“No, I didn’t kill him.” Jesse stood with crossed arms alongside Chris. “I just let him know the dangers of ever coming near you again.”
“We’re also not sure if living out here by yourself is such a great idea,” Chris said and winced when Rory’s eyes tightened as she set her tea down on a coaster.
“Oh, really?” she challenged. Chris was smart enough to know that was the equivalent of Jessica or Harper responding to a question with the words “I’m fine.” It meant trouble.
Jesse and Chris exchanged a quick look before Chris focused back on Rory’s hazel eyes.
“You boys better believe I am perfectly capable of handling myself.” It’d been three hours since she’d thrown up, but whatever impact those brownies had on her when Chris had first shown up appeared gone. There was a beautiful fierceness and confidence in her eyes and the curve of her lips. “Especially you, Jesse. You made sure I was strong enough to take care of myself, didn’t you?”
“Knowing a few self-defense moves and how to shoot a gun doesn’t mean—”
“I’m fine,” Rory cut off her brother and rose. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail after her shower. Her skin was clean of makeup, only anger adding a natural blush to her cheeks. “And I’m sorry, Chris, but I can’t train your dog.”
Chris had filled Jesse in about Bear and his request for Rory to move to Virginia for a few weeks, preferably longer, while she’d still been asleep after they’d returned from their little chat with her idiot neighbor.
Jesse wasn’t a fan of Rory living alone in this house, he’d been against the idea from day one, but he didn’t seem too keen on the idea of her temporarily bunking with Chris and his dog, either.
Chris wondered how much of their earlier conversation Rory remembered. Did she recall admitting she was potentially in danger just before growing sick?
Rory folded her arms across her chest. She’d changed into a white, long-sleeved shirt and black leggings that went to her calves.
He hadn’t focused on the shape of her long legs because he’d been too worried about her, plus her brother was in the room, but he couldn’t seem to not notice the curve of her ass in those stretchy black things.
But when he swung his gaze toward Jesse, Jesse was glowering at him as if he noticed Chris checking her out, and shit, he needed her brother on his side.
“Aren’t you supposed to be having dinner with your service buddy?” Rory’s gaze volleyed back and forth between the two of them. “And Ella mentioned the other night y’all are throwing a post-wedding party for A.J. and Ana, so maybe you ought to head back, so you don’t miss it.”
“There’s time.” Chris wasn’t ready to leave. Not without her. Not with her safety on the line. It wasn’t in his DNA to turn his back on a woman in need, even if the woman was strong and stubborn.
“And if I leave, who’s going to keep you from taking candy from a stranger next?” Jesse prompted. Chris bit his lip and tried not to laugh. Jesse was exercising his right as a protective big brother to act like a jerk, which would probably earn anyone else a slap on the face.
“Real funny.” She uncrossed her arms and waved him away. “Go. If you’re really here to visit with your friend and not because you ran away from Ella, then I don’t want you to be late.”
Jesse’s mouth opened before he clamped his jaw tight.
Ah, the guy still hadn’t made a move on A.J.’s sister, had he?
“Go,” Rory said again. “I’ll take care of him next.”
Jesse faced Chris, brows pulled together. A warning in his eyes to keep Rory safe, as well as not to hurt her. Message received.
“I won’t be late.” Jesse grabbed his truck keys and left.
Silence filled the room, so Chris tucked his hands into his back pockets and waited for Rory to make the next move, to see exactly how she planned to “take care of him.”
“What do you like to eat? Got anything frozen I can whip up?” he asked when her mouth remained stubbornly closed, her eyes on the wood floors beneath her bright red toenails.
“I doubt I can eat anything right now.”
He walked past her and headed for the large kitchen, which was similar in style to the living room. Bright white cabinets and backsplash. The décor was made up of soft blues and hints of yellow and orange, livening up the place. His mom would have loved a place like this. Maybe she would have stayed with his dad if he’d been able to give her everything she’d wanted. He grimaced at the thought and shook it free from his mind. “I fixed your sink while you were sleeping.”
“Thank you, but I’m horribly embarrassed about what happened earlier.” She entered the kitchen and set a palm onto the granite kitchen island at the center of the space. “Also, I’m sticking to my answer of no about the job.”
He opened the freezer and searched for something to make. He sorely lacked culinary skills. “Ravioli?” he asked when retrieving a bag. “And your first answer was no,” he added casually, “but your second was yes.”
“I didn’t say yes.” Her lovely eyes pinned to his when he faced her. But her walls were back up, the ones the brownies had inadvertently lowered when he’d first arrived.
“Did you forget what you told me just before you got sick?”
“I must have.” She looked away.
“Sure,” he said with a smile, and his words had her hazel eyes landing back on him.
“Did you tell Jesse?” She lifted her hand from the island and took a step his way.
He set the bag of goat cheese ravioli on the counter and maneuvered around the island to stand in front of her.
“A.J.?” she asked, nerves or fear probably the cause of that line between her brow.
So, her brother and A.J. didn’t know. He figured as much.
“No, I didn’t tell them.” Just Harper.
Her shoulders relaxed. “Whatever I said to you, can you forget it?”
