by Mayburn, Ann
Handsome didn’t even begin to describe her man. He was utterly breathtaking. More than once she had to hide a small smile as some random woman swooned when Wyatt shook her hand and called her ma’am. Who’d have ever thought that such a simple word could make so many grown women giggle and flirt?
While her mother seemed immune to Wyatt’s considerable charms, her father had been genuinely happy to meet Wyatt and tried to talk politics until Michelle subtly elbowed her dad in the ribs. At least, she was going to pretend it was subtle. Wyatt had to cover his mouth as he coughed in a way that sounded strangely like a laugh. When she gave him a narrow-eyed look, he grinned at her, as unrepentant as could be.
James was a bad influence on him. After hanging out for hours together modeling for Yuki’s next big sculpture they’d become really close. It made her tear up to see how happy James was now that Wyatt was around. She realized that in her own selfish grief she’d failed to notice how lonely James was. But Wyatt knew; he had some kind of sixth sense when it came to people who needed him. It was annoying when he used it on her, but Yuki said James had talked with Wyatt about his sister who passed away, something he never did, and Michelle had to admit she was really happy Yuki and James approved of Wyatt. In many ways they were more like her true family than her blood relatives.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She turned fully and laced her arms around his neck. “You’re amazing.”
He flushed and gave her a bemused grin. “Not that I’m going to argue with you on that point, but why am I particularly awesome at the moment?”
Twirling her fingers in his hair, thinking it was already time for another trim, she shrugged. “When I first brought you home with me I pictured a different relationship between us. More of a traditional twenty-four/seven-type thing.”
“Like me being in submissive mode twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?”
“Mmhhmmm, yes. Something more – formal – a Mistress/slave relationship rather than a romantic one. I’m glad we didn’t.”
“Have you done that before? Had a full-time slave?”
“Yes.” A shadow of pain moved through her heart and she forced her mind to not think about all the times she’d danced with Owen out here.
His gaze softened even as something resembling jealousy flashed through it. “And how am I amazing for not living up to your expectations?”
“Because you didn’t allow me to box you into a role that doesn’t fit you. Eventually you would have chaffed beneath the constant collar of my dominance and I would have lost you.”
“Michelle, I’ll never leave you.”
Her heart melted for him and she nodded. “I know. You’re mine, Wyatt. Heart and soul. Just like I’m yours.”
“I lo…”
A loud, jarring series of small explosions suddenly went off – and Wyatt lost it.
“Everybody down!” he yelled and took Michelle to the ground with him, hovering over her body.
Terror raced through her as, for one brief moment, she was transported back to Afghanistan, holding his intestines in place and praying like she’d never prayed before that he would live. He had to live. She’d die without him.
“Stay still, Doc. They’ll call in an air strike.”
His voice penetrated her own panic. She took a deep breath, grabbed him by the back of his head and forced his wild gaze to meet hers. “Wyatt, baby, we’re in the United States, in my parents’ backyard. That was probably my rotten nephews setting off fireworks over the lake.”
“What?”
She tightened her grip on his hair, hoping the pain helped reach him. “We are at a party, in my parents’ backyard, in the States, in the middle of the dance floor.”
His gaze cleared, then he pushed off of her as if she’d caught fire, but she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to her, giving him a fierce kiss. “Always my hero.”
His lips were unresponsive beneath hers, and when he helped her stand, she could feel the humiliation rolling off of him. People stood around them and whispered. Michelle knew how to harden her heart to their snide glances, but Wyatt was being cut to ribbons by them. The urge to protect him overwhelmed her. She opened her mouth to tell him that she loved him, but caught sight of her father walking towards them with a very embarrassed young man covered in what looked like chocolate cake. Her dad also had some chocolate cake on his jacket, and she wondered what the hell was going on.
“Wyatt,” her dad called out, “nothing a father likes more than to see a man who would die to protect his daughter.”
Wyatt slowly thawed next to her, just enough that she could feel his hurt and it arced through her body as though it was her own. She did the only thing she could to help Wyatt right now, which was to take the attention off of him. “Dad, what happened to you?”
“Come on inside and I’ll tell you. You too, Wyatt. I want to show you some embarrassing pictures of when Michelle was in junior high and decided to shave one side of her head. Her mother just about had a heart attack over it.”
“Dad!” Michelle gasped, horrified by the thought of Wyatt seeing her during that incredibly awkward phase when parts of her body seemed to be growing at different times and in separate growth spurts, even as she silently thanked her dad for being so smooth.
They followed her father into the house and down a series of hallways until they reached his private study. Michelle had spent many hours here as a child, reading on one of the huge, ancient leather couches flanking the door that invited sleep. The room even smelled the same – books, the faint hint of furniture polish and a ghost of pipe smoke still flavoring the air. She relaxed and followed the men inside. Now that she was looking at the young man with her father, she could see that he was even more embarrassed than Wyatt. He looked positively mortified and there had been a samurai sword on the wall, she was sure the guy would have tried to commit hara-kiri.
