“You and Landon must have bought out all the remaining decorations in Seattle.”
“Oh, no. I had all of this in the attic. Landon brought it down after we picked up the tree. Did you and Ben have a nice dinner Friday night?”
She had all this in the attic and she never decorated? That gave me something else to be mad at Landon for, since her lack of holiday spirit in recent years was obviously his fault. And I was kind of hurt that she hadn’t told me about her plethora of decorations. I could have helped her make this winter wonderland.
“Something came up,” I replied, setting the cobbler on the countertop. “Ben had to cancel. I texted him about Christmas but he hasn’t replied yet, so I don’t know if he’ll be here.”
Her empathetic gaze followed me as I removed my coat. Beth understood my struggles with Ben better than anyone. We were both old pros at making excuses for the men we loved when they hurt us.
Speaking of which, Landon was nowhere in sight, and I was both grateful for and strangely disappointed by his absence. Forcing myself not to ask about him because I still didn’t know why Beth had sent him to my apartment (if she had), I carried my coat to the hall closet and hung it up before returning to the kitchen. Beth was watching me with an inquisitive look on her face. “You look nice,” she said.
I didn’t miss the question in her voice as she eyed my outfit. Our Sunday night dinners had always been casual affairs. I usually wore leggings or joggers and a sweatshirt, but today I’d dressed in a tan cardigan over a white shirt tucked into blue skinny jeans with knee-high boots. I’d blown out my hair, leaving it down but adding some loose curls before lining my eyes and brushing mascara on my lashes. I wasn’t exactly dressed up, but I wasn’t my normal slouch self, either.
Heat flooded my cheeks at being called out on my not-so-casual attire. It wasn’t like I wanted to impress Landon, I just didn’t want to look like a slob in front of him. Why? I had no idea, but it probably had to do with some sort of faulty wiring of my brain short-circuiting due to his big dark eyes and chiseled jaw. “Thanks.”
“Are you going somewhere after dinner?”
She was fishing, and I thought about making up an excuse for my appearance, but the look in her eyes told me she already knew the truth. “Nope.” I snapped my mouth shut and washed my hands instead.
Thankfully, the stovetop buzzer dinged, pulling Beth’s attention away from me. Giving me one last glance, she opened the oven door to remove a bubbling pan of cheesy chicken enchiladas, one of my favorite dishes.
“That smells amazing. Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“Landon’s in his room. Will you please go tell him dinner’s ready?”
I’d made the offer hoping she had some sort of cooking-related task for me, not a retrieve-the-enemy mission, but since I couldn’t take back my offer of assistance now, I slowly made my way down the hall to Landon’s room. There were only two bedrooms in the house. I’d never been inside either of them but had a pretty good idea which door led to tall, dark, and sexy. After pausing for a moment to straighten my outfit and smooth down my hair, then silently berating myself for being so ridiculously girly, I knocked.
“Come in.”
I wasn’t about to step foot in his personal space, but I did open the door to relay his mom’s message only to get an eyeful of his gloriously naked back. Landon’s shoulders were wide and muscular, tapering to a narrow waist. He wasn’t bodybuilder big, but the corded back muscle and well-defined biceps spoke of a practical strength. Landon’s muscles had come from hard work and training. Not only was his body well-built and beautiful, but it was also marked up with a few scars and some breathtaking ink. Wings were tattooed on the backs of his arms and he had some sort of medical insignia on his back. A hardhat was perched on the top of the insignia, with the American flag waving behind it.
Back to the door, he was searching through his closet. “Almost ready, Mom. Just need to grab a shirt.”
I didn’t correct him, didn’t say a damn thing, as I continued to stare, memorizing every muscle, every line of his ink. His body was beautiful in the way I imagined a gun would be: deadly, powerful, and sleek. I was no virgin, but the few men I’d been with hadn’t been built like Landon, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped in those arms.
“Mercy?”
He’d removed a shirt from its hanger and was holding it as he glanced over his shoulder, breaking me out of my lust-induced trance. My gaze darted up to his face. He was watching me.
“S-sorry to interrupt,” I stammered, sounding like a complete idiot. “Your mom wanted me to let you know that dinner’s ready.”
He spun around to face me, giving me a full view of his chiseled chest covered in even more ink, lined abs, and an incredible V that led down to the waistband of his low-riding jeans. I was trying not to stare, but I couldn’t help myself. Landon’s body was built for sex. He finally broke the trance I was in by pulling his shirt over his arms and working the buttons. Grateful for the cotton now covering his nakedness, I sought out his face again.
“See something you like?” he asked, the left corner of his lips sliding up in a panty-dropping smirk.
Embarrassed, and refusing to let him know I found him attractive, I scanned his room searching for something I could use to form a reply. My gaze stopped on the awards hanging above his bookshelf. “Yes. I had no idea you were good at science and math. Those awards are pretty impressive. Good job.”
Oh, God, kill me now.
I felt like a complete moron. The continued presence of his smirk told me he wasn’t buying my act for a second. With nothing more to say, and every reason to flee, I stepped back and closed his door, probably a little harder than necessary. Then I hurried to rejoin Beth in the kitchen.
