Just One More Chance: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  It only took a few minutes to drive to the Sunset View Restaurant and as they followed the hostess, Grant took her lacy wrap and grasped the top, gently pulling it off her shoulders, exposing the back of her sexy dress as they walked. Jillian gasped, glancing back at his grinning face, loving the heat of his fingers as they possessively lingered on her skin right above her waist. Knowing he was staking his claim for any other man in the vicinity, while allowing her to show off her beautiful dress, she smiled as he settled her into a seat.

  The town’s elegant restaurant sat right on the bay, earning its name from the glorious views of the sunsets each evening. An hour later, after the dinner had been consumed, the wine enjoyed, and the dessert sampled, the couple rose from the table after witnessing the sunset over the bay along with the other appreciative diners. Stepping outside, the cool breeze had Jillian quickly replacing the wrap on her shoulders as she snuggled closer into Grant’s embrace.

  “It’s a little chilly to walk on the beach—,” he surmised, but before he could continue, she interrupted.

  “How about you come to my house?” she offered, her eyes sparkling.

  Bending to kiss her lips, he nodded. A few minutes later, they parked outside the refurbished house with the wide Victorian porch. Entering, she kicked her heels off immediately. “Can you open some wine while I change?”

  Agreeing, he slipped off his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt before rolling up the sleeves. Sliding off his shoes, he padded on socked feet into the kitchen to find the wine, glasses, and opener. He looked around in curiosity, having never been inside, but was not surprised by the burst of color that so represented Jillian. The green and yellow kitchen was warm and cheery, just like her.

  By the time he heard her feet on the stairs, he had two glasses poured. Halting, he watched as she appeared, her bare toes peeking out from black yoga pants, a slouchy, pink sweatshirt, falling off one shoulder. He sucked in a quick breath, unsure at that moment which was the sexier Jillian—the makeup, hair fixed, little red dress wearing woman…or the fresh faced, hair in a sloppy bun, comfortably-clothed beauty in front of him. He quickly decided they were both stunning.

  “Is that for me?” she asked, nodding her head toward the wine glass in his hand.

  Giving a mental shake, he grinned. “Yeah,” he said softly, handing it to her. “Can we sit?”

  She led the way into her living room, sitting on one side of the sofa, immediately tucking her legs under her and facing him. She allowed him to choose to sit where he would feel the most comfortable, but was secretly pleased when he joined her on the sofa at the other end. Placing his wine glass on the coffee table, he twisted his body so that he was facing her.

  They sat in easy silence for a moment before he finally sighed and ran his hand over his chin. She recognized the mannerism as one he performed when he was deep in thought, so she remained quiet, sipping her wine.

  Finally, he looked up and blurted, “I’ve been seeing a counselor.” Holding his breath for a second, he continued to gaze at her, seeing nothing but acceptance. It’s time. It’s now or never, he thought.

  Chapter 12

  Jillian watched Grant’s strong jaw flex and relax a couple of times as he struggled with how to begin. Wanting to ease his tension, she leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee, giving a reassuring squeeze. His gaze dropped to her hand and a small smile slipped out, remembering days from their youth.

  “Do you remember when I struck out, losing the baseball game when I was in ninth grade?” He lifted his eyes to hers and watched as her lips curved into a slight grin. “I was so pissed and took off running, leaving my friends behind because all I wanted to do was kick myself. But a few minutes later you found me at the end of the town pier. You didn’t say a word, but you plopped down next to me and just sat. After a while, you placed your hand on my knee and I felt the anger slip out of me with that one gesture.”

  “I remember.” She watched him for a moment as he got lost in thought. “And now?” she prompted.

  He linked his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb on her tiny hand. “Feels the same,” he admitted. Leaning his head back against the sofa cushion, his gaze wandered over to the mantle where framed pictures were placed haphazardly—some of Jillian’s family, some of the girls, and one of the whole gang of Baytown Boys and the girls at a bonfire at Mitch’s grandfather’s beach house.