Her dad opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a set of hand towels. He was notorious for knocking over his coffee cup, and the housekeepers had given up and made sure he had his own cleaning supplies. After handing the young man one, he stripped off his jacket and sighed. “Wyatt, Marshall, I sincerely apologize for the fireworks. I made it very clear that I did not want them at this party, but I’m afraid my sons don’t beat their children enough and the kids brought some with them to shoot off over the lake. I’ll make sure they get taken behind the woodshed and whipped for this.”
Wyatt stiffened for a moment before Michelle squeezed his hand and laughed. “Easy there, Dad. Wyatt doesn’t know your twisted sense of humor yet.”
Her dad gave his trademark charming smile and she knew he was putting on a show for the other men. While he could fool most people, he couldn’t fool her. He was worried and Michelle prayed he wouldn’t say anything to hurt Wyatt. Her father could be a bit overprotective of her; she’d heard from more than one boyfriend about his you-better-not-hurt-my-little-girl lectures.
“Wyatt’s fine.” He turned to look directly at Wyatt. “He has nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Yeah,” the young man spoke up as he tried to dab the chocolate frosting off of his dark navy coat. “He didn’t just tackle a Senator and almost get his ass shot by the same Secret Service that he’s trying to get a job with.”
The young man flushed, but her father laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to your director and let him know how impressed I was that you would lay down your life for me after shadowing my detail for only two days. By the way, Michelle and Wyatt, this is Marshall. He recently retired from the Army after a deployment in Afghanistan and is thinking about working for the Secret Service. His father is Major General Schwartz, a good friend of mine.”
Out of the corner of her eye she watched Wyatt take in the situation and a small change came over him. He stood taller and some of his embarrassment drained away as he faced Marshall. “Welcome home, and thank you for your service.”
“Thank you. I read your military file. Errr…damn, I p
robably shouldn’t have said that.” Marshall flushed and Michelle marveled at how young the man was; it shocked her to realize that she was getting older, as stupid as that sounded. “Anyways, you went through some crazy shit and managed to make it out alive.”
“Don’t worry, I know my background would have been checked out. And the only reason I made it out was because of some really good doctors.” He gave Michelle such a warm look that she practically melted into a puddle at his feet. God, she loved him.
She shook her head and tried to frown, but her lips kept curving into a smile. “Why is it when you come in complaining about a sore toe I’m the evil bitch who will only give you Motrin, but when you’re dying all of a sudden we’re good doctors?”
Michelle’s dad took a seat behind his desk. “You know, just because my daughter saved your life doesn’t mean you have to put up with her.”
Laughing, Wyatt pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I kind of like her sassy side. Life will never be dull with Michelle.”
“Amen to that. Have a seat.” Michelle’s dad nodded to Marshall. “You too, Marshall. I think you would benefit from this as much as Michelle and Wyatt. Your dad is the one who first told me about this.”
Michelle pulled Wyatt down onto the couch with her, hiding a smile as he sat up straighter when her father looked at him. While she had no idea what her dad had up his sleeve, she was eternally grateful to him for turning what could have potentially been a terrible situation into something salvageable. She wanted Wyatt to like her family and wanted them to like him as well because she wasn’t going to give him up. She couldn’t.
He was her life now.
Even as she had that thought, a memory of making out with Owen on this same couch began to intrude and sent a wave of unexpected pain through her. Why couldn’t she move past Owen’s death? Widowers re-married all the time, why couldn’t she do the same without feeling like she betrayed Owen in the worst way possible, by loving another man more than she loved him?
The truth shattered her and she took in a deep breath, frightened that her father would see he sudden tears. Wyatt, as always, seemed attuned to her like no one else, and he put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close. She focused on him, on how wonderfully alive and virile he was, how solid and protective. He would die for her; did he know that she would do the same?
Her father leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “As Michelle knows, I believe in feeding the soul.”
Wyatt exchanged a look with her but she shrugged, having no idea where he was going with this.
“There’s a program I’d like all three of you to consider donating some time to, and Michelle I’d like you to take some time to check it out and let me know if it’s worth looking into funding through our foundation.”
“Okay, but what does it have to do with Wyatt and Marshall?”
“Because we’re the kind of people who aren’t happy unless we’re providing some kind of service for others. We need work that not only challenges us, but feeds our soul. I believe the military fit that role for all three of you, gave you something bigger to fight for, a way to make a difference in the world.”
She glanced at Wyatt out of the corner of her eye. “So are you going to stop dancing around the topic and just let me know where it is you want us to go and what you want us to do?”
Her father grinned. “You know, one of the best things that came out of you joining the military is that you don’t beat around the bush anymore. You come straight to the point and I appreciate that.”
“Dad…”
“Right. This organization, The Front Line, is run by and for ex-military. They’re a group of first responders that go into different disaster situations to bring aid. Because of your training and your experience in a wartime situation you all are uniquely suited for handling crisis situations in ways our civilian forces never will be.”
