by Tracy Brody
She finally pulled back and studied him. “Everyone okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Rough one, though?”
Unable to speak, he nodded. He couldn’t disclose details and wouldn’t burden her with the darkness anyway. She’d picked up on his mood with a single glance and given him the touch he needed. The warmth she imparted melted the cold detachment clinging to him. He’d been right about her ability to support him in what he did. She didn’t complain, nor did she ask more questions.
Over lunch, Kristie upheld the conversation, drawing him out with questions about Amber and Darcy.
“Hey, did you find out if Sheehan also has a black SUV?” Kristie asked him out of the blue.
“I went by one time. There was a black sedan in the drive. No SUV.”
Kristie’s eyes widened for a moment. “Okay.”
“I think it was a Nissan Maxima. Why? Did you see him?”
“No. Thank goodness. I think confronting him at the hangar did the job.”
Something didn’t feel authentic about her answer. “I need to go by and check again; eventually retrieve the tracker from his truck, too.”
Kristie nodded in agreement.
“Sorry,” he continued. “I slacked off after you kicked me out.”
“I didn’t kick you out. I—”
“No. You kicked me in the—”
“Hey!” she cut him off, finishing with a bashful yet alluring smile.
He reached for her hand. “I’m just glad you changed your mind.”
“Me, too.” She slid her hand in his and squeezed back, her wary expression melting into a contented one.
The waitress appeared and refilled their water glasses. “Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m good,” he answered. Definitely better than an hour ago.
“I’d like a chocolate sundae. Heavy on the sprinkles, and we’ll need two spoons.” Kristie winked at him. “Ice cream always makes things better.”
“Sprinkles, though?” He shook his head, although the impish grin she shot him lifted his mood. “Will you come over tonight?”
“I’m flying afternoons this week, so it’d be a late dinner.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got the girls this weekend, and I’d rather not wait another three days to, uh, make up for that dinner I owe you.”
Her eyes danced left and right before settling on him. The smile that lit up her face jump-started his lungs.
“If you’re sure …”
He leaned forward. “I. Am. Positive. Whatever time.”
“Okay. Dinner at your place. Then, maybe tomorrow, you could bring the girls out to the airfield for the tour I promised them.”
“I’ll ask Ray about getting off early to get them from school, and we’ll head over.” Best idea of the week. Though he knew better than to start thinking of them as a couple, he liked seeing how she interacted with his daughters and wanted to gauge how they reacted to her.
The server delivered the sundae, dripping with whipped cream, sprinkles, and topped with two long-stemmed cherries. The whipped cream brought to mind where they’d left things last week. He needed to pick up a can.
Kristie snorted lightly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Long story.” She gave a sheepish smile.
Her blush amped his curiosity. “Tell.”
She shook her head, but he persisted. “Come on.”
She glanced at the neighboring tables, then leaned forward. “Halfway through my last deployment, they opened a Baskin-Robbins on base. One of the guys I flew with a lot, was bummed they didn’t have cherries for the sundaes. In his next care package, William’s wife sent him three jars of maraschinos. It was kind of a joke, but imagine a bunch of bored, competitive, horny guys with an overabundance of cherries—with stems.”
“Really? Who won?”
She merely rolled her eyes and dug her spoon into the sundae.
“Did you win?” he pressed, getting hard thinking about it.
“No! I let Ty and Big Norm battle it out. Being the champ of tying knots in cherry stems with my tongue was not the reputation I wanted to have.” She took another bite of ice cream, her chest and neck flushing further.
“But you can do it?” he asked. The coy expression on her face aroused him further. “Show me. Please,” he added when she shook her head.
“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“No. It was a really bad week,” he cajoled her. “I’ll owe you.”
Kristie gave a resigned sigh. She shifted her eyes to study the people seated around them. Deliberately, she picked up the cherry and bit it off.
Next, the stem disappeared into her mouth.
Her jaw moved back and forth and up and down. In seconds, he had a killer hard-on. He twisted on the booth’s bench, before popping the other cherry into his mouth.
He narrowed his eyes when she pulled the stem from her mouth and showed it to him, tied in a loose knot. “Not bad. Though we might need to work on your technique.” He raised his eyebrows and winked. He removed his stem, also in a knot. “I’m happy to give you some tips.”
“Smug brat,” she retorted, with a smile so big, so warm it erased the dark memories of the past few days. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Nothing that comes to mind. Oh, wait. I can’t fly a Black Hawk—very well.”
Laughing, he instinctively threw up a hand to deflect the cherry stem she tossed at him.
And in that moment, he was certain that he was falling in love with Kristie.
Twenty-Six
Mack got the steaks from the fridge in preparation for his do-over with Kristie. Damn, he’d meant to get flowers again. Too late now. It wasn’t the end of the world, and he already had to push back their dinner after Rochelle texted requesting they meet tonight to discuss the summer custody schedule. Though Kristie deserved better than his agitated mood, he couldn’t cancel on her after the way she’d made him feel over lunch today and getting called away last week.
