Rescuing Harley: Delta Force Heroes, Book 3

by Susan Stoker

  It seemed that he needed to teach her how to accept a compliment. “It is your glasses. And your clothes. You’re you. You don’t give a shit what others say or think about you. You’re comfortable in your skin. And that’s a total turn on. There aren’t many women in the world today who are like that. It’s attractive as hell, and, Harl, I gotta warn you, I’m into you. I hope like hell you might feel the same about me, but I’m gonna give this my best shot.”

  “You go, young man.”

  The voice sounded like it came from next door. Both he and Harley stuck their heads out the door and he saw the same older woman standing in her doorway in the townhouse next to them, smiling.

  “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Gretel,” Harley scolded with a blush.

  “Ha. It’s only rude if you mean to do harm with what you hear.”

  “She’s mostly right,” Coach agreed, not letting go of Harley.

  “Whatever,” she mumbled under her breath. “Good night, Gretel,” she called, pulling back into the doorway of her place.

  When Coach raised his eyebrows at her, Harley quickly explained, “That’s Gretel Owens. She’s in her eighties and has a crush on my other neighbor. She stalks him, popping out whenever he comes or goes. She’s basically the neighborhood watch lady. She’s harmless.”

  “Does the neighbor want her back?”

  “Henry? I have no idea. I think he does, but he’s leading her on a merry chase, that’s for sure.”

  “I hope you aren’t planning on leading me on a merry chase, but I’ll tell ya now, if you are, I’ll gladly play along.”

  Coach smiled as it looked like he’d finally rendered Harley speechless. He leaned into her once more, brushing his mouth over hers in a way-too-brief kiss, before pulling back. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ve still got a few days of leave left. I’d like to see you again.”

  “I have dinner with my brother and sister on Saturday.”

  “Okay, no problem. Sunday then? I think Fletch is going to have a barbeque at his house. Would you come with me?”

  Harley looked at her feet before meeting his gaze. “I’m not good in social situations, Coach. Seriously. I always say the wrong thing, and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable around your friends.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “What if they don’t like me?”

  “They already do. Harley, you met them at the hospital. Fletch told me that Annie has talked about you nonstop. How calm and collected you were, even though you were covered in my blood. It’s the coolest thing that has happened to her in at least a week.” Coach smiled, letting her know he was joking.

  When she didn’t look convinced, he quickly said, “We don’t have to stay long if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll pick you up, and we can stop in, say hi, and then we can come back here if you want. Or we can go to my place and hang out. Whatever you want.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’d like to get to know your friends better.”

  “Thank fuck,” Coach breathed in relief. “I swear you’ve made me work harder for a date than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to play hard to get,” Harley told him with a worried frown on her face.

  “I know,” Coach soothed. “That makes it all the more satisfying that you said yes. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk, learn more about each other.”

  “Okay.”

  “Lock up after me,” Coach ordered, reluctantly letting go of Harley and stepping back.

  “Of course,” Harley told him. “I do every night anyway.”

  “Good night, Harley. Thanks for the fun day.”

  “Night.”

  Coach smiled all the way home. His head hurt, and his nose was beyond sore, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. Harley was going to be his—she just didn’t realize it yet.

  11

  Harley smiled at her brother and sister. They’d eaten dinner and were sitting on Montesa’s couch. Coach had texted her a few times and he’d called last night. They stayed up late debating the merits of puzzle games, like Bejeweled, over first-person shooter games, like This is War. Harley’s stomach had hurt from laughing by the time she’d hung up.

  “So tell me more about this Coach guy,” Davidson demanded in a harsh yet concerned voice only a big brother could have.

  “He’s in the Army. A sergeant. His MOS is intelligence and he works with a group of other guys.”

  “Don’t they all work with other guys?” Montesa asked, sipping her third glass of wine.

  “He with Special Forces?” Davidson questioned out of the blue.

  Harley eyed her brother before answering slowly, “I think so, but he was uncomfortable talking about it, so I didn’t press.”

  “Hmmm, probably not a Ranger then. Those guys love to talk about their Ranger tab.”

  “That’s not nice, Davidson,” Harley scolded. “You shouldn’t be so cynical.”

  “Sorry, can’t help it. So, you think he’s Delta Force then? He’s Army, so he can’t be a SEAL.”

  “How should I know?” Harley asked, exasperated. “Aren’t they like, top secret? It’s not like he’d tell me if he was.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So you like him?” Montesa asked, getting to the meat of the issue.

  “Yeah, I do,” Harley admitted without a qualm. These were her siblings. They were closer than most brother and sisters were. She knew she could tell them anything and they’d never judge her. Well, maybe she wouldn’t talk with her brother about sex she might be having, but with Montesa, yes. “He’s different from most of the military guys I’ve met. He’s funny, and he eats as fast as I do.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a selling point, Harley,” her brother told her with his lip curled.

  Laughing, Harley disagreed. “Actually, it is. He didn’t care that I ate the entire takeout by myself. You know how I feel about guys commenting on how much or how fast I eat. The fact that he eats just as fast as me means that I don’t have to worry about the snide comments.”

