Cross My Heart

by K. D. Friedrich

  Cara continued to spy while he instructed the boy on some basic self-defense moves. Her heart melted with each patient nod and kind smile he offered JT. For a moment, the gruff, angry man disappeared and Pete Cross, happy-go-lucky guy, returned. Pete’s laughter flowed through her when JT got the better of him, knocking him back a step. Pride lit up Pete’s face as hope sprang to life inside her chest.

  There’s the Pete I know. God, I missed you.

  “What are you doing?”

  The sudden voice behind her made her jump. “Holy cow, you scared me to death, Stan.” She bit her lip. Heat spread across her cheeks. Busted again.

  Stan peered around the giant palm branch. He retreated and shook his head. “Cara, has he brought you to this? Sneaking around like some demented, yet adorable, stalker?”

  “Oh looky, dinner’s being served.” She hustled across the room back to the table and far away from Stan’s disapproving smirk.

  *

  Warmth centered Pete’s chest. Although small compared to saving a village from insurgents, helping JT had given him a sense of purpose and pride. With a grin, Pete returned to the table to find Stan feeding Cara a piece of gravy-dipped prime rib. His grin morphed into a scowl. She licked a stray drop from her lip, and Pete groaned. He plopped down on his seat. Rose wasted no time reclaiming her spot beside him. She wrapped her claws around his biceps. Pete caught Cara rolling her eyes at Rose’s attention. He smiled. Someone wasn’t as indifferent as they claimed to be. The observation deserved a celebratory drink.

  Pete grabbed the server as she passed. “Can you set me up with a shot of Jack?”

  The woman nodded and hurried off.

  John frowned. “Way to tone it down, brother. You promised no heavy shit tonight.”

  “Get off my back. You’re worse than a woman. There’s an hour left of the damn reception and I drank two beers all night. Give a guy a break.”

  “No fights or I’ll give you a break, all right. I’ll break your god-damned neck.”

  “You say the sweetest things, John.” He laughed as John flipped him the middle finger.

  Chapter 8

  For the second time tonight, Stan managed to drag Cara out onto the dance floor. With their fingers joined, he spun her out and away before twirling her back into his chest. She started to shake her hips. To her surprise, she managed to keep up with the bubbly tempo, but all of a sudden pop music shifted into a gentle ballad, throwing off her rhythm. Following other couples’ lead, Stan pulled Cara against him. She glanced over Stan’s shoulder at the table where Pete sat with Rose. Pete stared back at her. Hard and unyielding, his expression cut all the way to her soul. A never-ending river of regret flowed between them, an intense longing created by years of denial.

  Beside him, Rose continued her attempts at seduction. All the while, Pete’s attention remained glued to her. Anger smoldered in his eyes, a possessive fury, which left an edge of excitement in her blood. She should be ashamed his pain caused her any sort of pleasure, but God, if his envy didn’t make her burn. Once again, the music changed and the beat picked up. Stan twisted her, bringing her back flush to his chest. He ground his hips against her butt as he held her hips in place.

  Pete stood, guzzled the beer in his hand, ripped Rose from her seat and pulled her onto the dance floor. Although more pronounced than earlier, his limp did little to hinder his sex appeal. Cara wanted to leap into his arms, wrap her legs around his hips and make a glutton of herself—until he and Rose began to move. The display of gyrating hips and eager hands made Cara’s stomach churn with a vile anguish. Karma decided to bless her with the same pain and frustration she’d noticed swimming in Pete’s glare seconds earlier.

  Pete didn’t hide his desire. He mauled Rose on the dance floor, nuzzling her throat, kissing and nipping with the same enthusiasm often seen from starved animals. Cara closed her eyes and looked away, too horrified to witness whatever came next.

  Stan noticed her body tense. It took a few seconds for him to pinpoint the cause of her discomfort. “What an asshole. Did I mention I was salsa champion three years in a row in high school?”

  Cara shook her head. “For real?”

