The Difference a Day Makes (Perfect, Indiana: Book Two)

by Longley, Barbara

  She’d witnessed so many facets to him in such a short time—the way he liked to tease, his interactions with his uncle and cousin, how he melted down and fought his way back, his creativity…Her mind went back to the storm, and Sweet Pea’s rescue for Lucinda and Toby. She’d never met a man like Ryan before, and deep in her gut, she knew she never would again.

  The whole time he stood, Ryan never let go of her hand, and she wasn’t about to let go of his.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BY THE TIME THEY LEFT the rodeo and were on the highway heading home, it was already ten thirty. Ryan glanced at Paige. She was fiddling with the band on her new cowboy hat, her face soft with a pleased half smile he wanted to touch. “Did you have a good time, darlin’?”

  “I did.” Her smile grew. “Will there be more rodeos around here this summer?”

  “Sure. They’re all over, and you’d love outdoor rodeos. Are you interested in going to a few more?”

  Shy Paige gave a little nod. “Thank you for the hat. I love it.”

  “You’re welcome. It looks really good on you.” He pictured her naked, wearing nothing but the hat he’d bought her. Adding her sexy black leather boots to his fantasy brought a smile to his face. I gotta buy her a pair of cowboy boots. That’s it. Paige naked except for the hat and a pair of cowboy boots…Idiot. She’s not your personal doll to dress and undress. He reined in his thoughts and shifted in his seat to ease the growing pressure in his lap. “What did you think of Shawn and Austin?”

  “They were great, and it was fun watching their bulls in action after meeting them.” She reached out and stroked his shoulder. “I know seeing you meant a lot to them. I’m glad you decided to visit, after all.”

  “Me too.” Should he kiss her good night in his truck, outside his truck, or by the Langfords’ front door? What would she say if he invited her to the carriage house for coffee? No, too late for coffee. Generic soda? Damn. He shook his head. How out of practice could a man be?

  “Why are you shaking your head?” Her eyes lit with amusement.

  “Just givin’ myself hell.”

  Paige laughed. “You do that a lot.”

  He shot her a wry look. “I guess I do.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you were giving yourself hell about?”

  Again with the shoulder rub. He gulped. “Nope.”

  Her low, throaty chuckle shifted his pulse into four-wheel drive. Had she guessed where his thoughts had taken him? More likely, she’d caught a glimpse of the physical evidence. Maybe he should cover his lap with his hat like he had the night she’d broken into his apartment. That had him picturing the way she’d plastered herself against his naked body. He sucked in a breath and shook his head again. Naked, naked, naked. Lord, he ached to get his hands on her. Think about something else, cowboy. Naked is not going to happen tonight.

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s a whole conversation going on inside your head without me?” Paige ran her hand down his biceps.

  A rueful grunt of laughter escaped. “Probably ’cause there is.” The Langfords’ driveway came into view, and anticipation stampeded through him. Even though he knew better than to make a move on her tonight, his body saw things differently. “When do you want to head to Philadelphia?”

  “I’m hoping we can take half of Friday off and leave around lunchtime. Maybe we can start work early that morning so we don’t miss as many hours.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Ryan parked his pickup in its usual spot and shut off the engine. He tossed his hat behind his seat. Didn’t want it to get in the way when he kissed her. Hopping out, he hurried around to Paige’s side to help her down. “I’ll walk you to the door,” he murmured. Lame.

  She snorted. “Because we live in such a dangerous neighborhood?”

  The occasional hoot of an owl and the quiet whoosh of the river meandering by were the only noises to be heard. “That’s right.” He raised an eyebrow. “You never know when some marauding raccoon might attack.”

  She smiled. “I really did have a lot of fun tonight, Ryan. Thanks to you, I’m now an official rodeo fan.”

  “I had a great time too.” They reached the door, and his heart hammered away against his ribs. He ran his hands down her arms, taking both her hands in his. “I’ll look online for more rodeos and let you know.”

