Bennett’s good luck never lasted. Maybe that’s why he was cynical. “Died during one of my first tours in the Navy. I was on a six-month rotation in the South China Sea and couldn’t get home in time.”
“I’m so sorry. Life seems to snatch the best people too soon.” Her hand brushed the back of his, and before he thought better of it he caught it close.
The firelight sparked off the lighter brown in her hair, turning it golden. Her eyes were bright with life, and her T-shirt and jeans molded her body. She was more beautiful now than in the few pictures Noah had shared. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, aware of the strength beneath the softness.
Harper was at once practical and a dreamer, vulnerable and ballsy, and vastly more complex than he’d imagined her. No longer a two-dimensional caricature drawn from her emails and letters to Noah, she was flesh and blood and exuded an innocent sexuality that was more dangerous than anything he’d ever faced. To his sanity at least.
Noah’s ghost stepped out of the shadows where he always lurked. Guilt ran roughshod over reopened wounds. Noah’s widow was off-limits. Especially to him. A tangible shift in mood occurred. He pulled his hand away, balled it on his lap, and stared into the fire, his vision turning fuzzy.
“What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t met him?” she asked.
His heart stopped. If he hadn’t met Noah, would Noah still be alive?
“I assume you joined up because of Laurence—Sarge, I mean?” she added with a smiling glance.
He blinked, searching for equilibrium. She hadn’t been referring to her dead husband. The man who’d extracted promises before dying in Bennett’s arms. “Sarge wanted me to go into the Army, but I had dreamed about being a SEAL. With all the shuffling around, my grades weren’t great. Plus, my state file was thick. And not with commendations. I had to enlist in regular Navy and prove myself first.”
“First a SEAL and now you own your own business. I wonder how many foster kids are as successful as you are.”
He shrugged away a weird embarrassment. Compliments and praise were two things he’d never gotten much of growing up or in the navy.
Like a wild animal seeking an escape, he grabbed the pot and a flashlight and headed for the door. “I’ll go clean up.”
“Since there’s no running water, how do you handle personal functions, if you know what I mean?” She waggled her eyebrows.
His survival weekends attracted serious-minded men and women who were at least familiar enough with outdoor living to know the basics.
“There’s an outhouse in the back if you’re desperate and not afraid of dark places and spiders. Otherwise, the trowel is hanging by the door. Try not to get frostbite on your butt.”
Jack shot outside as soon as the door opened enough for him to shimmy through. She left the trowel but headed toward a thin copse on the left side of the cabin. How could she switch so easily from eviscerating Bennett with her probing questions to teasing? Fighting a smile, he scrubbed at the pot with a handful of snow.
She stood at the edge of the clearing, making no move toward the outhouse or the cover of the trees. He highlighted her in a beam of light. She turned away from the glare, rubbing her arms. Neither one of them had bothered with a coat.
He dropped the circle of light to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Seth said bears don’t hibernate; they go into torpor. That means one could be wandering around, right?”
“Unlikely.”
“Could you just … you know … come watch over me while I … do my business?” The request came out like every word had gone through a shredder.
“You’re worried a bear might eat you?” At her shrug, he dropped the chili pot, joined her, and pointed. “Head into the trees. Take the light. I’ll be right behind you.”
Even with the help of his flashlight, she struggled over the brush and rocks, falling once and catching herself on her hands and knees. Her boots were untied, with no socks. Every step must have been rubbing her blisters raw.
She stopped in the cover of trees. He kept a good six feet between them, turned his back, and propped his shoulder on the trunk of a pine. A cross between a cry and a frustrated curse came from her.
“You okay?” he asked without turning.
“My fingers are numb. I can’t get my pants unbuttoned.”
Even knowing it was a terrible idea, he took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together. “I can help.”
They closed the distance to each other. It was too dark to see her waistband, much less the button. “I need some light.”
She pointed the light toward her jeans and closed her eyes. “This makes the top ten list of my most embarrassing moments.”
“Peeing in your pants would be way worse.” He worked the button of her jeans open and then the zipper. Her panties were hot pink and low cut. He shouldn’t have noticed, much less stared like he was doing with his hands still on the waistband of her pants, but damn, her panties were in the spotlight. He let go and she stumbled backward.
Resuming his position against the tree, he took a deep breath. Woodsmoke was thick in the air, the smell pleasant. Snowflakes fell, and Jack jumped and played like a puppy.
An oof and unladylike curse had Bennett half-turning toward her.
“No, don’t look. I just lost my balance and landed my bare ass in the snow. You boys have it so much easier when it comes to relieving yourself in the woods.” The light bounced around, and she materialized at his elbow.
She’d gotten her pants up but not rebuttoned. An offer to help her almost shot out. Instead, he said, “I’ll walk you back to the door and finish cleaning.”
She shuffled next to him, her shivers noticeable. “Thanks for the escort,” she whispered before ducking back inside. The blast of warmth was like a siren’s call. But he was nothing if not disciplined and returned to finish what he’d started.