  He laughed. “Would I lie? I kept my secret for years. You think I wanted the guys in school calling me twinkle toes? My mom’s idea of a well-rounded gentleman is one who can sweep a lady around a dance floor. Those three years of hell taught me one thing, how to move my ass. Let’s give them a show, sunshine. Follow my lead.”

  “Wait, more than half the graduating class is here. Don’t you care about letting your secret out?”

  “Fuck it.”

  He showed her a few steps and then took control. He shook his hips like nobody’s business, spinning her and lifting her. All the while, Pete continued his attempt to dirty dance with Rose. Two more quick spins landed Cara’s back against Stan’s chest. She followed his lead and rubbed herself against him. He spun her again and the second the song ended, he dipped her. Breathless with laughter, she gave him a hug.

  She turned to find herself nose to nose with Pete. “Can I have this dance?”

  “That’s up to the lady,” Stan tried to push his way in front of Cara.

  Pete glared at Stan. “I wasn’t asking your permission, was I?”

  Stan stepped around Cara. “I wasn’t offering it. The choice is hers, regardless of what I think.”

  “I’ll dance with him,” Cara blurted in an attempt to snuff the testosterone filling the air. “But I hope you have insurance, Pete. My feet can be lethal weapons.”

  “Morrison survived,” he snapped.

  Cara flashed a grin. “Barely.”

  Pete yanked her against his chest. He leered at her breasts and smiled. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Hey.”

  “It’s okay, Stan.”

  Stan frowned. “You sure? You don’t have to.”

  “I’m sure,” Cara insisted.

  Stan’s look screamed I don’t like this. He hesitated before heading back to the table.

  Soulful jazz cascaded over the dancing couples, a fluid rhythm of soft saxophone and smooth bass. Cara relaxed against Pete, resting her head against his shoulder, her breasts pushed up against his hard pectorals. The lift gave Pete a healthy view of her cleavage. She didn’t care. When Pete wrapped his arms around her, nothing else mattered.

  Lights above them lowered, signaling the disco ball to drop and cast tiny radiant orbs in every direction. Cara scented liquor on his breath, plus the warm masculine spice she’d fantasized about every night since their first kiss, and something feminine. A sickening trace of flowers left behind by Rose, no doubt.

  “Are you having fun?” Cara asked. “It’s nice, reminiscing with old friends. Speaking of old friends, your date looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

  Pete shrugged. He didn’t confirm Rose as his date, but he didn’t deny it either.

  “How about you? You having a good time, Cara?” He threw a glare toward the table where Stan sat talking to John. “Is Morrison treating you all right?”

  “Stan’s been a good friend to me.”

  “Yeah, right.” Pete rolled his eyes. “I bet.”

  Cara stared at him. “Look at me, Pete.” She waited for their eyes to lock. “I’m not dating Stan. We’re friends, nothing more. Why do you insist on thinking Stan and I are more than good friends?”

  “I’m not blind. You’re with the guy every weekend. You came to the damn wedding together.”

  “He didn’t want to come alone and neither did I. We’re working as buffers tonight, so we’re not molested by every horny, desperate single in town.”

  “Oh, come on, Cara. Everyone knows that you guys kept in touch. In six years, you and he, never…” He shivered as if sickened by the thought.

  Cara frowned and shook her head. “It never went further than friendship. I refused…”

  “Refused what?” He appeared doubtful.

  The truth struggled behind her fear. “I r
efused…I tried…but…” He grinned as she squirmed amid his inquisition. Smug jerk. He wanted to catch her in a lie. “Why do you care anyway? You made it pretty clear the last time we spoke how you feel,” Cara shot back.

  His eyes narrowed. “Humor me. What great and powerful force stopped you from doing the pokey with Morrison? Come on, Cara. I’m curious.”

  “No, what you are is infuriating.”

  “Stop stalling.”

  She pulled away from him, but he caught her, bringing her back in his embrace. They once again began to sway. Their hips pressed tightly together. The gentle rocking of their bodies brought his hard denim-covered cock an inch away from the growing ache between her thighs. A sudden urge for a cold shower or a dip in the lake beyond the catering hall doors, struck her without mercy. Her skin was tight and overheated. She needed to get away from him. She needed to stifle the flames building beneath her skin or she feared she’d explode.

