by Jax Hunter
The lights were on in the living room when Nic pulled his rental car into the driveway. The last hour had been tough. He’d never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That was no light statement, either. There’d been times when, pulling into the cul-de-sac, he, Joey, and Cruz had doubted that they had the strength to even move from the car to the house. Simple rescues turned into three-day affairs ending with seven-hour flights and debriefings that they’d taken turns sleeping through. But now there was more than just his bed waiting for him here.
Way more, truth be told.
The sweetest, softest, most attractive woman in the world was here, having been kept safe by his best friend. Nic was a lucky guy. Good friends and a woman to die for. Course, that soft, sexy woman might be pissed as hell at him for what he’d pulled in Quincy. She might not have forgiven him for making her spend three days in jail. On the other hand, she was even more beautiful when she was mad.
He got all the way to the door, key in hand, when he stalled. His gut heaved and his throat closed. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the anguish hit him like a Mack truck.
God. It hurt so bad.
Minutes ticked by before he could slide his key into the lock and push the door open.
Cruz sprawled on the couch, watching a soccer game, his legs stretched out, feet propped on the coffee table. He nodded a distracted hello when Nic came in.
Nic put down his bag and cleared his throat. “Who’s winning?”
“Scotland.”
“Is that good?” Nic had tried to get into soccer at the insistence by Cruz that it was the sport. It was okay, it might be a sport, but no way was it the sport. That would be hockey. Nic and Joey had gotten Cruz on the ice a few times, even stuck a stick in his hand, but the boy had no passion for it. He was hell on wheels on roller blades, but somehow the hockey gene was sorely missing in the beach bum. He would watch games with them, if forced to by the inaccessibility of the remote.
Before Cruz could answer, the door to Joey’s room opened. It gave Nic an odd jolt before Julie stepped into view, dressed as he’d found her—in Christmas pajamas.
She’d been crying, her eyes red and puffy. Before he could speak, she flew into his arms, holding onto him for all she was worth, sobbing. Without a second thought, Nic tipped her face to his and kissed her. He vaguely heard Cruz get up and leave the room.
He pulled back and looked at her. Her lower lip trembled. “Hi, baby.”
“Hi,” she answered, barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry? For what?”
“About Joey, about intruding when you needed to be alone.” She started crying again.
“Shh.” Nic encircled her in his arms again, and tangled his hands in her hair. “I’m sorry for sticking you in jail. I thought you’d be mad.”
“I am.” Now she smiled tremulously, pulling back. “Why didn’t you tell me about Joey? I’m so sorry, Nic. The pictures...”
Her voice quivered but she held off another round of tears. Again, her arms went around him and she tucked her head against his chest, right under his chin. It felt so damn good.
“I love you, Nic,” she whispered.
Holy moley! Did he hear her right? She loved him? Holy moley! Before he could process his reaction, Julie pulled away, turning her back on him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
For a moment, Nic was stuck. There she stood, her heart on her sleeve, even more vulnerable than the night he found her. His gut clenched. He moved behind her, sliding his arms around her. “You shouldn’t have said it because it’s not true, or because it is?”
She didn’t speak. Maybe she couldn’t. Instead she just hugged his arms closer and shook her head. Nic smiled to himself. Christ, she smelled good. He shook free of the thoughts that sent lightning bolts through him. At least he tried to. There was no doubt about what she’d meant. There was also no doubt he loved her, too.
Maybe he’d loved her since the moment she’d turned her terrified, brown eyes to him as she sat in the car. Maybe since she’d curled up on the floor beside him to sleep. Or maybe it was just this moment. It didn’t matter.
“I love you, too, Julie.”
There. He’d said it.
Julie laid her head back on his shoulder. She pulled his hands from her waist, and kissed them.
They sat on the couch, not watching the soccer game, just snuggled together, holding onto each other for dear life.
If there was any better feeling in the world, Nic sure as hell didn’t know what it might be. Yeah, making love to her one day might top this, but for now, it was damn-near perfect. But that wasn’t the all of it. She’d cried for Joey, for Nic’s loss. When she smiled, he was totally lost. And he didn’t want to be found.
Holy moley, she loved him. The thought tightened his arms around her, making her sigh in response.
Julie snuggled closer, her breathing regular and deep. Nic smiled ruefully at his body’s reaction. It was okay. He could wait.
