“She’s nothing like the women you’re used to,” he said. The downturn of his lips left no question as to how he felt about the women I’d been associating with lately. The fact that she wasn’t anything like them was probably a good thing. After what I’d woken up to this morning, I was all for swearing off easy pussy for a while.
“She’s smart as hell and capable of being reasonable, but she won’t take any of your shit. Keep your nose clean and your dick in your pants and you’ll be fine.”
I snorted at that. Sounded like a damn fine plan to me.
Chapter 4
Hannah
“Uncle Cal! What a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
My smile was genuine when I opened up the door and saw his friendly face beaming down on me. I closed my eyes and reveled in his bear hug, stealing his warmth and strength if only for a few brief moments.
“Hannah, you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I’m fine.” Between worrying about my dad, handling the house, navigating the unnavigable labyrinth of healthcare and insurance, and trying to keep up with my freelance accounting gigs, I was burning the candle at both ends. But that was life. Unless someone magically appeared on my doorstep to lighten the load, I didn’t see any other options. Although it was kind of nice that Uncle Cal cared enough to notice. “Did Dad call you again?”
“He did. And I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Oooo, I hope it’s a good one. I’ve had enough of the other kind lately,” I said, immediately wishing I hadn’t. He smiled in that sweet, caring way that said he understood and it made me want to mist up again.
“It is,” Cal assured me, but the way he averted his eyes should have tipped me off. He released me and set me down inside the doorway, moving to the side so someone else could step in as well. “Hannah, this is my son, Ethan. Ethan, this is Hannah, Angus’s daughter.”
When Cal said he had a surprise for me, I was expecting maybe one of those little flowering plants or, better yet, some of his homemade venison jerky. Not the tall, dark, brooding man with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. My breath hitched and my girly parts started to tingle (totally without my permission).
I told myself it was a natural, healthy reaction to seeing a good-looking guy, especially when such sights were rare for me these days. It was just visual stimulation to the part of the brain that dealt with pleasure. It meant nothing, just as my stomach rumbling at the sight of a chocolate fudge cake with whipped cream icing would mean nothing. As delicious as that sounded, I wouldn’t indulge in that either.
“Hello,” I said, just to be polite, then turned back to Uncle Cal before he could respond, dismissing Blue Eyes as easily as I did the thought of chocolate cake. “So what’s the surprise?”
Cal laughed heartily, a big booming sound that filled the small foyer. “Ethan is. He’s going to be helping you out for a while.”
My smile faded as I took one large step back, looking from one to the other, waiting for the punchline. “Excuse me?”
“Angus thought you could use a hand.”
No. Fucking. Way. Cal’s son sure as hell didn’t look like any home healthcare worker I’d ever seen. He looked more like he should have been on the cover of one of those bad boy alpha male paperbacks I secretly hoarded.
“Well I don’t.”
“Hannah,” Cal scolded softly. “Your father does.”
Shit. He knew just where to aim for maximum effect. I looked from Uncle Cal to Blue Eyes. While he had Cal’s size and overall build (muscular, with broad shoulders and narrow hips), they didn’t look much alike. Instead of red hair, his was a black so deep it absorbed light, slightly shaggy as opposed to Cal’s practical buzz cut. His skin was darker, his features more sculpted. His mother must have had great bone structure.
If Blue Eyes was bothered by my reluctance, he didn’t show it. As he stood there in a military at-ease pose, his level gaze gave me absolutely no indication of what was going on in there behind those unsettling eyes. It was a bit disconcerting (and I’m not easily disconcert-able).
The rational part of my brain teamed up with my unfortunate feminine appreciation and reminded me that I had just been thinking how my life would be so much easier with some magical intervention of the helpful kind. But in my defense, I had been thinking new, qualified staff at M-Fuckers, a simplified healthcare system, or mythical Brownies that appeared at night and cleaned and fixed everything around the house. Definitely not the flesh and blood inspiration for many a bad boy fantasy.
