“Well I’ll help ya unpack if ya want,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. I really don’t have that much stuff, but the help would be nice so I nod, pointing him to the boxes piled in the corner of the kitchen.
“Well that would be mighty nice,” I pinch him on the shoulder, taking a swig of my beer. “If you wanna tackle the kitchen, I can get my clothes and bathroom stuff put away before gettin’ to my cousin’s house.” He grins and turns, trotting into the kitchen as I go back into the bedroom, flicking on all the lights to make sure they all work.
“What you got goin’ on at your cousin’s?” he yelled as I can hear him going through the plastic bags and the fridge door opening and closing.
Turning one of my duffel bags upside down on the full sized mattress, I start to sort through my clothing pulling open the drawers on the ancient oak dresser. “There’s a party for some friends,” I reply, hearing the clang of pots and pans going on out there. I barely hear the mumbled reply and we settle into unpacking. I turn on the radio plugged into the hallway socket and crank up the local rock station, seeing a smile from Jude over the counter island.
I’m zoned out, singing along with Halestorm when I turn into Jude’s chest, his arms going around my shoulders to steady me. “Sorry, but I’m all done out there,” he says over the music with a grin and I nod for him to help me hang things, tossing him some plastic hangers from the small closet. He hangs and folds without question until he gets to my red and black duffel containing my outfits for Subzero.
Before I can get to him from my position in the closet, tripping over hangers and empty bags, he holds up a mini camo leather skirt and brown leather bustier. “What is this little number?” he smirks, winking at me and whistling as he waves it around. “Haven’t seen you wear this one yet,” he jokes, pulling it out of my grasp when I try to take it from him.
I whip the bag off of the bed so he can’t pull anything else out and try to yank the camo one from his grip one more time, and he concedes. “Marco buys me these,” I say under my breath, turning down the radio and throwing the bag into the closet. Marco had purchased all of my little outfits so far, wanting me to look good and feel comfortable as I wasn’t one of the girls to walk around barely clothed like Melody and Shae are. “I’m working on payin’ him back,” I defend when Jude gives me a raised eyebrow look.
“Yeah sure,” his quirks, taking his right hand and making a loose fist, thrusting it up and down towards his mouth while making sucking and slurping sounds. “Payin’ him back,” he smirks, winking and I slap him hard in the chest, the sound echoing through the room and he flinches back, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down on his lap.
His fingers go to my chin and I can see his eyes running over my bruise as Marco’s had earlier and I pull from his grasp, trying to playfully kick him off, but his demeanor is now serious. “Marco said to watch out for you,” he mumbled, pointing to my cheek, “is that why?”
“Soon to be ex-husband,” I say with a shrug, flicking my hand up towards my face and standing from the bed, returning to putting clothes away. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout me Jude,” I turn back and wink, seeing him shake his head and return to folding.
“Alright then,” he mutters with a snort, handing me a group of t-shirts. “Just know you can call me, okay?” he asks, giving me a side long look and I nod. He helps me late into the afternoon, exchanging phone numbers as the sun first starts to disappear and he jogs away towards his trailer, three up and two across.
Running a brush through my dark hair and throwing on a red knit hat, I pull on a pair of brown boots, grabbing my American flag purse from the coat rack and I’m out the door, stopping to touch up my cover-up job on my bruise in the side mirror before cranking my car to life. I honk as I pass Jude’s trailer and am texting Rhea as I turn out onto the road, headed for her and Chad’s house.
“You know I coulda used you like an hour ago,” Rhea yells to me as soon as I walk in her front door, shaking off the chill of the setting sun. I mumble a reply, throwing my purse into one of the dining room chairs as I hear her coming down the stairs and I turn to her with a smile.
I am in awe of my cousin, slightly limping towards me with her four month old son on her hip. After being shot three times by her crazy stalker Duke Orr back in October, Rhea had under gone months of physical therapy, being limp free most days. Her hair was growing out, slow but sure and her extensions that had been attached by her best friend Kendall were at her shoulders now, curled and looking perfect. Holding my arms out she scoops Charlie off her hip and into them and I hug him to my chest, kissing his forehead a bunch of times as he gurgles and coos at me, grabbing at my shirt.
