by Lori Foster
“Sometime?” He was getting shut down and he didn’t understand why. He couldn’t have totally read her wrong for nearly a year. Their camaraderie, their banter had been real. He had the printed-out proof. “I’d like to go tonight, but I should shower first. I’ve only eaten god-awful boxed in-flight meals since we took off.”
“Don’t you have anyone else you would rather hang out with?” She chewed her bottom lip nervously.
Was she wondering if he’d been truthful with her? Could she think he’d just used her and was looking for an easy hookup?
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Leah, you know everything about me.”
“Everyone has secrets.” Her smile tightened.
“Not me. I’m an open book with you.” Other than telling her just how deep his feelings for her went. But he needed to be sure it wasn’t all an illusion. He wanted to be careful—and sure —for both their sakes. “Do you really think I’m going to be heading over for a welcome-home dinner with my jackass old man who damn near killed my dog with neglect?”
Sympathy warmed her eyes. “I guess not.”
He pushed back the anger at his father and tried to lighten the mood. “If you’re worried I’m secretly a psycho or a guy looking to get lucky, parade me in front of family and friends before we go. You share the duplex with your mother, don’t you?”
“You already know that.”
Her mom had been widowed a year ago, so they’d bought the duplex and the bakery business together. “Right, because we do know everything about each other. It’s like we’ve been—” Dating? “—getting to know each other, intensely. We emailed more than I wrote in all of high school. We talked a helluva lot, too. And now I’m grateful to have the chance to speak to you face-to-face.”
To know, finally, that she smelled of lemons and home.
She placed her hand on his, twining their fingers together on top of Penny’s head. “Those emails, Facebook messages and Skype sessions were high points in my week. I worried about you being over there, and I’m so very glad you made it home.”
Someone cared if he made it back. This woman, who he hadn’t met in person until today but who knew so much about him, cared more than his own family. And it wasn’t as though she needed anything from him. She had her mom and a business, with a wide circle of friends.
Still, he saw that connection in her eyes again. Leah was looking at him, and finally, they were touching. His skin heated where her hand rested on his. Electricity shot through him, and he wanted to gather her in his arms to find out what she tasted like.
After eleven months of “dating,” he wasn’t exactly rushing things. He wasn’t some inexperienced teen. He was twenty-eight years old, a combat vet who’d served three rotations overseas. And no pen-pal letter from others on those earlier tours had come close to developing into what he’d experienced with Leah.
He was halfway in love with her, and he needed to figure out if he was going to fall the rest of the way.
He slid his thumb around to caress the inside of her wrist. “So? Are we on for dinner tonight?”
Her smile faded and her pulse sped up under his thumb. “There are a couple of things I should tell you first, things I, uh, failed to mention.”
Everyone has secrets.
Her words from earlier detonated in his brain like an unexpected roadside bomb.
Ah crap. This was the point where she would tell him she really had a husband and two kids tucked away in that duplex. That all those Skype sessions had been nothing more than a cyberaffair.
Damn it, the thought made his gut roil. He’d seen too many friends lied to and cheated on while they were deployed. Her uneasy shifting on the swing only spiked his anxiety.
Brody pulled his hand away, leaning back in the wicker chair, bracing himself. “What’s the problem?”
“Not a problem, exactly. Just…something about me you don’t know.” She motioned behind her to the metal ramp he hadn’t noticed earlier. “That wheelchair over there? It’s not my mother’s. It’s mine.”
Chapter Two
Leah waited for the inevitable awkwardness to descend.
She really should have told Brody about her paralysis before now. But five minutes into their initial Skype session, she’d realized he didn’t know she couldn’t walk. The shelter director hadn’t told him. For the first time in the two years since she’d been struck by a car while jogging she could…well…not run, exactly. But she could talk to a man without her wheelchair or crutches between them.
Sure, she knew there were good guys out there. Her fiancé had stayed with her all the way through her recovery from surgery. At first, she’d even believed he still loved her. He probably would have been with her now out of pity, out of obligation, if she hadn’t broken up with him once she’d detected the panicked, trapped look seeping into his eyes.
And she was certain that, given enough time, even a good guy like Brody would want to leave, too.
She shook off the memories of that heartbreak and focused on the present—focused on the tall, dark and hunky man in front of her. Brody radiated muscle-bound strength and athleticism with more warmth than the glowing red sunset. His tan-colored flight suit stretched across shoulders an NFL linebacker would kill to possess.
Although, more than anything, her fingers itched to smooth the exhaustion from the corners of his brown eyes, that kind of tenderness made her nervous.
Brody was here as a friend, saying thanks for taking care of his beloved dog. Their conversations may have been flirtatious at times, but only lightly so, never, never overtly sexual. She’d been careful of that, especially after noticing the heart-tugging way he cared for his pet. He really was a good guy who didn’t deserve being led on about her intentions while he’d been overseas. So then why had she been so scared to tell her “friend” everything?
She looked into his charcoal-dark eyes and found… Empathy. Compassion. And a flash of hurt hidden so far behind the rest she might have missed it.
Then he blinked away all emotion. “You’re in a wheelchair? Did you injure yourself? Break something?”
