by Lyz Kelley
His facial expression flared hot. She blushed, imagining what he’d assumed she might be offering.
“It’s a room. There’s a small studio over the store. I’m warning you in advance, it’s not in great condition, and that’s why I hesitated. But it’s a place to lay your head. If you don’t mind some dust, I might be able to fix you up. It’s got a kitchenette, shower, and a toilet that works. It’s yours until you find something better, or I sell the furniture. I would still recommend heading up the hill, though. I’m sure you’d find better accommodations there.”
“Much appreciated. It’s been a long couple of days, and a place to lay my head is all I need.”
The tired Marine Corps mask seemed too familiar. His unreadable, exhausted face and lack of enthusiasm might have given another woman pause, but she’d seen her dad’s empty expression often enough to know not to take it personally.
A sense of responsibility settled in her gut like a ten-ton rock. As Jenna had pointed out, several bedrooms sat empty at the main house, but the way he made her blush and tingle…and every once in a while forget to breathe…created too great a temptation. She didn’t need the distraction, even if Maggie had given the thumbs-up.
The crumbs on his plate and his napkin refolded beside it in a perfect rectangle jolted her back to awareness. “Are you finished eating?”
“I am, but don’t let me stop you.”
As if on cue, Jenna plopped a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup and a fresh slice of bread in front of her, disappearing before Ashley could get a thank-you out.
He gave her a crooked grin. “Is she a mind reader or something?”
“Jenna’s always been like that, anticipating your needs even before you need something. Maggie, the café owner, recognized her gifts and, just like that, gave her a place to stay and made room for her in the kitchen.”
And apparently she thinks you’re solid, too.
His look went straight to her lips and stayed there, caressing each corner gently, softly before his gaze shifted and lifted to hers.
“I might have to sample the sweets sometime.”
She got his meaning and instantly focused on her soup spoon circling in the broth, forcing herself to concentrate on making sure each rotation had the same diameter. With each passing second, she became more mesmerized by the rising steam. Blowing to cool the liquid, she allowed the heat rising in her body to also cool.
He’s a Marine. He won’t stay. Don’t go there. Just be friendly.
Ashley tentatively tested the hot soup with the tip of her tongue, then sipped from her spoon. “So are you stationed in California or North Carolina?”
“Carolina.”
“Second Battalion. Are you attached to a special unit?”
The soldier had a way of sitting very still, showing a person only what he wanted them to see. His eyes held open the only door to what he was thinking because his body language certainly wasn’t saying a thing. “If I’d known I was going to be put through an inquisition, I might have brought my military record.”
“Sorry, just a small-town habit. We tend to know everything about everyone here, so when a new person shows up, people get interested. It’s not personal or anything. You shouldn’t take offense.”
“None taken.”
His words were even, precise, not demanding, just confident. Confident in a way she wanted to be but never managed. He was attractive, but she couldn’t allow this guy to awaken her hormones. She’d sworn an oath never to get involved with a uniform. At college in San Diego, it had been easy. Precision-pressed jackets were everywhere, easy to spot, and easy to avoid. But she never expected to find one in disguise, straddling a stool in her little town.
“Then let me guess.” She tore off a bite of bread and studied his face. He looked older than she was, maybe thirty. “A tour in Kuwait, maybe Japan, Kabul, a couple in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
“Impressive. You a military buff?”
She spread a pat of butter on her bread and watched it melt, just like her willpower. Putting the knife down, she sneaked another peek at his biceps. Nice. “Military buff? Not really. Like I said, my dad’s a Marine. My mom framed a map when I was little and we tracked his deployments with colored pushpins. In school, I liked history, so I just kept it going until I went to college. Haven’t kept up with it since then. I know it sounds a bit odd.”
His brow lifted, but he said nothing.
She shrugged. “You’re also not from a small town. I can tell. Folks around here have a gift for gossip and tend to anticipate.”
“Anticipate?”