“And what was it that you said to me?” His hand splayed atop the island, and he leaned in closer to her. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he had no control over the dirty thoughts that zipped through his mind as he studied her lips, rounded and poised to speak, the words hanging there. But she didn’t seem in the mood to share.
“You’re going to be a problem, aren’t you?” she whispered as his attention moved back to her eyes, the pupils now back to normal. He hadn’t spent much time around people on drugs, but he probably should have noticed her pupils had nearly eclipsed the hazel color earlier.
“If wanting to help you makes me a problem, then I guess so,” he answered as honestly as possible.
“I thought you came here because you needed my help.”
He lifted one shoulder. The smell of coconut soap struck him now that they were so close. “Looks like we both need each other,” he said, remembering Elaina’s words. Or were they a warning? He wasn’t so sure.
Her tongue skirted the line between her lips, a tantalizing sight to see. Maybe she’d be the one causing him trouble, not the other way around.
“Come to Virginia with me,” he said, his voice low and deep. A request that probably came across like a command to her. But it was fear for her safety, along with the desire to get to know her more, that had deepened his tone.
She started to turn away, but he circled a hand around her waist, and she halted. A twist of her head and lift of her chin brought her eyes back to his.
“Don’t answer me now. I don’t need to be back until tomorrow. That gives me tonight.”
“Tonight to change my mind?” she asked with amusement in her tone.
He angled his head, maintaining his light grip on her.
“And if I still say no by the end of the night, will you accept my answer and go back home? Never mention what I said to you earlier to anyone?”
“I get that you’re trying to protect your family and friends. And I believe that the threats to your life and theirs are real and not to be taken lightly,” he began, keeping his voice steady, “b
ut why not let someone protect you?”
Indecision warred in the lines of her face. “And that person . . . you think it should be you?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He wanted it to be, but if she’d open up to her brother, or A.J.—well, as long as someone he trusted helped her, that was all that mattered. He wouldn’t be selfish and insist on claiming that spot, considering he was practically a stranger. “But I’d like to be that guy.” He brought the back of his free hand to her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.
“Because you need me, too,” Rory whispered, eyes dropping closed.
He swallowed and nodded, even though she couldn’t see his answer. But he realized he did need her, and Elaina was right for reasons he didn’t understand yet.
“For Bear, I mean,” she corrected and opened her lids.
“For Bear,” he answered, his voice hoarse with unexpected emotion. “I’ll totally screw up his training without you.”
“And if I tell you not to let him sleep in your bed, you’ll listen to me?”
Could he be a total ass and ask her to sleep in his bed instead? No, it was best not to let his dick do the talking. “I’ll do whatever you tell me,” he promised and released her.
Her lip pulled at the side, catching between her teeth. “I don’t know, but I’ll give you dinner to try and win me over.”
“Just dinner?” He smiled.
“You need more time than that?” she challenged.
God, he liked this woman. “No, ma’am.” He continued to grin like an idiot. “Dinner’s more than enough time.”
“What are you doing?” she asked when he placed the ravioli back in the freezer.
“Finding something that takes a lot longer to cook.”
The soft sound of her chuckle had him tossing a look back at her from over his shoulder.
She had both elbows on the island, her chin situated on one palm as she observed him. And oh, she was checking out his ass.
Her cheeks blossomed pink when she lifted her eyes to discover he’d caught her.
“McKenna was right.” She wet her lips.
“A.J.’s niece?” he asked for clarification, then released the door to the fridge and faced her, and she nodded. “About what?”
“Nothing.” A lazy smile met her lips as she stood upright, pulled her hair free from the ponytail, and shook her locks, allowing her wavy blonde hair to brush the tops of her breasts. Her hair color was two shades of blonde—a bit lighter on the bottom and more golden-hued on top.
Her nose was straight. Lips full. Her summer tan still clung to her skin. She reminded him a little of that Australian actress, Teresa-something, that he liked in the movie Hacksaw Ridge. That World War II film had been hard to watch, but Chris always pushed himself outside of his comfort zone. That was who he was. The kind of man he tried to be. But combat movies . . . watching those had him waking up in a cold sweat with his gun in hand, no idea when or how he grabbed hold of it from under the bed.
He was proud to be military, and he loved his life, but serving in the Iraq War was different than what he did now, and for some reason, movies had a weird way of triggering him.
Nobody on Bravo or Echo knew that about him. And they never would. He’d made a name for himself as being the carefree, fun guy. And he was that guy. Most of the time. He just did his best to hide the other side when necessary.
But he had to face his fears, like he was now, by seeking Rory out to see if the connection he thought he’d felt in Alabama, even though it scared him, was real.
“You okay?” Rory was standing before him, eyes narrowed. When did she get there?
And was he really just standing in front of the fridge with the door open? He didn’t remember opening it back up again. He’d been taking in her beauty and—
“Hey.” Her palm went to his cheek. Her touch was soft.
“Sorry, dazed out.”
“That happen often?”
“Only under stress.” Never during the stress of an op, which was ironic, but also fortunate.
Her mouth softened, the hard line loosening. “Do I stress you out?”
