Unhurt

by Thomas, K. S.

  “Somebody tell me what the hell is going on, or there will be no fajitas for anyone between the ages of five and fifty!”

  Hell, I’d face permanent humiliation before I’d pass up a lunch that Aunt Deb made. My eyes flew back open and I reluctantly turned to face her. “It’s just to even the playing field when I go back to court. I tried to get Mattie, but he’s busy playing house with Bree.”

  “But she got lucky because hot contractor Derek was available to fill in and take his place.” He was still smirking as he came to stand beside me.

  “Is that going to be your thing? Talking about yourself in third person? Because it’s weird.”

  “Weirder than talking to yourself while brushing your hair?” Damn.

  “Yeah, a bit.”

  Aunt Deb slammed her spatula down on the bar between us to get our attention again. “You’re serious. The two of you are getting married?” She wasn’t exactly pissed, but there was definitely something happening with her tone. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “How exactly is this going to work?”

  “Well, we got our marriage license today, but we have to wait three days until we can go through with it. Then, Derek will move in and pretend to be my husband while I deal with Travis. After everything is all done and over with, we’ll get a quickie divorce and life can go back to normal.”

  “What about Wyatt?”

  “What do you mean, what about Wyatt? Who do you think I’m doing this for?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down so he wouldn’t hear me. The Lion King had been on in the living room when we walked in and he’d already gotten bored with the conversation and wandered off to go watch it.

  “How are you going to explain to him that this is just pretend?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not. I can’t risk it. They’ll ask him questions this time around. He’ll need to tell them that we’re a real family. He’s just a baby, Deb. He’ll get over it in no time once everything goes back to how it was.”

  I didn’t really believe that. I just really wanted to.

  “And what about the wedding?”

  “What about what wedding?” There would be no wedding. There would be a guy in a suit, two I dos and then that’d be the end of it.

  “You can have it here. I’ll bake the cake, cook the food. It’ll be easy.” She turned her attention back onto lunch, suddenly satisfied by her line of questioning.

  “There’s going to be cake?” It was the first thing Derek had said since Aunt Deb had started her inquisition.

  “No, there will be no cake.” I went after my aunt. “There will be NO wedding.”

  She completely dismissed me. “Of course there will.”

  Next thing I knew I was following her around the island in the kitchen while she went about finishing lunch. “I don’t think you’re understanding this. This is a sham. We aren’t getting married for real.”

  “No, honey. I don’t think you’re understanding this. You got a marriage license. Promises will be made and your marriage will be legal and very, very real. So, there will be a wedding. Besides, can you honestly tell me odds are in my favor I’ll ever have another chance to throw you a reception?”

  She kinda had me there. If I hadn’t been backed into a corner by Travis, she wouldn’t be having this chance now. Ugh. Fucking Travis. And fucking weddings.

  “I’m going to want chocolate. None of that fondant shit. I want real icing. I don’t care if it’s not as pretty.” Shoulders slumped I surrendered and walked over to the cupboards lining the back wall. The table still needed to be set and I was starving, so there was no time like the present to make that happen.

  ***

  For a minute or two I just sat by on a bar stool and watched while Joss moved around the kitchen, collecting what she would need to set the table. Then, because I’m no asshole, I forced myself to stop staring and get up and help her. It was inevitable though. No matter how I tried to busy myself, my eyes continued to seek her out.

  Joss was gorgeous. I’d thought so the first time I’d seen her and the impression hadn’t changed much in the few weeks that had passed since then. If anything, I was finding her more and more attractive. Intoxicating almost, the way her green eyes pierced through me, insisting on seeing what was below the surface.

  Joss didn’t have time for superficial. She wasn’t interested in shallow and meaningless. In her world, everything had depth. Most of all, her. Part of me wondered just how long it would take to explore all there was in the bottomless well that led straight to the soul she kept hidden so beautifully by those emerald colored stones. That’s what they were. Stones. Strong, calculating, intense. And absolutely breathtaking. But those emeralds weren’t the real treasure. Merely the decoy gems used to distract the fools. The real deal was hidden below. I knew. I had already seen it.

  “You know, no one is going to want to use those napkins if you keep bunching them up in your hands like that.” She crinkled her nose at me. “What’s wrong? Having issues with sweaty palms or something?”

  I grinned. “No, jackass. I would have to get nervous to have sweaty palms. And SEALs don’t get nervous.”

  For a moment she just stared at me, those green beasts taunting me. Then, she took several steps toward me, closing the gap between us entirely until she was standing so close I could feel her warm breath on my collar bone as she spoke.

  “Ever?”