  “True,” Davidson agreed reluctantly. “But I’m not sure you should build an entire relationship on the fact that he can eat fast. Besides, until I’ve met him, I’m going to withhold judgement, one way or another.”

  “Fair enough,” Harley agreed. She valued Davidson’s judgement, and couldn’t wait to see what he thought of Coach.

  “What’s with his nickname?” Montesa asked.

  Harley shrugged. “Not sure. I haven’t asked him about it yet.”

  “Oh, please let me know. I find it fascinating how those military guys get their nicknames. Most of the time it’s hilarious.”

  “I know. They make one wrong move and they’re branded with some silly name for the rest of their lives. Although, his friend Fletch has that name because his last name is Fletcher, so it might be something innocuous.”

  “How in the world do you know that about his friend, but don’t know the meaning behind the name of the guy you’re crushing on?”

  “Fletch’s daughter told me.”

  Montesa shook her head in exasperation and drained her glass. “I don’t want to know. Seriously. Your life is a soap opera.”

  “No it’s not,” Harley disagreed. “It’s usually extremely boring. You tell me all the time I need to get out more.”

  “True. Okay then, don’t make your life a soap opera, yeah?”

  Harley smiled at her sister. “Gotcha. No General Hospital in my life. Deal.”

  “It’s time we got out of your hair, sis,” Davidson told Montesa. “I have a conference call in the morning.”

  “On Sunday?”

  He grimaced. “Yeah.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah,” Davidson repeated. “You okay to get home, Harley? You get your car looked over yet?”

  “No. There’s nothing wrong with my car.”

  “The tires are almost bald,” Davidson disagreed. “It’s making a weird noise, and don’t try to deny it. I
pulled in behind you tonight and almost went deaf until you shut off the engine.”

  Harley threw a balled-up napkin at her brother. “Whatever.”

  He caught it before it hit his head, and smiled at her. “Get it looked at, Harley.”

  “Okay, okay. I will.”

  “Same time next week?”

  “Can’t. Sorry,” Montesa told her brother. “John and I are going to a conference in San Francisco. We won’t be home until Sunday night.”

  Harley could tell that Davidson wanted to comment on the odd relationship between their sister and her law partner, but he didn’t. They’d both learned to leave it alone. Montesa was sensitive about it, and neither wanted to hurt her feelings.

  “Okay, maybe the next week then.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “It’s a plan.”

  Harley waved at Montesa as she and her brother walked to their cars. She gave him a hug and kiss—and promptly forgot about her siblings as soon as she got into her car and checked her texts.

  Hope you had a good time at your sister’s house.

  It was sweet that Coach remembered she was having dinner at Montesa’s that night. They hadn’t talked about it last night on the phone. His eidetic memory must extend to conversations as well. Harley made a mental note to remember that about him. Checking her watch, and seeing it wasn’t too late, she sent a short text back.

  I did, thanks. It’s always good to spend time with them.

  His response was immediate. You’re lucky.

  Harley knew it. Not many people had such close relationships with their siblings. But for some reason she got the feeling there was more to Coach’s text than simple politeness. Before she could comment about it, he sent another message.

  We still on for the barbeque tomorrow?

  Yeah. What time?

  I can pick you up around twelve-thirty. That work?

  Sure. Casual, right?

  Definitely. We’ll all be in jeans.

  Harley sighed in relief. She could do jeans.

  Okay, see you then.

  Can’t wait.

  Her smile didn’t wane even after she’d crawled in bed an hour later. She’d forgotten the feeling of euphoria when dating someone new. It was nice. More than nice.

  12

  Coach was right on time the next day. At twelve-thirty on the dot, Harley looked outside and saw him talking with Henry. They were obviously having a lively conversation because Coach was laughing and gesturing with his hands. They both turned to Gretel’s place and waved, catching her in the act of spying on them.

  Finally, Coach shook Henry’s hand and then came up to her door. He raised his hand to knock, but Harley opened it before his knuckles could connect with the wood.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. You look great.”

  Harley blushed. She’d tried extra hard today to make up for the last time he’d been at her house. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that hugged her ass. Montesa had told her once that they were sexy as hell on her. She’d paired them with one of her favorite T-shirts. It was a V-neck and said Harvard in big letters, but underneath it, in smaller font, it said, “just kidding.”

  “Nice shirt.”

  “Thanks. Decided to forgo the fat pants today.” It wasn’t anything fancy, but then again, Harley wasn’t fancy.

  Coach brought a hand up to her head and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I like your hair too.”

  She smiled self-consciously. “Thought I would put a bit more effort into it than just pulling it up in a ponytail for once. Oh, and I even showered this morning. Just for you,” she teased.

  He grinned widely at her and put a hand on his chest. “Be still my heart.”