After using the snow and leaves to scrub the pot clean, he stepped back inside to defrost, Jack on his heels. Harper wasn’t by the fire as he expected, and his gaze bounced around the room, landing on a lump under the quilt on the bed. Not even the top of her head was visible. Was she asleep?
As quietly as possible, he put the pan away and fingered her jeans, now hanging over the back of the chair toward the fire, wet splotches darkening the fabric.
He sat and pulled his boots off. Jack circled the hearth a few times before curling up on the warm bricks. Bennett glanced over at the bed again as he squirmed in the upright wooden chair. He’d slept in worse conditions, but not for a long time now. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes and let his chin sink toward his chest.
He startled to full wakefulness in a snap, his ears reverberating, not sure where he was or what had happened. His mind was still trapped in an old dream where he was eleven.
He blinked, his surroundings coming into sharp focus. The fire had burned to red coals. Kneeling next to Jack, he threw wood on the fire and stirred the coals. A flame licked up the back of the wood, casting light over the cabin.
“Bennett?” Harper was sitting up, watching him, her voice sleep roughened. “It’s f-freezing in here.”
“I’m getting the fire going again.”
“Why don’t you lay down over here? Isn’t sharing body heat an important survival lesson?”
His gaze went from the bed to the chair and back again. His neck was stiff and he didn’t relish spending another minute on the hard seat. Shivering, he shuffled toward the bed, his stomach jostling. It had nothing to do with there being an attractive, funny woman in pink panties under the covers.
The bed was an odd size. Roomy for one, but not quite comfortable for two. His plan was to lie down on top of the covers until she lifted them for him. The welcome was too much for him to deny. He slipped underneath, her warmth like a mini-generator.
“You’re an ice cube,” she said.
“Sorry.”
She gave a husky laugh. “Noah used to tell
me the best way to share body heat was to get naked.”
Lightning passed through his body, an image frozen in his mind’s eye. The two of them in bed for entirely different reasons than to share body heat.
She inhaled sharply, her body tensing. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” If only circumstances were different then … Their paths would have never crossed. The only things binding them were shared memories of her dead husband, his best friend. He forced his muscles to loosen. “As a matter of fact, it’s both a great pickup line and true. One time, Noah and I—” He cut himself off, but it was too late. He’d invited Noah’s ghost to sit and stay a spell.
“You what?”
The fire had fully caught and cast a glow around the room. She popped up on her elbow. Her hair was out of the ponytail she’d worn all day and his hand itched to touch the tendrils that waved over her shoulder.
“We got separated from the team and had to spend a night in a cave in the Afghani hills. I’ve never been so damn cold in my life.”
“Did you two get naked?” The hint of tease in her voice surprised him.
Thinking or talking about Noah even all these years later brought a rush of guilt and pain. But a different realization joined the crippling emotions. Between training and deployments, Bennett had spent months at a time with Noah. Maybe even more time than Harper had with him in their too-brief marriage. The answers she sought were too costly for Bennett, but he could give her other memories.
“Not naked, but I’m not ashamed to admit we spooned.” Even as cold and miserable and sleepless as the night had been, Noah had managed to crack a couple of jokes. Bennett was smiling before he realized it and forced a frown.
“He was always so upbeat and optimistic, wasn’t he?” No pain hid in the fondness in her voice.
“It’s what got him through, I think.”
“Got him through what?”
“Training. Deployments. Dealing with the shit we had to deal with on a daily basis over there.” The years in foster care had killed any optimism Bennett had been born with. “He had an easier time than some readjusting to life back home.”
“Why did I never meet you when the team was stateside? You never came to cookouts or Super Bowl parties or baby showers. Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Except he did know.
A big part of why he stayed away was because of her and his inappropriate attachment. But another reason had been his own inadequacies. Being around his buddies’ families had been a stark reminder of how lonely his life was. No family left. No serious girlfriend. No friends, outside the SEALs. He’d often thought how easy his death would have been to handle. No one for the chaplain to visit. No one back home to mourn him.
“When did you decide to start your business?”
Grateful for the subject change, he said, “It had been brewing for a while. It’s something we used to talk about over there. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL, but everyone moves on eventually, either in the military or out of it.”
“Like Darren.”
“Yep.” He tucked his hand under his head and stared at the flickering shadows on the ceiling. “Sarge had taught me survival techniques and SEAL training honed them. Weekend warriors were eager to learn, and no one else offered what I could in the Virginia Beach area. Now, though, I have people fly in from New York, Atlanta, Boston. It’s grown even faster than my business plan predicted.”
“Wow.” She didn’t say more, but the energy that thrummed indicated she was wide awake. Finally, she said, “Do you want to hear something crazy? I’m thinking of starting a business.”
“Not crazy. Challenging, though. What kind of business?”
“We’re leaning toward a coffeehouse. Who doesn’t like coffee, right?”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“Allison and me. And a handful of other ladies from a support group for military wives. We’ve been chatting via text and Skype and … I don’t know, I think we’re onto something. We have a lot in common.”