  I cleared my throat. “Uh-huh...although we should probably grab new napkins. Just to be sure.”

  She smirked, took the clumped-up paper towels from my hands and turned away, finally breaking the gaze she’d had me locked into this whole time.

  Shortly after, we were all settled around the large oval table. Wyatt had insisted on sitting right beside me. Joss hadn’t seemed too impressed by his eagerness to get on his male bonding, but I hadn’t shared her concerns. Wyatt was an awesome kid. Smart, and even at four, he had a spectacular sense of humor. Watching him in action took me back to the years I’d spent overseas. The children I’d been around back then had lacked Wyatt’s excitement for life. They’d been missing that air of innocent curiosity he approached everything with. They’d been broken to the point it was hard to even view them as children at all.

  “Everything okay?” Joss sat across from me, an unexpected tenderness in her expression.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just trying to remember the last time I had fajitas that tasted this good.” I turned toward Aunt Deb, smiling broadly in hopes of covering up whatever traces of my past had shown on my face moments before.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying them. You’ll be pleased to know they’re a Wednesday regular, so be sure and come home for lunch if you want some again.”

  I laughed. Come home for lunch. Come here. Sit down for family meals. It should have felt surreal. Strange. Slightly uncomfortable at the very least. But it didn’t. It felt completely normal. It actually felt like home. More so than any place I’d lived since I’d moved out of my parents’ when I was eighteen.

  I continued eating in silence, enjoying the quiet chatter, supplied mostly by Deb and Wyatt. When I glanced up to meet Joss’s gaze I realized she’d been watching me the entire time. Questions were etched into those dark green irises that I knew I could never answer and secretly hoped she would never ask. I always prided myself on being perceptive. Noticing details most people missed was an important skill to master in my line of work. It wasn’t often I found myself in the company of someone who was just as observant as I was. There would be no hiding things from Joss. Time would tell which one of us would be able live with her learning the truth and which one of us would end up running away. Time. After seeing that look in her eyes I knew it was the only thing standing between her and my past.

  After lunch, Aunt Deb insisted on cleaning up alone in spite of having already done all the cooking, and so, Joss, Wyatt, Hattie and I all ventured outside to start on our gardening project.

  “Wheel barrow?” I asked, staring at the full load
of soil I had in the back of my pick up.

  She pointed over toward the side of the house. “Over there. But hang on, I’ve got a better idea.”

  Curious to see what that might be, I leaned against my lowered tail gate and waited.

  Joss disappeared inside of her workshop. She was barely gone for a minute when I heard quite a bit of commotion. Then, next thing I knew, she was strolling back out pulling some sort of a makeshift flatbed wagon consisting of two wooden pallets on wheels and a massive swiveling rod and handle at the front. Considering we’d be able to load all of the soil bags onto it and save time and energy on multiple trips back and forth, this was definitely a better idea than the wheel barrow.

  “Let me guess, a device of your own making?” I chuckled, as always impressed with her workmanship.

  She shrugged, downplaying her freaky little woodworking mastermind, in the way I was getting accustomed to from her. “I needed something I could use to move big pieces of furniture around by myself.” Then, just to reiterate the fact that she was a genius, she used the toe of her shoe to flip down a ramp that had been folded flat across the pallet. “There’s brakes on the back wheels so as long as I can tip a piece, I can load it up no problem.”

  “This is fantastic.” I stepped aside as she pulled the handle and tugged her cart contraption to the end of my truck. “On a side note, I think you really need a man around here.”

  She lifted her head, flipping back her long brown hair. “I really do. I’ve got like, at least a light bulb or two that need changing. I’ll put it on your honey do list just as soon as we’re married. Cool?”

  I stared at her, standing there with that smartass pout on her lips and daring look in her eyes, and it was like I was getting shitfaced drunk off her. My brain was turning to fucking mush while my body was taking on a life of its own.

  “You’re doing it again.” The teasing gleam which had twinkled at me before dimmed and she turned stern. “Seriously, you need to stop. Otherwise I can’t marry you.” She moved away and began unloading the truck.

  It took several seconds before my head caught up to my feet and I sobered up enough to walk again without stumbling.

  I pulled down two bags of soil at once, because that would somehow prove something to this woman who moved massive pieces of furniture all by herself.

  “I wasn’t doing anything. I thought we were joking around.”

  “We were,” she mumbled, pulling at three bags like it was some sort of a competition now. “Then you did that thing.”

  I caught myself about to double up my load and stopped. This was ridiculous. “What thing? What are you talking about?”

  Joss didn’t even slow down. “You were watching me. Same as you were doing inside. If you think that helping me out will get you some sort of sexual benefits in return, you are way off, buddy.”