“I thought you were gonna text me when you got to your trailer?” she pointedly says, giving me a sharp look while she stacks solo cups to take outside. I can see from the corner of my eye that the fire is already roaring out there in the yard but I don’t want to look, knowing Bobby is already out there as his truck was on the street. He’ll make me lose all train of thought right now.
“I got side tracked,” I sigh, bouncing Charlie lightly on my hip as he sucks on his hand. Rhea huffs, throwing her hand to her hip and rolling her eyes at me and I grin. “A neighbor helped me unpack. A neighbor I happen to work with at Marco’s club.” She mumbled something that I didn’t catch but cut off my question as she started to dump ice into a glass pitcher. She knew I worked for Marco, but she didn’t know I danced. Rhea, along with everyone else for that matter, thought I did the books and tended bar at times at one of Marco’s dive bars, also in Waverly. What they don’t know won’t hurt them right?
“I’ll dress the lil’ guy up before we take him out there” I change the subject, seeing his little boots and coat on the table top and I plop down in the chair, sitting him squarely on my lap. His chubby little legs oppose me putting the boots on his feet, but I give him some kisses and he squeals, forgetting what I’m doing as I hear the sliding glass door open.
“Well hey Ellie,” Chad’s deep, smooth voice reaches me and I look up to see him standing near my shoulder, his blue eyes looking down on his son, moving over me and immediately frowning. His fingers go to my chin bringing the right side of my face into his view as his eyes are burning a hole into my skin.
“What the hell? Rhea did you see this?” he grinds out, motioning for my cousin to come to his side as I push his hand away, tugging on Charlie’s jacket with my face down.
“Leave it alone,” I say, handing the baby to him and standing, moving my way to the other side of the table to put some space between us. I can feel Rhea’s eyes roaming me and meeting them I can see her squint trying to make out what her husband was freaking out about. I turn my cheek to her and motion at it. Obviously my make-up hadn’t covered it as well as I had thought and her eyes go wide. My eye was still half red from the broken blood vessel and she quickly makes her way in front of me, touching my skin lightly with her fingertips.
“What do you mean leave it alone Ell? When did he do this?” the concern in her voice broke through my stubborn layer and I look her in the eye, seeing the sadness in the blue-grey depths. I don’t want anyone to worry about me, so I rub my hand up her arm, patting her on the shoulder and giving her a lopsided grin.
“He surprised me last night at the old trailer, but he left before I could call anyone,” I lie, trying to get them to back off but I can see Chad standing near the door, his eyes like steel on us. This was the SEAL that would forever be in him. The protector. He wanted to defend me, but I can’t let him risk his government job with NCIS just to get a little revenge.
“Please,” I turn my attention back to Rhea, pulling her in a hug that at first she tries to fight, but eventually gives in, hugging me back. “I’m okay. It’s just a bruise.”
“Just a bruise,” Chad scoffs, giving me an angry look. “Next time it’ll just be a broken arm or leg. Hell, Ellie, what if he decides not to leave one night and you can’t get to a phone.” His
voice is raising and it’ll undoubtedly draw others into the house so I move over closer to him, locking my eyes on his.
“And if I moved in here, it would just bring him here. What if you weren’t home one day? He would threaten Rhea and Charlie. I’d rather die than let that happen,” I ground out, my fists clenching at my sides. I’d let Jake kill me if it meant he’d never threaten what family I have left.
“At least we’d know you’d be safe here, with people nearby and people you can go to for help if you need it,” Rhea says softly, placing her hands on my shoulders from behind, pulling me into a side hug and resting her head on my shoulder. “Dana is nearby, along with Rosa and Reno. Kendall’s family is down the road,” she continues to list off the people I could go to and I put my hand up stopping her.