“My spine,” she answered dryly. “Two years ago. Monty’s my service dog.”
She’d lost so much in an instant. She’d been in her final semester of culinary school, then her whole life changed.
“I didn’t know.” He scrubbed his stubbled jaw.
“I didn’t tell you.”
“Neither did the animal shelter.”
She bristled. “Would you have said no to my offer to help if you’d known?”
“Of course not.”
“Because I am completely capable of caring for your dog and my own.”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “I’m not arguing with you. You’ve obviously done a great job with Penny. She’s actually better behaved than when I left. I can’t believe how quietly she’s sitting now rather than knocking me over. I’m truly thankful.”
Her defensiveness deflated. She could manage, but no doubt, everything was tougher. She used a wheelchair sometimes, but she could also use the metal crutches that she’d tucked under the blanket beside her. Thank God she’d come out here early, just in case he arrived ahead of schedule, so she could arrange herself and give herself time to ease into explaining. She’d wanted just a few final moments to enjoy being with him before she told him.
A few more moments to pretend the past two years hadn’t happened.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get defensive. I’m still…adjusting to the changes in my life.” To the way people saw her differently.
“Looks to me like you’re adjusting damn well.”
“Thanks, but, uh… I was a marathon runner before the accident.” She found herself falling right back into their easy way of sharing things. Except by telling him this, she knew it was more of a test. She kept her eyes locked on his. Watching. Reading every nuance. “A drunk driver hit me when I was out for a morning jog. It was an incomplete break at the L-2. That’
s lower down on the spine. The doctors say I’m lucky because I still have some sensation below the waist.”
“‘Lucky’ can be a relative term when so much has been taken from a person.”
She appreciated his insight, the way he said the very thing she felt guilty about voicing when others in the physical-therapy office couldn’t move their arms or were missing limbs. Many of them were military veterans that had made her think about and worry for Brody.
“I’m alive. With so many losing their lives overseas, I do realize how easily that drunk driver could have killed me.”
He reached for her hand again—no hesitation, just the straightforward man she’d known for eleven months. “Leah, you should have told me.”
The rasp of his calloused fingertips teased along her oversensitive palm, then the inside of her wrist. His hand eclipsed hers. His touch darn near engulfed her as her nerves pulled tight and focused on that one spot. Since the sensation in her legs had dulled, it was as if her other senses were doubled.
Right now, more like tripled.
No doubt she’d been attracted to him. Good God, he was serious eye candy. Funny to talk to. Intelligent to correspond with. Now to discover that the feel of his skin against hers could send lightning strikes through her? Her body was on sensual overload.
She’d dated a couple of guys after leaving the hospital. She knew she could still be turned on, have sex, even reach completion with some extra work and creativity. But what she felt now in this simple hand-holding surpassed anything she’d experienced before or after her accident. She needed to get her head together fast and figure out what to do next.
Gulping down the urge to just kiss him, and to hell with risking her heart, she said, “You’re right. I should have explained everything. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
He nodded tightly, still holding her hand. Other than that, he didn’t move, just clasped her fingers and looked into her eyes as if he couldn’t get enough of seeing her in person. The same way she couldn’t get enough of looking at him, taking in all the details that even the best pixilation couldn’t capture.
Like the way his close-cropped hair curled just a hint with perspiration. Or how she now knew he used Dial soap and had a crisp sprinkle of hair along his wrists.
No telling how long she would have just stared at him if Penny hadn’t nuzzled their hands, eager for some of that attention, too.
“So, Leah, are you still interested in dinner tonight? I know of a couple of places that allow pets if you’re eating outside.”
Dinner, tonight, with Brody. God, it was tempting to actually give it a try. Penny barked. In agreement? Or disapproval? Monty pawed harder at the window, as if he wanted out to join them.
Of course, he went nuts when the mailman was outside. Or when anybody approached the house—
Oh crap.
How could she have forgotten the second thing she hadn’t told Brody? Her stupid, stupid plan to give herself distance from him and the very real possibility that he could break her heart?
“I’m going to have to pass on dinner.” She grabbed Penny’s leash from beside her on the swing and thrust it at Brody. “You need to leave.”
He squeezed her hand once. “Are you sure about that?”
“Very sure,” she answered, already inwardly wincing. “Turn around. That guy in the Jeep behind your truck? That’s Chet. He’s my date.”
“Date?”
Brody went still. Really still. Regret stabbed through her. She’d been so sure that when she saw him, when he realized she was paralyzed, he would be ready to run. So she’d set up a safety net for her pride. She’d agreed to go with one of the shop’s customers to his firehouse cookout.
Brody’s hand slid from hers and she clenched her fist to keep from reaching for him. He took the leash from her other hand. This was supposed to be his homecoming, and she’d been thinking only of herself, of her pride. She chewed her bottom lip as the Jeep door slammed. Time was short.
Brody shook his head. “This Chet guy is a new relationship, if it’s even that.”
“I’m that transparent, huh?” she whispered, praying Chet wouldn’t hear their conversation over the bullfrogs and distant waves.