  “Great.”

  The porch light cast her face in shadow as she glanced at him through her lashes. He leaned in for a kiss, and she met him halfway. Sweet and brief, the kiss ended. “Good night, Paige.”

  Her palm came up to touch his cheek. “Good night, Ryan.”

  She went inside, and he remained standing on Noah’s front porch, reliving the night in his mind. Grinning, he recalled the way she’d stepped in and taken over when things got tense between him and his uncle. She had his back, but she didn’t let him pull any bull either. Paige was good for him, and something deep inside reached for that goodness with everything he had, knowing full well he’d probably come away empty-handed and brokenhearted. Still, he couldn’t help himself. “Reach away, cowboy.”

  Shoving his hands into his front pockets, he headed for his apartment and the cold shower awaiting him. No doubt Austin or Shawn would pass his number on to his folks. He’d better call them before they called him. His gut twisted with trepidation. And remorse. Always present, the guilt lay across his shoulders like a yoke. Maybe it would be best to wait until he started working with the therapist before making that call.

  Ryan unlocked his door, flipped on the lights, and locked up again. He tossed his keys on the coffee table as he walked by on his way to the bathroom. The evening had taken a lot out of him, and exhaustion weighted his eyelids. He’d forgo the cold shower and live with the discomfort for the time being. Sleep took precedence, and besides, a case of blue balls never killed anyone that he knew of.

  The fluorescent light in his bathroom buzzed to life a few seconds after he pulled the chain. He reached for his toothbrush, loaded it up with minty freshness, brushed, and rinsed. Stripping on the way, he headed straight for his bed, pulled the covers back, and fell in face-first and spread-eagle. Thoughts of naked Paige played havoc with his body as sleep pulled him under.

  Ryan flew through the air, along with the flaming debris from the detonated IEDs. He landed hard, and the pain of his bones shattering wrenched a scream from somewhere so deep he didn’t know the place existed. The stench of burning flesh brought bile up to scald his throat. He rolled to put out the flames eating up his back and almost passed out from the searing pain pulsing along his nerve endings. Every beat of his heart sent another throb of torture through him until he craved nothing more than to leave his broken, burning body behind.

  He wanted his mom—wanted to see his family one more time before he died and knew he wouldn’t get the chance. He was going to die here in this desert, alone and far from home. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes, etching a macabre path through the soot and dirt encrusting his face.

  Theresa would be waiting for him on the other side. He’d join her soon, and that brought him comfort, but did nothing to ease the unbearable pain.

  Horrific groans and screams assaulted his ears, and the acrid stench and thick black smoke choked him. Ryan opened his eyes to survey the damage. Turning his head, he let out a hoarse shout. Paige lay broken and bloody in the dirt mere feet from him. Her empty, lifeless eyes stared right at him.

  No! No, this isn’t right. Not Paige…

  “NO!” Ryan woke with a start, gasping for air and covered in a cold sweat. Shaking from head to foot, he sat up and buried his face in his hands. His ghosts marched in formation behind his closed eyes, taunting him with their lifeless stares, reminding him that he didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve Paige. They hurled silent accusations and took turns shredding his soul.

  He shot up and paced around the room, sucking air in huge gulps. He needed a drink. Hell, he needed an entire fifth. Right now, he missed his old friend Johnnie W
alker on a cellular level. Scrubbing his face with both hands, he contemplated his choices. Bars were still open. Shit. Not good. Not good at all.

  Panic arced along his nerves. He glanced at the clock on his end table again, noticing his cell phone. Noah would understand. He could call him, and it would be all right. He knew Noah would talk him through this rough spot.

  Ryan strode around the bed and grabbed his phone from the table. Scrolling through his contacts, he found Noah’s number. The phone rang and rang, finally taking him to voice mail. He ended the call.

