Hell Yeah!: Gun Shy (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Sabrina York

  “So. Andrew.”

  He turned around to see Emma standing behind him with a whisky. “Yeah?”

  At the sound of his voice, she unerringly set the tumbler before him. “She’s been talking about you.”

  “Um, who?” He had a pretty good idea.

  “Melissa.” She cocked her head to the side and stared through to his soul with sightless eyes. “Want some advice?”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t hurt her.”

  What? This again? “I don’t plan on it.”

  Emma snorted. “No one ever plans on it. But if you do hurt her, I’ll have your guts for garters.”

  “Heard. But I’m telling you, my intentions are noble.”

  “Noble?” The way she said it, she didn’t carry much truck with nobility.

  “I really like her. I want what’s best for her.”

  “And what is best for her?”

  He shrugged. “At the moment, a friend.”

  “That’s all?”

  “As long as that’s all she wants.”

  Emma blew out a breath, as though considering his words. “All right then. Drink’s on the house.”

  “Thanks.”

  She turned to walk away, but then stopped and glanced back at him. “Want some more advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “She really hates beards.”

  He barked a laugh. “How do you know I have a beard?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Maybe I can smell it?”

  The thought horrified him.

  She laughed. “Or maybe she told me.”

  Oh, thank God. And then, “Can you really smell beards?”

  Her shoulder lifted. “I can when guys use that beard oil. It has a particular…odor.”

  “Wow. I did not know that.”

  But then there were lots of things he hadn’t known.

  Like the fact that Melissa didn’t like his beard. He’d started growing it as a SEAL, because the facial hair made them stand out less in Iraq. Then he’d kept it because, well, because he’d kept it.

  But now that he knew she didn’t like it…

  Well, that fucker was going to have to go.

  Andrew was supposed to pick Melissa up at Millie’s on Sunday afternoon, and then head out to Aron McCoy’s for Sunday supper, but he was late. Melissa sat in an empty booth and sipped her coffee, scrolling through her email messages as she waited.

  The bell on the door tinkled and she glanced up.

  Her gaze locked on the man who’d just stepped inside.

  Her heart shot up into her throat.

  Holy God.

  He was gorgeous.

  A gorgeous, beautiful hunk of man.

  Shaved clean.

  Her pulse thudded. Drool collected in her mouth.

  How on earth had she not remembered how perfect he was?

  Because it was Andrew, but bereft of that scraggly beard.

  Holy God.

  Had she thought him ominous with it?

  He was practically devastating without it.

  Especially when he grinned, which he did now. Dimples erupted.

  She sat there, gaping, like a landed trout.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  She shook her head, speechless. Practically mindless. “I need a minute.”

  “Um…okay.” He sat on the bench across from her.

  She stared.

  Stared so long he rubbed his cheeks self-consciously. “I, ah, do you like it?”

  Like it?

  Hell. How did she answer that?

  “Melissa?”

  “Andrew.” Something of a sigh.

  “Emma said…”

  Her stomach churned. “What did Emma say?”

  “She told me you don’t like beards. So…I shaved it.”

  “For me?”

  He nodded.

  Something in her heart trilled. No one had ever made such a gesture for her. Baron would certainly never have lifted a finger to please her.

  “So… Do you like it?”

  “I like it.” She hated that her voice broke. “I like it very much. It makes you…”

  “Yeah?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “It makes it easier to see you.”

  “It was just a beard,” he said with a laugh.

  He didn’t understand what she meant. What she really meant. With the beard gone, she could see him. His features, the light in his eyes, his smile. His soul, perhaps.

  “I really like it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “And, Andrew?”

  “Yes, Melissa?”

  “Thank you.”

  His grin was sheepish and maybe a little pleased.

  All of a sudden, she wished they didn’t have plans for dinner.

  She wished they could go to his place, make pizza and eat it on the deck, watching the sunset.

  But there would be other nights. Other dinners. Other evenings.

  She was sure of it.

  Chapter Eight

  He must have expected all the McCoys to stare at him like he was a monkey in a zoo, because when they didn’t, when they all just welcomed him with hugs and smiles, he was surprised.

  Andrew was also surprised by the sheer numbers of them. He must have forgotten how many of them there were, and then, if one added in the wives and girlfriends, various children, members of the neighboring McCoy clan and assorted friends…it was hardly an intimate Sunday supper.

  It was more of a festival.

  In the backyard.

  With the cast of Ben Hur.

  But still, there was less pressure like this. He could hide in the throng.

  Until Aron found him and escorted him into his office.

  He’d forgotten how ominous Aron could appear. And Isaac. And Jacob. And Noah.

  Andy felt like that poor schmuck called to meet with the Godfather on the occasion of his daughter’s wedding or some shit.

  Still, they all met him with extended hands. That was a good thing.

  “So. You’re seeing Melissa?” Aron asked as Andy took a seat.

  Yeah. First words out of his mouth.

  Andy went for the snarky grin. “Wow. Your sources are amazing.”

  “Lose the attitude, Grant,” Noah muttered.

