She emerged less than a minute or so later, hesitating but not stopping as she stepped out onto the sidewalk and saw him. He pretended not to notice her.
The same sensations he had been feeling occasionally ran up and down the length of his spine. They told him two things. One, she was definitely the one who had been watching him. And two, she was watching him now.
She walked quickly past him, her small fist clutched around something that looked like a set of keys. It proved she was at least thinking of her safety, though there was nothing she could use as an effective defense against someone like him.
She glanced back once or twice as she put distance between them, her gaze constantly swiveling to the front and sides as she moved.
Instead of going into the parking lot, she continued along the sidewalk. He waited until she disappeared from view, then he veered toward the park, shaking off the unnerving urge to follow.
The early morning air was cool, crisp, and clean, filling his lungs as his feet ate up the miles. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way those big gray-green eyes had looked up at him in fear. They made the innate protector in him sit up and take notice.
He reminded himself that he should be minding his own business. That was what regular guys did, right? Clearly, she was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. She hadn’t asked for his help, and chances were, she wouldn’t appreciate his meddling.
The sun was just coming up when he made it back. He slowed down to a walk, then leaned against the building for another stretch. Once again, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, warning him that he was in someone’s sights. It felt decidedly different than the assessing, curious glance of his skittish, little neighbor.
Steve scanned the parking lot, his eyes catching the image of a man in a nondescript gray sedan. The man appeared to be taking pictures with his cell phone. The moment Smoke spotted him, though, the guy put the phone down and stared back. It was too far away to get a good look, but something about the guy set off his internal warning system.
As Steve straightened and started walking toward the vehicle, the guy popped it into reverse and took off in a hurry.
Smoke managed to get a make and a partial plate. All the while, his mind told him he was being paranoid. However, his gut told him he might have just discovered the reason behind his neighbor’s fear.
* * *
“What can I get for you, sir?” Sam asked again, forcing a smile at the jerk standing in front of the counter, talking to someone on his hands-free device. Apparently, that conversation was more important than placing his order, irritating both her and the dozen or so people in line behind him.
When he held up his index finger in a classic “wait” gesture again, Sam took a step to the side and addressed the annoyed looking woman next in line. “Ma’am? What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a large hazelnut, skim, two sugars, and a—”
“Excuse me,” the first guy said irritably. “It’s my turn.”
Sam ignored him. Now he could wait. “And a …?” she prompted the woman.
The woman flicked her eyes to the rude guy, then back to Sam. “And a blueberry muffin, please.”
“For here or to go?”
“To go, please.”
“You got it,” Sam said, turning around to fill the order.
“Excuse me.” The jerk with a phone raised his voice, forgetting his call.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir.”
“No, you’ll be with me now. You were waiting on me.”
She flicked a gaze his way, unsurprised to find his face red and his expression angry. Expensive suit. Latest gadgetry. Hideous power tie. Misplaced sense of superiority. Yep. Jerk.
“I was waiting on you, but apparently, you were too busy to tell me what you wanted and there are others who’d like to get to work on time.” Sam bagged the coffee and muffin, turning back to the woman. “That’ll be four twenty-three, please.”
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” The jerk leaned his body over the counter, blocking the woman from paying.
Sam stiffened, drawing herself up to her full, if unimpressive, height. “And I’m telling you to back off.”
Everyone in the small coffee house was looking over now, waiting to see what would happen next. Even the hazelnut/blueberry muffin lady stood frozen with a five-dollar bill in her hand.
“I demand to see the manager.”
“You’re looking at her.”
“The owner, then.”
“Is there a problem?”
The deep, masculine voice drew her attention to the rugged, handsome man speaking and stepping forward from the back of the line. She had been so focused on the rude customer that she had failed to notice her new neighbor had come in. It was unlike her to be so unaware of her surroundings, especially with men like him who seemed to suck the very air from the space around him.
A wave of fresh male and soap hit her nose, and his hair looked a little damp around the ends. Clearly, he had showered since his early morning run. His strong jaw was shaven baby-smooth, and his faded Levi’s and long-sleeved tee showcased some impressive muscles beneath.
She pushed back the unwanted images of her neighbor naked under the spray, soaping himself up, before they could take hold.
“No,” Sam said, right about the same time the asshole said, “Mind your own business, buddy.”
Her neighbor stepped closer and glared down at the man. Several inches taller and far broader, he was an imposing sight.
“She is my business, and you’re not my buddy. Now apologize to the nice lady and everyone else in line who has had to wait for no good reason. Then take your very important call and your business elsewhere.”
“Not without my—”
Whatever he was about to say faded away when her neighbor’s big hand landed on the asshole’s shoulder. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
Those big fingers flexed, and the business jerk winced.
“I’m … sorry,” he said to Sam between clenched teeth as he waved vaguely in the direction of the line of customers.
“Now leave,” her neighbor rumbled ominously.
