by Meghan Quinn
“Stryder, I’m not going to have you pay for things.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . it’s weird?”
I pull away, a pinch in my brow. “Why is it weird?”
She looks away and shrugs. “I don’t know. Just seems weird to spend your money.”
I bring her eyes back to mine. “Are you my girlfriend?” She nods, adding in an impressive eye-roll. “Then that means I get to spoil you any way I want. If I want to spend my money on you, then I will. When are you going to let me take care of you? Truly take care of you?”
“You do take care of me.” Taking my hand, she leads me to the bed where she pushes me back onto the mattress and undoes her apron, letting it fall to the ground. Left in a pair of shorts and a tank top, she then crosses her arms in front of her and snags the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, revealing her bare breasts.
God, she’s so goddamned beautiful. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever tire of looking at her.
She climbs on top of my lap, settles her hands on my chest and slides them down to my shoulders, dragging her body with her. “You take care of me in other ways,” she whispers, pressing a kiss across my jaw.
I roll her to her back and pin her against the mattress. Growing serious, I say, “I want to take care of you more than in the bedroom.”
Realization passes across her features and her eyes soften. “Stryder.” Her fingers run over my cheek. “Do you realize how important you are to me?” Her breasts press against my chest as she leans in even closer. “You take care of me every day with your love, with the way you so easily pull me into your body, and the gentle words you speak to me. This isn’t just physical for me, Stryder. I need you, just like you need me. You’ve become my world.”
I stroke her hair behind her shoulder. “Then let me at least buy your dress for you for the ball?”
“Is it important to you?”
I nod. “Yes. You’ve given me so much, and I want to be able to give you some things as well.”
“What have I given you?”
I press my palm into her chest. “Your heart first of all. You’ve given me a loving home, a retreat I’ve never had before—”
“Besides Amy’s Donuts,” she teases, making me laugh.
“Besides Amy’s Donuts. You’ve given me hope that there is so much more beyond what I thought I could ever have.”
“What makes you think I don’t feel the same about you?”
Because I know I’m not good enough. For her. I constantly wonder what the hell Rory is doing with me. She gave up Colby because she hated knowing he would always leave her because of his job, but he was the better man. And my job means I might also have to relocate after three years if I continue in the Air Force. So, why would she settle for me?
I want to answer her, but really, what could I say? I don’t know how the fuck she could ever feel the same about me that I feel about her.
“I . . . I’m not—”
“I love you, Stryder. You. Just you. Never underestimate how happy I am with you. I would be honored to go to the ball with you . . . in a dress you bought me.”
“Yeah?” I smile wildly.
“Yeah.” Reaching down between us, she starts to undo my pants, her hands grazing my aching cock.
“What about the stew?” I ask on a strangled breath, her hand slipping inside my pants.
She grips me tightly. “It’s simmering.” Among other things now.
Ever since our first kiss—the moment Rory kissed me back—I knew I was the luckiest motherfucker to ever walk this planet. I knew she could have any man she wanted, but she chose to be with me. My luck definitely doesn’t go unnoticed, especially tonight.
Draped in a red floor-length, flowy gown is my drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, curled in pretty waves, and she has matching red lipstick on her lips, glossy and drawing my attention. I remember the first time I saw her wear red lipstick. I watched from a distance as she smiled at Colby, joked around with him, licked her lips. It was fucking torture, desperately wanting to have those lips on mine.
And now I do. And often. And on other places besides my lips.
My hand presses against her lower back as we make our way around the room. Airmen and airwomen are decked out in their finest, chest candy polished and in line, blue silk ties formed perfectly around strong necks, and not a single hair is out of place. For a brief moment, I forget about my failures and take pride in being a part of the blue line.
“It’s gorgeous in here,” Rory coos next to me, taking in the grand ballroom at The Broadmoor, Colorado Springs’s finest hotel and resort. When I heard the ball would be at The Broadmoor, it solidified my idea of attending because the venue is romantic. It’s the perfect place to take a walk along the lake while holding Rory’s hand. “Thank you for bringing me.” She grips my hand tighter and bashfully says, “Kind of feel like Cinderella or something.”
She’s so fucking adorable.
“Do you know anyone here?” she continues, looking around.
“A few guys from work brought their wives.”
“Are you going to introduce me?”
I kiss the side of her head. “If we run into them, sure.”
The last thing I want to do is talk to anyone other than Rory. The guys at work are okay, but they aren’t my favorite people. Maybe it’s because I’m a bitter asshole who hasn’t taken the time to get to know them, or maybe it’s because I’m Lt. Colonel Sheppard’s son. Could be the latter.
“Dance with me.”
I pull Rory onto the dance floor and we merge ourselves into the other couples slow-dancing to Blue Steel, one of the Air Force Academy’s bands. Hearing songs from the past reminds me of the night we went to the concert in the park.
I bring Rory close to me, grasping her hand to my chest, while I press my other hand against her lower back, keeping her close to me.
She peers up at me, a sparkle in her eye. She’s happy, and that’s all I can ask for.
“Did I mention how handsome you look tonight?”
“You did.” I place a kiss on her forehead.