Jenna stopped to fill Chase’s cup and deliver a chocolate chip cookie before disappearing again.
“Yep, anticipate.”
He watched Jenna retreat, his eyes wide, eyebrows lifted. “Now I get it.”
Elkridge was almost as predictable as a sunrise. Gossip spread faster than a flood, and before a person would stop it, the whole town would be drenched with information that might or might not be true. It drove her crazy the way people got into each other’s business. It just wasn’t right.
But then there was the good side. The caring side. If people learned a family might need help, there’d be a line outside the door full of people offering pies, advice, services, or anything else they might think useful.
She downed her soup while the silence eased in. With her good hand, she fumbled around in her pocket for a twenty-dollar bill.
“Ready to go?” She slid the bill under her plate, hoping the ten dollars in her dresser at home would pay for groceries until next week.
He retrieved the twenty and tried to give it back. “Let me pay for this.”
“I got it. You’ll find military money is no good in this town. Just the way it is.”
His warm fingers encircled her wrist and placed the money in her hand. “I insist.”
Obviously, he’d gotten used to giving orders and having people obey, but she wasn’t someone he could boss around. She turned to put the twenty back on the counter and got Maggie’s evil eye.
“Put that money in your pocket this instant, missy.” Maggie pointed a stiff finger. “You too, Marine.”
“Maggie, I know you’ve always been there for me, but you can’t keep feeding this whole town for free.” Ashley’s chin jutted forward to emphasize her point.
“Didn’t your momma teach you not to argue with your elders?”
Ashley sighed while embarrassed heat ran up her face. “Fine. But next week I’m going to come and help you can your jellies for the Bazaar. You need help, so don’t give me that elder crap.”
Confidence. Didn’t her mother tell her she had to grow some?
The prior habit of unquestioning compliance was her mother’s doing. She’d always required immediate acquiescence. During the last couple of years, her mother had identified her mistake. Compliance had led to an inability to make decisions. Ashley had never quite figured out what her mom wanted her to be or do, forcing a life of indecision.
She’d spent the two-day drive home from the University of San Diego carefully crafting an excuse to return to school. But when she saw nursing home patients stuck in wheelchairs with pureed food dried on their gowns, her resolve had crumbled and she’d complied. She couldn’t leave her mother in such a disgusting place. Giving up three years of her life and dealing with bedpans 24/7 had been the result.
Chase gave her a long, hard, assessing look. “Ma’am, are you ready to go?”
A shiver brushed up her spine. “If you don’t mind, that ‘ma’am’ thing’s gotta go. Hearing it reminds me of my grandmother. Call me Ashley, or Ash.”
Saying nothing, he lifted her coat and held it open for her. She tilted her head, not knowing what to think of the old-fashioned gesture. Gathering the sleeve ends of her wool sweater into the palms of her hands, she pushed into the coat sleeves, accepting his courtesy. Before she could thank him, he’d circled the tables and headed for the door.
The view couldn’t
have been more spectacular. His upper body formed a nice V shape, ending at a perfectly compact rear. And there couldn’t be another pair of muscular legs in Colorado filling out jeans the way his did.
“Don’t let him intimidate you. Go jump him,” Jenna whispered with a spark in her eye.
“That’s all I need—to be a target of town gossip.”
“Forget about the old biddies squawking. Nobody pays attention, anyway. He’s interested. I can tell by the way he looks at you. You’re interested as well. And don’t tell me you’re not.”
Chase Daniels was a whole lot of man—more man than she knew how to handle. The moody guy shared his thoughts only when it suited him, preferring to observe and watch. She assumed he didn’t play much, settled more on the serious side, and she got the feeling he was swift to make decisions. Unlike her.
The idea of him scared her. Intrigued her.
He turned. Her eyes locked to his.