  “Do you think this is a game, Pete? Well, I’m done playing.”

  “Oh, this is no game, baby. Now tell me why you didn’t let Stan take you.” His hand speared through her hair, cupping her nape. “We all know he wanted to, or are you lying to cover up a mistake?”

  Anger boiled in her blood at the accusation. She may have stretched the truth from time to time to soothe a damaged ego, but she never downright lied. Oh, if he wanted an answer, he was going to get one. Like Dad always said, be careful what you ask, because you may just get the answer. Pete Cross was about to understand the full meaning of his warning.

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “I couldn’t forget you, okay?” Nerve-wracking silence followed her admission. Pete stared with wide eyes. His tongue darted out, moistening his bottom lip. The action brought her gaze to his mouth. “Are you happy now? Did you get the answer you were looking for? I tried to push you out of my mind, but I couldn’t. When I say I’ve tried, I’m not kidding. For a while, I dated anyone who cared to ask. Even John didn’t know about a few of the guys. None of them made me feel half as good as I felt with you. To be honest, I doubt anyone ever will. There, the tormenting truth I have hidden from the very beginning. You ruined me for any other man, Pete Cross. Are you satisfied?”

  Oh, God, what did I do? You committed friend zone suicide, that’s what. She wanted to shrink down to the size of a rodent and scurry into the nearest dark hole.

  She returned his incredulous gaze, unable to break free. Fear, anxiety, and morbid curiosity glued her in place. What ran through his mind? Did he hate her? Did he pity her? Would he spin on his heels, march his adorable butt out of her life, and never look back?

  To her surprise, he did none of those things. Instead, his shocked expression morphed into a desire so powerful, she shook under the weight of it. She wished for him to confess. Tell her he understood her pain. Tell her he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone. Confess to her that the need burning in his eyes wasn’t her own mirrored desire tormenting her. Yet Pete remained silent, pulling her flush to his chest with no further explanation.

  Soft music continued to play. What song, she didn’t know or care. Other couples danced around them, nothing but oscillating blurs sprinkled in glitzy dots cast by the disco ball. All that mattered to her was the man she held in her arms. Spicy cologne drifted off his skin, exciting her senses. Heat came off him in waves, growing in intensity, a sensation she didn’t wish to end. When his hands trailed up her spine, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. He wasn’t immune to her. The evidence of susceptibility pressed against her pelvis, hard, thick, and ready.

  “You’re shivering,” he whispered. His breath tickled her neck.

  “I am?”

  He nodded. His lips brushed her throat.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, his mouth now hovering over her ear.

  “No.”

  He sighed as if a weight slid off his shoulders, releasing all the pressure imprisoned within his chest. In those precious moments, whatever demons held on to him let go and the Pete she knew all those years ago returned.

  She rocked with him, content for the first time in years. They enjoyed each other’s comfort in silence, basking in the momentary solitude couples experience when sharing a slow dance.

  “I did miss you,” Cara whispered. “Remember when you used to hold me during all those thunder storms? You and John would build forts out of sheets. We’d crawl inside and batten down the hatches. John would tease me about being afraid. Not you, Pete; you swore to defend me against the cranky monsters living in the clouds.”

  Pete chuckled. “You always hated the lightning more than the damn thunder. If you could have, you would have clawed your way inside me. I still have scars from your tiny nails digging in my skin.”

  She chuckled. “Well, John was too busy teasing me to help.”

  “John was too busy shitting his pants. He hated thunder more than you.”

  She laughed and looked at him. “I despise waiting for the loud roll and bang after the bright flashes. The anticipation drives me nuts.” She rested her head back on his shoulder. “Somehow none of it mattered when you were there. I knew you’d protect us. You’d never let us down.”

  His arm around her grew taut. Once again, every muscle in his body went rigid. He stopped and pulled back.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Cara. Why was he eyeing her as if she stabbed him in the chest?

  “That was a long time ago, Cara.”

  “Feels like a lifetime,” she agreed.