The guy took off, muttering smart remarks the moment he was out of arm’s length. Once he was out the door, Sam gaped at her neighbor, who then turned around and took his place at the back of the line again.
“Lucky you,” hazelnut/muffin lady murmured.
“I don’t … He’s not …” Sam shook her head, words failing her. She couldn’t explain her new neighbor’s surprising claim, nor should she have to. Yes, it was nice of him to step up like that, but she was no one’s business.
When her new neighbor reached the counter, he acted as if nothing unusual had happened. “Coffee, black.”
“What size?”
“The biggest you have.”
“Anything else?”
“Those muffins look good. Did you make them?”
She blinked. No one had ever asked that before.
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll take two.”
“What kind? We have chocolate, blueberry, apple spice—”
“Surprise me.”
“For here or to go?”
“For here. Do you get a break?”
She bit her lip, her brain warning her to say no. But he had come to her defense. His involvement had significantly hastened the jerk customer’s departure. The guy probably would have caused more of a fuss otherwise. That deserved a minute of her time and a sincere thank you, in her opinion. Besides, they were in a well-lit, public place, surrounded by people. She was safe.
“Yeah, in about ten minutes.”
“Good. I’ll wait.”
She was keenly aware of her neighbor as she continued to take and fill orders. He didn’t stare, not exactly, but she could tell he was checking out and analyzing everyone in the place. To his credit, he ignored the appreciative stares and looks women were giving him, quietly sipping his coffee and
eating his muffins, occasionally checking his phone.
When she could delay no longer, she let Jenna, the part-time college student, take over. Then Sam wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out from behind the counter.
His gaze immediately swiveled in her direction, and he stood up in a gentlemanly gesture when she approached.
“Sit down,” he said in that deep, rumbling voice.
She stiffened immediately. The more she saw of him, the more she was convinced he was military, or at least former military. He had this aura of danger surrounding him, and he was clearly used to issuing orders. White knight or not, she didn’t like people telling her what to do.
“Please,” he added when she remained standing.
Points to him for being astute and having manners.
She slid into the chair across from him. Best to just get this over with and out of the way.
“Thanks. For before, I mean. But it wasn’t necessary. I would have handled it.”
He nodded, accepting that without a trace of skepticism. Another point for him.
“Does that kind of thing happen a lot?”
She shrugged. When you dealt with the public, you were bound to encounter a few entitled assholes. It was just part of the business. That didn’t mean she wanted to discuss it.
When she said nothing more, he said, “Those muffins were great, by the way.”
She fidgeted in her chair and avoided his eyes. Brown with little specks of gold and green, they had a way of making her heart beat a little faster when he looked at her. “Thanks.”
“I’m Steve, by the way. I moved into the place next to yours last week.”
“I know.”
He waited expectantly, and she found herself answering. “I’m Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offered his hand over the table. She looked at it for a moment before taking it. It was big and rough and warm, and it dwarfed hers.
“I, uh, have to get back to work.”
“Okay.”
She stood up, and he did, too, collecting his now-empty cup and stuffing the paper napkin and muffin wrappers into it.
“See you around, Sam.”
She nodded.
It was only minutes after he left that her heart started slowing to more acceptable levels. He wasn’t just good-looking and smacked together, he was also chivalrous and kind of charming. And when he had wrapped that big paw around her much-smaller hand, she had felt the tingles in the tips of her toes and her nipples. She hadn’t expected that.
“Who was that?” Jenna asked, her eyes lit with the same lusty look she had seen other women shooting his way.
“My new neighbor,” Sam answered.
“Well, damn. Need a roommate?”
Sam didn’t answer as she grabbed a few carafes and took them back into the kitchen. She was going to have to be very careful from now on.
* * *
Anthony sat in the corner, seething as he sipped the non-fat mocha Frappuccino, or whatever the college kids were drinking these days, and pretending to be immersed in his book. He had been so ready to take out the arrogant suit giving Samantha a hard time. He’d had his hand around the handle of the knife in his pocket, ready to show the pompous ass a thing or two about respect. Then G.I. Joe had to step in and ruin everything.
The burn deep in his chest flared as Samantha got up and returned to the counter. When G.I. Joe stared at her ass the whole way, Anthony wanted to carve out his eyes for it.
Didn’t the thick-necked Neanderthal know that he didn’t stand a chance with Samantha? She wasn’t foolish enough to fall for some grunting, muscled bootlicker. No, she needed a smart man. A man who could think for himself and care for her soul, as well as her body.
She needed him.
Of course she didn’t know that yet, but she would. Soon. Until then, he would just have to stay vigilant and take care of her from afar until the time was right.
He sat back in his chair, drawing G.I. Joe’s gaze. Anthony stared right back.
With his long, unkempt hair tied back in a man-bun, thick-rimmed glasses, and rasta-style hoodie, he looked like one of the students at the local college. There was no way G.I. Joe would recognize him.
