The Marine's Road Home

by Brenda Harlen

  The flood of desire through her veins was as familiar as the flavor of his kiss. She didn’t know what it was about this man that made her respond to him so intensely, but she couldn’t deny that she did.

  And knew that she was in serious trouble.

  * * *

  Tonight, Jake’s bed was made with clean sheets, his dirty clothes had been dumped in the hamper and he’d sprayed air freshener to get rid of any lingering doggy odors. He hoped Sky would be impressed, because Molly sure wasn’t. His faithful companion had sneezed several times then tossed her head in the air and escaped to another part of the house. But she’d forgiven the indignity to her sensitive nose when he’d scooped up his keys and invited her to go for a ride.

  Still, he found himself having second and third thoughts as he followed Sky’s taillights through the dark night. Not about what he wanted—because he’d known what that was as soon as he’d walked into Diggers’ tonight and saw her behind the bar—but about the mixed signals he was sending to her.

  He’d tried to be honest about what he was and wasn’t offering. And mutual pleasure was likely to be the extent of it. Truthfully, he hadn’t been certain he’d be able to give her even that the first time. He’d known the parts were in working order, but he hadn’t been intimate with a woman since long before he’d been sent home via medical transport—and even during the brief period after his return when he was still with Margot, neither his mind nor his body had been any condition for sex. But he didn’t want to be thinking about that when he should be focused on seduction. And on Sky.

  Though he had no doubt that he’d satisfied her the first time, they’d both been in a race to the finish. He was determined to show a little more patience this time—and a lot more finesse.

  His determination lasted only until she touched him, the stroke of her soft hands on his hard body snapping the leash of his self-control. What was it about Sky Gilmore that made him want her with an intensity that bordered on desperation?

  Was it the way her lips curved whenever she saw him walk into the bar, as if she’d been watching and waiting for him?

  Was it the light in her eyes that seemed capable of illuminating the deepest darkness inside him?

  Or was it simply the escapism that she offered?

  Because when he was touching Sky, there was no room in his head for thoughts of anything else.

  No worries. No remorse. No regrets.

  There was only the sweet scent of her hair, the silky softness of her skin, the tantalizing seduction of her body.

  She was slim and toned and, to his eyes, so absolutely perfect that he knew he—scarred as he was on the inside and out—could never be worthy of her. He wondered that she couldn’t see it as clearly as he did, because if she did, whatever this was between them would already be over.

  But he was selfish enough not to let that matter right now. He could ignore the fact that they were a real-life beauty and beast for the thrill of having her in his arms for a few more hours.

  And he knew their time together was likely limited to that. He wasn’t a man a woman made plans with for the future. If it had been true when he was on active duty, it was even more so now. There was so much she didn’t know about him, and when she uncovered his secrets, it would change everything.

  She’d shown admirable restraint so far, but she would inevitably want to know about his scars. And his tattoos. In fact, he was a little surprised she hadn’t asked already. Surprised and grateful. Perhaps she sensed his reticence to talk about his past. Or maybe she was smart enough to have put the pieces together without the need to ask any questions—in which case she was undoubtedly smart enough to put some distance between them.

  Right now, it was the intensity of the attraction between them that was getting in the way of her ability to see the situation clearly. And his, too.

  But sex was one thing. Intimacy was something entirely different. And as much as he wished he could let her stay, he wasn’t ready to fall asleep with her. Because it was in sleep that his guard was down and the dreams came. Dreams that he couldn’t bear for her to witness. Not only because he didn’t want her to know about the demons that plagued him, but because he worried that letting her stay might put her at risk.

  Everyone knew stories about veterans who returned from assignment and lashed out at loved ones—parents or spouses or even children. Because in the midst of a flashback, a soldier, sailor, airman or Marine didn’t see that parent or spouse or child, only a threat to be neutralized. Though he’d never woken up with a weapon in his hand, his training had made him a weapon. And that meant anyone close to him could be in danger—as the events of last New Year’s Eve had proven all too clearly.

  But how to explain that to Sky without admitting how broken he truly was? How could he tell her the truth when he knew that the truth would result in losing her? Because while he wasn’t prepared to let himself get too attached to the sexy bartender, he also wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.

  But this time, when he walked back into the bedroom, she was already halfway dressed.

  He was admittedly relieved that he wouldn’t have to nudge her on her way—and maybe also just the teensiest bit disappointed.

  Still, he felt as if he should say something.

  This was fun?

  Thanks for coming?

  Maybe we can do this again sometime?

  While he was trying to figure out what that something might be, her cell phone chimed.

  Jake glanced at the clock on his bedside table and frowned.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, Sky didn’t seem surprised by the communication. And after texting a quick reply, she tucked her phone into the back pocket of those snug-fitting jeans.