Her knock at the door a few minutes later revived his sagging spirits. When he opened the door, she breezed in carrying two grocery bags.
“Is there anything else to bring in?”
“Nope. This is it.” She set the bags on the island, and his gaze dropped, raked over her, then worked slowly back up.
“I need a can opener, a bowl, and knife, please,” she said, blushing under his scrutiny while she unloaded the bags.
He retrieved the requested items, not releasing the can opener until she kissed him.
She opened a variety of canned beans while he lit the grill.
“What can I do to help?”
“If you’ll drain the beans, I’ll do the chopping.” She placed plum tomatoes and a cucumber on the cutting board. “It’s also going to need a little kick. Got some hot sauce?”
“What kind of soldier would I be if I didn’t have hot sauce?” he quipped, opening a cupboard door. “Do you want hot, extra hot, or made-for-an-MRE hot?”
“Just hot for me. You can add more to yours.”
He and Kristie worked side by side. He emptied beans into the bowl while she diced the tomatoes. It felt good. Comfortable.
“Everything go okay with your meeting with Rochelle?”
The way Kristie studied him, knife poised over the cucumber, made him decide to get her input. “I thought we were going to hammer out the summer custody schedule, but she proposed taking the girls to Georgia for most of the summer so she can spend time with this guy, Grayson.”
“As in you wouldn’t get to see the girls?” Her pitch rose.
“Not the way I’m supposed to. Sorry if I’m distracted. I thought it was over with him, and she’d date someone local. Finding out she’s still involved with someone back home, where she has family, and he has a business …”
“Would she be able to move out of state with the girls?” she asked, immediately picking up on his predicament.
“She can
’t under the current custody agreement. But, if she remarried, who knows.”
Would Grayson be willing to rebuild his business from scratch here? The idea of Rochelle fighting to move the girls to Georgia scared the hell out of him.
“She could petition the court to change it. Happened to Shuler with his first wife. His oldest had started running with the wrong crowd and got in some minor legal trouble. His ex used his service and deployments to convince the judge to let her move them back home—to Montana—when she was hoping to remarry. Said her new husband would be a steadier figure for the children.”
Georgia wasn’t on the other side of the country, but it eliminated their Wednesday night dinners and made their overnights every other weekend impractical. He couldn’t make the girls endure that much travel. His stomach cramped at the notion of being a dad who only saw his kids every other holiday and for a few weeks in the summer.
“From what I’ve seen, you’re a great dad, and the girls adore you. I don’t think she could make a case against you because of your service.” Kristie’s much-needed perspective countered all of Rochelle’s years of complaining and tearing him down.
“Appreciate you saying that. I shouldn’t let this mess with my head.”
Kristie scraped the diced cucumber into the bowl. “Losing a spouse to death is hard, but I think in lots of ways, it’s harder to go through a divorce. Especially when kids are involved. You’re doing the right thing by fighting to stay in their lives.”
She didn’t bash Rochelle. Instead, she affirmed his decision and showed him respect—as a soldier and a father.
“You’re great with the girls yourself,” Mack commented.
She’d cheered on Darcy as she’d learned to ride her bike, jumped rope with both girls when it would have been easy to beg off, then offered to show them her Black Hawk. He’d hit the jackpot with her.
He picked up the plate with the steaks to put on the grill. “I’m kinda surprised you and your husband didn’t have kids.” The words slipped out without thought, but the change that swept over Kristie’s face and posture, and the sadness that flashed in her eyes halted him in his tracks.
He set the plate back on the island, wishing he could grab the words and stuff them back down his throat. There was no way to do that, though, and he couldn’t walk outside and grill the steaks like he hadn’t noticed. Not knowing what to say, he stood there watching her. Waiting.
“We wanted to.” She spoke so softly he could barely make out the words, and she didn’t quite meet his gaze.
The pain in her voice sliced through him like a .50-caliber round through a paper target. He wanted to say something to comfort her but feared he’s say something stupid—again—so he stood there mutely.
“We’d started trying just before Eric got orders to deploy. Then I got orders. We planned to start our family when we got back.”
Except Eric hadn’t come back. She’d lost her husband and her dream of a family. And yet she’d said she thought he had it hard dealing with Rochelle. Maybe, maybe not. He wanted to take Kristie in his arms and say the right words as she had to him.
“I’m sorry,” he offered lamely instead. Sorry for what he’d said. Sorry she didn’t have the child she so obviously longed for. Sorry she’d lost the man she loved. He wanted to offer her hope that she could still have those things.
“Not your fault.” She breathed in through her nose and blew a long breath out her mouth. “Go put the steaks on and give me a minute.”
He didn’t want to walk away from her, but she turned her back on him to get the dressing for the bean salad, effectively dismissing him. Picking up the steaks, he retreated, more determined now to find a way they could be together—to take away her pain and show her she could have more than just flying.
Mack put the steaks on the grill and came inside after a minute or two. Barely enough time to blow her nose and regain her composure. Most days, Kristie focused on her career without thinking about how much she wanted children.