  Andy nearly chuckled. Noah had never taken any shit from anyone. “Sorry, but I have to admit, it’s a little annoying being raked over the coals each time I see one of you. And…” He gestured around the interrogation circle. “There are a lot of you.”

  “You know what our issues are,” Aron said.

  “I sure as shit do. You’re tarring me with my father’s brush.”

  To his credit, Aron winced. “It’s not like that. We’re just looking out for Mel.”

  “I get it. And I don’t resent that. I en-fucking-courage that.”

  “Then what’s the issue?”

  Andy blew out a breath. “We used to be friends.”

  That seemed to gut him. “We…we are. Still friends. Shit, Andy.” Aron raked his fingers through his hair.

  “Look. I’m not my father. I believe it. She believes it. I would love for you to believe it.”

  “Wait. The two of you have talked about this?” Isaac asked.

  “We have. I told her about my father. She told me I was an idiot for worrying about that pedigree.”

  Aron leaned forward. “She did?”

  “Yeah. She says she doesn’t see it in me, whatever the hell that means.” The turds exchanged a speaking glance. But then they nodded to each other, which was probably good.

  “Mel is pretty astute,” Jacob said.

  “She didn’t see the signs with Baron,” Noah grumbled.

  Aron shook his head. “She was a lot younger then.”

  “You should see her at the bar,” Isaac added. “She’s pretty good at reading the patrons.”

  “Right, but could she overlook that pretty face?” Jacob asked with a frown.

  “I’m here in
the room, you know,” Andy said.

  “She’s not going to let a pretty face lead her into danger.”

  “Danger?” That was hardly the case.

  “I agree. If she accepts him, so should we.”

  Noah grumbled at that.

  “Right,” Isaac said with a too-wide grin. “After all, we know where he lives.” This, in a hiss.

  Holy shit. Enough of this. “Look, why don’t you just bring her in here and ask her what she wants?” Andy snapped.

  It unnerved him that all eight eyes focused on him with laser-like intensity. As though they were all thinking about it.

  Which apparently, they were.

  Aron nodded and Jacob rose and went to the door.

  “Seriously?” Andy wailed.

  Yeah. Seriously.

  How humiliating.

  But if it was what he had to endure to have their blessings, so be it.

  Melissa had no idea why Jacob came to fetch her—and right in the middle of a fascinating conversation with Cady about heaven for animals. She was pretty sure there was a heaven for animals and Cady was the only one of her friends that didn’t roll her eyes when Melissa mentioned it. But she had a suspicion that whatever Jacob wanted to talk about had to do with Andrew, so she went with him.

  He led her to Aron’s den, where a pack of predator wolves circled around Andrew. Not that Andrew looked intimidated, but he did seem disgruntled.

  It was only fair that she save him from whatever this was.

  She sucked in a breath and plastered on a wide grin.

  “Well, hello, boys.”

  “Melissa.” They all nodded and then promptly refused to meet her eyes.

  Yeah. She’d figured as much.

  “We have something we want to ask you,” Isaac said.

  “Okay.”

  “About him.” Noah jabbed a thumb in Andrew’s general direction.

  “We worry about you,” Aron said.

  “I know you do, and I love you for it.” Honestly. Was this what it was like having brothers?

  “You know about Andy’s history…”

  She stared at Noah. “I know about his father’s history.”

  “Apples and trees,” Jacob muttered.

  “Because it’s all about the genes, right?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. “We’re just destined to be the same as our parents. We have no will. No choice. No chance of changing anything.”

  “That’s not what I mean—”

  “Can you imagine what a dismal world this would be if that were true?”

  Aron stood. Tried to look all ominous and protective. Which he did. But she was not intimidated. “Melissa. We just—”

  “I know. I know. And I appreciate it. But I am telling you, Andrew is not like his father and he is never going to be like his father. Or Baron. I can see it in his eyes. Can’t you?”

  “See it in his eyes?” The guys all exchanged bemused glances.

  “Do you think I would sleep with him the first night I met him if I didn’t trust him?”

  Okay. Probably not the right thing to say.

  All their heads whipped around and they pinned ferocious glares on Andrew. He lifted a shoulder and said, “Well, that is true.”

  “What?” Isaac roared.

  “Yes.” Melissa caught his gaze. “I slept in his motel room that night. Because I was mugged on the way home from work and I was afraid to be alone. He slept on the floor. On the hard floor.”

  “It wasn’t that hard,” Andrew said.

  “It was very hard.” She crossed her arm and scowled at one McCoy after the other. “Is that something a douchecanoe would do?”

  “No,” Noah muttered.

  “He brought me breakfast. Fixed my car. Then gave me a job doing something I really love.” She glanced at Isaac. “Not that I don’t enjoy waitressing, but design is my passion.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he said in a small voice.

  “I did,” Andrew said, but everyone ignored him.

  Aron blew out a breath. “Well, okay then,” he said. “If you’re sure—”

  “I am.”

  “We’ll lay off.”

  “But,” Noah added with a sharp eye on Andrew. “We’ll be watching you.”