She noted his rigid stance and took a fortifying breath. This guy would test her and bring her close to the edge. An edge she hadn’t been close to for a long time—a dangerous, uncomfortable, exciting place. A place she wanted to explore, but a heavy dose of caution and reality kept her desires in check.
She lifted the collar of her coat up around her ears and took a step forward. “Let’s see if I can find you some clean sheets.”
Chase watched Ashley sprint up the wooden staircase snuggled against the side of the antique shop.
“Be careful with the railing. It’s loose,” she said, placing her key in the lock and using her shoulder to open the door.
The way Ashley’s jeans fit across her perfectly formed butt reminded Chase of a bullet fitting tight and precisely into a rifle chamber. His eyes were definitely on lock, and she was fully loaded. He bet each one of her individual body parts would fit perfectly into the palms of his hands, one right after the other.
The other guys in his unit gave him crap about liking women who had just enough. Of course, he would look at any female who wanted to show off her equipment, but he preferred the all-natural type, and Ashley was organically pure.
She covered her eyes with her hands and then slid them down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how bad it was up here.”
He checked the ceiling. No leaks. Good sign. The flowery wallpaper was a bit much, but the solidly built bed with no footboard would allow him to stretch out, so no problem there. If the sheets weren’t clean, he could always use the poncho liner he’d found behind the seat in the pickup. Drawers and closets were redundant, since he’d lived out of a rucksack for so long. A few boxes scattered across the room needed stacking, but that would be easy enough to do. He’d spent plenty of days and nights in places where even the bomb-sniffing dogs couldn’t get comfortable. Being able to find a place to sleep without first digging a trench was a bonus.
Ashley had turned pale, most likely from embarrassment.
“It’ll do. I don’t need much,” he assured her, but she marched to the bed and began lifting boxes. “Hold on there. You don’t want to open that cut.”
Chase took the heavy box from her hands and placed it by the far wall, then turned and grabbed the second box she’d picked up. Gritting his teeth in irritation, he considered picking her up and setting her outside the door to get her to stop. However, pissing her off might lead to sleeping in a truck, which wasn’t ideal in winter.
She leaned over again, and he got distracted. Her feminine hips reminded him he’d been without a woman for way too long. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand. For the next ten minutes, they danced with boxes until she finally ran out of things to move.
She scanned the room and pointed at a door. “Through there’s the bathroom. The other door leads to the kitchenette on the main floor. You’ll also find a washer and dryer, but I’ll warn you, they haven’t been used in a while. There’s vinegar in the cupboard if you want to run a cleaning cycle first.” She studied him for a second. “Towels. You need some towels.”
Reaching into a wall closet, she removed a burgundy bath sheet, hand towel, and washcloth. He couldn't remember the last time he’d used a washcloth, but didn't want to interrupt her fussing. And about the vinegar, why bother? He’d lived in the same clothes for days. A washer got dirt out. No fuss needed.
She opened the bathroom door to check the water pressure in the sink and shower. It impressed him how she went out of her way to make sure he had everything he needed. There were some in this world who’d rather run a person over than stop and help. One thing for sure, the woman sure tried hard.
“Ashley?” He took a step toward her. Leaned his arm on the bathroom doorframe. “Please stop. The room is fine. It’s a palace compared to my last bunk.”
Distracted, she blinked, then her amazing hazel eyes remained steady. She wrestled with something, he could see it in her eyes. But then she shifted and ducked under his arm, retreating to the apartment door.
“I’m assuming you’ll be tired after traveling, so I won’t disturb you too early. I’ve got things to do in the store tomorrow, but I shouldn’t be here until after ten.” She retrieved a key ring from her pocket, removed a key tied with a pink ribbon, and tossed it to him.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Your money doesn’t work here,” she explained with more patience than he had. “There’s coffee and tea at the bottom of the stairs in the kitchen. Help yourself. The store’s locked, so no one should bother you. Get some rest. You look like a tank ran over you.”
The concern in her eyes, he liked. There wasn’t any pity, or sorrow, or buck-it-up Marine, only a consideration for his well-being.
