He looked so cute in his black jeans, black boots, royal blue t-shirt, and backwards baseball cap. Even with his shirt tucked in and his hair perfectly cut, he looked badass.
I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t telling me all of what he did other than ‘security’. My best guess was that he was in the military. His security was probably more like National Security. He’d said that he didn’t’ want to think about his job when I’d asked him what he did for a living, and I’d given him that option in hopes that he’d open up about it.
However, I knew a trained person when I saw one.
I saw the way he watched a room when we entered it. How he always made sure to have his back to a wall.
His gait was different too. His steps light but purposeful.
The words he spoke sounded sure, with no hesitancy. He never seemed nervous. The man was in complete control of everything he did.
Unhinging the chain, and then twisting the deadbolt, I opened the door wide.
“Hey!” I smiled nervously.
His lip tipped up into a half smile, drawing my attention from his eyes to his mouth.
And what a wonderful mouth he had.
“Blaine,” he said with a rumble.
He didn’t ask if he could come in, instead just walking right on in and taking in my place like he did the first time.
It wasn’t too shabby for a twenty year old on a fixed income. I had a one bedroom apartment in a not to bad part of town. As in, my car only got broken into once a month instead of every night.
That was why I was careful not to leave things outside that were important. If they just saw a clean car with nothing in it, they wouldn’t waste their time.
“I forgot to tell you how much I liked your couch,” he rumbled, looking at my second-third hand couch with a half-smile.
I’d gotten it from my grandmother once she’d moved into a retirement home, who’d gotten it from her best friend when she’d moved in with her children. It was a massive floral explosion of colors. It’d had a cover on it when I’d gotten it, but I’d taken it off because it smelled like old people, despite its numerous washes, and I hadn’t had the money to replace it yet.
“Thanks,” I said, taking in the rest of the room from a visitor’s point of view.
It really wasn’t much, but if nothing else, I had comfort and coziness.
There was a bright zebra printed bean bag in the corner that I’d made into my reading nook. A large brown recliner that was in front of the TV, with a bright green blanket covering the fact that it was just as ugly as the couch.
Then there was the tiny, little kitchen decorated in John Deere memorabilia.
Cheesy, yes, but I liked what I liked.
“I like it. John Deere Green is my favorite color,” Elliott rumbled.
I tossed a grin over my shoulder at him. “Sounds like you’re my soul mate.”
His face changed, growing serious.
With steady, deliberate steps, he made his way to me and stopped less than a hairsbreadth away from my lips.
He brought his hand up, cupping my face. “I know two things. One, I’m in love with you. Hopelessly, irrationally, and insanely in-fuckin’-love with you,” he emphasized that statement with a deep kiss that left me breathless. “Two, I’d do abso-freakin’-lutely anything for you. Anything. I’d even fucking dance with you in front of a million people. If that doesn’t say something, I don’t know what will.”
“How about I only make you dance on Christmas?” I teased.
“Deal,” he said fiercely.
Chapter 3
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas. But if the white runs out, I’ll drink the red.
-E-card
Blaine
2 years later
Christmas number one
This wasn’t how the first Christmas as a married woman was supposed to go.
I’d stupidly dreamed of this day since I was a little girl.
I was supposed to have my prince charming make Christmas cookies with me, and help me hang Christmas lights. Then we’d open presents together Christmas morning, and he’d give me a puppy that we’d name Steeler.
What I wasn’t supposed to be doing was eating the Christmas cookies I’d made, by myself, in my tiny one bedroom apartment alone. Nor was I supposed to sleep in my bed, by myself, with my husband halfway across the world.
However, I knew one thing.
I married a soldier.
That was the way of life for an army wife. I knew what I was getting into, and I loved Elliott with all my heart and soul. I’d do absolutely anything for him. Even spend our first Christmas, as a married couple, alone while he risked his life for The United States of America.
Tomorrow, at least, wouldn’t be as bad as today. I’d be going to my parents’ house in the morning, followed by Elliott’s parents in the afternoon. I wouldn’t be alone, and that was, most likely, due to my husband, God love him, who hated the fact that I’d be by myself.
I’d planned to spend it by myself since our parents were so far away from where Elliott was stationed, but they’d all convinced me that it would be better for me to come back home. I’d tried to argue that I had a ton of things to do for my new business, but they’d pushed and pushed until I’d finally given in.
So why, if I had to drive five hours across Texas tomorrow, was I not sleeping when I had to get up in an hour?
Because I was going to be Skyping with my hot husband any minute.
I looked down at the Christmas pajamas I was wearing and grinned.
They actually came out of the kid’s section.
Yes, I was small.
Yes, I shopped in the kids’ section at times. So shoot me.
Ding. Ding.
The sound made me smile, and an excited squeal started to bubble out of my throat.
Clicking answer on my computer, I fairly bounced on my knees as I waited for it to connect.