  “This was fun,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair and pulling it back to secure it with a ponytail holder. “But I have to go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jake could hardly protest that Sky was rushing off when he needed her to leave, but he was also curious about where she was going, because he was almost certain it wasn’t home.

  “Do you need me to drive you somewhere?” he asked, as he pulled on his jeans.

  She held up her keys. “I’ve got my car.”

  “Have you had your engine checked since you ran out of gas?”

  She brushed a light kiss on his lips. “Go back to bed, Jake.”

  Instead, he followed her through the kitchen to the side door. Molly—who’d been banished from the bedroom again—jumped up from the sofa and joined them, her tail wagging.

  Sky slid her feet into her low-heeled boots, then crouched to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

  “Will you text me when you get home?” he asked her.

  “No.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t have that kind of relationship,” she pointed out, in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “What kind of relationship do we have?” he wondered.

  Which, even as the words left his mouth, he realized was exactly the kind of question that would have made him duck and cringe if she’d asked it.

  “Is this really a conversation you want to have at—” she turned her wrist to check the time on her watch “—two thirty-seven in the morning?”

  No.

  In fact, it was a conversation he knew they weren’t ready to have at all. But once again, his brain and his mouth seemed to be having a communication problem because he said, “It seems as good a time as any.”

  Sky shook her head. “Good night, Jake.”

  Then she walked out and closed the door, leaving Jake on the other side, scowling.

  As a man who closely guarded his own secrets, he could hardly demand to know all of hers.

  It was none of his business who’d been texting her in the middle of the night, and yet, he couldn’t deny that
he felt a little uneasy not knowing where she was going or who she was meeting.

  Keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Anything can happen, anywhere. If you realize you’ve let your guard down, it’s already too late.

  Except that this wasn’t Mosul or Kandahar—this was sleepy little Haven, Nevada in the glorious U S of A and he needed to stop jumping at shadows.

  There was no reason for him to worry.

  So he went back to bed, but he didn’t fall asleep.

  What if she ran out of gas again and ended up stranded in the dark?

  She’d assured him that she wasn’t in the habit of ignoring her car’s low-fuel warning, and he had no reason not to believe her. Besides, if she had any kind of trouble, she had her cell phone to call for help—her father or one of her brothers, probably.

  She wouldn’t call him because, as she’d pointed out, they didn’t have that kind of relationship.

  And because they’d never exchanged numbers.

  Bodily fluids, yes; contact information, no.

  He knew where she worked and where she lived, but he didn’t know how to get in touch with her if he just wanted to say hi or maybe even ask her to go out sometime.

  And yeah, thinking about it now, he realized that he probably should ask her out on a real date sometime.

  But where would they go? What would they do?

  And how had he jumped from being resigned that they’d never have a relationship to wanting to take the first step toward building one? Especially when just thinking about the possibility made him sweat.

  Molly hopped up onto the mattress beside him, nudging his arm with her nose. Because even without a piece of paper, she was capable of reading and responding to his moods. And she added light to his darkest days.

  He lifted a hand to stroke her soft fur. “It’s okay, girl.”

  She settled in, resting her chin on his chest.

  “What do you think?” he asked her now. “Should I ask Sky to go out with me? Dinner in a restaurant doesn’t seem so scary,” he decided. “I should be able to handle that, don’t you think?”

  Molly wagged her tail.

  “Do you think she’ll say yes? Or do you think she’s already figured out that I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her my life was seriously screwed up?”

  Her tail continued to wave back and forth.

  “That’s not very helpful, you know,” he told her.

  She inched further up on the mattress, so that she could swipe at his chin with her tongue.

  “Maybe I should just accept the status quo,” he continued. “Because you and me have a pretty good thing going here, don’t we? Quiet roads for long morning runs, lots of open space for throwing and fetching. We eat when we want, we sleep when we want—or when we can,” he acknowledged. “We don’t have to worry about anyone’s schedule but our own. We don’t need to invite a woman into our lives to mess with all that.”

  And yet, as he finally drifted off to sleep with Molly beside him, he was starting to think that he wanted one.

  But not just anyone.

  He wanted Sky.

  * * *

  Sky cranked up the radio and sang along at the top of her lungs as she drove through the darkness of night to the urgent care center on the south side of town. The music kept her focused, so that she didn’t drive herself crazy trying to figure out what was going on with Jake—or speculate about what the situation might be when she arrived at her destination.

  The message from the supervisor at the women’s shelter had been brief, asking only if she was available to visit a patient at the local urgent care clinic. When she’d responded in the affirmative, Deirdre had told her to reach out to Jenny Taft when she got there.

  The name sounded vaguely familiar to Sky, but she didn’t immediately recognize her former classmate when she walked into the exam room after clearing her visit with the doctor on duty. It wasn’t just the bruises and the swelling that distorted the young woman’s features, it was the flatness of her blue gaze—a complete absence of life that used to sparkle in the former homecoming queen’s eyes when she was Jenny Reashore, before she’d married third-string quarterback Darren Taft.