She studied Mack’s back as he washed the plate and tongs. With two older daughters, would he want another child? Being a part-time stepmom would be a blessing, but would that be enough?
The romantic fantasies she’d arrived with tonight had taken a direct hit, but she refused to let his innocent comment spoil the evening. She’d be strong and concentrate on the present. Her grief counseling taught her she couldn’t change the past, and she couldn’t control the future, so she had to live in the present. And her present included a nice dinner with a man who gave her goosebumps in a myriad of dangerous ways.
Mack came around behind her and placed his hands on her hips.
“Taste?” She offered him a spoonful of the bean salad.
“Not yet.” His hand slid along her forearm, returning the spoon to the bowl. His fingers intertwined with hers, then he wrapped their arms around her waist. His face pressed against her hair, and his breath tickled her ear.
They stood there, rocking ever so slightly, with the radio playing an ’80s soft rock song in the background. She closed her eyes and let the music carry away her heartbreak. Without words, Mack managed to make her feel less broken. More whole. More hopeful.
“Are you able to bring the girls to the airfield tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yeah. We’ll come after I pick them up from school. Just gonna be hard to keep my hands off you,” he added in a husky, meaningful way.
She tilted her head to see him out of the corner of her eye. Why did this have to be so hard with so many obstacles in the way? The heart-stopping dangers of his Spec Ops job. The career-ending complications of her rank. Her head didn’t have the answers, and her heart wouldn’t listen to any warning signals. She pushed them aside to enjoy the here and now.
The closing of the dresser drawer roused Kristie from sleep. Turning over, she spotted Mack in the dim light from the ajar bathroom door.
“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What time is it?” She looked from the closed blinds to the nightstand.
He made his way to the edge of the bed. “A little after five.”
She groaned, laying her head back down on the pillow.
“You aviators have it easy.” He chuckled. “What time do you go in?”
“Not until this afternoon.”
He leaned over to kiss her. “Stay as long as you want. Or I could call in sick. Stay here with you.”
Tempting. The mood during dinner last night had been more subdued than their prior meals together, but they’d eventually fallen into easy conversation when planning the visit to the airfield. After cleaning the kitchen, he’d asked her to stay for a movie, which led to her spending the night.
It hadn’t been the romantic evening she’d envisioned, but helping each other work through real-life issues boded well for making this relationship work long-term. This morning was a new day. And seeing Mack not fully dressed was enough to put her in the mood. “Ray might suspect the real reason you don’t come in.”
“I think he’d understand. But the rest of the team might not. So,” he drawled, smiling down at her in one of his T-shirts. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Twenty-Seven
“Where are we going? What’s the surprise?” Darcy asked for the fourth time.
“If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Mack told her—again.
Darcy’s face scrunched as she tried to intimidate him into revealing the secret. He fought not to laugh. Keeping focused on the road prevented him from giving in to her.
When a Chinook helicopter flew low overhead, it was Amber who studied him, a smile lighting up her face. She’d probably figured it out, though she didn’t say anything, which kept her little sister in suspense. They approached the airfield sign a minute later. Darcy stared outside and tugged on his arm.
“We’re going to see helicopters! Aren’t we? Is Miss Kristie flying that one?”
“Not that one; hers isn’t that big. But she’s waiting for us.”<
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Darcy started bouncing on the seat once he confessed. Truth be told, he was nearly as excited as Darcy. Her acceptance of his role as dad made her even more attractive—as if he needed another reason. Kristie wanting children made it easy to picture her loving the girls as her own rather than treating them as an inconvenience or intrusion.
He barely got the truck in park before the girls piled out, pointing at the aircraft visible between the hangars. He directed them to the building that housed the company offices. His pulse thrummed through him. Professional. Keep it professional. He better not give her colleagues any reason to suspect this went beyond her showing a neighbor’s kids her aircraft.
He opened the door, and Kristie surged upward, a smile brightening her face.
“Hey, girls! Good to see you.” She introduced him and the girls to the crew, careful to mention they were neighbors, though Mack figured her crew recognized him from their prior training op and lunch. Kristie grabbed her helmet before they headed out of the office.
“Darcy, stay with us,” he warned when she skipped ahead toward the row of Black Hawks on the tarmac. She paused, twirled once, and motioned for them to hurry. Amber even hurried toward the waiting craft instead of doing her typical middle-schooler dawdle.
Kristie walked them around the helicopter, explaining how the two sets of blades controlled the height and direction while flying. The girls didn’t get excited about refueling or turbine engines; however, when Kristie asked if they wanted to sit in the cockpit, both piped up with a resounding “Yes!”
He lifted Darcy and plunked her down on the pilot’s seat while Kristie helped Amber into the left seat.
The girls’ heads rotated as they scanned the complex setup of buttons, switches, and controls.
“What’s this thingy?” Darcy pointed to a gauge in front of her. He shrugged, pointing to Kristie.
“Hang on.” She peered across the cockpit, then stepped up inside and knelt behind the communications console between the seats. For the next several minutes, she answered Darcy and Amber’s questions about the hundreds of instruments and indicators.