Rescue Me: A Bad Boy Military Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  Luke laughs darkly. “Out of the mouths of babes…” he says, strolling back and forth across the stage. “This is a good question, though, because it brings up an important point. Whose business is it that you’re having sex or not?” He scans the auditorium. The audience is silent, held at rapt attention. “It’s a real question with a real answer.”

  Dana’s hand shoots up. “No one’s,” she answers.

  Luke nods. “Twenty points for Miss Wilkinson over here,” he says dramatically. “That’s right. Nobody has a right to know. And you shouldn’t brag to your friends about it. It’s a breach of privacy between you and your partner. Your intimacy is between each other. It shouldn’t be between anyone else.”

  I smile at Luke and he nods back at me.

  “Banana!” yells the kid guarding the door, using the code word.

  Everyone mutters and Luke holds up his hands. “It’s fine. Thank you, back to your seat,” he says to the guard. The auditorium doors open and Sykes walks in. Luke acts like he was mid-sentence during the interruption. “So having sex is a dangerous proposition. What’s the only way to be sure you won’t get pregnant or end up with gonorrhea?”

  “Abstinence,” the auditorium chants dully.

  Sykes looks pleased, waves his thanks at Luke, and then shuts the door.

  Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ELLA

  “You could have told me that he was a counselor at the school,” I say to Alexa over popcorn and wine on my front porch. Dragonflies float by us lazily as the sun sets around us on this gorgeous Friday night.

  “I thought you might want to see it in action for yourself,” she says, shrugging.

  “The kids love him,” I say.

  “I know. I can’t wait until Teddy gets him as a sub one day. He’s quite a catch. War hero, freaking gorgeous, good with kids, handyman.”

  “And he can cook,” I say without meaning to.

  “There you go,” Alexa replies. “The total package. If only he were interested in you – oh, wait. He is. He’s obsessed.”

  My phone buzzes and I answer it without thinking. “Ella,” I say.

  There’s breathing on the end of the line.

  “Hello?” I say again. Alexa looks at me with concern. “Who is this?” I pull the phone away from my face and see Jason’s name there. I feel sick and set down my glass of wine. “Jason, stop calling me. I mean it. I’m sick of it. We’re over, done, finished with. I don’t want to hear from you again.”

  “You will,” he says ominously. The line goes dead.

  “He’s still calling you?” Alexa asks me.

  “Yeah, he is,” I say. I realize I’m shaking and pick up my wine glass again. I take a huge sip of it, hoping the alcohol will calm me. “What is it with me and guys not letting me go?”

  “Don’t conflate Jason with Luke,” Alexa says. “Luke did let you go. And he’s letting you take your time with him. Jason is…well. That’s not really what he’s doing, is it?”

  She’s right. My hand shakes as I go to block his number. I hope that gives him the hint that I’m serious. I’m not entirely sure what else to do. Alexa changes the subject and I try to forget the phone call. But it haunts me even in my dreams.

  I barely sleep that night, waking up at two in the morning and finally handwashing all of the empty casserole dishes the town’s brought me. Every single one of them has masking tape with the name of the owner written in permanent marker. After a few hours of washing, they are finally all clean. I strap them all to the back of my bicycle as the sun rises on a glorious Saturday morning and begin my trip around town.

  It takes me five hours until I’m down to the last one, being that each person I stopped to see insisted that I come inside for a glass of sweet tea and a chat. At the second-to-last house, I feign a medical emergency for one of my patients so I can finally slip out the front door.

  I hope onto my much-unburdened bicycle and pedal as hard as I can to the edge of town. A truck passes me on the way and I wave, coughing a little as the dust fills my lungs. I pedal harder, drenched in sweat. It occurs to me to be self-conscious but there’s no turning back now. Would I prefer to see Luke while I’m not sweaty and dirty? Of course.

  But that’s not how it is.

  I speed up to his front door and lean the bike against the enormous slabs of limestone rock that make up this glorious house. I tap the doorknocker a handful of times and wait. I hear a buzz saw coming from the inside of the house and I wait until it stops. I bang on the door as loudly as I can again, casserole dish in hand.

