Scott’s eyes stayed steady and impassive on her face. Was he pissed she let herself in?
“I’m sorry.” Tori laughed, covering her unease. “I was only fooling around. You finish whatever it is you were doing. Give Gabriella my apology. I’d also tell you to give her a tip, but it seems like you did that already.” She walked over, kissed his wet lips, and tucked her panties into the fold of his towel. “I leave for New York next week. I’ll be gone at least six months. I’ll catch you later, sexy.” She smiled seductively, turned around, and walked out the door.
Scott saw Gabriella out. He went and flopped on his sofa, running his hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling, trying to decipher what the hell just went down.
He glanced around the room at the boxes that had been packed for so many years. He had no idea anymore what was in them. Part of him wanted to unpack them, settle in, and call this home. With the cash he’d piled up over the years and his disability payout, he’d put a down payment on the condo because that seemed like the normal thing to do—although he wasn’t sure what was normal anymore.
He hadn’t pressured Tori for anything over the past several months, nor had she him. He had been fine with that, giving her time and space to grow up, and allowing himself time to heal and become the man she deserved, even though both their recent behavior proved otherwise.
Gabriella had been coming onto him for weeks now, but it was wrong of him to bed that woman out of anger, and he hated himself for that. He never intended Tori to find them together. That was just dumb, bad luck that she caught Gabriella sucking out his frustration.
Now if he stayed, would it even matter? Tori was the only reason he hadn’t gone back home to Austin.
What puzzled him most was she didn’t seem bothered one bit seeing him with another woman. In fact, he would describe the look on her face as one of extreme relief. He would have liked to see a little bit of jealousy, something saying she felt the same as he did about her.
The same way I felt when I saw her this afternoon.
Tori’s reaction made his decision on what to do next a whole lot easier. It was apparent Tori wasn’t anywhere near settling down any time soon, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to park his one-legged ass in DC waiting around on her.
Scott pulled off the rough, worn, knotted board and picked up a smooth one from the pile. He lifted the hammer out of his belt and nailed it into the side of the old red barn as his mother walked up beside him.
“Why don’t you take a break from the cold? Come inside and let me make you something to eat.” His mom rubbed him on the back. She smiled, but he could see the sad in her green eyes. He hated that look. He’d seen that look a thousand times since he’d come back home, and not just from her, but from every person he’d come in contact with. It was a look that said he was a broken, damaged, wounded man, in need of repair. He didn’t need them to fix him. The only thing in need of repair was the barn. His leg, though it was a bitch to deal with at times, was fine. The other wounds, only time could heal.
“Mom it’s not that cold. It’s like fifty-five degrees.” He leaned over the pile and grabbed another board, put it in place, and firmly nailed it in. Winters in Austin were nothing compared to the bite of the winter cold in DC. The day his plane took off and headed home, they got delayed due to a blizzard hitting the east coast. He missed his connecting flight in St. Louis and had to wait four hours to catch the next plane home.
Home. Could he even call this place that anymore? Technically, his home was back in DC—that he’d paid for and left abandoned. That didn’t feel much like home, but if he was honest with himself, neither did Texas anymore. Here he was, sleeping in his old room, doing piddly chores around the farm for his dad like he was back in high school or something. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.
He had applied to a military contracting firm in DC right before he came home for the holidays. Part of it was because it’s what he wanted to do, but part of it was a “fuck you” to Tori. She had no plans to put her life on hold for him, so why should he wait on her? He planned to come home for Christmas then head back to DC right after, but two weeks turned into four, and he’d been here a month now. He wasn’t ready to go back. Even though Tori was off in New York, everything in DC reminded him of her.
“You’ve been on your leg all day. That can’t be good,” his mother pressed. “Come on inside. We have company anyway.”