“What kind of experience does he have?” I found myself asking Cal, while secretly pondering the amount of experience a man like that would have.
“He’s a Ranger with specialized medic training.”
Well, damn. It sounded too good to be true. Blue Eyes had some skills and my dad would take to another Ranger like a pig to slop. I started running through the pros in my head. No more dealing with M-Fuckers. No more trying to convince Dad to let me help with his personal needs (a frustrating exercise in futility). I would have more time to work, more time to get stuff done around the house.
But what was that old adage? If it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. And why wouldn’t Uncle Cal look me in the eye?
“He’s just here to help Dad?” I asked warily. If there was any hidden purpose to his presence, I wanted to know so I could nip it in the bud and then ruthlessly crush it under my feet.
“He is right here,” Blue Eyes pointed out, obviously tired of being excluded, and double-damn. His voice sent shivers up and down my spine. It was base and dark, just like the rest of him. Hell, I needed me some chocolate fudge cake pronto.
“Yes,” Cal answered, ignoring him, yet still looking at a point on my forehead.
“And Dad asked for him?”
Cal nodded. “Ethan’s more than qualified to provide the care your father needs. With him here, he’ll be available 24/7 to -—”
My brain short-circuited at those latest words. I leaned to the side to look around the two large men and spotted the Army-green duffel currently propped up against the doorframe. “Whoa. Back up the truck. He’s going to live here?”
“It was Angus’s idea,” Cal shrugged unconvincingly. “He thought it would be easier on everyone that way. My place is an hour away. Too far away if there’s an emergency,” he added for good measure.
I knew a conspiracy when I heard one. I’d been blindsided. Being caught off guard made me bitchy. Being caught off guard and feeling like I was being fed a load of shit and told it was chocolate made me a colossal bitch. Since I viewed Uncle Cal as kind of a father figure, I turned the full force of my glower on Blue Eyes but still spoke to Uncle Cal. “Doesn’t he have a job? A life?”
Holy crap. Those blue eyes returned my glower with a look that sent those earlier tingles into jagged spikes of something I refused to acknowledge. One side of those full male lips tilted up in a cocky half-smirk that was more amused than condescending. And that pissed me off even more.
“Nope. I’m all yours, kitten.”
“I have no use for you,” I said, turning on my heel. I ignored all the unsolicited ideas popping up in my head about just how I might be able to use him.
“And don’t call me kitten. Uncle Cal, make yourself at home,” I threw over my shoulder, deliberately snubbing the latest bane of my existence. “Blue Eyes, don’t. I’m going to have a word with my father.”
Ethan
When we’d first arrived at the place, I got out of the car and stretched, relishing the burn I still felt nearly a year after my ‘incident’. It was comforting and familiar; a tangible sign that, despite everything, I was still alive.
I’d trailed behind my father, seeking invisibility. For a few moments there, I’d felt like some punk teen being led to the principal’s office instead of a thirty-year old Ranger heading to a job. My dad had a way of doing that to me. I shook it off and focused instead on the humming up and down my
spine, the sudden sense that something epic was about to go down. Like when it’s the middle of the night, everything goes eerily silent, and you know, you just know, that someone tossed something big and bad your way and your life was going to change.
Bring it, the Ranger in me said defiantly. Hell, I had nowhere to go but up.
Dad pressed the doorbell several times, but there was no ringing chime or irritating buzz in the peaceful silence of the small farm. A few birds chirped, a couple of insects buzzed. I could hear the breeze skimming along the tops of the half-mown lawn, which looked as though someone had just stopped right in the middle of the task. But no bell.
I took the opportunity to check out my new surroundings while he made a loose fist and resorted to good old-fashioned knocking. It was a nice house. Big, old. The stonework was the real deal, built during a time when craftsmanship meant something. The kind of house a man could spend his life in, raise a family. I could easily envision sitting on the porch swing after a good day’s work, sipping fresh lemonade in the shade, sharing a few peaceful, stolen moments with someone special.