  Eyeing the jeans he’d dropped on the floor, he calculated how long it would take to get to the bar on the west side of Perfect. He had around two hours till closing time. More than enough time for a couple of shots. Just enough to take the edge off and help him sleep. He took a step toward his discarded clothing. Guilt and shame burned its way up to his face. Was he so weak he couldn’t even make it two weeks without a drink?

  He sat on the wire edge of a crisis, and one wrong move would cut him deep. Left with only one thing to do, he pushed number one on his speed dial and plastered the phone to his ear. With each unanswered ring, he bargained: If she didn’t answer, he’d head for the bar. If she did, he’d—

  “Ryan?” Paige’s sleepy voice filled his ear. She yawned into her phone.

  The bones in his body turned to rubber, and his muscles went slack with relief. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing?” Stupid thing to say. He smacked his palm against his forehead as she made an incredulous snorting noise. Imagining she wore her You’re an idiot face, he smiled stupidly into the darkness.

  “Well…”

  A long silent pause followed.

  “I was sleeping. It’s after midnight.” She yawned again. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m having some trouble here. Talk to me.” He shut his eyes tight and leaned his head back. One messed-up wreck, that’s what he was.

  “Is it the booze?”

  “No…Yes. It’s complicated.” He swallowed hard. “It’s the ghosts, not the alcohol. The drinking has always been about the ghosts and the nightmares, Paige. Whisky shuts it all out…so I can sleep.”

  Another long silence stretched between them. She didn’t understand. How could she? Only someone who’d been through what he had, seen the things he’d seen, would get it. “Look, I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.” He started to take the phone away from his ear so he could end this mistake before things went from bad to worse.

  “Wait.”

  His heart raced, and he brought the phone back. “Yeah?”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Talk to me.” His legs wouldn’t hold him anymore. He sank to the edge of his bed and flopped back, pinching the inside corners of his eyes. “I don’t care what we talk about. As long as I hear your voice, it’ll help.”

  “Hold on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Wait.” He sat up fast. “You don’t have to…” Shit. She’d already ended the call. Paige was on her way. Not what he’d intended at all—another meltdown witnessed by the woman of his dreams. Great.

  Ryan turned on his bedroom lamp, snatched up the clothing littered all over his bedroom floor, and tossed the heap into the closet. He opened his dresser drawer and dug through his stuff for a pair of cutoff sweats, slipping into them just as her knock sounded on his door. Grabbing a T-shirt, he tugged it on as he hurried down the hall.

  He opened the door and took her in, from her sleep-tousled hair to her slippered feet. She wore a tattered old flannel thing with a distinctively masculine print. “Nice robe. Sexy.” He smirked, while the sight of her filled him with achy tenderness.

  “I know, huh?” She tightened the frayed belt. “I took it out of Ceejay’s rag bag. It used to belong to my brother.”

  Ryan opened the door wider to let her in. “You didn’t need to get out of bed. We could’ve talked on the phone.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” Lifting her chin, she laid whatever happened next at his feet.

  “Hell no.”

  “Good. Come with me.” She took him by the hand and led him toward his bedroom. Hoh, boy. “What do you have in mind, darlin’?”

  She chuffed out another snort. “Not what you’re thinking, darlin’. I’m going to give you a back massage, and you’re going to introduce me to your ghosts. I’m not the one who needs to talk. You are. I’ll stay until you talk yourself out and fall asleep.”

  “It’s generally after I fall asleep that the trouble starts.”

  “Then I’ll stay a while longer to make sure your ghosts don’t come back tonight.”

  Even all business and bossy Paige turned him on. “My own personal superhero, guarding me from my demons.”

  “Something like that.” She chuckled. “Take off that T-shirt, and lie down on your stomach.”

  He froze. Heat suffused his face. He hadn’t bared his scars to anyone other than doctors and nurses. The way she’d reacted the first time she touched them came back in a hot mess of mortification. “I’ll leave the shirt on, if it’s all the same to you.” His voice sounded terse, even to him.

  “No, you won’t. This is part of the deal, cowboy.” Paige stepped closer, jutting out her chin. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.” She tugged at the hem of the cotton shirt.