  “Those were good days,” he said, nodding toward the pictures, seeing her nod her agreement from the corner of his eye. “Easy…full of friends and fun times. I cared about you then, after I finally got over the fact that my best friend might beat the crap out of me if he found out we were together.” The sound of her light giggle shot straight to his heart. “But, like most of us raised in this tiny town, I wanted to get out. I thought about a scholarship to play ball, but loved the idea of joining the military first. Hell, all the others were doing it and it made sense. But I never expected it to change me…mark me.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?” her soft voice carried across the space between them. A long silence filled the room as Jillian waited to see if Grant would open up.

  “Basic training was no problem for me and Mitch,” he began, “and we even did our Military Police training together.” Giving a little shrug, he said, “Afterwards, we got sent to the warzone, even to the same base. The first tour was bad but doable. I ended up working the gates of one of the important locations. Part of my job was to train others on how to safely search a vehicle for bombs before they entered the facility. I made Sergeant and my next rotation took me to Afghanistan. I was doing the same thing, made new friends and was proud of the training I was offering. It was there, that I met a girl.”

  At those words, Jillian’s heart froze. The only movement was her chest as it rose and fell with her breathing. Her mind quickly reached back and she knew that he was still communicating with her at that time with promises of coming home. Swallowing, she clamped her mouth shut, forcing the desire to scream down deep.

  He felt her stillness and quickly glanced up at her face as she struggled to maintain a calm façade. “No, no, it’s not what it sounded like,” he rushed, inwardly cursing at his bumbling. “I just meant that I met a female soldier and we became very close. But not like you’re thinking!”

  He squeezed her fingers, willing her to relax so he could get through the rest of his tale. “She was married…had a little girl back here in the states where her husband lived. They’d met in the Army, married and then he got out of the service and she had one more tour to complete before moving back. She reminded me so much of you…” He let the last words hang for a moment, the image of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed soldier with the ready laugh filling his mind.

  “Her name was even similar…Julie. She was funny and could tell a wicked joke. Most of the time her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight, regulation bun, but when she was off-duty, it would flow and when I saw her from the back, I could swear I was looking at you.” He sought Jillian’s gaze once more and let out a sigh of relief as her face appeared more relaxed.

  “She was smart and we became friends…just friends. I was loyal to you and she was loyal to her husband. In fact, sometimes when she Skyped with him and their daughter, I’d just stare from across the room, and hope that one day you and I would have that kind of relationship.”

  The silence once more descended as the two sat with their own thoughts. Grant struggled with what to say next—how to explain the root of his nightmares and the beginnings of his descent into stepping away from the woman sitting with him. Feeling the light pressure from her fingers on his, he sucked in a quick breath only to let it out slowly before continuing.

  “I cared a great deal for her…never sexual…but a deep friendship. My counselor has helped me realize that for people in traumatic situations, strong emotional bonds can be formed quickly; although most times they don’t last once the situation is over…but some do. I even thought about what it would b
e like to introduce you to her and her family once we got back.”

  He let go of Jillian’s fingers, sliding his sweaty palms up and down his legs. She flexed her fingers, instinctively missing the warmth of his touch. Needing something to do with her hands, she reached for her wine glass, taking another sip as he stared into space, his lips pressed together. What happened over there, Grant? She wanted to vocalized the question pounding inside her head, but swallowed the wine, now bitter on her tongue as she waited.

  “It was routine,” he said, his voice now a hoarse whisper. “A truck came in and she walked over to do the under-carriage inspection with the long handled mirror. Routine. Just a truck with supplies. I didn’t even walk over—she and another soldier were on duty.” Sucking in another deep breath through his nose, his chest began to move up and down more rapidly as the image filled his mind.

  Jillian, fear now eating away at her, reached back over to touch his leg, but he jumped up from the sofa and paced to the fireplace, resting his hands on the mantle.

