by Desiree Holt
His cock swelled so much it pressed painfully against his fly.
Holy fucking shit! He needed to get hold of himself. He hadn’t been with a woman since a month before he’d been injured. Even then, the couplings were nothing more than physical exercise. He made sure they knew that ahead of time. He was married to the SEALs.
But he wasn’t now, only he was in shit shape to think about stuff like this. His mind was just as fucked up as his body.
The server cleared away their bowls and brought fresh plates with their lobster rolls filled with chunks of fresh lobster mixed with spicy dressing and accompanied by mounds of hot, crispy fries. Even though the chowder had been filling, his mouth began to water at once.
They didn’t talk much as they went about the business of eating, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. He realized Cassie Malone was the first person he’d felt this comfortable with in a very long time. He didn’t want to think about that too much because he wasn’t in any position to start a relationship with someone. Not until he got himself straightened out. He’d never had a real relationship. He’d only had room for the SEALs and his close friends.
And that reminded him his phone was filled with text messages from the three men he was closest to. He was surprised they hadn’t written him off, the way he’d ignored them. Maybe this afternoon he’d send off a quick reply to each of them. A big change from the past weeks. Had Cassie, in less than twenty-four hours, ignited some metamorphosis in him? If so, he was in bigger trouble than he thought because, his physical situation aside, he had no idea how to handle anything resembling a relationship.
Oh, right, asshole. After less than two days. He really was screwed up. Not only that, it was obvious she was carrying something around with her that scared her to death. Did he really want to dip his toe in that? He chewed and swallowed the last bite of his lobster roll, focusing on the burst of flavor on his tongue That was safer.
“I think this might be the best meal I’ve had in as long as I can remember,” he told Cassie as he leaned back in his seat.
“Didn’t you stock up when you got here? The deli near Rolling in Dough has great takeout stuff.”
“Yeah, well.” He shook his head. “The cabin has a microwave, and that’s been the most of my cooking skills. I’ll have to try that other place.”
They ate in silence, enjoying their food, washing it down with fresh iced tea. Sam knew he should keep his mouth shut again, but something was bugging him.
“This morning, were you watching that old tug of a lobster boat chugging out to sea?”
Cassie studied him for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just wondered if you were as curious as I was about why it goes out so much later than the others, and sometimes comes back at dark.” He looked at her across the table. “And who the old geezer is lobstering at such strange hours. Why?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering.”
“Okay. Why do you stop there?”
She fiddled with her napkin. “I discovered it’s a good place to take in the view and clear out my brain. The view is gorgeous.”
That was true. You could see way out to the horizon from there, spotting both pleasure and work boats as they went about their business. But he had a feeling that wasn’t the real reason. Whatever that reason was, it had suddenly made her very uptight.
In the sudden silence, she checked her watch.
“Oh, darn. I need to get back to the clinic. My next appointment is in twenty minutes.”
“Okay. Sure. Let me get the check, and I’ll take you back.”
“Oh, no,” she protested. “I told you it was my treat.”
He grinned, something he hadn’t done much of lately. “No way. I invited you, I pay. Don’t argue, please. Come on.”
She kept looking out the big picture window at the front of the restaurant while he took care of things with the cashier. And when he took her arm to guide her out the door, he discovered she was so tense she almost vibrated. He kept his hand there as they walked to where he’d parked, the stiffness in her body palpable.
They had just reached his car when the traffic light at the end of the block changed and the waiting traffic proceeded down the street. As a black Escalade drove past them, he heard Cassie gasp, just a slight sound.
“What is it?” he asked. “What or who did you see?”
“Nothing, Nobody. Can I get in the car, please?”
When he opened the door, she jumped in and fastened her seat belt. “Can we hurry? I don’t want to be late.”
“Sure. I’ll have you there in plenty of time.” He noticed as he moved in behind the wheel that she slipped down in her seat. He glanced sideways at her. “Problem?”
She shook her head. “No. Just thought I saw someone I know, but no way would they be up here.” She blew out a breath.
They rode to the clinic in silence, where Sam insisted on coming around and opening the door for her as Cassie climbed out of the car.
“Thanks so much for lunch,” she told him.
“I hope we can do it again.” He reached for her hand. “First of all, I enjoyed myself, which is a real anomaly these days for me. Second, if someone is bothering you, I want you to let me know. I mean it, Cassie.”
“No one is bothering me,” she insisted.
“Listen.” He placed two fingers under her chin and tipped her head up. “I’ve been in the trouble business for twelve years. I can smell it a mile away. Taking care of trouble is what I do, so please. If you need it, let me help you.”
Her mouth curved in a weak smile. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
He locked his gaze with hers for a long moment before giving a short nod.
“I’ll go with that for now.” He stepped back. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.”
He watched her walk inside, taking one last look over her shoulder, but at the street, not at him. What the hell? And why had the Escalade pushed her buttons, because he was pretty damn sure that was the car that had spooked her.? He wished he’d been paying a lot more attention.
