot better than the last time I held it.”
His words, delivered in a tone that mixed open sincerity with teasing, pulled a smile to her lips. His hand smoothed up the back of her thigh, over the curve of her buttock, and up her back and around to cup one of her breasts. “Isa, you are so beautiful.”