And then it did. There he was. The light of my life. The man that got all my hormones raging with a single smile.
“Hey, baby,” he said in his deep rumbly voice.
I smiled at him. “Hey, hot stuff.”
He grinned that heart-stopping grin that set my belly to tumbling. “I like it when you call me hot stuff.”
He looked good. Happy.
So many other times he’d looked sad, but something about him today made me think that he was pleased.
“Hey, did you get my care package?” I wondered.
He nodded. “Yeah, we did.”
I rolled my eyes.
When Elliott and I had first started dating, I hadn’t realized he was in the army. Then he’d been given the orders that he was to deploy for six months, and the cat had slipped out of the bag. However, by that time, I was so entrenched in everything Elliott that I didn’t care. If he was happy, I was happy. I’d wait my whole life for him to come back to me.
I jumped into the role of army wife and started sending him care packages, letters, notes, multiple emails, and love all from thousands and thousands of miles away.
Lots and lots of love.
Then he’d told me about his unit, and I’d started taking care of them as well.
“Did you like it?” I wondered.
I heard a voice from the background. “Loved it!”
I rolled my eyes. There was never any privacy. Ever. But I still loved each and every one of them.
“Shit, baby I’ve got to go. They’re calling us up,” Elliott said suddenly.
My heart dropped. I’d only had him for less than a minute.
Hells bells.
I want you to stay! I thought sadly.
“Okay, baby. Be careful,” I said instead, knowing he didn’t need to hear what I really felt.
He smiled sadly. “I will. Merry Christmas, B.”
“Merry Christmas, E,” I repeated back.
He winked, and then he was gone.
>
And I was all alone.
Again.
***
Elliott
“Do you think she bought it?” Sam, my captain, asked.
I looked over at the five other men in the room with me and smiled. “Hell yes she believed it. Just don’t tell her you saw her in those pajamas.”
They all laughed.
My brothers. My best friends.
We’d been in the same Army Ranger unit for four years now, and Blaine and I’d been dating for all four of those years.
It was only in February of this year that Blaine and I’d tied the knot, and each of them had stood up with me.
They were the best friends a man could ask for, and did silly shit with me just so I could surprise my wife on Christmas.
Such as decorating a hotel room like our command post in the middle of Iraq, and then staying in their dusty clothes long enough to sell the tale.
James stripped off his brown shirt and went to the bathroom to wash up while talking. “All right, I’ve got to go. My mom and sister have my little girl, and I’m dying to see her.”
James had helped set up the room with us, and played his role well, but I didn’t blame him for wanting to get home now.
The others were staying with me, though. We’d head out after we got something to eat and start the long drive from New Mexico to Oklahoma, where I’d finally get to see my girl after nine long months.
“We should go to McDonalds. Do you know how much I just want a shitty hamburger?” Jack asked from his position on the bed.
Jack was another member of our unit. He was the stoic one.
The one we knew had something traumatizing happen to him.
Not that we’d force him to talk about it. If he wanted to get that off his chest, we’d always be there to listen. However, we all had our fair share of tragedies. We were a bunch of broken people, but we were still standing.
I looked over at him and smiled.
A hamburger sounded fucking amazing. “Let’s do it.”
“I’d rather Taco Bell,” a voice from my opposite side said.
I turned to find Dougie laying down on the bed next to me, still dressed fully in his dusty BDUs and sweatshirt.
He was waiting for his turn in line for the shower, and it showed.
But, like the rest of us, we were so happy to be back on American soil that it wasn’t necessary to wipe the dust of the Iraq desert off just yet. As long as the ground we were standing on was ours, and not a foreign country’s, the rest didn’t matter.
James came out of the bathroom wearing jeans, and bringing the steam of an extremely hot shower with him.
“Hey, asshole. You better have left some hot water, or I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass,” Max growled from the corner of the room where he was standing up from the chair he’d been occupying.
James shrugged. “Oops,” he grinned unrepentantly.
Max cursed and launched himself at James who braced himself for the impact. They hit and then went down.
Dougie sat up, stripped off his shirt and boots, and walked calmly into the bathroom and shut the door.
Sam and Jack laughed, while I could only shake my head.
Amateurs.
Two hours later, we were all packed into a Chevrolet Suburban that we’d rented and headed east. The time and miles couldn’t go by any slower.
Chapter 4
If I’m still able to walk to the kitchen after sex…you don’t deserve a sandwich.
-E-card
Blaine
“Mom, someone’s at the door, but I have cheese ball all over my hands!” I yelled.
“Got it honey,” my mom replied excitedly.
I looked at the entrance to the hallway that led to the front door with amusement.
My mother was such a nut.
A few days ago, when I’d told her that Elliott’s parents didn’t have anywhere to go this morning, she’d immediately invited them over for our annual Christmas brunch.
They’d accepted happily, which I’d known they would.