There was definitely something going on there. Fear was a thin cloud hanging around her, no matter how much she tried to conceal it. She didn’t seem like a person who spooked easily, so he assumed it was pretty bad. Maybe, even with a gimpy arm, he could protect her from whatever this was.
And maybe he should find out first, before diving into the unknown. Tomorrow he’d try to assess the situation better. Too bad he was torn between protecting her and hauling her into bed.
Swallowing a sigh, he climbed into the car, started it, and pulled into the street. As he did, a black Escalade nearly clipped his front end as it moved out behind him and also turned into traffic. He honked his horn and barely restrained himself from giving the guy the finger. For sure he didn’t want a dustup with a local resident. Was it too much of an coincidence that he thought this was the car that has spooked Cassie? He had to figure out a way to get information with her shutting him out. All of his SEAL senses were jumping to attention. If she was in trouble, gimpy arm or not, he was the best person to protect her.
Waking up from self-pity, was he?
His friends would tell him it was about time.
He found himself feeling restless as he headed back to the cabin. For the first time in ages, he had an itch to talk to someone, and wasn’t that just the oddest thing? He’d spent weeks avoiding everyone. Had Cassie Malone sprinkled some kind of powder in his iced tea when he wasn’t looking?
Once inside the cabin, he nudged the fire awake, fixed a mug of hot coffee, and sat down with his cell phone. He was lucky it hadn’t blown up with all the text messages and missed calls from his friends. It was time to come out of the dark but he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He hoped his friends were still hanging in there with him and could guide him along the way. Who to call first?
Chase Winslow. Scooter. He’d better be first,
or Sam’s ass was grass.
He and Scooter Winslow had become friends the first day of BUD/S—the training program for SEALs. They’d connected right away and always had each other’s back. Maybe it was the fact they’d both grown up in disjointed situations, but whatever it was, they were closer than brothers. Scooter had been the first one to visit him in the hospital and hung around until he had to go back to Afghanistan.
He’d called a lot after that, but Sam, immersed in a vat of self-pity, had shut him out. Still, Scooter had never given up on him, continuing to leave messages. Now Sam sat with his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. Before he could change his mind, he pressed the speed dial for his friend and prayed the man wouldn’t hang up on him.
The phone only rang twice before a gruff voice spoke to him.
“It’s about fucking damn time,” Scooter barked. “I was afraid we might have to call out the Teams to hunt you down and kick your ass.”
Sam laughed. “I might need it at that.” Then he sobered. “Scooter, listen, I’m sorry I—”
“Shut the fuck up. We never apologize to each other, right? We all knew where your head was at, and we wanted to give you time to realize life wasn’t over because you had to leave the Teams.”
“It was a painful realization,” he told his friend. “Very painful.”
“How’s the arm coming along?”
“Actually, doing better.” He paused. “I found a physical therapist I can work with.”
“Where the fuck are you, anyway? Not still in D. C., that’s for sure.”
“Believe it or not, I’m in Maine.”
Then he had to explain to Scooter how he’d ended up here, where he was living, and why.
“Still hiding out, then, right?”
“Up until yesterday, yeah. But believe it or not, I found a physical therapist here.”
“In a little no place town like that?” Scooter asked. “What’s he doing there, anyway?”
“She says she’s here for a change of scenery, but I get a strong feeling she’s hiding from something. Or someone.”
“Did you say she?” Scooter barked a laugh. “No wonder you came out of your shell. And thank god for that.” Another pause. “Did you say hiding?”
“Uh huh.” He frowned, even though he knew the other man could not see him. “It’s just a feeling I get, but you know we’re trained to read signals like that.”
“So, tell me about it, man.”
Sam gave him a cursory rundown on Cassie and what he’d observed, realizing he really had little to go on.
“It could be nothing,” he finished. “Maybe she’s got an ex after her or something. But that Escalade sure spooked her, and she’s always hyper aware of everything around her. Just like we are in the middle of a mission.”
“We have some leave coming up,” Scooter told him. “Maybe we could pop in for a short visit and scope out the situation.”
“You know you guys are welcome here any time. Let me see if I can find out anything and I’ll let you know.”
“You know the drill,” Scooter reminded him. “I might not be able to answer for a few days, but leave a message and I will get back to you.”
“Will do. Say hi to the others for me.”
“They’ll be damn glad to know you haven’t fallen off the edge of the earth. No more hiding, okay?”
“You got it.”
After he disconnected the call, he sat there a while, thinking about the whole situation. He still was far from feeling social, but all his instincts had prodded him to climb out of his shell and see what was up with Cassie. Not to mention the fact his cock was as alert as his brain. It had been months since he’d wanted a woman or even thought about sex. Now he couldn’t seem to think about anything else. Besides, she worked with injured people all the time. Maybe she didn’t want her social life to include one.
Take it slow, he told himself. Assess the situation. Hell, he didn’t even know where she moved up here from. Maybe that was the first thing he should try to find out. Get into her head as much as he could. And do his best to keep his dick in his pants while he was doing it.
He wasn’t sure which task would be the most difficult.