  I hear footsteps and Luke pulls open the door. My breath catches in my throat as I realize he’s shirtless, sweating, and covered in sawdust. At least we’re both dirty.

  “Hey there, Ella,” he says with a smile. I can tell that he’s enjoying the way my eyes dance over his half-naked body.

  I clear my throat and hold up the casserole dish. “I’m only returning this,” I say with a smile. “Thanks, by the way. The lasagna was delicious.”

  “Made it with zucchini I grew last year in my garden,” he says.

  “Seriously, as your doctor I’m concerned that you’re not getting enough sleep. You’re like superhuman or something.”

  “Come inside,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m just finishing up cutting some rafters for the living room ceiling.”

  “Oh, I should get back,” I say, unconvincingly. “Before it gets dark.”

  Luke laughs. “Sun doesn’t set for another four hours. Come on. If you stay that long, I’ll drive you home.”

  I step into the cool house. “Your air conditioner must be fantastic,” I say awkwardly, following him through the construction zone.

  Luke laughs. “It’s not working, actually. Turns out the part you needed was the part I needed, so I have to wait awhile. It’s the limestone that keeps it cold down here. Upstairs is a different story. Plus, I’ve got cool air coming up from the basement. Still gets pretty hot in the summertime, though.”

  I nod and gaze out the windows to the backyard. “You should put in a pool.”

  “Only if you promise to come over and skinny dip in it with me,” he says, pulling on his safety goggles and firing up the saw. I watch as he slices through thick boards with ease. My fingers are itching to do what he’s doing. He cuts a few boards and pulls off his safety glasses, looking over at me. He holds out the glasses. “You wanna do some?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t really think power tools and I are the best combination, actually,” I say nervously.

  “Get your ass over here, Ella. I’ll show you how to use it.”

  The thought of Luke wrapping his arms around me the way he did the first day we painted my office is hugely appealing. I step forward and slide the glasses onto my face. Luke wraps his arms around me. “So what you want to do,” he whispers, his voice rumbling in my ear and traveling down the side of my neck, giving me goosebumps. “Is line up the laser line with the marks I’ve made here. Then you click the safety button in the back, hold it, and bring the saw down. Easy as pie.”

  I nod. “You help me with the first one, alright?”

  He steps a little closer to me and I feel the heat of his naked torso soaking through my shirt. “Ready?” He wraps his fingers around mine and I nod again. We pull the trigger and the saw easily slices through the wood. I feel a frisson of excitement and power.

  “That’s better than sex,” I say.

  Luke is still wrapped around me from behind. “Not better than sex with me, though.”

  I turn around and see his lips inches from my own. “No, not better than sex with you.” The words leave my mouth and hang in the air, shimmering between us. The tension that’s been building is threatening to come to a climax. I can smell his rain-scented skin; it’s tinged with a saltiness from the sweat he’s built up from working. I’m inches, centimeters, millimeters away when the doorbell rings.

  “Dammit,” Luke says.


  “There’s a doorbell?” is my clever response.

  Luke walks toward the door. “It’s hidden behind the bougainvillea. I need to trim it.” The doorbell rings again. “I’m coming. Hang on a fucking second,” he yells. He tears the door open. “Oh, God. I forgot.” Luke wipes his forehead.

  I hear jeering from outside. “Forgot karaoke night? You’ve got to be kidding me, dude.”

  Into the house steps a half dozen guys I recognize from Buxwell Prep, class of 2005. One of them – I think his name is Dean – sees me and smiles. “Sorry for interrupting,” he says with a playful smile on his lips.

  Luke sighs. “Y’all get the fuck out of my house and wait outside. I need to shower and then I’ll be at the bar in thirty minutes. I promise, okay?”

  “Showering alone?” Dean asks pointedly.

  “Very funny. I said y’all get the fuck out of my house. Assholes,” Luke says with a laugh, slamming the door. He walks back over to me and shuts the saw down. “I gotta go shower and change.”