She was dumping corn from a pot into a serving dish, and she paused long enough to glance behind me. “Where’s Landon?”
I shrugged. “Coming, I guess? By the way, why did you send him to my apartment this afternoon?”
“Oh, that.” She scraped out the last of the corn before setting the pot in the sink. “I needed a moment to get my thoughts in order. Will you please set the glasses on the table?”
What kind of an excuse is that?
She’d had seven years to get her thoughts together. Now, you’d think she’d want to spend every waking moment with her son. They had limited days together, and who knew the next time he’d decide to grace her with his presence? Instead of calling her out on her bullshit answer, I scooped up the glasses she was pointing at. Beth had been acting kind of shady since Landon had arrived, and I didn’t like it one bit. I couldn’t help but wonder if she trying to set me up with her son. Although the idea was flattering, it was impractical. He would be gone soon, and I was far too busy with the preschool for any kind of relationship. Still, I couldn’t seem to get his muscular back and chest out of my mind as I set the glasses of water on the table.
I probably should have dumped one of them over my head to cool off.
What was with that smirk?
Did Landon know I’d been ogling him? He seemed pretty damn proud of himself and his sexy body. Determined to deflate that ego of his, I basically ignored him when he joined us. Not my most mature moment, but I had a lot going on in my head and I couldn’t deal with the questioning looks he kept giving me.
Not like I was watching him. At least not intentionally.
Since Landon and I were both quiet at the table, Beth filled the silence with a recap of their weekend. She finished by asking, “Mercy, you don’t happen to have a volunteer packet at your house, do you?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I have my laptop bag, so probably. Why?” I asked, surprised by the sudden change in subject.
“When Landon walks you home after dinner, will you please check and give him a packet if you have one?”
Landon set his fork down and his shoulders tensed. “Mom, I said I would think about it.”
&nbs
p; “I’ll be working a lot of the time that you’re here. Will you really want to stay home alone? You’ll be bored out of your mind. And the children would benefit from having a man around. In fact, Mercy had a meeting with the president of the Dead Presidents Friday, and they’re planning to volunteer once a week, too, so there will be other men there that you’ll have something in common with.”
“The Dead Presidents?” Landon asked. “Is that some kind of band?”
“No. They’re a local motorcycle club of military veterans. They do a lot of good for the community. In fact, they just made the paper for their annual toy drive. Did you see that, Mercy?”
The idea of having Landon invading my workspace like he’d invaded my friendship with Beth was terrifying, making me want to crawl under the table and hide until whatever storm he’d rolled in on picked his ass up and took him back out of town. I barely managed to squeak out an affirmative yes before shoveling another bite into my mouth. If I was chewing, nobody could expect me to talk and I needed to think before I said anything stupid.
“What do you say, Landon?” Beth asked. “Don’t you want to come and help us at the school?”
I could feel his gaze on me, but I kept my eyes on my plate. Seeing him every day would wreck me, and I had no idea why. Sure, he was attractive, but I’d dealt with all kinds of attractive men before and none of them had made me want to dress up for Sunday dinner. I was a career woman, not some ditsy girl whose heart started fluttering every time a hot guy smiled at her.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Landon smile as he watched me, and my stupid heart started fluttering. “What would I be doing there, Mercy?”
His question felt like a challenge. He had to know how uncomfortable he made me, and the asshole was loving it. He was daring me to stop shoveling food into my mouth and participate in the conversation, maybe tell them both how I really felt about him volunteering.
I reached for my glass of water and sucked down a drink, holding up my index finger to let him know I needed a minute. Using the time to school my expression into something more professional, I set down the glass and took a deep breath.
“Volunteers do whatever the teachers need them to do. Sometimes they help with projects—cutting, gluing, things like that—and sometimes they sit with the preschoolers and remind them when it’s time to listen instead of talking to their neighbor. Volunteers also help with activities like playing basketball or handball with kids during recess or our physical fitness time. It can be pretty taxing, though, and if you think about it and decide you don’t want to spend your vacation at a preschool, nobody will blame you.”
Beth was looking at me like I’d just kicked her cat. She’d only ever heard me sell volunteering as an opportunity, but I refused to do that with Landon. If he chose to volunteer, it needed to be because he wanted to, not because Beth or I had talked him into it. And so far, it seemed like he was only thinking about it to appease his mom and mess with me.
“You’d love volunteering at the school,” Beth assured him. “Everyone does.”
I wasn’t so sure. “Do you even like children, Landon?” I asked.
He seemed taken aback by my blunt question. He scowled and snapped his mouth shut before furrowing his brow. Then his sexy lips twisted to the side as he thought. Finally, he answered, “You know, I’m not sure. I’ve never spent much time around kids.”
Beth straightened in her seat, a strangled sound escaping from her throat. “But what about your friend Gabe? You stayed over at his house half of your junior year, and he had younger siblings.”
“Mom, Gabe’s little sister and brother were annoying as hell. We used to lock them out of his room, so we could game in peace.”