  “Well,” Melissa said in a chipper tone as they left the interrogation room, arm in arm. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Andy said on a laugh. He tugged her closer. “I can’t help feeling like I just faced down your father and a horde of protective brothers.” Huns, maybe.

  She grinned. “You kind of did.”

  “It’s nice that you have people who care about you so much.”

  “It is.”

  It was.

  Annoying, but nice. He wouldn’t mind having a clan like that close around him. He wouldn’t mind belonging.

  But again, belonging meant putting down roots.

  As much as he’d resisted doing so, he could feel them forming. Sinking into the ground and tying him to this place. The kiln, the dogs, the woman he wanted in his arms. All those things tugged at him. All those things made the thought of leaving more and more unpalatable.

  “Come on. I need to show you off.” She tugged him to the backyard where the barbeque was in full swing.

  “Show me off?”

  “Mmm hmm.” Her grin was brilliant. It made him lose his focus, and he stepped wrong and pain screamed up his leg. He couldn’t hide his flinch.

  Her grin faded. “Are you all right?”

  “All right?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  She frowned. “You’re making a face.”

  “So are you.”

  “Cut it out. You know what I mean. Are you in pain?”

  He forced a toothy smile. “A little.”

  “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

  “No need.” Damn, this was excruciating.

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  He barked a laugh. How many doctors had he seen? “I just need a hot shower.”

  Her glower was ferocious. “You going to wash the pain off?”

  “Or a good masseuse.”

  “You should talk to Joseph.”

  “I’d prefer not to have him as a masseuse.”

  She growled at him a little. He was being deliberately obtuse. “I’m talking about Cady. She has magic hands.”

  “Cady?”

  “Joseph’s wife. There she is. Come on.”

  She practically dragged him across the lawn to the spot where a beautiful, exotic nymph sat beneath a tree teaching some toddlers how to make tiaras from daises. It was a whimsical vista, but nowhere near as whimsical as Cady’s smile when she glanced up at their approach. Her eyes twinkled as she leaped to her feet and said with no preface, “So this is him?”

  Melissa grinned. “Cady McCoy, meet Andrew Grant.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Andrew Grant,” Cady said in a teasing voice.

  “Andy, please.”

  “So much that I’ve been dying to meet you.” She waved to the children, hooked her arm in his and led the way toward one of the picnic tables. “How did the inquisition go?”

  Andy chuckled. “You knew that was coming?”

  Cady’s gaze was quizzical. “Didn’t you?”

  “I…ah… Kinda. Yeah.”

  “Did it bother you?” She asked in a gentle tone, a soothing one, one that compelled him to answer with the truth.

  “A little. And then I realized they just…”

  “They just what?”

  “They care about Melissa. And I care about Melissa. So why fight it?”

  Cady threw back her head and laughed. “An excellent strategy when dealing with the McCoys. We do circle the wagons.”

  He winced again as he stepped over some uneven ground and though Cady clearly noticed, she didn’t mention it. Rather she waved at the table. “Sit.” Not a request.

  Hell, she was as adamant as Joseph. Or Isaac. Or Noah.

&nb
sp; “Oh, Melissa, would you mind bringing us some lemonade?” she asked.

  Melissa tipped her head to the side and her gaze skated from one to the other. “Are you going to be nice to him while I’m gone?”

  “Should I?”

  “You absolutely should. He’s special to me.”

  “Then I will do my best.”

  “Excellent.” Also excellent was the grin Melissa tossed at him over her shoulder as she headed for the beverage table.

  Cady didn’t wait long before launching into the private conversation she desired. “She likes you a lot.”

  “I like her a lot.”

  “I can tell.” Her smile blossomed. “The two of you are good for each other. In a healing way.”

  “A…healing way?”

  “Totally. You give her the strength she needs and she gives you the purpose you’ve been seeking.”

  Damn, that was pretty on target.

  “Don’t be surprised. I see things. Things other people don’t.”

  “So you’re not going to grill me?”

  “Not about Mel. I can tell you are perfect for each other. It makes me happy.”

  “What would you like to ask me about?” Because there was obviously something.

  “Joseph tells me you were in the service.”

  “I was.”

  “In Iraq.”

  “Yup.”

  Her gaze fixed on him, though her eyes were slightly unfocused. “You lost most of your unit to that IED.”

  Andrew stilled. Swallowed. “I didn’t tell Joseph about that.” He hadn’t told anyone about that.

  Cady set her hand on his thigh. Right where it hurt. But somehow, at her touch, the pain eased. “You would have been fine, but you had to run back in and try to save James.”

  His throat locked. His pulse thrummed. “I didn’t.” He didn’t save his friend. Hell, he hadn’t even saved himself.

  “You couldn’t save him. Big difference. But the point is, you tried. You put yourself in harm’s way to save another. That says a lot about a man.” Their gazes locked. Some weird understanding passed between them. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made him feel…redeemed. At least a little.

  She broke the connection with a light laugh. “That thigh is all knotted. You need to come and see me sometime. I think I can help.”

  “She’s a great masseuse,” Joseph said, coming around the table with Melissa. Between the two of them, they had four glasses of lemonade.