by Brenda Novak
“No,” he said. “It’s definitely not.”
* * *
That night Levi dreamed of a woman. He couldn’t see her face, but he was driving into her supple body, climbing toward orgasm, feeling the clench and pull of her body as she met each thrust. But a second before achieving that much-needed release, he woke up, heart pounding and muscles taut.
“Shit.” He lay there, breathing as hard as if it had all been real and wondering why he couldn’t have awakened a few seconds later. He was supremely unsatisfied but unwilling to ease his own discomfort. After causing Behrukh to lose her life, he didn’t deserve that kind of pleasure, didn’t deserve anything.
How long until morning?
He had no idea. He didn’t wear a watch, didn’t have a cell phone. Time didn’t matter when a person had nowhere to go. But he didn’t want to lie awake for hours, waiting for dawn. He’d done that enough those last few months in Kandahar.
After several minutes, his heartbeat began to slow but his erection remained, probably because he couldn’t stop thinking about Callie. He wasn’t positive she was the woman in his dreams, but it hadn’t been Behrukh. The feel of Behrukh would’ve been different. She was leaner, physically stronger, because she’d led a harder life. She would’ve smelled different, too—like the curry she cooked so often. After her death, he hadn’t been able to dream of her, anyway. He hadn’t been able to dream at all. The insomnia that’d plagued him the year before he joined the army had returned; he’d lain awake, sweating in the heat while staring at the dark tent above him. He’d listen to the coughs and snores and rustles of the other platoon members and wish he could be like them. But he couldn’t. Some days he had to roll out of bed to make muster, feeling so sleep-deprived he could hardly stay on his feet.
Ironic though it was, he’d won a roomful of martial-arts trophies growing up but was proudest of simply enduring those final months in Afghanistan—something he couldn’t have done without the training he’d received from his father. Well before any army sergeant had gotten hold of him, Leo had drilled certain rules into him. Levi knew how to use every ounce of self-control he possessed. He knew how to adhere to a regimen. He knew that sometimes he had to withstand pain and keep fighting even in the face of sure defeat. Without Leo, Levi would not have finished his last tour so he could be honorably discharged—but that was the kindest thing he could say about his father.
A sound brought his head up. He couldn’t identify it, but it didn’t seem to fit with the noises he’d been hearing. He thought maybe someone was creeping toward the barn.
Had he missed picking up on the hum of a motor?
Maybe the police or the men who owned the pit bulls were back, hoping to take him by surprise. Neither group wanted him hanging around....
The creak of the barn door, along with a subtle flash of moonlight, told him he’d guessed right. Someone was approaching. He had no idea who, but he refused to allow himself to be caught in a vulnerable position.
He pretended to roll over, so the sound of his movements would draw whoever it was immediately to him, but got up instead. Then he waited for the right moment, for the intruder to come close.
A second later he heard footsteps near his bed and grabbed whoever it was from behind, cutting off his air with one arm and rendering him immediately defenseless.
Only it wasn’t a him. The soft body against his gave Callie away long before she could even attempt to speak.
* * *
Panic turned Callie’s knees to water as she felt the raw power of Levi’s quick, sure movements. She opened her mouth to scream but couldn’t get enough air.
For the first time, she was afraid of him. Really afraid. In that moment, she knew without a doubt that, despite her diagnosis, she still cared about living, about sticking around for as long as possible.
The fear didn’t last, however. As soon as he realized it was her, he eased his hold and turned her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I hope...I hope I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t know...”
His words fell off, but she understood. He hadn’t known it was her. She should’ve announced herself. She would have, except that she’d been waiting to get close enough to touch his arm, in case he was sleeping. “It’s okay,” she said. “I...I shouldn’t have surprised you.”
“What are you doing out here?”
He released her but she couldn’t quite let go of him. She was still trying to overcome the effect of such a fright, worried that she might crumple to the ground. “I—I wanted to see if you’d come inside.”
“Why?”
His deep voice rumbled in her ear, but he must have felt her unsteadiness because his hands no longer hung at his sides. They were sliding up her back. She could feel the warmth of his splayed fingers through the satin of her pajama top as he drew her into a solid embrace that reassured her but did nothing to slow her galloping heart.
Instinctively, she rested her cheek against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. Don’t read anything into this. He’s just being kind. But she couldn’t deny that the chemistry between them had suddenly changed. She liked the feel of his firm chest, the security she felt in the circle of his arms, but there was also a sexual element—probably because he wasn’t completely dressed. She’d already felt the band of his briefs and, since her pajama bottoms were panties, the crisp hair on his legs as he brushed up against her.
She swallowed hard as his hands settled between her shoulder blades. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why not?”
“I was...I was worried that maybe Denny and his idiot friend would come back and cause trouble.”
“They might. But they’re the kind of trouble I can handle.”
“Not if they bring a weapon. And not if you want to avoid the police.” She stepped away because the embrace had gone on too long. She didn’t know this man. Not really. Although they’d spent two days together, he’d revealed very little about himself. And there was Kyle. They weren’t in a romantic relationship; they both knew that. But they’d slept together as recently as last week, which made her feel disloyal in spite of their understanding. “Anyone can be taken unawares.”