“Well, in case you forgot, you look incredibly handsome tonight, Stryder. When you came out of the bathroom, you took my breath away.”
I don’t know how she does it, but even after months of dating, she still makes my heart race and my stomach twist in knots.
Unsure of what to say, I lower my head and press the faintest of kisses across her lips, lingering for a few seconds before saying, “I can say the same about you. Pretty damn sure I’m the luckiest fucking guy in this building right now. You look stunning, baby.”
“Does that mean I’m going to get lucky tonight?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Fuck yeah, it does.” I let out a low chuckle. “If you’re lucky I might even do a little striptease like you’ve been asking for.”
“Don’t you dare even joke around with me.” She tightly tugs on the lapel of my mess dress jacket. “I’ve been asking for a genuine strip show from you for a while now.” And she’s not lying. She wants me to get in uniform and perform a Magic Mike-level strip dance.
I’m all for taking clothes off, but undulating on the floor, dry-humping air—I’m not sure I have the talent for it, or the ability to not look like an idiot while doing it.
But hell, I’ll give it a go for Rory.
“I’ve been practicing,” I admit.
She playfully whacks my chest. “No, you have not.”
Bringing my lips to her ear, I say, “I have, in the shower, against the wall.”
True statement.
She pulls her head back. “No, you haven’t.” I nod, widening her eyes even more. “You’re serious? You’ve been practicing a striptease dance for me in the shower?”
“Maybe.” I smirk.
“Stryder Sheppard, do not tease me.”
I lean in again and say, “You’ll just have to wait and—”
I freeze.
My feet stop moving, my grip on Rory tightens, and a cold chill bursts through my veins. That voice.
Jaw clenched, I turn and come face to face with my father. Instinctively, standing tall, staring into his harsh eyes, I shield Rory from him. Beside him, my mom, wearing a gold dress and her hair twisted up into a knot, holds a glass of wine looking more dazed than I’ve seen her before. Is she even coherent? She barely makes eye contact with me, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she’s too damn ashamed to look me in the eye, or because she’s so dazed on pills and alcohol that she doesn’t even know where she is.
Doesn’t matter to my dad; she’s perfect arm candy for an event like this.
An event I never even considered I would see my dad at.
He hasn’t been to an Air Force Ball in years, calling them a waste of time. So why the fuck is he here tonight?
“Dad,” I say. My girl squeezes my hand, letting me know she’s here for me. “Didn’t think you would be here tonight.”
Stuffing a hand into his pocket, the other wraps around my mom’s waist, and he says, “Thought I would treat your mother to a special night out. Also heard that one of my sons would be attending. Since you’re the only one not flying a plane right now, I knew it would be you. Wanted to make sure you didn’t embarrass the family name any more than you already have.”
I run my tongue along my teeth, trying to hold back the anger starting to simmer deep within me. Didn’t even last a minute without throwing a dig. Why am I not surprised?
Leaning to the side, my father eyes Rory and says, “Who did you bring with you tonight?”
I’m about to say that who I brought was none of his concern when Rory scoots from behind me and holds out her hand. “Rory Oaks, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”
I grind the back of my teeth together as my father takes Rory’s hand in his and eyes her up and down, assessing her, his eyes stuttering when they scan over her breasts. An overwhelming rage takes over me, and my fists clench to my sides as my chest puffs, ready to explode.
“Rory, pleasure.” My dad doesn’t even offer my mom the decency to introduce her. “Are you friends, or did my son pay you to come with him tonight?”
Putting on a good face, Rory shakes her head. “I’m his girlfriend.”
Still assessing her, my father’s head tilts to the side, and I see the moment familiarity passes through his eyes. And fuck if he didn’t just recognize Rory. She was at the pool house many times visiting Colby when they dated. I’m sure he saw her with Colby.
“Girlfriend. Did I hear that right?”
“We should go.” I start to direct Rory in the opposite direction when my dad presses a hand to my chest stopping me. Not wanting to make a scene, I halt in my effort to leave.
“Not so fast.” Stepping in even closer, he gives Rory one more once-over. “I’ve seen you before, but not with my son. You were with Colby Brooks, weren’t you?”
Her eyes dart to mine, begging for help. I watch her shrink on the spot, and I’ve never wanted to take down my dad so badly in my entire life. Pick on me, but don’t fucking pick on Rory.
“We’re leaving.”
My dad pauses me again, edging his head forward to get a good look at me. “I’m right. She was dating your best friend.”
I drag my hand over my face and grit my teeth. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Unless you want a scene at the Air Force Ball, I suggest you drop your hand. . . now.”
It’s never that simple with my father. A maniacal laugh pops out of him when he says, “I outrank you. Lay a finger on me in front of all these officers. I fucking dare you.”
Goddamn it. He’s right. There is no way in hell I could get away with taking out a Lieutenant Colonel.
Trying to “reason” with my dad, I say, “She has nothing to do with our shared animosity, so leave her out of this.”
“But she seems to have a lot to do with the animosity you have toward your best friend.”
“What?” From behind, I feel Rory grip my sides protectively.