Whoa. Where the hell had that come from? Undoubtedly there was still some residual alcohol in my system, fucking up my inner chi or my third eye or something (don’t laugh; I know some guys who swear by that shit).
I shoved those unsettling thoughts aside and turned my attention back to more tangible things. The wrap-around porch on which we stood needed a good scraping down and repainting. A couple of steps needed to be replaced, as did one of the matching carriage-style lamps. All things that could be easily repaired with a little know-how and effort. Things that a woman taking care of her ailing father would probably put down pretty low on the priority list.
I breathed in the fresh air and felt myself relax a little, my hands flexing with the anticipation of doing something worthwhile again, even if it was just cleaning out the damn gutters.
I never heard her coming. I don’t know if I was caught up in my thoughts or if she was really that quiet, but it was unusual for someone to be able to sneak up on me like that. One minute I’m admiring the tongue-and-groove porch ceiling above me and the next I’m hearing this velvety voice that made my balls tighten.
My dad’s big form blocked my attempts to see what was attached to that voice. His shoulders shrugged and he bent down, and that sexy voice turned into a squeal of delight. Then I saw a pair of small hands -—fairy hands -—appear on either side of my dad’s waist as he picked her up and gave her a hug.
Telling, that. My dad was not a hugger.
Since her hands were the only parts of her that I could see, I focused on them. Small, like I said. Delicate, feminine fingers. Short nails, neat and trimmed but devoid of any color. Definitely not the hands of the ballbreaker I’d been dreading.
Then my father released her and stepped aside, and for a few moments I forgot how to breathe.
She was nothing like I’d expected. Tiny -—I’d eat my hat if she topped five-two, with dark chestnut hair pulled back from elfin features in a jaunty ponytail and black-rimmed spectacles (the functional, not fashionable, kind). An oversized olive-green T sporting the words “Army Brats Do It Better” extended down to mid-thigh, with tiny little fairy-like bare feet peeking out from the cuffs of her faded Levi’s.
But it was her eyes that commanded my complete attention. Huge, soft, dove-gray eyes that made something foreign and fierce rise up deep inside me.
This was the woman my father had been warning me about? This adorable, sweet little creature? Every male instinct I possessed went into instant overdrive. No wonder Dad was so adamant about getting me out here. The sneaky bastard knew I wouldn’t be able to say no once I saw the situation. Saw her.
Well-played, old man.
He must have said something, because those amazing eyes turned on me. Her brilliant, if weary, smile grew wary as she checked me out, too. Her head tilted upward to look up at my face, and I felt the effect in my manliest of bits.
“Hello,” she said, her tone clipped and not nearly as affectionate as the one she used with my father. I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already turning away, refocusing on my dad and leaving me feeling somewhat lacking. It stunned me a little, because it was not the kind of first response I was used to, especially not from those of the female persuasion. Usually I got an appreciative glance, a coy smile, a flare of heat. I’m not bragging; I never did understand what it was that women seemed to like about me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to overanalyze it, either.
She said something else -—I was still kind of reeling from the blatant brush-off and I missed it -—but I heard my dad’s answering rumble. “Ethan is,” he said. “He’s going to be helping you out for a while.”
The grateful, relieved reaction I was expecting never came. Instead, she stepped back as if slapped. I watched the transformation take place with fascination. The soft gray of her eyes grew cloudy and tinged with purple, the exact shade of the sky right before a late summer thunderstorm. Lightning flashed in those stormy eyes and her body grew rigid. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and flicked a glance my way, as if this was all my idea.
A shiver ran the length of my spine and settled in my balls. It was not unpleasant.
I sensed my father holding his breath. This might be over before it even started. A couple of well-chosen words and I could be out of here in a minute, maybe less. For some reason, that thought wasn’t nearly as appealing as it would have been a few minutes ago. Before a little fairy pinned me with accusing eyes and called out my inner caveman.
And hell, I’d already agreed. Suddenly, I was feeling pretty damn committed to this mission.