“I’m okay guys,” I plead, taking Charlie from his father and hugging him between his mother and I. “Now come on, let’s go have some fun with these guys before they ship off.” They both nod, Chad helping Rhea with a sweatshirt and carrying a pitcher of tea for her and we’re out in the chilled, fading sun.
There he is and he takes my breath away almost automatically. His tall lean figure is framed perfectly in jeans and a tight t-shirt with a flannel over top and a hooded sweatshirt, unzipped to seemingly showcase his torso just for me. His short dirty blonde hair is under a brimmed knit hat, cocked to the side and he’s propped up against the back of Chad’s Silverado with the tail gate down. His hazel eyes spot me and a perfect smile caresses his freckle dotted face, making my heart stop.
I waggle my fingers at him and immediately kick myself silently, smiling back at him as I head over to Rhea to hand over her son. I feel so stupid. I feel like a school girl again. It scares the shit out of me.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby
“Bobby’s catchin’ flies again guys, watch out!” I hear Fred Black joke as he elbows my arm, but I don’t avert my eyes from that pretty little thing walking on the other side of the bonfire following Rhea. Her blue-green eyes dart my way again and I give her another sideways smirk, tipping my beer at her which I can tell makes her giggle as she leans into Rhea and whispers something to her.
“You’re just jealous ol’ man,” I finally retort, knocking my SEAL team mate in the back making him spill his glass of beer on the front of his jeans. He grumbles over his shoulder at me as he wipes at the foam and I just laugh, taking another sip from my Bud Light and looking back to Ellie, finding Rhea staring at me. Her look tells me there’s something wrong, but as I look at her she nods to Ellie and shakes her head slowly, quietly telling me to stay back like she has since I first met her cousin.
“Don’t worry brother,” my LT, Austin French says, throwing his arm around my shoulder while taking a long chug from a bottle of Jack Daniels then handing it to me, “I’ll go do some recon and see what’s good.” He grins and winks, patting me hard on the shoulder as he adjusts his Navy baseball cap, leaving my side and heading straight for Ellie. I wasn’t going to worry about him; he does this every time Ellie is involved. He’ll go over there, flirt shamelessly with her making her giggle and laugh, riling her up to the point where she has to come over to our little group to dispel the lies he’ll feed to her. It’s all in his ‘wingman’ repertoire, which he uses well.
“Aren’t ya worried that LT will steal your girl Timmons?” I turn to see one of our new members, Lenny Hale, leaning on Chad’s tailgate next to me; his long neck craned watching French approach Ellie. I snort and shrug my shoulders, taking another drag from my beer bottle followed by a swift chug of the Jack. Lenny is short and stocky, his forehead only coming up to about my shoulder, but he’s tough as nails.
“Nah, I’m not worried Len,” I mumble and he nods in reply, flicking his eyes from mine to LT, then behind us to our other SEAL Team members. Am I worried? Jealous? Maybe, but worried? No way.
Slipping my eyes over the others gathered around closer to the fire, I stop on Ellie again. Her littlest mannerisms seem to pull at something inside me I’ve never felt before. The way she brushes her short hair back behind her ear only to have to do it again seconds later. The slight smile that quirks up on one corner of her mouth as French probably tells her some exaggerated hero story, then the giggle that follows makes me want to run over and throw my arms around her, pulling her close to feel her laugh glide over my skin. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, let alone some girl I’ve only carried on small conversations with. There’s just something about her that makes my heart jump up and beat to a different tune.
There’s something about her that makes me wish I still had a family to take her home to. My adoptive parents would have loved Ellie and her quirky little smile. They would have loved how her laugh seems to fill everyone with happiness.
My real parents, Ellis and Mary Jetts, died in a car accident when I was five years old, leaving me with no immediate family, so I was put into the State of Georgia’s foster care. I bounced around from hell hole to hell hole, getting smacked around by drunken foster fathers who only took in kids for the state money until I was ten years old.