He got up and refilled his mug, wishing it was already tomorrow.
Chapter 5
Cassie was glad her afternoon schedule was full. Working with her patients left her little time to think about Sam Alvarez and wonder at the effect he had on her. The last thing she needed was an involvement of any kind, especially with one of her patients. She’d better collect her galloping hormones and lock them away someplace.
Of course, that was easier said than done. Even as she focused on each patient, some corner of her mind was still seeing the rough former SEAL with his shirt off and all those beautiful muscles exposed. Remembering the feel of him beneath her hands. His grumpy but very sexy smile. Sitting across from him in the restaurant, she’d been able to look her fill at his lean, square-jawed face, very sexy with his designer stubble of a beard. His hair was just above the collar of his shirt, and she wondered if he wore it that way all the time. She’d had to restrain herself from running her fingers through it.
She couldn’t help comparing him to Patrick whose face was always clean-shaven and hair neatly styled. There was never a wrinkle in his shirt, either. He always looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Esquire magazine. Sam, on the other hand, was rough masculinity personified. She couldn’t get that first glimpse of him without his shirt out of her mind. Every muscle was rigidly defined, his pecs and abs solid and rigid, a light sprinkle of hair dusting his entire chest and tempting her to run her fingers through it. The rest of his upper body was just as hard and firm as his chest. Only the sight of the scar running from his left shoulder to his wrist allowed her to keep her mind on business.
Sitting across from him in the restaurant was just as much an exercise in self-discipline. Everything he did, every movement he made, seemed to shout raw power. Parts of her body thrummed with unexpected hunger. She might have been in worse shape where discipline was required if not for spotting that black Escalade when they were leaving the restaurant. That was like throwing a bucket of ice cubes on her, and she wasn’t even sure it was Patrick’s.
By the time Sam dropped her off at the clinic, fear and desire were having their own battle in her body and her brain. It took every bit of effort she had to focus on her patients and get through the afternoon. When she left work at five, she went directly to Rolling in Dough. She knew Margie never left before six. Sure enough, she was restocking part of the display case for the evening rush.
“I need chocolate,” she said. “Mountains of it. Boxes of it. Maybe everything you’ve got in this place.”
Margie looked at her, lips twitching with a grin. Cassie was suddenly aware of the line of people at the counter, now all staring at her as if she’d dropped from some strange planet.
“I think maybe we can handle that.” She motioned for Cassie to come around the end of the counter then ushered her into the back where Margie’s tiny office was crammed into one corner. She dropped into the straight-back wooden chair her friend kept next to the desk.
“Oh, my god.” Cassie pulled her wool scarf over her head. “I’ll never be able to show my face in here again, will I.”
Margie chuckled. “I’ll just tell them you had a very difficult day at work. Hold on.”
Cassie unzipped her jacket, slid her scarf from her head, and leaned back in the chair, wondering if she was losing her mind. She needed to fly under the radar, not focus it on herself. Not only this, she never, ever behaved this way. She needed to remind her unruly hormones, which acted as if they’d never been let loose before, of that.
The image of the black Escalade flew across her brain, and that was enough to make her hormones go into hiding. At least for the moment.
“Here.” Margie was back. “This ought to fix whatever ails you. The coffee is a double mocha latte, also with whipped cre
am. Go ahead, dig into it. Then tell me what’s got you in such a dither.”
Cassie opened her eyes to see her friend placing a large cup with a lid on the desk, and a plate with a giant chocolate muffin frosted in chocolate and topped with whipped cream. She handed Cassie a fork.
Cassie cut off a large bite of the muffin and stuffed the whole thing into her mouth. Maybe if she had a sugar attack it would kill her other cravings. She finished half the muffin and a good bit of the latte before she came up for air.
“Oh my god. That’s miracle food. I knew there was a reason I loved you so much.”
“Not for my sparkling personality?” Margie teased.
“Well, yes, that, too.”
“Okay, give. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before. Wait.” She held up a hand. “Does this have anything to do with the hunk you knocked into yesterday here in the bakery?”
Cassie nodded her head and heaved a sigh. “I think my life is in a mess.”
“It looked fine yesterday,” her friend observed. “Did he turn out to be a secret killer or something?”
Considering her situation with Patrick, Cassie thought the word “killer” might be appropriate. But not for Sam.
“No. He’s got other problems, including, I think, a mild case of PTSD that’s getting a little better. He’s a former SEAL, with a badly injured left arm, who came up here to hide from the world. I convinced him it was in his best interest to get back into physical therapy.”
“And has he?” A grin teased at Margie’s mouth. “With our local therapist?”
Cassie nodded. “He really needs it, Margie. I think he stopped it because he feels guilty.”
Margie stared at her. “About what? Getting injured?”
“Losing who he is. I did some research online last night and learned a lot of men coming home from battle like he did without a plan for the future suffer a loss of identity.” She took a healthy sip of the latte. “Think about it. I don’t know how long he was in for, but a good number of years, I’m sure. And with no firm plan for when he got out or even when that would be.”