“Mom, I don’t really want to see anyone,” Scott growled. “My leg is fine,” he lied. The cold was a bitch on it, and it was aching a bit. It was probably one of his mom’s friends from church, bringing more food for him and wanting to welcome him home. They would “ooh” and “ah” about the sacrifice he made and how much respect they had for soldiers. They’d hand him their homemade cookies or leftover Christmas fudge. Scott knew they meant well, but it was much more for them than it was for him. Busybodies and do-gooders with their “support the troops” stickers on their car.
“Now, I raised you better than that, and yes, I’m sure your leg is fine, but I do know it aches in the cold, so don’t try and tell me it doesn’t. Now, let’s not be rude to our company. Come visit for a bit.” His mom smiled. She had that mischievous smirk on her face that he’d inherited from her. She pulled the hammer from his hand and dropped it into the tool box and looped her arm with his. “At least say hello. I’ve got hot coffee brewing.”
There was no arguing with mom. When she said “jump,” all he could really do was ask “how high.”
“Alright, but I can’t eat another piece of fudge. I’ve gained five pounds since Christmas.” Scott teased and patted his stomach as they walked toward the Ranger.
“I’ll drive.” Scott motioned his mom to the passenger seat, turned the motor and sped off toward the house, kicking up some mud behind him as he took off. The rain from the night before had made the trek back a little trickier, but he stuck to the drier, grassy areas following his mother’s tracks out there. He parked under the large awning to the side of the house and walked through the back gate with his mother hot on his heels.
“Wipe those muddy boots off,” she ordered.
“Ok, ok…” Scott groaned as he wiped his feet off, the right much easier than the left.
His mother diverted her eyes, watching him struggle with traction on the prosthetic. “Don’t worry about it. Your dad tracked mud in earlier, and I need to mop anyway.”
“Mom, it’s fine,” he growled. Finally, he just bent over and took the damn boots off, leaving them outside the door.
The downcast look her face and the sad in her green eyes told him she regretted asking. He hated that he was the one that put that look on her face, and he wished she’d stop babying him like he was five years old again. He heaved a heavy sigh and went inside, shaking off the cold. The warm heat from the house instantly soothed him. He walked straight over to the cupboard, grabbed a mug, and filled it with fresh coffee from the pot.
As he lifted the steaming liquid to his lips, out of the corner of his eye, he caught their guest, making her way around the corner of the kitchen. The flash of blonde in his peripheral stopped him mid-sip. He snapped his head up quickly. The hair was far too long, and that familiar smile too straight in comparison to Tori’s crooked grin. It took a minute for him to register who he was looking at.
He stood there dumbfounded. “Brandi?”
Brandi Turner. He looked over to his mom, knowing full well this was her doing. His mother loved Brandi—hell, everyone loved her. She was a doll.
Images of him and her, laying in the back of his truck under the stars on a blanket as he slid his hands under her purple prom dress flooded his mind. He hated that after all the memories they shared together, that was the one that popped in his head, but it’s hard to forget your first.
Brandi was the kind of girl that other girls wished they were and wanted to hate but just couldn’t. Brandi didn’t have a spiteful bone in her body. If the girl had any faults, S
cott was either too young and infatuated with her at the time to figure them out, or she hid them well. They were inseparable their last year of high school. For all of senior year, she’d been his girl. They drifted apart and fizzled after graduation, like most romances do. Back then, you were lucky to have a pager, much less a cell phone. Long-distance phone calls were expensive and few and far between the handwritten letters that rarely got sent.
Her final letter came at the end of his freshman year, and she officially broke it off. She’d met someone at college, and he felt relief, because he’d embraced the military lifestyle and had begun reaping the benefits of all the pussy that it brought to him. Yeah, he’d turned into a damn son of a bitch, and Brandi deserved better.
“Hi Scott.” Brandi’s glossy pink lips grew wider, and those deep brown eyes of hers warmed, showing off the specks of gold in the center. The knockout prom queen had turned into an absolutely stunning adult. She ran her fingers through her long golden locks. Last he heard from his mother was that she was engaged. He assumed she’d be married with at least a kid under her belt at this point in her life, but he didn’t see a ring. Her hair cascaded in soft ringlets over her pale pink sweater, stopping right at her breasts. God, those babies were fucking fantastic.