My tenth birthday brought salvation; at least I see it that way. My social worker, the sweet Darla Knight, had taken me from a dirty trailer filled with other filthy children, to a big, open dairy farm in rural Georgia. That day I met hard-headed Harlis Timmons and his wife, Betty, and I immediately knew I wanted to live there. They adopted me two weeks later and I owe who I am today to their great parenting. Harlis had been older, ten years Betty’s senior, and a Navy veteran, pushing me to always do my best in everything. He taught me the value of hard work on that dairy farm and working weekends with his brother in their co-owned construction business. Betty was sweet and caring when it came to helping me win girls over and she taught me how to bake a mean apple pie.
Even now thinking about the day they died makes me mad and I take a long swig of beer to stop from grinding my teeth too hard. It was two months before my high school graduation and the Georgia State Troopers showed up at my little school, pulling me into the main office to deliver the news. Two twenty-something drug addicts had cornered my mom and dad in the kitchen not long after I had left for school, supposedly demanding money. The cops had deduced, and it no doubt happened, that Harlis had gone for the shotgun he always kept in the hallway closet and the two guys had shot him and Betty to death, taking the two hundred dollars that was in the coffee can on the fridge.
I had been torn up for weeks, not really attending school except for test days because I was eighteen and they couldn’t force me to go. I signed the papers to turn over the dairy farm to my uncle, Harlis‘s brother, and on the day of graduation, with my cap and gown still on, I walked into the closest Navy recruiters office, signing up for the next basic training ship out date. I haven’t been back to that little farming town since. It would be too hard for me to see who I once was compared to the man I am now.
I know deep down that good ol’ Harlis and Betty would be proud of me if they were still alive. They’d see what I see when I come off a mission. I’m helping the weak. I’m saving those in need and righting what wrongs I can. I’m doing what my country needs me to do and I’m being a good sailor, just like in the stories Harlis use to tell me of his Navy days.
Fingers wrapping around my bicep bring me from my day dreaming and I move my eyes from the fire down to those pretty little blue-green pools staring up at me. God, she even smells good, I quickly think to myself and smile down at her, loving the tiny giggle that escapes her perfect lips.
“What can I do for you Miss Ellie?” I ask, squaring my body to stand right in front of her as she keeps giggling, looking over her shoulder and pointing.
“Is that man always full of it, or just when he’s around me?” she laughs and I can’t help but smile, fighting off the urge to brush her hair behind her ear and let my touch linger on her cheek. I follow her gaze, taking in the scene she was laughing at.
French is up on top of one of the picnic tables, his shirt
off in the cold February air and he’s animatedly telling some sort of story with pretty much everyone’s eyes on him. Taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey I was holding onto, I reach around Ellie, offering it to her while discreetly brushing my arm along her middle pulling her a little closer to me. She takes it from me and with a sweet little grin and wraps her lips around it, tipping it back while I tamp down the need to be that bottle. To be the thing with her lips pressed up against it. Damn, I’m not use to feeling like this.
Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to my LT and shout, “Put your shirt back on old man.” He turns towards me and flips me off, flexing at the same time trying to show off.
“You’re just jealous boy,” he laughs along with everyone else, but jumps down, accepting a helping hand from Chad and Reno as he wobbles trying to put his shirt back on. The man sure did like to celebrate and as they leave him alone in one of the lawn chairs I can hear him grumble that he was just having a good time. I laugh at him quietly, Ellie turning on me with the whiskey still in her hand.
“And what is so funny mister?” she quips, her hand on her hip as she gives me a killer sexy look, taking another sip from the bottle. If she only knew what she was doing to me. I shrug my shoulders and lean back against Chad’s truck, smiling as she rolls her eyes at me. My shoulders tense and I shoot my hand out, taking her chin as gentle as I can between my thumb and fingers, turning her right side to me as I lower my face to within a whisper of hers.
“What the hell Ellie,” I grind out, trying to keep it in a whisper to not draw attention from my SEAL Team buddies nearby. Her eye was red, framing the beautiful blue-green and taking out the white. She tries to brush my grip from her skin, but I don’t let go. “Tell me,” I try to say with a little softness, trying not to let this anger seep out at her.
I Never Asked You To Save Me: Book 3 The Wakefield Romance Series Page 3