  “The explosion didn’t detonate as it was supposed to. If it had, we’d have all been dead. It would have blown the whole gate area to smithereens and all of us in the vicinity.”

  Jillian’s eyes widened, the idea of Grant not coming back alive hitting her in the gut. He could have been like Philip! Forcing her breathing to steady, she watched his shoulders slump in defeat, but had no words to help him face his demons as his tale continued.

  “The bomb partially detonated and destroyed the back of the truck only…not the front or the gas tanks. Fire and metal exploded from the back…just where Julie was standing. It was organized chaos as we secured the area so I could get to her.” His voice now low and rasping, he shook his head as he stared at his feet. “I got to the back and she was lying in the dirt. Her blonde hair, out of the bun, was streaming behind her bloodied body. I rushed to her, rolled her over, and…and…”

  “Oh Grant,” Jillian blurted, jumping from the sofa and rushing over to him. Encircling his waist from behind, she laid her head on his back, nestled between his shoulder blades. “I’m so sorry.”

  He continued, pulling out of her embrace and stalking a few feet away before swirling around to face her. “She looked so much like you…reminded me so much of you. She represented the part of home that I missed the most. Jesus, she had a husband sitting at home waiting for the love of his life to come back. A daughter who wanted to have her mommy hug her. And she was blown. The. Fuck. Up!” He roared the last part, his hand sweeping the mantle, knocking the pictures crashing onto the floor.

  Jillian stepped back as the glass shattered at her feet, but it was nothing compared to the shattered anguish on his face. Instinctively stepping forward, she halted as he shouted for her to stop. Before she could react, he stepped over the carnage and scooped her swiftly up in his arms, protecting her bare feet from the glass. Sitting back down on the sofa with her in his lap, he buried his face in her neck, his voice still hoarse. “It was like looking at you, there on the ground.”

  Jillian wrapped her arms around his body, holding him as close to her as she could. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus. I had no idea! A sob broke through the silence and his body bucked into hers, causing her to tighten her arms even more.

  “I missed her so fuckin’ much…as a friend…but I swear, all I could see was you. It was the realization that when you love someone and something happens to them…” his voice trailed off for a moment before continuing. “I accompanied her body to the states and watched as her husband, holding their daughter, cried over her casket.” He shook his head against her and moaned, “I thought, I can’t do this. To love someone and lose them…the risk is too great.”

  Jillian said nothing, knowing no words would make his turmoil any better. She held on tight, willing her warmth and strength to seep into his body. Murmuring nonsensical words of comfort, she rubbed her hand up and down his back, releasing a held breath as she finally felt his body easing.

  She knew he had to be exhausted because she was tired beyond belief and had not had to relive the trauma. Her thoughts swirled as she held him, understanding seeping into her consciousness. He wasn’t rejecting me when he came back as much as he was running from the fear of loving me. Unsure what to do with the new information, she cupped his face, wiping a tear with her thumb.

  “Come on, Grant. Let me put you to bed.”

  He wordlessly allowed her to rise and grasped her hand as though holding on for dear life. Avoiding the glass on the floor, she led him up the stairs to her bedroom. Grant, for the first time he could remember, slipped off his clothes and under the covers without attempting to make a pass at the woman he was with. Fatigue pulled at his very being and he was barely aware of the bed dipping slightly as Jillian joined him, her arms once more wrapping around his body.

  “Sleep,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  For the first time in years, Grant fell into a deep sleep, nightmares held at bay.

  *

  The morning sun peaked through the slats in the blinds, casting stripes of light across the bed. Grant woke slowly, his normally keen instincts slow to react. Blinking a few times, he looked around, the colorful curtains and unfamiliar furniture coming into view before his gaze landed on the sleeping beauty resting next to him. Jillian’s bedroom. Fucking hell! Flopping on his back, he thought to the previous evening, the heat of embarrassment flowing through his veins. Jesus, what must she think of me?