Stop staring at her tits and say something, dumbass.
“You gonna stand there all day and stare or come give me a hug?” She gave him an innocent shrug.
Scott’s mom elbowed him in the side, snapping him out of his trance. “You with us, son?” His mother teased.
Scott put down the coffee, grinned, walked over to Brandi, and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t help but take a whiff of her hair and, my God, it still smelled like strawberries. Many nights after a heavy make-out session, he’d come home with a heavy case of blue balls and think of that scent as he whacked himself off in the shower.
She pulled back but kept her arms on his shoulders. “Your mamma told me that you were back in town and had been working on the barn. I decided to come and save you from manual labor.” She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat. God, that sweet southern twang of hers could melt butter. It transported him right back to his seventeen-year-old self, and he felt his cock tingle in response.
Scott’s mom tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got some laundry. You two kids catch up.” His mom walked out of the room.
“Kids, seriously?” Scott groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is what I have to deal with. She still treats me like I’m fourteen, I swear.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Scott. If I know you like I think I do, you are loving the home-cooked meals and having your mamma do your laundry.” She flipped her hair carelessly over her shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess it has its perks.” He laughed. “How have you been?” he asked, pulling a chair out from under the table and sitting next to her. “What have you been up to over the past, damn, eight years?” Scott laughed. Had it really been that long?
“Now you make me feel old!” Her pointed nose curled slightly when she laughed. “Doing good.” She smiled again and placed her hand lazily on her chin. “After I graduated college, I came home. I’m teaching third grade right now here in Buda, nothing too exciting.”
“That’s what you always wanted to do.” Scott grinned at her.
“Yes, long hours of grading papers and praying I don’t catch the flu from one of my students. I’m living the dream.” She giggled and nudged him on the shoulder. “How are you?” Her brown eyes turned a bit more serious, and she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.
And there was the look.
“Don’t you give me that look.” Scott’s lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes. “I get that from all the old women my mom parades through here bringing cookies and casseroles. I expect better from you.”
“Then I guess you don’t want these.” She pushed a tin can across the table that he expected was filled with something sugary sweet. “Made them myself.” She shrugged as she opened the lid and pulled out a cookie and took a nibble.
“Well, damn. Make me feel like an ass now.” Scott grabbed one from the tin can and bit off half in one bite. “Ok, these are good. Much better than Mrs. Ferguson's.”
Mrs. Ferguson was one of the old widows from their church growing up. Scott was shocked to find out she was still alive and kicking.
“Oh lord. Did she bring those awful sugar cookies?” Brandi rolled her big brown eyes.
“You mean bricks?” Scott’s eyes widened, and he snarled his nose. “I’m pretty sure her cooking his what killed her old man.”
She giggled sweetly at his off-color joke. She had a cute laugh, reserved and ladylike. He thought of Tori’s loud howl—not her polite, amused, fake laugh, but the one when she’d really get cracked up and let it all loose. Suddenly, his chest felt hollow.
Scott’s smile faded, and Brandi’s warm brown eyes flicked upward. “It’s good to see you, Scott.” Brandi reached out and placed her hand on top of his. With that one look, those puppy brown eyes staring back at him, and her warm touch, he felt a twinge of something. Possibility.
Scott brought the grin back to his face. “It’s good to see you, too.”
For the next two weeks, Scott spent every evening with Brandi, sneaking in late to his parents’ home like a silly teenager.
“It’s past curfew,” his dad teased as Scott walked into the living room.
The room was dark except for the flicker of the television set illuminating his father’s face. Somehow, in the low light like this, it made the wrinkles on his dad’s face that much more prominent—a reminder that his dad was getting older and he needed to cherish moments like this.