They were alone and missing Elliott just like I was; it just seemed right to commiserate together.
Clark and Lois were two peas in a pod.
I’d thought that no one could match my parents’ love for each other, but when I’d met Clark and Lois, they showed me how wrong I was.
“How ya doin’ pip?” Clark asked as he made his way into the kitchen.
He made my heart clench as I saw him.
He looked so much like Elliott that it hurt.
Around six foot, muscled, but not too much so. Lean hips, blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and a killer grin.
The only difference between the two of them was the sign of age on Clark’s face.
Laugh lines around his mouth; slight crow’s feet around his eyes.
That was it. The only differences.
“Hey, Superman. How ya’ doing this morning?” I asked.
I’d been calling Clark Superman since the moment I’d met him.
With him and Lois’ name being the same as Superman and his woman, it only seemed fitting.
He grinned Elliott’s grin at me and wrapped me in a tight side hug while he looked at the mess I had in front of me. “What’s that?”
“A cheese ball,” I said.
“Looks like puke rolled up into a ball,” he observed.
I giggled.
Clark owned his own concrete company. He had a crew full of men, and they didn’t have filters on their mouths, which sometimes spilled over into their daily lives.
“There’s coffee in the pot if you want some,” I informed him as I finished shaping my ball of puke...I mean cheese…and washed my hands.
He gladly accepted my offer, “Thanks.”
We wound up in the living room a little over an hour later as we watched the Christmas parade on TV.
“Do y’all want to open presents?” My mother asked.
My father shook his head. “No.”
My father was a Scrooge. He hated Christmas. Mostly it was because my mother went above and beyond for Christmas, and my father was required to put every single piece of ‘Christmas Shit,’ as he liked to call it, out.
“Oh!” Lois cried. “I left ours in the car, let me go get them.”
“No,” I stood. “I’ll go get them. Where are they?”
She was holding my mom’s gift to me in her lap as she inspected each tiny panel of cloth.
My mom had made me a memory quilt of old clothing of mine and Elliott’s. She’d spend nearly a year picking out colors, and stealing our clothes, to make the perfect blanket.
I absolutely loved it.
I’d use it every night until Elliott got home.
“They’re in the back seat. It’s unlocked,” she said absently.
I stood and made my way to the door, shivering slightly as I opened it, and slipped outside without my coat or shoes.
The cold seeped into my bare feet as soon as I stepped out, and I trembled slightly.
I rolled my eyes when I saw that Clark had bought a new truck.
The man got a new one every year around Christmas, according to Elliott.
I walked down my parents’ driveway, turned to the street, and then froze when I saw what was standing there.
He’d been hidden by the large bush at the end of the driveway, and I hadn’t seen him until my feet hit the asphalt of the road.
“Elliott,” I breathed, and then I was running.
***
Elliott
“When’s she going to come outside? I’m starving,” Dougie whined.
He was upset that the mother of his child had his daughter for Christmas, and he was taking it out on everyone else but the woman who deserved the shit mood he was in.
I looked over at the exasperating ass beside me. “When she comes outside.”
“Seriously, did your mom give the signal like you told
her to?” Dougie kept pushing.
I silenced him with a look, but he just grinned.
Asshole.
“The door’s opened,” Jack mumbled from his position in the front seat. I looked over at him with his eyes closed, and wondered how he could even tell.
“Stay here for a few,” I instructed as I opened the backdoor and jumped out.
My feet hit the ground with only a whisper of sound, and I closed the door quietly, waiting for her to go to my dad’s truck that was parked in front of ours.
It felt like for-fucking-ever before she finally made it to the end of the drive.
She was wearing the same pajamas she’d been wearing last night.
Red and white skintight pajamas.
She told me in a letter last week that she’d found them for half price in the kid’s section at Target. I’d thought that she was talking about footed pajamas, but these were just adorable. And, for some reason, incredibly sexy.
The thin stretchy material cupped her ass like a second skin, and from here I was fairly sure she couldn’t be wearing underwear because I couldn’t see any lines.
Her top looked about as good as her ass except I could tell she was wearing a bra, which, for some reason, was heartbreaking.
Her mid-back length strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail over her right shoulder, and she had a red and green striped ribbon in her hair at the top to hold her bangs back.
Her face was void of makeup, and her toes were bare, despite the zero degree temperatures and wind chill.
It took her long moments to finally turn my way, but when she did, she froze.
Then she screamed and started running towards me.
A smile split my face wide, and it was all I could do to stay in place and not run towards her, too.
Putting one foot back to brace, I opened my arms just in time for her to launch herself in them and hit me with all the might a hundred and ten pound person could muster.
Her legs went around my waist, feet locking behind my back.
Her strong arms encircled my neck, and she buried her sobbing face into the crook as she shook with the force of her tears.
“You’re home,” she whispered.
I Don't Dance (Freebirds Book 6) Page 2