  “Right,” I say, seeing in Luke’s eyes that he still remembers where we left off but losing my nerve at the same time. “I better hop on my bike and-“

  Luke laughs and wraps his arms around me. “Woman, do you think I’m letting you get off from going to karaoke night? I don’t fucking think so.” He cocks his head to the side and looks so sexy I feel my knees start to quiver like I’m in some kind of romance novel. He leans his head closer to mine and I feel my heart pounding. He gets an inch away from my lips and then pulls away, grinning. “Nah,” he says. “Do you really think I’m going to kiss you like this? After Dean interrupted us?” He walks away toward the grand staircase. “You hang down here. I’ll be five minutes, alright? You remember that kiss for later.”

  I’m left downstairs, my heart still beating. I have to wipe my brow.

  Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so cool in this room anymore.

  ***

  A guy I recognize as Tim Wilkins stands up to greet us at the bar. He’s wearing his best denim shirt and a boyish smile. He walks over and shakes my hand.

  “If it isn’t Tim Wilkins,” I say with a smile. The boys I came in with are shoving tables together.

  He laughs. “And Ella Hanover. You’re looking just as good as I’ve heard.”

  “I wasn’t aware anyone was talking.”

  Tim laughs and points at Luke, who is at the bar ordering drinks for everyone. “Luke certainly is. Can’t much stop when we get together. All I hear about is Ella Hanover this, and Ella Hanover that. Boy’s a little stuck on you. Has been for a while.” He leans in conspiratorially. “You break his heart, I’ll kill ya.”

  I blush and clear my throat. “Well, there’s not a lot of danger of that.”

  Luke returns and doles out a dozen bottles of beer. Dean passes me one and I take it, sipping it thirstily. I didn’t think after sixteen gallons of socializing sweet tea that I would be wanting liquid, but it might be the alcohol buzz of courage I’m after more than quenching any thirst.

  Luke pulls up a chair next to me and casually drapes his arm on the back of my chair. He brushes his fingers against my upper arm and I feel like I’m going to faint from this chaste contact. He’s laughing uproariously at some joke Tim’s just told and I realize too late that I’m the only one not laughing. I throw back more beer.

  A microphone screeches and the karaoke host, Al the DJ-slash-diner-owner, taps it. “This thing on?”

  A bunch of people yell back in affirmations.

  “Great,” he says. “Welcome to karaoke night. I’ll be your host this evening. There’s a sign-up sheet over here, and we go in order. Y’all know the rules. And if nobody goes first, I reach into the crowd and pull someone up here. Those are the rules.”

  I finish my beer in a few more swallows and reach toward the center of the table for another one. Luke leans close to me and I can smell his cologne. Tingles fall down my body. “Easy there. I seem to remember you don’t hold your liquor all that well.”

  I throw him an offended look. “You haven’t seen me in years. Time has taught me a lot of things, Luke Davis.”

  He grins and his dimples pop into view. “Is that right?”

  I chug the beer in one single gulp as the table chants around me. I slam the bottle onto the table and manage to suppress a belch. “There you go.” I grin and lean back, feeling the buzz hit my head almost immediately. It’s a warm, pleasant feeling and I bask in the glow of it.

  Al taps on the microphone. “I’m counting to five before I pull someone out of this crowd!” he says.

  People start cheering and Al is emboldened by this display of support. “Alright, then.” He hops off the corner stage and weaves his way through tables.

  “You’re going up there tonight,” Luke says to me. “Come hell or high water.”

  I roll my eyes. “No way,” I say, grabbing another beer and sipping it.

  “Yes way,” he retorts. “Everybody sings on karaoke night, even me.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Even you? I wasn’t aware that you sang.”

  “Do I really have to say again that you don’t really know me at all, Ella Hanover?”

  I open my mouth to respond when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the first sacrifice tonight. Our own hometown girl has come back to help us out. Now she’ll take the microphone herself. Give it up for Ella Hanover!”

  My jaw drops and Luke just gives me a sexy smile before swallowing a mouthful of Coke from his bottle.

  “I’m not doing this,” I say to no one in particular.

  Luke pats my knee and shivers ricochet over my flesh. “Crowd won’t stop until you get your ass up there, girl.”