“Very funny, Dad. Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?” Scott sighed and slumped into the sofa across from his dad’s recliner.
“Hey, I’m not the grown man still living with his parents.” His dad’s brow went up to his hairline. Scott just rolled his eyes. His father knew full well he wasn’t living there—well, not technically. “Couldn’t sleep, catching the highlights on Sports Center.” His dad nodded to the TV. “Looks like it’s going to be the Steelers and Packers in the Super Bowl this year.” His dad, the die-hard Cowboys fan, seemed disgusted at that. “I was hoping since Cowboys fired Phillips that they could contend. Such a shame since it’s at Cowboys stadium this year.”
“We could still go.” Scott lifted his palms. “Root for the Steelers.” A smirk tugged at Scott’s lips. His father hated the Steelers.
His dad scoffed at that prospect. “You’ve been living on the east coast far too long. It’s impaired your judgement.”
Scott laughed. Wayne Harris vehemently hated the east coast, although he was pretty certain his dad hadn’t spent much time there. If his father had, he would have grown to enjoy it like Scott had. It was a different pace of life and, honestly, Scott missed it.
“How’s Brandi?” His dad raised his brow.
“Good.” Scott nodded.
“Just good?” His dad cocked his head to the side. “You’ve been out with her every night for the past two weeks. You know, you’re a grown man. You don’t have to come home at night, regardless of what your mamma thinks. She’s all bark and no bite.”
Scott nodded. “Just taking it slow, being cautious,” Scott explained. Brandi had asked him to stay over that night. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sealed the deal yet. He just wasn’t ready to share a bed with her.
His dad huffed and let out a chuckle. “That doesn’t sound like you one bit.”
“I’ve changed.” Scott shrugged. Yeah, he was a bit rougher around the edges and more jaded now. Deployment does that to a man, once you see humanity at its worst. Still, he missed the desert. He missed the action. Scott had never been one to take anything slow. He always went after what he wanted. The problem was Scott had no clue he wanted.
Just like him and Tori—fucked the first night they met, and it had been a firestorm ever since. A beautifully destructive
creature, she was. He was drawn into her blaze, and something about him and her together made her burn even more fiercely.
“Bullshit.” His dad scowled.
Scott opened his palms up. “Brandi’s great. In fact, she’s the best.” Scott really couldn’t find a damn thing wrong with the girl. She was beautiful, kind, loving, and sweet. She cared about other people more than she did herself. She wasn’t a bit selfish. She’d make a great wife and mother.
“Yes, that she is,” his dad cut him off. “And she doesn’t deserve to be led on by you.”
“Dad, it’s been two weeks.” Scott rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like he was ready to put a ring on the girl.
“That’s not what I mean.” His dad looked him square in the eye. “This isn’t what you want.” His dad motioned around him. “You were always bigger than Texas.”
“I do have a place, Dad,” Scott reminded his father.
“Yet you are here, hiding from I don’t even know what, doing stupid chores around the farm that I could easily do, and fooling around with Brandi.” His dad leaned forward on his elbows.
“If things work out with her, and I get that contracting job, she could move back to DC with me,” Scott suggested. It looked promising. He’d done an interview via conference call just that morning. Now it was on to background checks, security clearances, an in-person interview, and, of course, the physical and psychological testing. That seemed to be their only hang-up. They were concerned about the leg and PTSD.
His dad frowned. “Do you see that small-town girl moving to the city, away from her home, her family, and the roots she’s put down here, while you go off for months and years at a time?”
“You and mom did it,” Scott protested. “It could work.”
“Yeah, we did. We spent time away from each other during deployments, and it’s hard. Damn hard. Your mom is something special. It takes a lot of love, loyalty, and sacrifice to make that work—not just from her. I had to be willing to give up my career when your mom needed to stay put. It’s give and take, Scott.”
Chasing Fire: (Fire and Fury Book One) Page 9