  “You have no idea.”

  He glanced over her shoulder. She followed his line of sight to where John now stood with a couple of his buddies from the precinct. John glanced up at them and nodded. Pete’s gaze fell to the floor. He mumbled something Cara didn’t understand before he snatched her wrist, dragging her off the dance floor to the crowded corridor and out the back door.

  Humidity hung thick in the air. Sweat beaded along her brow within seconds of exposure. Moisture grew beneath his fingers locked around her wrist. Yet, even a fresh sheen of perspiration did little to hinder his firm grip. Ahead of them, moonlight reflected off a still lake. To her left side stood a dense forest teeming with crickets and fireflies, to her right, a garden lost in darkness. Up above, scattering a black sky, thousands of stars glistened, their quixotic beauty a mocking display she didn’t appreciate since her intuition assured her this excursion had little to do with seduction. Pete’s anger rose off him in powerful waves and once again, she was the target.

  “What the heck are you doing? Let me go,” Cara demanded. Pete didn’t answer. He held onto her wrist, dragging her up the pier until they came to the dock’s edge. He glanced out over the calm water, his chest heaving with exhaustion.

  “Why do you have to be so fucking perfect?” he shouted. He snapped an accusing gaze on her.

  “Perfect? I’m far from—”

  He growled, stopping her mid-sentence, then spun away from her. His chin fell to his chest, his fists clenched at his sides and shaking. “I remember everything about that night, the feel of your hair falling through my fingers, the scent of your skin. Jesus, I tasted your damn cherry lip balm for months. The flavor haunted my dreams whenever I closed my eyes. Most of all, I remember how right you felt in my arms.” Cara touched his shoulder, and he jerked forward. “Those memories kept me sane the first two tours. The third tour…well, they kept me alive. Without them, I would have put a damn bullet in my head a long time ago.” He spun away from her again. “John wrote to me a lot. He brought me up to date on everything in Heart Falls. He talked about you sometimes. Those were the best letters. I needed to hear you were okay. You were happy.”

  “You never wrote to me, all this time and nothing, not a single word. I didn’t know if you were lying in some hole somewhere. You left. No goodbye. No see you later. Nothing. I asked John for your APO address. He told me you didn’t want it given out. Even to me.”

  “I needed to make a clean break, Cara. No matter how right kissing you felt,
it should have never happened.”

  “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “We didn’t do anything wrong? Jesus Christ, Cara, I betrayed my best friend. Not once, nope, I went and did it again.”

  “Fine, we should have never kissed. You didn’t have to blow me off.”

  “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Tell me the truth. Tell me it was a mistake. Tell me anything, but don’t throw away our friendship over a sixty-second slip-up.”

  He closed his eyes tight as if she had rammed a knife through his back. “I didn’t know what to say. You hated me.”

  “I never hated you, Pete.”

  “I couldn’t stand the hurt in your eyes when you looked at me that night. I took advantage of you. You knew it and I knew it. I failed John and I failed you, like I fail everyone who counts on me.”

  “Pete, I’m not going to lie and say your leaving didn’t hurt me, but you never failed me. You thought you were protecting me. I get it. God, you have to stop shielding me like some fragile porcelain statue on a crooked shelf. I’m tougher than I look. I never needed you to look after me then and I don’t need you to watch me now. And John, well, he’s a big boy, I’m sure he’d survive the truth.”

  He spun to her. “Truth? What truth? How I molested you when you were drunk and naïve all those years ago? Or maybe how I mauled you in his kitchen, ready to fuck you on his table without regard for anyone except my selfish need?”

  “Pete, you didn’t—”

  “Ah, it doesn’t matter. It’s not just John I betrayed. I stood in front of your mother’s casket and promised her I’d protect you. I swore no one would ever hurt you. She was there for me when I needed a mom, treated me like a son and I repaid her by mauling her drunken daughter against a car.”

  “I don’t remember complaining. I may have drunk too much, but I knew what I was doing, Pete. I wanted you. I still do.” She lifted her arms, the need to hold him overpowering.