by Arianna Hart
She was dead to the world seconds later.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Grant finished helping his mom move his dad, it was time for dinner. It wasn’t like he could cry off Sunday dinner because he wanted to go bang his mother’s neighbor, so he clamped down on his impatience. The roast beef and potatoes were delicious, one of his favorite meals, but he wolfed it down like it was an MRE.
When his mom brought out a peach cobbler, he groaned at the delay. Once dinner was done, he helped his dad back to the den and volunteered to do the dishes.
“Oh, just leave them. I’ll take care of the kitchen after I get your father settled.”
Grant squashed the side of him that wanted to take her at her word and race out the door. Instead, he did KP duty and had everything sparkling and in place by the time his mother came out of the den. “Do you need me for anything else? I was thinking about taking a walk to work off some of that cobbler.”
“It’s a beautiful evening for a walk. You should ask Ellie to join you.”
“Good idea. I wanted to ask her about some of the information I found on the business anyway.” Which was true. It was just going to wait until after he fucked her blind.
“There’s going to be a lovely sunset and moonrise. Ellie’s a beautiful girl. Don’t waste your time talking about business. Go, enjoy the full moon with a pretty girl.” She shooed him out the door, not that he needed much urging.
His dick hardened as he remembered Ellie falling apart just from his mouth on her nipple. It was a near thing that he hadn’t come in his pants right there in the driveway. Her skin was so soft, baby fine, and he wanted to get more of a taste than the little tease he’d had.
Her door was unlocked, so he let himself in, thinking of all the ways he wanted to do her. She did yoga so he bet she was really flexible…
The apartment was quiet. He could see the living area and the kitchen were empty, so he headed toward the door on the left. The one on the right was the tiny bathroom if he remembered correctly, so that meant the other should be her bedroom. The door was half-open and he pushed it the rest of the way.
Ellie was sprawled across her bed, one long, bare leg shoved out from under the top sheet. Her face was slack and her breathing deep and even. With her eyes closed, they didn’t dominate her face, and he could appreciate her high cheekbones and delicate chin. Her pink lips were slightly parted and moist. He wanted nothing more than to slip in beside her on that bed and feel those long limbs wrap around him, taste those pink lips.
His body urged him to do just that. The fading light of the sunset coming through her window painted her body in shades of gold. If the sheet slipped just another inch or two, he’d be able to see if her pert breasts were as tempting as his memory made them seem.
But he’d kept her up late last night and she’d run around all day today and had a full day ahead of her tomorrow. She was so fragile looking, her skin almost translucent, that the dark circles under her eyes stood out clearly.
Fuck!
He backed out of the room quietly, as quietly as he could with his bionics clicking. She didn’t even flinch when the door squeaked, and he knew she was down for the count. He was doing the right thing letting her sleep, even if his body screamed at him to go back in there and wake her up.
Would she be disappointed that he didn’t? He really didn’t know that much about her likes and dislikes, other than her breasts were amazingly sensitive. He’d better cover his ass, just in case. Looking around the kitchen, he found a pad and pen on the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.
Came by, but you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll take a rain check though.
G
There. She’d know that he hadn’t blown her off and that he was still interested in finishing what they’d started. That should keep him out of trouble. He hoped.
But what the hell was he going to do with all this pent-up energy? He took the stairs to the driveway and considered taking the car for a ride, but that wasn’t what he wanted right now. His body needed a release, and since it wasn’t going to be sexual, it might as well be physical.
Grant went to the garage and found his old mountain bike. The tires were flat, but there was a cobweb-covered pump hung up next to it. It didn’t take much effort to get the tires inflated and it was ready to go.
The sun had almost completely set and the moon was on the rise. It was a huge, full one. He’d have no trouble finding his way home after dark. It took a little coordination to get his prosthetic to stay on the pedal, but he managed it. Trail riding was out of the question, but a short spin into the center of town wasn’t beyond him.
The temperature had dropped and the wind felt great against his overheated body. Who’d have thought a sexual dynamo was hidden behind Ellie’s quiet façade? Every time he touched her, she responded like a live wire.
And thoughts like that were doing nothing to help kill his erection. He pedaled harder, frustrated when his fake foot slipped off. Maybe he could rig a strap to help keep it in position. Something to think about if he was going to do any more biking.
Riding the bike from his teens down the familiar roads of his hometown was like getting thrown back in time. Seeing all the old landmarks brought back memories of fishing with his dad, riding bikes with his friends, playing ball in the park. When he was a kid, it had seemed like the worst thing that could happen was getting in trouble and not being allowed to go out on a perfect summer day.
After his years with the SEALs, he knew there was a hell of a lot worse in the world. It was like there were two different people in his head. One, the hometown kid who’d dated the prettiest girl in school and felt like the king of the world in the truck he’d helped his father rebuild. The other, a scarred, damaged vet who’d seen the worst humanity could do and had cut himself off from any feelings but anger and duty.
And lust. Don’t forget about lust.