Beth’s smile tightened as she glanced from me to Landon. “You’re a combat medic in the Army. I’m sure you can handle preschoolers,” she told him.
“It shouldn’t be about ‘handling’ them,” I chimed in. I loved Beth and wanted her to be happy, but I wouldn’t sacrifice the mental health of preschoolers so she could be close to her son. Even if part of me wanted him close, too. “We screen our volunteers carefully. Not only will you have to pass a background check, but you’ll also have to share your motivation for wanting to volunteer. So, let me ask you now: Why do you want to volunteer, Landon?”
His gaze shot to his mom for a moment before settling back on me. “I don’t even know if I want to,” he answered.
His honesty startled me. Then it gave me a whole new respect for the man. “Think long and hard about it before you do, then. Kids can tell when someone doesn’t want to be there, and they have enough fake people in their lives. They need to be surrounded by adults who genuinely care and are volunteering because they want to make a difference.”
“I won’t be here for very long.” Landon frowned. “How much of a difference can I possibly make?”
I shrugged. “None. Or all the difference in the world. It’s really up to you and whether or not you give a damn.”
“Mercy—” Beth started.
“No.” I cut her off. “I’m not trying to be a hardass here, and we always need more volunteers. But, if Landon wants to help out at the school, he needs to be doing it for the right reason. I didn’t grow up in this neighborhood, but I had my own complications throughout my youth, and I know how it feels when everyone expects you to fail because of who you are and where you’re from. I also know how life-changing it can be to have someone who really believes in you. These kids will face several challenges as they grow. I’m not subjecting them to anyone who won’t be in their corner and help prepare them to annihilate the limitations put on them by society for being below the poverty level. Not even for your son, Beth. I’m sorry.”
All my life people had told me I was too intense, too passionate, too intimidating about the things that mattered to me. Beth and Landon were watching me like everyone else did, no doubt wanting me to tone it down a bit. But I couldn’t change who I was. Nor could I lessen how important Bold Beginnings was to me. I’d sworn to protect the integrity of the preschool, and I would. No matter what.
“Landon, if you decide you want to come and help the preschoolers, and you can pass the background check, we’d love to have you. But if your motivation isn’t strictly about bettering the lives of those kids, I’m going to deny your application.”
He nodded, still watching me. “Understandable.”
Beth, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as accepting of my speech. “Landon would never do anything to hurt a child,” she said.
“I understand that. But I also know there’s a lot of room between help and hurt, filled with possibilities that I have no desire to explore. I’m going to get dessert” Desperate for a break from the anger and disappointment in her eyes, I stood and went into the kitchen to retrieve my cobbler.
Chapter 7
Landon
I had no desire whatsoever to spend my leave volunteering at a preschool, but I also didn’t think I had a choice. Mom’s heart was set on the matter, and I was dealing with enough guilt about being gone so long that I would have agreed to anything shy of singing Christmas carols to make her happy.
I’d always drawn the line at singing carols, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.
Mom had been talking about the school all weekend, making it out like it was the answer to every problem that plagued humanity. Then, when she’d come right out and asked Mercy for a volunteer packet, I knew I was done for.
It didn’t matter that I had no experience with children, I’d volunteer for Mom.
But then Mercy threw a monkey wrench into the whole scheme.
“Do you even like children, Landon?”
Mercy’s question had thrown me off. What kind of a monster didn’t like kids? They were basically little humans who needed help and care, and I’d never thought about their struggles or issues. I had enough of my own shit to deal with.
But here was Mercy, two years younger than me with her shit together
and refusing my help unless my motives were righteous. Did she treat all potential volunteers this way? If so, it was a miracle she had any help at all. Still, there was something so beautiful and pure about the way she talked about the school. I’d been right about her; she was like a campfire, blazing and bright. I finally understood why Mom had gotten caught up in Mercy’s fire for the preschool—why she was excited and happy about her job—and I had to admit that I felt a bit salty at being excluded.
“Why are you so passionate about what you do?” I asked Mercy while walking her back to her apartment after dinner.
I was holding the pan she’d brought her cobbler over in. It was empty, because we’d eaten the whole damn thing. Hell, I would have licked it clean if I’d thought I could get away with it. It was every bit as good as my mother’s, and the fact that Mercy had baked it made her even more of an enigma in my mind.
She gave me the side-eye but kept walking. “Aren’t you passionate about your job?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I guess. I like to save people. I like to know that they’re going to live and return to their families because I did my job, but I don’t talk about it like you do.” In fact, I’d never heard anyone talk about their job like Mercy did. Not only had she drunk the Kool-Aid, but she’d swallowed the cup it came in. It was clear to see that she was all in. No wonder she’d made director at such a young age.
Mercy stopped walking and turned to face me. It was cold out, but not raining. She was wearing her trench coat again but had left the blue umbrella at home. We stood under a street light, and with her long blonde hair and her pale skin, she looked almost ethereal as she folded her arms and stared me down. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course I want to know. Why would I ask if I didn’t?”
Rescuing Mercy (Special Forces: Operation Alpha): A Dead Presidents MC Spinoff Page 7