You being in danger does. “No, my thoughts got away from me.” He forced the knot down his throat as she stepped back, her hand leaving his face. “I’m solid.” He smiled. “So, dinner. Dinner. What can I make for dinner?”
Chapter Five
“So, he woke up with two front teeth missing and his pants around his ankles, but—”
“But he had the gold,” Chris guessed the ending to Rory’s story, his stomach muscles tight and almost sore from laughing so much.
Rory’s eyes narrowed and locked on to the neck of his beer as he brought the rim to his mouth. “But yeah, he had the gold,” she repeated. Her laugh was husky yet feminine. Sexy as hell, and it had his body heating.
Liquid at the edges of her eyes from laughing so hard for the last twenty minutes appeared while they’d swapped stories. The last one about the drunken treasure hunter and wannabe pirate had taken the cake.
“And after that, he changed his name to Jack Sparrow,” she added while reaching for her ice water. “I kid you not.”
“And you hung out with this character?” He set his bottle down without having taken a sip, too mesmerized by her eyes, by the way her lips always curled up a tiny bit on the left side whenever she was on the verge of laughing hard.
They’d finished the dinner he’d thrown together, a not-so-gourmet meal of spaghetti and meatballs, and then moved out to her back deck, which overlooked lush green grass that would take a hell of a mower to cut. Probably two acres between where they sat and the bank of trees lining the property.
The outdoor living space was roomy and comfortable. A few farmhouse-style lanterns hung from the wood beams of the overhang, and Rory had lit the votives inside the glass even though the sun hadn’t quite set. A soft glow filled the area, which was kind of romantic. Not that he was a romantic guy, but it was nice. They’d both wordlessly ignored the wicker two-seater couch, choosing to sit at a small four-person square table at the center of the deck. As much as he would have liked to be next to her, he enjoyed being able to look into her eyes.
Rory had changed into jeans and a white scoop-neck tank top while he’d made a mess in the kitchen cooking, but since the temperature had dipped to sixty-five, she’d grabbed a soft blue, open-front sweater for outside. Her hair was back up and in a messy but sexy bun at the top of her head. She was stunning. Absolutely freaking beautiful.
He’d swapped his shirt earlier for a clean one after the sink disaster, pairing a long-sleeved black one with his dark jeans.
“Twilight. My favorite time of day.” Rory’s eyes faced the denim-blue sky streaked with light pink. “It’s usually when I climb.”
“You climb? Like mountains?” He wasn’t sure why this surprised him so much, given she had clearly led an adventurous life.
“Climbing helped me get over my fear of heights. Getting bitten by a snake, however, did nothing to dispel my fear of snakes.” She faced him, her words so casual it took him a moment to decide whether or not she was kidding.
Images of the snake-infested room from his last op came to mind, and he tried hard not to cringe. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that part about the snake because then I’ll really worry about what you’ve been up to. But I have to ask, isn’t climbing so close to nightfall dangerous?”
“I lead a dangerous life,” she said with a shrug, her eyes twinkling, “what can I say?”
He squinted, purposefully appearing as though he was trying to get a read on her. “Correction. You did lead a dangerous life. You’re not anymore, right?”
Rory lifted her fingers and massaged her forehead. “Right.” She lowered her hand to her lap and placed her other hand on the table.
He wanted to reach out. Gently lay his palm on top of her hand. But they were still in that “barely know each other” phase. Although, didn’t carrying her to bed after she vomited mean the
y’d skipped over at least one of those awkward getting-to-know-you phases?
“Why treasure hunting? It seems like such a leap from the canine training you’d planned to do after graduating college.”
She’d provided him a rundown of her life over dinner, one he assumed he could pull up on a LinkedIn profile. Bullet points of accomplishments and skills but lacking intimate details. Basically, she was like him and the guys when it came to sharing their life with anyone outside their inner circle. But he found himself wanting to be in her circle, and for her to be in his.
“Why the Navy?” She turned the tables on him instead of answering. And yup, that would have been a standard avoidance tactic he would have used. “And why’d you leave the Navy?” Her follow-up question came fast on the heels of her first, probably intended to surprise him, hoping he’d answer without hesitation—also, more proof of how clever she was.
Rory was a fascinating woman. But damn, even though he wanted to let her in—the first woman in his entire life he’d felt the compelling need to do that with—he couldn’t tell her the truth, and that had his stomach turning. An internal tug-of-war, and now he knew how the married guys on the teams must have felt when they’d struggled with how to be honest with the women they loved while trying to maintain their oath and duty to the country.
“You’re playing hardball, huh?” He gripped the chair arms and pinned his back to the seat, carefully assessing her. “I bet you’ve tried to get info out of A.J., so you already know I can’t answer your second question.” Chris took the only possible route. He didn’t want to lie, so the next best thing was to fess up that the truth wasn’t something he’d be able to deliver.
He angled his head, continuing to study the soft sweep of her cheekbones, which were more evident with her hair up. And the set of her luscious lips in a straight line that he wanted to part with his tongue.
Chasing Fortune (Stealth Ops Book 8) Page 6