Nic woke near dawn, rearranging Julie so she could lay down, and covered her with a blanket. He moved to the recliner and stretched out. Sleep they did, not waking up until nearly ten o’clock.
Julie came out from under the blanket only after Nic assured her that Cruz was gone, embarrassed by her Santa pajamas. She hadn’t given it another thought last night, but now she was suddenly shy.
She followed Nic to the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Sure, once it’s ready. You’ve completely corrupted me.” Julie jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter. “I saw the Batmobile last night. Nice truck.”
Nic actually blushed. The embarrassed smile he wore made her press on.
“Batman, huh? So that’s why you rescued me?”
Nic crossed to her. His hands cupped her face, fingers in her hair. “Maybe why I rescued you, but not why I stuck around.”
His dark eyes twinkled as he searched hers.
“Those eyes,” he kissed her, softly, “are why I stayed.” His lips found hers again and she slipped off the counter into his arms.
The front door opened, interrupting.
Cruz walked through the door, followed by another man. He, too, was not hard on the eyes, though not as tall as the other two. Dark hair and eyes, stockier build but still lean, probably just under six feet tall. He wore jeans and a grey t-shirt.
And there Julie stood in pajamas.
Geez. It wasn’t like they were indecent or anything like that. But they were Christmas jammies. Ugh. Too late now.
This newcomer’s eyes barely stopped as they took her in, then he smiled as he approached Nic.
The two shook hands, then Nic stepped back and guided Julie forward. “Sir, this is Julie Galloway. Julie, Lieutenant David Quillen, Bravo team leader.”
David didn’t smile as he had with Nic, but he shook her hand cordially. “Miss Galloway. Nice to meet you.” His voice was deep, rich. Was every PJ as gorgeous as these three? Julie smiled, remembering Cindy’s suggestion that PJs were the best in bed. Butterflies dive-bombed in her stomach.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Julie turned to Nic. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed.”
“So, you want to tell me about it?” Quillen—Yoda to his men—spoke in a quiet but firm voice. Though couched as a question, it wasn’t. D.Q. was a good team leader. He was new at being a lieutenant, but not new to being a PJ. He never gave his team crap about things that didn’t matter and he always gave a guy a chance to explain. But excuses didn’t cut it with him. Reasons, okay, but give him empty excuses, and your ass was his.
Nic looked to Cruz, who shrugged. “I don’t know how much he told you.” He nodded to Cruz.
“Just that you were in some trouble and he needed to be gone a couple days to help you out. I’m assuming it has something to do with the girl?”
By the time the LT left, he had the full story and had taken the opportunity to encourage Nic to be very careful, to watch his six. He intimated
that, if needed, Cruz could be at Nic’s disposal and, if that wasn’t enough, it might be possible to schedule some field training for Bravo Squad. His parting shot, though, was to announce the imminent arrival of Joey’s replacement.
At that point, Nic stopped listening.
Julie heard the front door close, but still she sat. It was hard to get dressed in here. It was like changing clothes in a church or something. Nic had called it Joey’s I love me wall. He’d said it with a smile but Julie wondered how long it would take Nic and Eric to clean out this room, the shrine. Maybe she could do that for them. Save them the pain.
When she came out of the room, finally dressed, Eric and Nic were in the kitchen. Nic slurped coffee and Eric just stood, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. They both smiled when she came in.
“Can I ask you guys a question?”
“Shoot,” Cruz answered.
“Well, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, and, if I’m out of line, please say no...”
At Nic’s look of encouragement, she went on. “Do you guys want me to clean out Joey’s room?” Julie resisted the urge to say more, to explain. Instead she watched both men for their reactions. She nearly had to bite the inside of her cheeks, though. Each of them looked at her as if she’d asked if she could call her family on Mars.
Finally, Nic spoke. “Um, I hadn’t thought about it. But it does need to be done.” He looked at Eric. “Any objections?”
“None here, and I have thought about it. There might be some empty boxes in the garage.”
Nic cleared his throat, the only obvious sign the discussion bothered him. Julie hadn’t expected tears, not from these macho guys, but she’d watched for pain in their eyes and saw nothing.
Never play poker with these two.
“Great.”
Eric pushed away from the counter. “C’mon you two, I’ll take you to breakfast.” He looked at his watch. “Or lunch.” He grinned and slapped Nic on the back, propelling him toward the door.
Chapter Twenty