He took a couple of steps to place the key on the table beside the door, and she took off like a scared rabbit. She fled down the stairs to the parking lot, where she dove into a VW Bug that had no business being driven on a civilian road, and disappeared around the corner.
When he sat on the bed, dust particles filled the air and a musty smell permeated the room. He eyed the floor, figuring it might be a safer place for the night. At least the room sheltered him from the brewing snowstorm. He’d do something about the bed tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Sometimes there were no tomorrows.
If it weren’t for Bobby, he’d be on a beach in North Carolina or in a cabin somewhere. Losing his best friend, the guy everyone admired and respected, cut deep. He would have traded his life for Bobby’s in a second.
He’d chosen to accompany Bobby home, to tell his parents and sister about their heroic son and brother. Yesterday at Ft. Logan Cemetery, the prepared summary stuck in his chest. What did you tell a mother who’d lost a son? He touched the tender left pectoral where he’d hired a tattoo artist to give him a permanent reminder of Bobby’s initials and the date of death. Bobby’s mom had been so strong—even in her grief—offering him a place to stay, but claustrophobia had crept in, and he couldn’t do it. He needed to keep moving.
Seeing Bobby’s parents’ and sister’s grief for those few hours had been more than he could bear. With a promise to visit their home for Christmas, he’d borrowed Bobby's old truck and started driving with no destination in mind. When he recognized the name of Elkridge on the map, he turned off the highway, remembering Bobby’s description of the small town. On tour, Bobby had talked nonstop about the people and places of his youth, making every story or individual come alive.
Elkridge might be the place Chase could find a sense of peace and a place to rest that didn’t activate memories from the past. No loud noises. No crowded spaces. No malls, big chain grocery stores, sporting events, any venue with a large number of people. Space. He needed space to get his head clear. Figure out the next steps.
His commander's last words came to him. You need to decide.
Thirty-three days to decide what to do with his life: military or civilian.
He inhaled deeply, considering his options.
Either just might kill him.
Chapter Three
&nb
sp; Stopping in the café just after nine the next morning, Ashley received a minute-by-minute update on Chase’s activities, whether she wanted one or not. He’d gone for a pre-dawn run, then arrived at the café just when Jenna pulled the first batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. After a hearty pancake breakfast, he’d been seen puttering around Ashley’s store, fussing with the side door, then the railing.
Maggie stopped halfway through the counter coffee run. “Please encourage that gorgeous man of yours to come over when he’s done with your place. I’ve got plenty of fixing needed here. Besides, he’s easy on the eyes.”
Her man? Since when did Chase Daniels become hers? Someday she wouldn’t mind becoming part of a ‘we,’ as in two people building a life together. But becoming a ‘we’ with a soldier just wouldn’t happen. No way. No how.
Her parents somehow managed to remain married for twenty-seven years, but not many of those years were happy. For some reason, they’d chosen to live apart. Because of that decision, her father would be gone months at a time, missing almost every important event in Ashley’s life, and when he did come home, he wasn’t really there.
“You sound like my mom. Just to make it clear,” she raised her voice a little just in case the gossipmongers were listening in, “I’m not Chase Daniels’ keeper. If you want something done, I suggest you ask him yourself.”
“What’s got your panties in a wad so early in the morning?” Maggie gave her a what-for stare before moving on down the counter to shout an order to Ted, the cook.
Jenna picked up her empty breakfast plate. “I’ve seen you scraping the bottom of the emotional barrel, and I’ve seen you fired-up mad, but I’ve never seen you get knotted up over some guy. Granted he’s a GQ Joe, but why does he irritate you so much?”
“I didn’t ask for his help.” And I don’t have the money to pay for the repairs.
She wasn’t a charity case. She didn’t need anyone…well, except those times in the early morning hours when she hadn’t been able to sleep and found herself singularly and heartbreakingly alone.