  A light touch on his cheek jolted him and he jerked his head to the side. Jillian’s wide blue eyes were pinned on him, her pink lips curved into a smile. Her soft voice sent tingles throughout his body with her simple greeting. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” he replied, his voice raspy and his focus unable to tear itself away from hers.

  “How’d you sleep?”

  He thought for a few seconds before responding truthfully. “Really well. Like probably the best in years.” Peering closely at her, he watched for signs of disgust, but found none.

  Her smile widened as the hand on his cheek continued to stroke his face. “I’m glad. I’m glad for a lot of things.”

  Steeling his courage as he rolled to his side to face her, he stayed silent, willing her to explain.

  “I’m glad you finally sought help. I’m glad you trusted me, shared with me.” Her fingers continued to moved over his stubbled jaw, loving the feel of his morning beard. Her brow crinkled in concern as her gaze held on to his. “Grant, I’m so sorry about your loss…so sorry you had to go through that. And so sorry you had to hold it inside all these years—”

  “No, no,” he rushed, interrupting as he reached out to pull her close. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry I never faced what happened or tried to see how it affected me…and you.” Closing his eyes for a long moment, he said, “I can’t believe I wasted so much time with you by pushing you away. Thinking that not having you in my heart would be better than having you and then possibly losing you.” Her fingers continued to massage his jaw and he sighed in pleasure, before admitting, “I’d rather have a moment loving you than a lifetime of never having you with me.”

  Her heart leaped at his words and she moved quickly, pulling him in for a kiss. Latching onto his lips, needing the kiss to live, she angled her head as their noses bumped.

  Grant, taking the kiss from mild to wild, plunged his tongue into her mouth, exploring her taste. He was intoxicated from the kiss and wondered how he had ever resisted her. I was a fucking moron!

  “No you weren’t,” she said into his mouth, and he realized he had spoken out loud. Leaning back, he separated from her for an instant to see the light in her eyes.

  Her hands grasped both of his cheeks as she emphasized, “You were not a moron, Grant. You were a man traumatized and trying to deal with it on your own. But you don’t have to anymore…you have a counselor…friends who’ll help…and me. Especially me.”

  “I need you to forgive me,” he whispered. “Forgive me for pushing you
away. For hurting you. For flaunting other women in front of you to keep from feeling anything—”

  “Shhh,” she said, understanding his need for forgiveness but not wanting to hear any more. “I do forgive you Grant, but I want no talk of other women when you’re in my bed. I want there to be only me…no past.”

  Feeling a weight lift off his chest, he rolled over, pinning her underneath him. Keeping his weight on his forearms, he gazed down, eyes twinkling as he searched her face, finding sincerity. Dropping a kiss to her lips again, as he felt his erection pressing against her core thoughts of any other woman from the past flew from his mind. This needs to be right. Maybe it’s not the best time—

  “Stop thinking and start kissing,” she ordered, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth, eliciting a grin from him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, nuzzling her nose just before plunging back in. Holding her face with his hands, he sucked on her tongue as his lips assaulted hers. Memorizing the petal soft texture and the intoxicating taste as his lips moved over hers, his erection swelled inside his boxers. Hating the material between them, he rolled to the side just long enough to jerk the offensive clothing down his legs and onto the floor before slipping his hand to the bottom of her huge t-shirt, his gaze asking permission to take it off. Before she could reply his hand stilled…she was wearing his old high-school football shirt. Jesus, all these years…she still has it.

  Glancing down to see what he was staring at, Jillian realized he noticed what she slept in. Too late to be embarrassed, she gave a little shrug. “It’s comfortable,” she offered, before a small grin slipped out. “So is your basketball t-shirt and your baseball t-shirt.”

  He wanted to roar—pound his chest—shout from the roof, that this woman was his, but instead he whipped the shirt up and over her head, tossing it to join his boxers on the floor. Her breasts bounced slightly at the movement and he immediately captured a nipple in his mouth, sucking as he swirled his tongue around the tight bud.