Wyatt nodded. “My father used to be a sheriff before he retired and I’d sit around and listen to him and his friends bullshi…uh…talk about their day. One of the guys, Calvis, was my idol. No matter what, he was calm and collected when the world was falling down around him. He’d done some time with the Marines back in Vietnam and it had changed him. When a riot happened at the local jail, my dad and his men were called in for backup. Calvis and my dad got cut off from the rest of the group, and my Dad swears that even as a dozen pissed off inmates were chasing them through the jail, Calvis was as cool as a cucumber, telling my dad where to go and what to do. They ended up getting to safety, and when the local paper interviewed Calvis the next day, his only quote was ‘I’ve been in worse situations’, like having a bunch of pissed off prisoners on his ass was no big deal.”
They all laughed about that and Marshall spoke up. “I tried working in the civilian world when I came back. I found out that I have zero tolerance for people who freak out over stupid shit. I mean, a crisis isn’t when the copier runs out of toner. No one’s going to die because you can’t get your presentation printed. That job didn’t last long.”
“Their loss, our gain,” Michelle’s father said and focused his gaze back on Michelle and Wyatt.
“I’d like you, all three of you, to consider working with this group. One of the guys that runs it says it’s like being back in the military but with less bullshit.”
Wyatt shifted next to her and she turned to watch him, caressing his profile with her gaze. Even here, in front of her father and Marshall, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how much she loved him, wanted him. It didn’t surprise her in the least to see Wyatt’s interest in what her father had to say. Wyatt was the kind of man who thrived when he was helping others, and while she had the clinic where she volunteered to give her the satisfaction of volunteering, he really didn’t have anything that filled that hole in his life.
Holding Wyatt’s hand, Michelle turned her attention to her father. “What kind of work do they do?”
“They’re mostly a first-in and last-out type of group. For example, they were one of the first groups of responders on the scene after the floods down in North Carolina. They do everything from search and rescue, to setting up shelters, to helping people rebuild their homes and doing construction to make places handicap accessible for our veterans that need it. Last time I checked, they have groups set up all over the US, including two in Texas. One in Austin and another down by Houston.”
Michelle placed her hand on Wyatt’s knee, immediately drawing his attention. “Sounds like they’re the kind of people that could occasionally use a master carpenter.”
“Is that what you do?” Michelle’s father asked in surprise.
Wyatt twitched then nodded. “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t say I’m a master, that’s my dad, but I haven’t had any complaints about my work.”
Michelle had to look down to hide her scarlet flush, trying to not think about that wonderful queening chair he made her. Since then Wyatt had begun to work on his second piece of equipment for her. But he was keeping it a secret. He’d even gone as far as to installing a lock on his workroom door that she couldn’t pick. She hated surprises and wanted to know what he was making, but he wouldn’t tell her.
Her father wrote some things down on two pieces of paper. He then stood and came around the side of his desk, handing the sheets to both men. “This is the contact info for the organization. Take your time and by no means feel pressured into this. I just think it’s a great group of men and women who could always use a few more hands. Never a shortage of people out there in the direst of straights.”
Wyatt scanned the sheet then handed it to her. She briefly looked the info over while her father said, “Michelle, if I could have a word with you for a moment, alone, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
Catching Wyatt’s hand, Michelle gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll meet you by the dance floor, okay?”
“I’ll save the last dance for you, Dom…darling.”
She alm
ost giggled at his slip in front of her father. “I won’t be long. Don’t let any of those floozies out there carry you off.”
“You know you’re the only floozie I let carry me off.”
She went to punch him in the shoulder, but he easily blocked her, then brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles before releasing her, making her give a rather besotted sigh that made all the men chuckle. With a definite saunter in his step he went out the door with Marshall in tow. He always knocked her out cold with the simplest of gestures and this was no different. Her skin tingled from the heat of his lips and she suddenly wanted him inside of her, now.
It wasn’t until her father cleared his throat that she realized not only was her hand still floating in the air as if Wyatt held it, but she was also staring at a closed door.
“Sorry,” she muttered and sat back on the couch. Her dad sat next to her and the look in his eyes was incredibly sad. Worried, she touched his hand and said, “Dad? Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything is just right.” He blinked rapidly and she was afraid he was going to cry.
“You’re scaring me.”
“You’ve been alone for so long, Michelle, isolating your heart from the world. I feared that you would never let another man love you.”
She bit her lower lip and tried to fight back the easily triggered guilt. In a fucked up way, it was as if her version of PTSD was guilt. Like she’d been spared the nightmares and waking terrors only to focus solely on feeling like she was the shittiest person in the history of the world. Wyatt definitely deserved better than her, but she couldn’t let him go.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He tucked his hand beneath her chin and raised her eyes to his. “Michelle, it’s okay to love Wyatt. He’s head over heels for you. Reminds me of how your mother and I used to be.”
The pain in his gaze undid her, and she blinked back tears. She didn’t know who was more surprised by the words that came out of her mouth next, her or her father. “If you loved her so much, then why did you cheat on her?”