  Harley relaxed, glad he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. She’d spent a lot of time that morning trying to get her hair to cooperate. It was somewhere between straight and curly and wouldn’t really do much either way. When she curled it, it only held the curl for about an hour, and when she tried to straighten it, inevitably it’d frizz up. So today she’d chosen to leave it natural, with help from a little gel. She blew it dry upside down to give it some volume, and then prayed for the best. So far, so good.

  “You ready to go?”

  Harley nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Coach waited patiently as she locked the door behind her, and then held out his hand, as if to point out the way to his car.

  Harley studied his vehicle, as it was the first time she’d seen it, and turned to him with a smile. “A Toyota Highlander? Isn’t that…uh…how do I put this…a bit soccer-momish?”

  He laughed, unashamed of his ride, and unlocked the doors with the key fob as they got close to it. “Maybe. But I don’t care. I love this baby.” He stroked his hand down the hood as he walked past. “Just wait until you sit in her. The ride is smooth, the safety features are out of this world, and besides, it’s just fun to drive.”

  “Not a truck? I thought all Texas badass soldiers had a truck.”

  Coach held out a hand and helped her in. Once she was seated, he leaned into her. “The back of this is much more comfortable than a truck bed.” Then he winked and shut the door, grinning.

  Harley rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she was impressed. The inside of the SUV was leather and obviously had all the bells and whistles. There were captain’s chairs in the back and a panoramic roof. It was gorgeous. Her car definitely seemed like a piece of crap compared to his.

  She had herself under control by the time he got to his side of the vehicle. He pushed the button to start the car, and Harley didn’t even give him shit about having a car that didn’t need a key to be put in the ignition to start it.

  “I asked Fletch if he would look over your car for you,” Coach said nonchalantly when they were on the road.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Hollywood said it was making a weird noise and that your tires were on their last leg, and because Fletch loves tinkering with cars. He’s got a Charger that he’s been working on for a while.” Looking over at Harley and seeing the unsure look on her face, he went on quickly. “It’s not a big deal. He’s not going to overhaul the whole thing, but he can change your oil, rotate your tires, change them for you if you want, and check the filters and stuff. He can tell you what he thinks might need to be done, so the mechanics don’t take advantage of you.”

  “Oh, okay. I’d like that. But please don’t say anything to him today about it. If he meets me and can’t stand me, I’d feel weird if you made him look at my car.”

  “First,” Coach told her easily, “he already likes you. Second, he’d love to do it. Tinkering under the hood relaxes him. It’ll be fine. We’ll figure out a time later that’ll work.”

  They made more small talk for a while as they headed for Coach’s teammate’s house. Harley was glad to see Coach was a safe driver. Constantly checking the mirrors and keeping his eyes on the road. “So, dinner was all right last night?” he inquired as they headed to Fletch’s place.

  “Yeah. It’s always good to catch up with Montesa and Davidson.”

  “Wait, your siblings are also named after motorcycles?”

  “Good catch. And yes. I told you before that my parents had a thing for bikes.”

  “So you did,” he agreed with a smile. “Do they go by nicknames?”

  “Like David or Tesa? No. My parents refused to shorten their names, and then when they died, we all wanted to keep our names just as they were, for them.”

  Coach put his hand over hers on the center console. “I’m sorry about your parents. I didn’t know. How did they die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I don’t mind. It was a long time ago. They were on their way to Sturgis, you know, that big motorcycle thing out in South Dakota? Anyway, they were minding their own business, when a pickup didn’t see them in his blind spot and switched lanes. Dad’s motorcycle collided with Mom’s and they both ended up over the side
of the mountain they were on.”

  “Jesus, Harley, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. It sucked, but it also made me, Montesa, and Davidson a lot closer. I’ve learned to try to see the good things that come out of the bad. It helps.”

  “I admire that about you.”

  Harley blushed. She liked the fact that he was still holding her hand and squeezed it in answer. “What about your folks?”

  “They’re still alive and well. They got divorced when I was in high school, but they’re on friendly terms. Neither is remarried, but they recently retired from their day jobs.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “Mom’s in Maine, and my dad’s in Florida.” He shrugged when she laughed. “Mom always loved the snow, and Dad couldn’t stand it. Now they’re both happy.”

  “That’s great.”

  “We’re here.”

  Harley looked up in surprise. She hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going. She’d been too enamored of Coach and his really slick car. They were pulling down a long driveway toward a really cute house. It had a big porch as well as a separate garage that looked like it had an apartment over it.

  “It’s nice.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am a little. I didn’t mean to be rude about it though. It’s a lot nicer than I thought an Army guy would have. I mean, most military guys I know have apartments because they move so much.”

  “Like me.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Fletch moved in a while ago. He was renting out the garage to help pay for the mortgage.”

  “Ah.”

  “I know you met them briefly, but the short version is that Emily rented the place with her daughter, Annie. There was this asshole at work who was blackmailing her. There was a misunderstanding and Fletch thought the guy was her boyfriend.”

  “Shit. Really? But she’s okay now?”

  “Yeah. The guy grabbed both Em and Annie and wanted to get revenge on my team. But all’s well that ends well.”

  “I think you’re leaving a whole lot of that story out,” Harley accused.