He tried not to be curious but failed. “New businesses are risky even with something amazing to offer. Why would you want the stress?”
“Because”—she made a little sound of disgust—“my life is fine. Easy.”
“‘Easy’ sounds good.”
“Too easy. Unfulfilling. Boring.”
“Not good enough reasons to sink money into a business with no mission.”
“A mission and purpose I have in spades. It’s the product that’s been hard to nail down.”
He turned and propped his head up on his hand, matching her stance and putting their faces close. “Give me more info.”
She chewed her bottom lip, her gaze unwavering on his. “It started with Allison and Darren.”
“Heard Family Man got another promotion.” His life had diverged from his SEAL counterparts’, partly from circumstance but mostly by his own doing.
“Yeah. He’s part of JSOC now.” Troubles weighed the words and clouded her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s having a hard time. PTSD, I think. Depression, maybe. Allison is at her wit’s end. I went down for a visit because Allison’s emails seemed … off. Darren sleeps too much during the day, and the night I was there he wandered around the base in the wee hours. Not sure what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.”
Bennett had only met Allison twice, but she’d struck him as the quintessential officer’s wife. Welcoming and friendly, but with a steel backbone. “Has he tried counseling?”
“Did you?” Her eyebrows rose. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “You know how these things work.”
Unfortunately, he did. Darren was probably attempting the common “stuff your problems in the closet and nail it shut” method of dealing with his issues. Worked better for some men than others. Or maybe his closet had gotten too full and the door would no longer close.
“Drinking too much?” Bennett asked.
“I’m not sure, but he doesn’t look good. He’s a shadow of the man I remember.”
Fuck. Maybe he should reach out. Not that he had any great wisdom to impart, but at least Bennett understood what he’d been through better than some base shrink. And Darren wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with a group of strangers.
“I’ll call him when we get back.”
“That would be great.” She touched his arm. The muscle jumped instinctively and scared her hand away. Good.
“I still don’t understand how this undefined business venture has anything to do with Darren.”
“I went to a support meeting of base wives. It was enlightening. Several of the wives lamented the lack of job opportunities. They want to contribute. I felt the same way when I was in their shoes, but now I’m in the position to do something.” An infectious enthusiasm lit her voice.
“And you want to start a business that employs them.”
“Yes. Exactly.” She snapped and pointed.
She understood better than most what military wives faced—the good, bad, and tragic. It was a noble reason, but nobility and success weren’t natural partners when it came to actually making money.
“You graduated with honors, didn’t you?”
“How did you—?” She gave a little shake of her head. “Double major: marketing and business. After Noah and I married, I couldn’t find a job that I wasn’t grossly overqualified for. They could smell a military wife from a mile away.”
“Why the black mark for being a military wife?”
“When husbands move, so do wives. Why spend the time and money to train someone when she might leave at any moment? I don’t blame them. I really don’t.” She sighed and flopped to her back. “But it was frustrating. I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Allison. She’s the perfect military wife.”
“I don’t know. According to Noah, you were perfect.”
Her gaze darted to his and then away. “No. I wasn’t perfect by any stretch.”
Chapter 10
>
Past
“Redecorate or something. I see a bunch of the wives taking a kickboxing class during morning PT. Allison coordinates all sorts of charity shit you could help with.” Noah ran a hand through his hair. “Why can’t you just be happy?”
His hair was longer than normal. Their most recent deployment had been in Afghanistan. To fit in with the locals, many men grew their hair and beards out. Noah’s blond hair fingered him as a foreigner no matter how long it was.
His usually epic patience with her must have been at a breaking point. He’d cursed. Of course, she’d heard him curse before, but never at her. Anger and unease took up equal space in her chest.
“I’m not wired to take kickboxing and fritter away my day on charity work. I’ve worked since I was sixteen. I put myself through college. I busted my butt for two degrees that I’m not even using.” She gestured toward the wall where she and Noah had proudly hung her diplomas after they’d moved in. Her pride had turned to bitterness over the last two years.
“You’ve had opportunities.” His voice was almost accusing.
“Selling people mattresses or working the register at a department store? Really ambitious stuff.”
Noah plopped down on the couch and put his head down, his hands linked behind his neck. “What do you want me to do about it? The SEALs are my life. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Do you want me to give it up so we can move to a bigger city? Is that what you want?”
Great. Now she felt like a slug that crawled out of the muck after a big rain. “Of course not.” She sat next to him and put a hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “I get frustrated and there’s no one else to talk to around here. No one that I have anything in common with.”
He slouched backward on the couch, his arm across the back. She took the invitation and snuggled into his side. Fighting with Noah left her feeling queasy. He was so good and noble and she … wasn’t.
“You haven’t even tried to make friends, Harper Lee.” His voice had lost its sharpness.
“Ugh. I was never good at making friends. And it’s only gotten harder.”
“Will you do one thing for me?” He tipped her face toward his.
The Military Wife Page 11