No one did, not unless Anthony wanted them to. Not even Samantha. He didn’t hold it against her. He was a clever chameleon.
She had felt the pull, though. Felt this strange, exciting chemistry they had between them. He could tell by the way she had smiled at him, and the way her fingers had lingered just a second longer than necessary when she had handed him his change.
He would have to do something about G.I. Joe. He didn’t like the way that guy was sniffing around Samantha. She wasn’t interested—that was obvious—but G.I. Joe wasn’t taking the hint. If he continued to trespass where he wasn’t welcomed, Anthony might just have to help him out with that.
Chapter Three
Steve tapped the address Church had given him into his GPS and set off. He had meant to get an earlier start, but the coffee shop had been calling him. He could lie to himself and rationalize that he had just been craving a cup of good, strong coffee. Or he could be honest and admit that that particular craving hadn’t manifested itself until he had caught a glimpse of the logo on his enigmatic new neighbor’s shirt, riding the swell of a generous breast.
If he was being honest, he would also admit he would probably be adding a stop there every morning from now on. Not only was the coffee exceptionally good, but his finely-honed instincts were telling him something was going on with Sam, something that had her spooked.
Steve’s lips curled at recalling how Sam had stood up to that jagoff in the coffee shop. Beneath that skittish rabbit lay a little tigress, he was sure of it. Unfortunately, spirit and courage weren’t always enough. Some problems required physical strength, skill, and a flexible moral compass.
That was where he came in. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt this sudden, uncharacteristic need to stick his nose where it didn’t belong, but he did.
Chances were, his new neighbor neither wanted nor welcomed his interference, and for that reason alone, he didn’t intend for her to know about it. He would do what he did best—observe from the shadows and, if necessary, quietly resolve any threats that arose. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, but his gut told him differently.
One thing he was fairly sure about after that little exchange he had witnessed earlier: Sam wasn’t the type to be afraid without good reason.
Besides, his conscience wouldn’t let him do anything else. Being a SEAL was as much a part of who he was as the genetic code he had been born with. Protecting innocents and eliminating threats was what he had been trained to do, and he was damn good at it. Just because he left active duty didn’t mean he could just turn that shit off. And as long as he was around, why not? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Sitting around twiddling his thumbs wasn’t his style.
About twenty minutes out of town, the digital voice directed him to take the next right off the two-lane mountain road. Some of the overgrown brush had been cleared away fairly recently; otherwise, he might have missed the turnoff entirely.
The access road wasn’t in great shape. It showed signs of neglect, and years of seasonal freezing and thawing cycles had left cracks and potholes large enough to disable a small car. Steve was glad for his big tires and sturdy undercarriage, but even in his Jeep, he kept the speed down until he learned the road.
Massive trees reached high on either side, their upper branches leaning toward each other to form a natural arch. Bright green buds and blossoms added to the effect, though the view would look just as good in any season. With each passing minute, he felt more and more like he was leaving the outside world behind and entering another time and place.
When the road finally opened, a breathtaking view was revealed. A hidden valley lay before him, complete with a small lake and rolling hills. An imposing manor house—what was left of it—sat on top of one of the higher sw
ells, regally overlooking it all.
When Church told him his plans for turning an old, abandoned resort into a sanctuary for veterans, Steve had pictured an old campground or something. He certainly hadn’t imagined anything like this.
He continued up to the remains of what was once the main building, parking his Jeep next to Mad Dog’s big V8 pickup. The others were already there, milling around.
“Glad you could make it, Smoke.” Doc beckoned him to a large folding table where survey maps, a large pourable carton of coffee, and a couple boxes of donuts from the mini-mart in town sat.
Steve poured himself a cup and almost choked on the bitter sludge. That settled it. He was going to stop by Sam’s coffee house every morning and pick up some real coffee and muffins for these guys. Not only were they far superior, doing so would provide another excuse to see Sam. A legitimate one, at that.
He greeted the guys, most of whom were smiling. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one feeling the sense of peace around this place. It was good to see. They had all seen enough of the darker side of life. Suddenly, Church’s vision seemed a whole lot clearer.
Mad Dog popped an entire donut in his mouth and clapped his hands together. “All right, ladies, now that we’re finally all here, daylight’s burning. Let’s get to work.”
“Who put you in charge?” Heff grumbled, but his eyes were bright.
“I did,” Church said. “He’s the only one of us with a degree in architectural engineering.”
If the other dropped jaws were any indication, Steve wasn’t the only one who hadn’t known that. From what he had been told, Mad Dog was a boss when it came to creating safe holes in practically any environment, but a degree?
“Really?”
Mad Dog nodded, looking somewhat embarrassed as he grabbed another donut and loped up to the main building. There was a story there—Steve was sure of it—but it didn’t look like Mad Dog was keen on sharing. That was all right. He would when, and if, he was ready. Until then, they all had their secrets.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Sam (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 2