He didn’t respond.
“So what do you say?” she asked.
“About what?”
She wondered what he was feeling, if he’d enjoyed their contact as much as she had. “Will you come in? I think...I think it would help me relax if I knew you were safe, that we were both in the house.”
He didn’t seem eager to accept. He was suddenly so standoffish that she expected him to say he was fine where he was and let it go at that.
But he didn’t. “I’m sorry if you’re lonely,” he said. “I wish things were different but...I have nothing to offer you.”
“I’m not asking for...for sex,” she clarified. “I just want...I just want you to come in the house.”
She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be opposed to having sex with him, however. Right now, more contact with him was all she could think about. He seemed to understand that but, after a brief hesitation, he said okay and grabbed something.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“My pack. It has my clothes.”
She wondered if it also contained condoms.
8
Maybe if Levi had been able to go back to sleep, he wouldn’t have realized something was wrong. The noises that tipped him off were slight enough he might’ve credited them to the dog. Except that Callie had shut Rifle up in the mudroom. He whined occasionally, but the noises that worried Levi weren’t coming from that direction. They were coming from Callie’s bedroom.
Relax. If she was up and around, it was none of his business. Dawn was turning the night sky a deep shade of purple. Perhaps she was an early riser. Soon, he’d get up and start his day, too, and with any luck he’d finish repairing the barn so he could paint tomorrow.
A weak-sounding cough had Rifle scratching at the door, as if he didn’t like what he heard, either. What
was going on?
Levi sat up. “Callie?”
There was no response from her, but Rifle barked. A second later a toilet flushed.
She was up, all right. She had to be. But when he twisted around to look at her door, he couldn’t see a light underneath it. Like him, she probably couldn’t sleep and was tossing and turning.
Then he heard another sound, a sound of distress, and that got him up and moving.
“Callie?” He knocked at her bedroom door. She didn’t respond, but the door wasn’t locked. Apparently, she wasn’t worried that he might attack her. Almost from the beginning—at least since she’d found him bleeding in her bathroom—she seemed to trust him more than their short acquaintance should warrant. He wouldn’t have advised her to take the same approach with any other stranger, but he appreciated how her confidence made him feel. He didn’t want her to be wary of him. He’d hated how the women who’d passed through his father’s life had flinched at any sudden movement—even though they’d reacted that way for good reason.
Callie’s bed was empty. In the light bending around the bathroom door, which stood slightly ajar, he could see the rumpled covers. She was no longer beneath them.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
A soft moan scared him enough that he crossed the room and shoved the bathroom door wide—and there she was, lying on the tile floor, her face chalk-white, eyes closed.
“Shit, what is it?” As he crouched to see what was wrong, her eyelids fluttered open. She made an attempt to get up but couldn’t quite manage it.
“I’m...fine,” she said. “Go...go back to bed. Please.”
Please? Why? She obviously needed help. She seemed so drained she could hardly move. And he could tell from the pungent odor that she’d been throwing up.
“Go...” She attempted to shoo him away. “I...I’m better off...alone.”
She didn’t like him invading her privacy. He could understand that. Not only was she sick, she was in her underwear. So was he, but the sheer black fabric of her panties revealed quite a bit more than his briefs, especially since she wasn’t even strong enough to pull her T-shirt down to cover them.
“Where’s your cell?” he asked. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No.” After rising slightly, she slumped back to the floor. “I...I know what’s wrong. There’s nothing...nothing they can do for me. I just...I need to rest. You...go back to bed.”
“And leave you like this?”
She didn’t answer. She seemed to be conserving her strength.
“We should get a doctor,” he argued.
“No.” The word came out as a whisper, an emphatic one.
“How do you know? We’ve got to try. You look...you look really sick.”
“I’ll be fine...in a little while. It was just...the shock...earlier. It...it upset my system.”
The shock? Did she mean when she came out to the barn? He’d grabbed her because he didn’t know who it was, but he hadn’t hurt her. How could that have resulted in this?
“Come here.” He bent to help her up, but she fended him off and lunged for the toilet.
“Go out,” she said, her words feeble, broken, as she retched and sputtered and coughed. “Go...out.”
Levi wanted to leave her in peace, but he couldn’t. He was afraid of what might happen to her. After smoothing the hair out of her face, he supported her by the shoulders while she finished throwing up. Maybe she didn’t want him to be part of this, but he’d seen a lot worse in his day. He was just glad her vomit wasn’t filled with blood.
He flushed the toilet. Then he got a cool damp washcloth so he could wipe her mouth and face.
“It’s freezing on this floor. That can’t be good for you,” he said, and gathered her in his arms.
She didn’t fight him. She didn’t seem capable of it. She did try to protest, however. “I can’t...go to bed yet. What if...what if I have to...throw up again?”
“I’ll get a pan, just in case.”