“Doesn’t he have a job? A life?” She was speaking to my father but looking directly at me again, all puffed up like a kitten anxious to sharpen her claws on me. Yeah, call me crazy, but I was man enough to be her scratching post. I offered her my lethal half-smile, the one guaranteed to soften her up and have her panties wet in a matter of seconds.
“Nope. I’m all yours, kitten.”
Her eyes narrowed at me; those pretty pink lips formed a fierce scowl. My cock hardened.
“I have no use for you,” she spat, turning on her heel and all but stomping toward her father’s room and cementing my resolve to stay. I watched her go, wondering exactly what she was hiding beneath those formless, oversized clothes. Only when she disappeared did I feel my father’s eyes on me.
I didn’t have to look to know he had a smug smile on his face, altogether too pleased with the way she’d shut me down.
Muffled voices drifted from the back of the house. Hannah’s was little more than a low hum. The other, which I assumed was her father, was deep and commanding. I had no trouble hearing him, especially since his voice grew louder with each response.
(mumbles)
“Damn right I hired him.”
(mumbles)
“For as long as I want him here.”
(mumbles)
And finally, “BECAUSE I SAID SO! Now send him in and get the guest room ready.”
A brief period of silence followed before Hannah returned, her posture stiff, her face a mask of neutrality. I recognized that expression. Seen it on hundreds of enlisted men, worn it countless times myself. The face of a soldier sucking it up and obeying orders while inwardly cussing up a storm.
“Go on in, Uncle Cal,” she said evenly before she turned her eyes to me. “You too... Ethan. I’ll have your room ready for you shortly.”
My eyes followed her as she turned and disappeared up the stairs, her back straight, shoulders set. She was really pissed. For one brief moment I doubted myself. “Dad, are you sure about this?”
He nodded, looking entirely too pleased. “Positive. She’ll come around. But in the meantime,” he chuckled, “I’d watch my six if I were you.”
Awesome.
Colonel Angus McGinnis was exactly what I’d expected. Big, gruff, and imposing, even from his wheelchair. If my father hadn’t fill
ed me in beforehand, I would never have guessed the man had a debilitating disease. The medic in me assessed him even as we spoke frankly of his condition. The Colonel’s mind was sharp and he had complete use and mobility of his upper body. His legs sometimes gave out on him without warning, which is why he used the chair to get around.
My new job was that of part caregiver, part caretaker. I was to help the Colonel with his personal needs and see to his physical therapy. Since I’d be living there, that left a lot of downtime, during which I was expected to help around the house and property with basic repairs and general upkeep. I was glad for it. It was good, honest work and would keep me from falling back down the self-pity slide. I’d be lying if I said the thought of learning more about the Colonel’s prickly daughter didn’t intrigue me as well. Doing so would provide a nice distraction and, as my father said, I enjoyed a challenge.
“Your room is ready,” Hannah announced a short while later from the doorway. I had to hand it to her. Except for the daggers shooting out of her eyes, she came across as almost accommodating.
“Go on and get settled in,” the Colonel commanded me. “Your old man and I have a few things to discuss.”
Feeling somewhat like a kid who’d just been shooed away from the grown-ups’ discussion, I dutifully went back out to the foyer to find Hannah attempting to heft my duffel over her shoulder. It wasn’t overly heavy, but it was almost as big as she was.
“Here,” I said, taking it from her and tossing it casually over my shoulder. Hannah’s eyes followed the movement, resting a second longer than necessary on my biceps. It was good to know she wasn’t completely unaffected. The spark of female appreciation, grudging as it was, was something I could work with. I bowed slightly as my free arm swept out in an ‘after you’ gesture. “Lead the way.”
Her lips thinned, no doubt miffed that she’d been caught ogling. With a perfectly executed about-face (far more graceful than I could have pulled off), she began walking away. “My father says you get room and board, which means three meals a day and clean sheets and towels once a week. Anything more than that and you’re on your own.”
Letting Go: A Contemporary Romance of Snark and Feels Page 4