  He stopped her, his heart thundering and his mouth dry as desert wind. “No.”

  “Ryan,” she cajoled. “Do you remember the day you bought the quilt?” Her hands snuck past his and slid up his bare chest.

  A slice of pleasure penetrated his defenses and fogged his brain. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory, Paige. I have PTSD, not traumatic brain injury.” His response elicited a low chuckle, weakening his resolve a smidge more.

  “I didn’t stop touching you that day because I found your scars repulsive. I stopped because…”

  Where his heart thundered a second ago, now it came to a complete standstill. He held his breath, his attention riveted on the tenderness filling her eyes. “Because why?”

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of the pain those burns caused you. I…” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt.” She tugged at the hem of his shirt again, and he let her take it from him.

  “Your scars don’t bother me the way you think they do.” She kissed the center of his chest and ran her hands over his shoulders and down the tight, twisted skin on his back. Her touch went straight through him, all the way to his battered soul.

  “Are we clear on that?” She searched his face.

  All he could manage was a mute nod.

  “Good. Lie facedown on the bed.”

  Yes, ma’am. Facedown was a good idea, because his dick had no qualms about letting her know how he felt about her. “You’re bossy.” He lay down on his stomach, propping his chin on his fists.

  “So?”

  Laughter vibrated through him. “So I like it.” The bed creaked and the mattress dipped as she perched on the edge, nudging him with her hip.

  “Scoot over.”

  He did as he was told, making room for her to sit beside him. Her warm hands settled on the knotted muscles where his neck met his shoulders—scars and all. Digging in with her fingers and thumbs, she kneaded, poked, and prodded until the knots untied.

  “You might relax more if you put your arms down by your sides,” she suggested, moving along his spine, using her knuckles to loosen him up.

  Again, he did as he was told. Finding her bare knee, he draped his arm over it and hugged it closer to his side. A long sigh slid out as the tension melted away bit by bit.

  “Tell me about your ghosts,” she whispered.

  He groaned and shook his head.

  She stopped massaging.

  “Not fair,” he muttered.

  “I’m not trying to be fair.” She brushed the hair from his face and teased him with a kiss. “If you want me to continue, you have to give me something in return.”

  “T
he more I tell, the more you’ll do?” The lustful optimist in him soared…

  “We’ll see.”

  …and crashed. “You’re a cold, hard woman,” he teased.

  “Ha!” She resumed her ministrations. “We both know who’s hard right now, and it’s not me.” Leaning down, she kissed his back and ran her hands along his sides.

  He grunted. “All right. Paige, meet my best friend Lance Corporal Benjamin Jackson, soldier, husband, and father.” His throat tightened. “He drove the Humvee your brother and I were in the day we got hit, and he’s the one who first spotted the civilian truck heading straight for us. Ben had a wife and a kid to get home to. He…He didn’t make it. I did.”

  “You must’ve been a better friend to him than he was to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” He jerked out of her reach. “Jackson was a great guy, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

  She followed him across the bed and pushed him back down. “Good friends don’t punish each other, Ryan. Do you believe he’s spiteful enough to haunt you? Do you really think a great guy like Ben Jackson would blame his best friend for what the enemy did to him?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Fine.” She massaged his shoulders. “Explain it to me.”

  “Noah ordered me to fire a round into the dirt to warn those Iraqis off. I could’ve aimed my machine gun into the payload of that truck while it was still out in the desert. If I had—”

  “So let me get this straight. You plan to second-guess yourself for the rest of your life? You’re going to shoulder the blame and punish yourself for a split-second decision that wasn’t even yours to make?”

  “Yes,” he snapped.

  “I see. All hail the what-if game.” She dug the heels of her palms into the tight spots below his shoulder blades. “Introduce me to another ghost.”

  “Besides Jackson, four other soldiers died that day. They like to make their presence known.”

  “Were the four of them close to you?”