When he returned from the kitchen, he found her curled up in the middle of the bed. She’d made a halfhearted attempt to cover herself, but even that seemed to require too much effort.
“Look.” He lightly rubbed her back to get her to open her eyes. “Your pan is right here.”
She gave a barely perceptible nod as he wedged it between a pillow and the headboard.
“Now let’s get you warm.” He pulled down her shirt to cover her panties and rearranged the covers, but he couldn’t leave her even then. She was too cool and clammy, too weak. He’d never seen someone look this fragile—not someone who’d lived. He was still tempted to call an ambulance. He would have if she hadn’t been so certain he shouldn’t. His own reservations about not involving public authorities made him sensitive to that.
“Can I call your vet friend at least?” he asked.
“No! Please, no one.” She caught his hand and attempted a smile. “Thanks.”
“What’s wrong with you?” he whispered, curling his fingers around hers so she wouldn’t have to use any strength to hang on to him.
“Just...the flu,” she said, but she was shivering so violently he could barely understand her.
What the hell was going on?
Releasing her, Levi started to walk out of the room. He didn’t want to feel the empathy he was feeling, didn’t want to watch Callie suffer, even through the flu. He’d had a front row seat to so much suffering already.
She’d be fine, he told himself. The flu didn’t last long. But he couldn’t force his feet to move past the bedroom door. He was too worried. He paced for a few seconds, arguing with himself. Then he gave up, took off his shirt and slipped beneath the covers, hoping his body heat would quickly warm her.
She didn’t respond when he pulled her against his body, but it seemed to help. She never had to reach for the pan he’d brought, never spoke, hardly even moved. Slowly, she stopped shivering and clasped one of his hands in both of hers, tucking it under her chin before she fell asleep.
* * *
When Callie woke, she felt almost like new. Sometimes the slightest thing could make her ill. Too much stress. Too much or too little of her medication, which was why her doctor kept adjusting the dosage. The kind of shock that resulted from bad news or a sudden scare. Lack of sleep. She was embarrassed that Levi had seen her retching over a toilet bowl. That couldn’t have been a pretty sight. For some reason, she cared more than she wanted to about what he thought of her; she supposed it was basic female vanity. But regardless of all that, she was grateful for his help and couldn’t fault how he’d handled the situation. He’d been kind, gentle, supportive. He was still in bed with her, his muscular body more effective at keeping her warm than an electric blanket.
She didn’t move right away. She was comfortable wedged up against him, didn’t want him to take her awakening as a signal that he should leave her bed.
Something must’ve told him she was no longer asleep, however, because he spoke. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You scared me.”
She smiled when he snuggled closer. They barely knew each other, but here they were—one with a damaged body and the other, from all indications, with a wounded soul—offering each other the solace of physical comfort. She’d never realized how much being held during such a low moment could mean. Maybe, because of her situation, she was putting too much store in it, but she’d been as content during the past few minutes as ever before in her life—probably more so because now she knew how to appreciate simple things.
“What?” he said as if he could tell she was busy thinking and wanted her to share her thoughts.
“Nothing. It’s just...if you’d told me last week that I’d be spending the night with a tall, blond stranger, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“Because there are no strangers in your world,” he said with a laugh. “You know everyone.”
He didn’t laugh often. She liked the sound of it. “Exact
ly.”
“Even I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my bike—and those dogs.”
The idea of his leaving didn’t appeal to her. He’d given her a new focus, someone to worry about other than herself. She liked having him here. “I know.”
“I hope...”
“What?” she prompted.
“I hope I didn’t cause what happened.”
At first she didn’t understand what he meant, but then she remembered telling him it was the scare that had made her sick. It probably was. But normal people didn’t get deathly ill from an encounter like that. “No. I wasn’t making sense last night. It was just the flu. Anybody can get the flu.”
“So you’re better?” He didn’t seem convinced.
“I am.”
“Good. Then I’m going to make you something to eat so you’ll stay that way.”
“You’re cooking?”
“Unless you don’t want me in your kitchen.”
She’d rather have him in her bed. But she was also eager for a few minutes of privacy to brush her teeth. “The kitchen’s up for grabs,” she said, hiding a yawn. “Knock yourself out.”
When he got up, he inadvertently gave her a good view of his backside in those briefs. As thin as he was, he had a nice build. But last night hadn’t been about beauty or physique. Only now that she felt well enough to appreciate the sight did his attire, or lack thereof, matter.
Her excitement over his near-nudity withered instantly when Kyle’s voice boomed through the house. “Callie?” He sounded as if he was on a tear. “Where are you?”
She sent Levi a startled glance, but there was no time to say anything, no time for Levi to grab a shirt or a pair of pants. A second later, Kyle stood in the doorway of her bedroom, his jaw hanging open at the sight of Levi in his underwear.
“I was going to ask why you’re not answering your phone, but I think I can guess.” He seemed more shocked than angry.
Levi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond, and Callie was glad he was allowing her to handle Kyle’s surprise visit. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said. “I was sick last night. It’s fortunate that Levi was here to take care of me.”