Stepping in even closer, my father unnecessarily adjusts one of the ribbons on my chest, snorting at the lack of wings, I’m sure. He dusts off my shoulder and then hisses through his teeth, “You couldn’t stand to see your best friend go to flight school without you. I saw the way you looked at him when he was accepted and you weren’t. With hatred and jealousy.”
“I was happy for him,” I grit out, hating that my dad is getting to me, that he’s hitting a soft spot not only in front of Rory, but in the middle of the dance floor of the ball.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. Everyone saw the hatred you had for him.”
I didn’t. I didn’t fucking hate him.
“And instead of taking your failure like a man, you stepped in on the only thing you could take from him: his girl.”
Fuck, I hate this man.
My fist itches at my side, my pulse hammers, tempting my pent-up anger to billow over and take out this vile man in front of me.
“With all due respect, sir,” Rory says, coming from behind me. “It wasn’t like that at all.”
“Rory, don’t,” I say from the side of my mouth.
“Watch out, Miss Oaks. Seems like that apple doesn’t fall far from the tree where temper is concerned. He’s positively brimming with fury right now. I’ll admit my temper has gotten the best of me, and it seems like your boy Stryder here might have the same issue.”
“I am nothing like you,” I grit out.
Adjusting my bow tie, plastering on a fake smile for all onlookers, my dad pulls me into a hug and whispers into my ear. “You’re right, you’re nothing like me. You’re not even a quarter of the man I am. You are a waste of the family name, a massive disappointment to the men who’ve come before you, and I’m embarrassed to even pretend to tolerate you in front of all these people.” He grips my shoulder tightly. “No matter what you think, the girl will always think of Brooks. His value is far beyond yours. It’s in her eyes, the doubt of choosing you while he’s in flight school. There will come a time soon, when she realizes she chose the lesser man. And then, she WILL leave you. You’ll never amount to anything. Never provide for her like Brooks would. You’re a disappointment to her. Be a man for once and know when it’s time to give up something beyond you.”
Pulling away, he pats my shoulder as if he didn’t just vocalize every fear I’ve held since reconnecting with Rory. “Have a good night.” And with that, he grips my mom by the elbow and escorts her toward a table.
I stare at them, my eyes fixated on my dad’s back, the slightly balding patch on the back of his head, and the pompous way he holds his shoulders back, as if everyone in the room is blessed to have him in their presence.
“Hey.” Rory tugs on my arm. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Far from it. Fucking far from fine. I swallow hard. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?”
“I’ll go with you,” she answers softly, linking her hand with mine.
Trying to put on a good face, I escort Rory toward the bar despite the inner turmoil racing through my head.
You are a waste of the family name.
The girl will always think of Brooks.
She knows his value is far beyond yours.
She choose the lesser man.
She WILL leave you.
Never provide for her like Brooks would.
You’re a disappointment to her.
Know when it’s time to give up something that’s beyond you.
Like a record, his words play on repeat over and over again, shucking the rose-colored glasses off my face and tossing me right back into reality. Why? Because I have a heavy fucking feeling he’s right.
Chapter Twenty-Four
RORY
I pick at my salad, the wilted lettuce from the dressing doing nothing for my appetite as Ryan yammers on about her latest conquest.
Brad is gone.
Now, we’re on to Kyle.
Kyle with the perfectly coiffed hair and bodybuilder abs. She met him at a bar, couldn’t resist giving him her number, and has been infatuated ever since. At least that’s what she’s telling me, but I can see in her eyes that it’s not the case.
She’s not happy, just as I’m not happy. But unlike Ryan, I don’t tend to mask it with something else. I’m straight up ornery right now.
“Did you hear me? I said he can lift me above his head with one arm.”
“Like a cheerleader?” I ask, pushing my salad toward the middle of the table, uninterested in nutrition.
“Yeah, lifted me up right by the butt and spun me around, only to toss me into the bed and do me from behind.”
Christ.
“Don’t need to know all the details, Ryan.” I hold up my hand, envisioning some guy with no neck and quads so big he can only wear spandex shorts tossing my friend around. It’s not what I want to be thinking about right now.
I want to focus on Stryder and the way he’s been so incredibly off lately.
Ever since the ball.
Ever since he ran into his father.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been moody ever since we got here. I told you we could have gone to Uncle Sam’s for some pancakes but you insisted on coming to Adam’s Mountain Café for a salad.”
Because they have the best salad with pears in it. Although it’s doing nothing for my sour mood right now.
“I know.” I push my unused spoon around on the table. “I’m sorry, I’m just . . . worried.”
“Worried? Why? Did something happen with Stryder?”
“Sort of.” I sigh and lean back in my chair, the wood digging into my spine. I welcome the pain. “Remember how we went to the ball a few days ago?”
“Yes, and you wore that killer red dress he bought for you. I remember you saying his mouth hit the floor when he saw you.”
It’s true, it did. He had the most perfect reaction I could have ever conjured up in my head when he saw me in the dress he picked out. If I didn’t already know he loved me, I would have known in that moment, because the way his eyes sparkled when he looked me up and down, and the way he smiled from ear to ear, a smile only I’m privy to, it was so beyond perfect. It set the mood to ultra-romantic for the rest of the night.