“I’ve been looking in your eyes for the past eleven months,” he said matter-of-factly while clipping Penny’s pink leash to her collar. “You may not have told me about your injury, but I do know the interest, the chemistry between us was—is—real. Don’t bother denying it.”
Standing, Brody looped Penny’s leash around his hand. “That Chet dude may be your date, but there’s no ring on your finger. So I’m serving notice. I don’t give up easily.”
Brody officially hated Chet and he’d never even met the guy before he’d picked Leah up for their “date.” The lucky bastard had gotten to spend the evening with her while Brody hung out here on her porch swing like a sap, waiting for her to come home. He reminded himself to take heart. Her eyes, her speeding pulse earlier had made it clear who she was interested in—and it wasn’t Chet.
Once the guy had arrived, Brody had made tracks out. He’d gotten his point across to Leah that they would need to talk more. That he wasn’t going to pretend the connection between them didn’t exist. He figured he had a limited amount of time to accomplish a boatload of things. He’d gone home to his small houseboat—freshly out of dry dock. He’d showered, fed Penny, fed himself and returned to Leah’s.
Now he waited for her on the front porch. Fresh jeans and an LSU T-shirt felt strange after a year in a uniform. Strange, but good. Monty had come through the open doggy door to join Penny, lying across Brody’s feet. Sitting here on a porch swing with potted plants and a couple of dogs, he had a sense of hominess he’d never experienced in a lifetime of being shuttled between his mom and dad. Neither of them had wanted to be parents, but they’d housed him, fed him. They’d done their duty.
He’d expected his dad to do at least that much for Penny. Maybe a part of him had even hoped for more from his father. Period. He toed the porch swing into motion, letting the night wrap around him and ease his still-simmering anger at his old man.
The screen door on the other side of the duplex squeaked and Brody sat up straighter. Leah’s mother, Kay, poked her head outside. “Brody Ward? Oh my God, welcome back, warrior man. It’s good to see you here on U.S. soil.”
She stepped the rest of the way outside, a glass of tea in her hand. He’d met Kay briefly in a couple of the Skype sessions. She wore knee-length exercise pants and a long T-shirt. Her hair was blond like her daughter’s, but lightening with hints of gray. They shared the same athletic frame, except Kay stood on both feet. A sense of what Leah had lost washed over him.
Kay strolled from her side of the porch to Leah’s, resting a knee on the wicker chair.
“Sorry to have missed welcoming you home earlier.” She placed the glass of tea on the end table by the swing. “I was holding down the fort at the store so Leah could take the afternoon off to meet you here.”
“I wouldn’t have minded coming to the shop to pick up Penny.”
“I believe Leah preferred a place without interruption so you could enjoy your reunion with your dog.” She smiled sadly. “And so she could tell you about her accident.”
Yet she’d set up a date to put an end to the meeting…in case it hadn’t gone well? To give herself a pride-saving out if he’d turned out to be the kind of jerk put off by her paralysis? Instead of easing his frustration, that merely ramped it higher. Apparently, she didn’t know him as well as he’d thought—just as he didn’t know everything about her.
“Mrs. Russell—”
“I’ve told you before, call me Kay. You make me feel old, as if being a widow doesn’t make me feel older already.” Kay couldn’t be more than around fifty. Leah was twenty-six.
Since he intended to get to know Leah better, he was best off not alienating her mom. “All right, Kay, then. Do you mind if I wait here for Leah to finish up her, uh, date?”
/> “A date? Her favor for a friend, you mean,” Kay said, confirming Brody’s impression about the outing.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Leah’s not seeing anyone else?”
“Not since she broke up with her fiancé a little over a year ago.”
Fiancé? Crap. More secrets. There was a story there but he didn’t know how far he could push Kay for confidences. And honest to God, he would prefer that Leah started telling him these important details herself. So he settled for, “Thanks for letting me know this Chet guy isn’t someone I need to worry about.”
“You bet. I’m happy to see she didn’t chase you off.” She shoved away from the chair.
“Well, I’m going to turn in. I’ve got an early morning baking at the shop. There’s a big shelter fundraiser at the park behind Three Pups and a Pony tomorrow.” She paused, smiling. “It really is good to have you home safely.”
The door swished closed after her.
Leaning, he scratched both dogs’ heads. He wondered why Leah hadn’t taken her service dog with her, but that was just another question he would ask her.
Soon, apparently, since Chet’s Jeep was pulling up now at—he glanced at his watch—only 9:37. An early night. A very good sign.
He was surprised at how fluidly she moved from the Jeep to the sidewalk using her crutches. Given the way she was currently refusing to let Chet escort her to the door, the date definitely hadn’t turned into a great romantic outing.
Ooh-rah.
Since she had now officially sent Chet on his way, the Jeep rumbling down the street, things would be considerably less awkward. Because he couldn’t deny the truth. He wanted more than Leah’s friendship.
Brody cleared his throat. “That was some passionate good-night handshake.”
“Oh my God! You startled me,” she gasped, and nearly lost her balance on the crutches. Monty loped down the porch and stopped alongside her, wide chocolate eyes alert.
Brody kept his seat on the porch swing. She had it under control, and he suspected, given her prickly pride earlier, she would be more upset if he treated her like a fragile flower.