  “Sky,” Jenny said, obviously having no similar difficulty recognizing or remembering. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see you,” she replied.

  “Why?”

  She lowered herself into the plastic chair beside the bed. “Because I’m a part-time counselor at April’s House, a nearby shelter for abused women and children,” she explained, in case the name was unfamiliar to Jenny. “I thought you might want to talk to someone about what happened to you tonight.”

  The other woman looked away. “I don’t think I need to talk to someone about falling down the stairs.”

  “Okay,” Sky said, taking her cue from the patient. “We can talk about anything you want.”

  “I don’t want to talk. I don’t even know why I’m still here.” Jenny winced as she pushed herself up on the bed. “I need to get dressed. I need to get home.”

  “I don’t think you should go anywhere until the doctors have a chance to review all your test results,” Sky cautioned.

  “I’m fine,” Jenny insisted.

  “You’re not fine,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “You’ve got numerous bruises and contusions, three cracked ribs and a probable concussion.”

  Tears filled Jenny’s eyes as she listened to Sky inventory the extent of her injuries. “Darren meant to fix the railing,” she said. “He warned me to be careful going downstairs, but I had my arms full of laundry and my foot slipped and...” She started to shrug, then sucked in a pained breath as the movement strained her damaged ribs.

  There were all kinds of reasons that women—and men—stayed in abusive relationships. But Sky also knew that sometimes, even when they wanted to leave, they were afraid to take that step, their fear of the unknown even greater than their fear of the abusive partner. Part of her job was to make sure they knew there were options.

  But if Jenny wasn’t even willing to acknowledge that her husband had hurt her, there wasn’t really anything Sky could do to help her. Still, she felt compelled to try one more time. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything that happened?”

  “I’m sure,” Jenny insisted.

  “Okay,” Sky relented. “And where was Darren when you fell?”

  “At work.”

  “Where does he work?”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I slipped and fell down the stairs,” she said again.

  “Is that what he told you to say?”

  Jenny closed her eyes, to hide the tears that welled up again. “Darren loves me.”

  “Love shouldn’t leave bruises—on your body or your spirit,” she said.

  “I fell. And Dr. Beaudoin had no business suggesting anything different.”

  “The doctor didn’t call April’s House,” Sky told her.

  “Then who did?” Jenny wanted to know.

  “Your mom.”

  This time, when the tears came, Jenny didn’t try to hold them back.

  * * *

  No matter how many times he told himself it was none of his business or concern, Jake couldn’t stop wondering about the late-night text message Sky had received. As he went through the usual routines of his day, unanswered questions continued to nag at the back of his mind.

  He spent most of the afternoon in the yard with Molly, cutting the grass and raking the clippings. He even pulled weeds from the flowerbeds, all in the hope that Ashley might happen by with Rey, giving him the perfect opening to casually ask the teen how her sister was doing.

  But the day faded away with no sign of Ashley or her dog.

  As he watched the sun dip in the sky, its light reflecting off the barn windows, he reme
mbered that the caulk around the frames was cracked and peeling. Which meant that he’d have to make a trip to the hardware store soon to get supplies to fix the problem.

  Since he was thinking about it now, he might as well go, he decided. And if he was thirsty after he finished running his errand, then it would be perfectly reasonable to stop at Diggers’ for a drink before heading home again.

  He was feeling quite pleased with himself and the whole scenario he’d planned out—until he walked into the local watering hole and discovered a stranger in Sky’s usual place behind the bar.

  This bartender was about six feet tall with wide shoulders and a nose that looked like it had been broken several times. He wore a knit golf shirt with the Diggers’ logo and the name Duke stitched beneath.

  “What can I get for you?” Duke asked.

  Jake hesitated, uncertain of his next move and unwilling to acknowledge his deep disappointment. “Coffee,” he decided.

  The bartender filled a mug from the carafe on the warmer. Then he grabbed a caddy filled with sugar packets and creamers from beside the coffee maker and set it down beside Jake’s cup.

  “Thanks.”

  Duke nodded and moved to the other end of the bar.

  “Coffee’s a lot better at The Daily Grind,” the customer sitting a couple seats over remarked.

  Jake had seen him at the bar a couple of times before and thought he remembered Sky calling him Ellis.

  “Maybe,” Jake allowed.

  Undoubtedly, he amended, after taking the first sip of coffee that was entirely too strong and a little bit stale.

  “But I figured the customers were more likely to mind their own business here.”

  “Or maybe you came in looking for Sky,” the other man suggested.

  Jake lifted the mug to his lips, not bothering to respond. He certainly wasn’t willing to confide his motives to this stranger.

  “She doesn’t work here on Thursdays.”