He was trying to forget about lust, thanks all the same. The part of him that remembered being a kid here soaked up the smell of the blooming cherry trees and enjoyed the feel of the wind in his face as he sped down a hill. The other part of him wanted to scream at the good people of Dale to wake up. The world was more than bake sales and garden clubs and gossip about who was doing what. There was real evil in the world, and it wasn’t going away just because they didn’t want to see it.
But wasn’t that what he’d fought for in the first place? Why he became a SEAL? He put himself on the line so that people like his folks, Mrs. Thompson and hell, even Pansy Campbell, could live their lives free and safe from nightly air raids and suicide bombers. Why should he begrudge them their blindness?
Was he jealous? Would he go back to this innocence if he could?
No. What he’d done with the SEALs was important and had made America a safer place. He could never unsee the things he’d seen, never undo the things he’d done and he didn’t want to. Someone had to hold the line and, by God, he was fucking proud to have been one of the men who had.
Grant pushed the bike harder up the hill, enjoying the burn in his thighs. He should probably call his Wounded Warriors mentor and check in. It wasn’t easy to admit he couldn’t go it alone. His training and his very nature made him want to be the problem solver, to fix things. It rubbed him wrong to have to admit he couldn’t solve everything. Wounded Warriors had matched him up with an alum who understood his frustration and helped him work through the system to get acclimated to his new life as a civilian.
His mentor, Xavier, had warned him coming home would be hard, would bring back a lot of memories. He’d been right, but so far, those memories had been good ones. And for now, he was going to retreat into that kid who was only worried about who was going to be at the park and if there’d be enough to form two baseball teams.
Main Street was deserted at this time of night.
Most folks were home, getting ready for school or work after the weekend. He steered the bike toward the park, bumping over the curb and smiling to himself as he remembered doing wheelies and trying to spin the bike around in the air. He’d been an adrenaline junkie even as a kid.
As he slid the bike into a skid before he reached the swings, he heard a car door slam. Instantly, his senses jumped to alert mode and he searched the tree line for silhouettes. He quickly scanned the area until he spotted a cop car with its running lights on and an officer walking toward him. Grant waited, wondering if he was breaking any laws being at the park after sundown.
“Grant Anderson? I heard you were back in town,” the officer said as he approached. He flipped the bill of his Smokey-the-Bear cap up and stepped into the light of the decorative street lamp.
“J.T. McBride? How the hell are you?” Grant let the bike drop and strode forward to meet J.T., his hand outstretched. “Mom told me you’d become a cop, but I couldn’t believe it. You spent so much time running from Officer Woodrow that you should have joined the cross-country team.”
“Woodrow was a dick. ’Course, at the time, I thought everyone in a position of authority was a dick. I try to remember that when I’m dealing with some punk kid who reminds me too much of myself. How’ve ya been? I was sorry to hear about your daddy. Mary Ellen said he’s progressing though.”
“Thanks. My mom has him doing exercises all the time. We’re hoping he can regain some mobility.”
“Rehab’s a bitch.”
“Ain’t that the truth? So I hear you married Nadya Sarov? I can’t believe she’s back in Dale.”
“Neither can she. She came to town hoping to get in and out without seeing anyone. Next thing you know, she’s organizing a revitalization of Dale.” J.T. shook his head ruefully. “I practically had to tie her down to hold her still long enough to plan the wedding.”
“If I remember correctly, she was pretty damn bright. I bet she managed to plan the wedding and ten other things at the same time.”
“At least ten other things.”
“How’d you end up back in Dale? Last I heard, you had joined the military and were gone for good.”
J.T. smiled wryly. “That was the plan. Once I joined the Marines, I didn’t think I’d ever set foot in Dale again. My daddy had moved to a church in Texas and Nadya was gone, so there wasn’t much besides my buddy Billy to come back for.” A look Grant couldn’t read crossed J.T.’s face. “After I got out of the Marines, I wandered back to Dale. I wasn’t planning on staying, but somehow, I ended up joining the police department. Strangest damn thing, but I’m happy. Of all the places I’ve lived, Dale is what felt the most like home.”
“Do you ever want to stand on the town green with a bullhorn and shout at everyone to wake up?” Grant asked.
J.T. chuckled. “In the beginning, all the fucking time. I’d get dispatched because some kids had smashed the Halloween pumpkins on someone’s front stoop. It took a few lectures from Chief Birch to remind me this isn’t Iraq, and to an old lady with arthritis, cleaning up pumpkin guts is a big deal.”
“Speaking of Chief Birch, I hear he’s retiring soon and you’re a shoo-in for the job. Gonna take it?”
“Probably. There’s only two other officers on the force, and one of them’s Parker.”
“Jimmy Parker?” Grant asked. “Isn’t he still in diapers?”
“Practically. Believe it or not, after you leave town, time doesn’t stop. ’Bout a month after I came back, a pretty little thing at the market caught my eye. I almost choked when Billy told me it was Tina Johnson. I used to teach her Sunday school class.”
“I’ve noticed time has a way of changing your perspective,” Grant said, thinking of how little Ellie had turned into smoking-hot Ellie.