  I push my chair back in a fog of disbelief and somehow stumble over to the stage. Everyone applauds and I hear Tim scream. “Get it, Ella!”

  I nearly drop the microphone as I try to finesse it into the stand. I look over at Al, covering the microphone with my hand. Somewhere between leaving my table and standing here, I feel like I’ve grown a foot. I’ve stepped into someone else’s body.

  It’s the beer, probably.

  Luke putting his hand on my leg helped, too.

  I lean over to Al. “Do you have Bonnie Raitt? ‘Something to Talk About’?”

  He nods and clicks through his computer. The opening chords call out across the bar and somebody wolf whistles. I launch into the song, aiming the lyrics squarely at Luke, the story of how a small town is talking about the chemistry between two unrequited lovers spilling from my lips. Luke smiles and Tim punches him on the arm.

  My voice sounds pretty good, or maybe it’s because I’m tipsy. I don’t know, and I don’t care. The crowd’s eating it up, though, and I finish with a grand flourish of my vocal abilities. People are on their feet and cheering “Encore!” but I wave them away and hop off stage, adjusting my t-shirt and walking over to Luke. Only now can I feel the effects of the adrenaline coursing through my body. I’m shaking, hard.

  “Well done,” Luke whispers into my ear as I sit down. He puts his hand on the nape of my neck and the noise of the crowd around me fades away into the distance, the golden lights of the bar and the blue of the neon beer signs gliding into soft bokeh. I look into his green and grin at him, parting my lips and diving forward into his.

  We melt together. It’s like we never separated. I feel myself at both eighteen and twenty-nine flash through my mind as he parts his lips and takes my tongue into his mouth. He squeezes the back of my neck and I put my hands on either side of his face, feeling his stubble and wishing we were alone.

  We come up for air to the entire bar chanting both of our names. “LUKE AND ELLA! LUKE AND ELLA!”

  Dean is stomping his feet and pounding the table, and I feel like I’m walking on air. Luke actually looks slightly embarrassed but waves at everyone. Al takes the mic and talks into it. “Alright everyone. That’s going to be a tough act to follow, but somehow we gotta do it.”

>   I lean into Luke, resting my head on his shoulder as the night wears on, each person taking the stage. Luke cheats by joining his friends onstage for a Chumbawumba cover, but I don’t harass him too badly over it. He still got up there, and that was the deal.

  I try and fail to hold back a yawn as the clock ticks closer to midnight. Luke whispers into my hair. “Let’s get you home,” he says.

  My stomach flutters at the possibility of these words. We say goodnight to everyone, Dean and Tim going “Oooh” like we’re all back in high school and the principal just called us back to his office.

  Luke flips them off. “Night, assholes,” he says with his strong, tattooed arm wrapped around my waist. He opens my door and helps me into the truck. We pause for a moonlight-bathed kiss before he closes my door.

  “Smells like rain,” I say as he starts the truck.

  “Yeah, a bit,” he replies easily. He sits there with the truck idling.

  “What?” I ask. He’s staring at me expectantly.

  “Your house or mine?”

  I bat my eyelashes dramatically and cross my legs. “Why, Luke Davis,” I say coquettishly. “I do believe you’re being rather impertinent right now.”

  Luke grabs my head and kisses me, prying apart my legs and running his calloused hands up my soft inner thigh. I gasp and lean forward, into him, closer and closer. He pulls away just as I’m seriously considering climbing over the shifter and mounting him. He puts the truck into reverse. “Now that was impertinent. Thought you should know the difference.”

  He heads off in the direction of his house and I say nothing in protest. I’m not even sure he can fit into the loft at my house.

  I glow as he drives. Rain starts to pelt the windshield and the wipers switch on. “Told you it was going to rain,” I say childishly.

  “You certainly-“ His words are interrupted by the ominous wail of tornado sirens. “Fuck,” he says, pressing his foot on the gas pedal. The tires spin a little on the gravel road. “We’re five minutes away.”

  I feel my heart thumping and another spike of adrenaline crash through my body. “Can we make it?”