“So what are your plans? Are you staying in Dale or heading back out to the Left Coast?”
“I’m back in Georgia to stay. For now, my mom needs help with my dad and the store. God willing, he’ll improve and I’ll figure out what to do from there.”
“Ever thought about going into police work? The pay’s pathetic and the hours suck, but you get a spiffy uniform.”
“Sounds like the military.”
“Pretty much, but you get better food. When the chief retires, there’ll be an open spot, and I sure would like to have someone with a military background to fill it. Peterson is a great kid and he’s a whiz with computers, but he’s got no real-world experience. Except for going to the police academy, he’s hardly been farther than Canton.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but that real-world experience you speak of left me without half my leg.” Grant lifted his pant leg to show his prosthesis.
“So. There’s guys going back into active duty with fake feet, and they don’t even have that fancy jobby you got. I saw a thing on the news where this paratrooper who had the same injury you have is back in uniform. I don’t think you’d have any trouble passing the physical requirements for the academy.”
“I can’t do anything until my dad is back on his feet. My folks are my priority right now.”
“Understood. Birch probably isn’t retiring for a few months yet. He’s being cagey about the actual time. I’m betting he’ll wait until at least after the Fourth of July so he can still be in the parade.”
“How big a parade can it be? There’s only three hundred people in the town.”
“No shit. Sometimes I think there’s more folks in the parade than watching it. We’ve already had battles over the lineup for the Founders’ Day parade and that isn’t for weeks yet.”
“Do you ever wonder if you somehow slipped into an alternate reality?” Grant asked.
“Daily.” Before J.T. could say anything else, the radio at his waist squawked. “I gotta go. Think about what I said.”
“I will. Tell Nadya I said hey.”
“Will do.” J.T. waved and climbed into the patrol car.
Grant watched the car pull away. Whatever the problem was, it couldn’t be too urgent. J.T. didn’t use the lights or sirens. Grant walked over to an abandoned swing and gave it a little push. He didn’t know what to think about J.T.’s idea.
When he’d heard about his father’s stroke, he’d decided he was needed at home and made the decision to move back to Dale. He hadn’t thought much further than helping his dad recover. But, God willing, his father wouldn’t be in rehab forever. If his dad went back to work at the store, what would Grant do?
Sure, he could help out at Anderson’s, but honestly, how much help did they need with Greg, and if his mother had her way, Anita? And did he really want to work in an auto parts store for the rest of his life? He was only twenty-eight years old.
He couldn’t worry about that now. It was an option he’d think about later. Right now, he had to focus on helping his father recover and figuring out what the hell Greg was up to at the store. His days of riding an adrenaline high were over.
Chapter Twelve
Ellie collapsed on her couch. The headache from hell that had been plaguing her for the last hour threatened to turn into a full-blown migraine. She didn’t get many of them, but when she did, they laid her flat. She knew she shouldn’t have had so much caffeine today, but it seemed like every client she went to offered her either coffee or iced tea. It would have been rude to refuse, so she’d drunk a cup here, a glass there, until she was wired and her head was throbbing.
The half a pot of coffee she’d had that morning probably hadn’t helped either. When she’d woken up naked and alone at four in the morning, her first thought had been disappointment that Grant hadn’t come after all, then panic that she hadn’t finished prepping for her clients.
She’d jumpstarted her brain with the coffee and then worked without stopping for the next four hours. Even though most of today’s clients were small, they still deserved all her attention. The difference
between a refund and having to pay could be as simple as a single tax law. Most of today’s clients used her once a year for their tax returns. They didn’t comprise the bulk of her practice, but they’d been some of the first to hire her when she’d gotten out of college.
“You look like you’ve been run over by a truck,” Grant said from the doorway to her apartment.
She was going to have to put an alarm on the top stair or something. How did he move so darn quietly?
“Thanks, that’s just what every woman wants to hear.” She opened one eye and saw he carried a covered plate. “Is that for me?”
“Yup. Mom made you a plate of her fried chicken. She figured you probably hadn’t had a chance to eat supper.”
“She figured right. I’ve had about a dozen cookies, at least five brownies and some of the driest, most tasteless lemon cake ever made, but no actual dinner. No wonder I have a headache.” She started to get up off the couch, but Grant waved her back.
“Stay there, I’ll get you something to drink. Do you have any tea?”
“No more iced tea. I’ll just have some water, please. The glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the sink. Silverware is in the drawer below.”
In next to no time, Grant had her dinner set up on the coffee table in front of the couch. She felt a little awkward eating in front of him, but then the smell of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and biscuits filled the air and she didn’t care anymore. She tucked into the meal like someone would steal it from her if she stopped eating.
“I haven’t had fried chicken in ages,” she said when she finally came up for air. “It seems silly to go through all that work for one person, and the store bought kind never tastes as good.”
“That’s the truth. How’s the headache?”
“Better. A few aspirin and no more caffeine or sugar and I’ll be good as new.” She took the dishes to the sink and started washing them. Now that she didn’t have the food to distract her, she felt tense and a bit nervous around Grant.