  “Shit, Joss. No, I wasn’t even...that’s not. Fuck. I don’t think that. Not at all. I just want to help out. Really. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, it’s just –“

  Finally she dropped the last of the bags and stood still. “It’s just what?”

  “Well, I’m not going to lie to you. You’re beautiful. Okay? You’re fucking gorgeous and just because I don’t expect to sleep with you, don’t expect me not to stare from time to time.” There. I’d said it. And the grin was back.

  “Okay.” She stepped around the full cart and went to reach for the handle. My hand wrapped around it at the same time. It was time she learned a little something about teamwork.

  “Okay?” I was slightly skeptical that she’d simply accepted the fact I found her attractive yet wouldn’t attempt to nail her, but she nodded.

  “Yeah.” Her lips continued to dance, completely gratified by something. “Besides. I kind of already knew that.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She didn’t.

  “I did. Heard you tell Bobby that first day I met you. I was still outside, but those glass doors aren’t exactly soundproof.” She did.

  Chapter Eight

  It took all afternoon, but by the time we could smell Aunt Deb’s Jambalaya wafting out through the kitchen window to tease our empty stomachs, my new vegetable garden was in place, and it was gorgeous. Okay, maybe not by anyone else’s standards, but to me, it was the coolest looking backyard I had ever seen. No one on earth had an oasis of dirt, plants and doggie baths like the one I was standing in. It was good to be different. It felt like me.

  “Well, I guess I better hit the road. Got a feeling Aunt Deb will be calling you in for dinner any moment.” Derek dusted the knees of his pants, releasing the clumps of dirt and mud that had settled there.

  “Really? You’re going to walk away? Just like that?” I frowned. Like, seriously. Only I wasn’t.

  “It’s just...I mean...What?” he rambled and then caught himself.

  “I just can’t believe you’d walk out on Aunt Deb’s Jambalaya. That shit just ain’t right. Do you have any idea how long she’s been working on that? And you know she’s expecting you to stay for dinner. Probably made it just for you after all the gushing you did over her chicken fajitas today.”

  Derek’s face froze up in a blank stare.

  “I’m totally fucking with you. All she does for Jambalaya is fry up every meat she has left over from the week, throw in some rice and add Cajun seasoning. It’s her cheat meal. But seriously, you’re obviously welcome to stay.” I tugged at his white t-shirt as I went by and didn’t let go on my way up to the porch, just so he knew I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Once up at the door, I glanced down at my mud caked boots and then back at Derek. I hadn’t exactly been dressed for gardening when we’d started. Not that I’d been dressed to get married either. It was somewhere in between really. Jeans had seemed reasonable, provided I paired them with something fancy on top. Which I had. I’d parted ways with that flowy piece of crap while still in my truck on the drive back home though. After that I was left with a simple black tank I’d worn underneath and it had lent itself well to masking any sweat or dirt stains my gardening activities had probably accumulated.

  Of course, I hadn’t felt remotely underdressed when I’d seen that Derek had worn what could only be described as the guy version of my outfit. Jeans. Dress shirt. Voila. Ready for marriage. I grinned at the thought. Then, my ridiculous thoughts turned a little less silly as I took a closer look at him now down to his white undershirt and jeans.

  Well, it had been white when we started. Now it had a whole black and brown tie dye thing happening from the various degrees of dirt layers crusted on it. His jeans hadn’t fared much better. Worse actually. One of his knees had a rip in it now and his ass was covered in really unappealing smudges from all the times he’d wiped his hands without thinking about it. I instantly though of my own ass at the sight. It probably had a set of handprints to match.

  Regardless of the mud, sweat and holes in his pants, I was once again feeling an overwhelming urge to put my mouth on him. Nowhere specifically. Just, on him.

  Between his flawless tan, a variety of tattoos peeking out at me from the edges of his clothes and the solid six pack that teased me anytime his fitted shirt clung in just the right place, it wasn’t all that surprising my comatose sex drive had woken up with a vengeance.

  Then, because I wasn’t embarrassed enough on my own behalf, I looked up to find Derek staring at me, staring at him. For a lack of actual words, I cleared my throat. Several times.

  “You inhale a fly?”

  “Sure. Yeah, I inhaled a fly.” I was about to inhale his fucking tongue if he wasn’t careful. “We should probably get cleaned up a bit before we bring all this shit inside. I’m not a huge fan of vacuuming or mopping...hope those weren’t on your list of wifely duties by the way.”

  “They were actually. Right below hot meals and blowjobs.”

  This time I inhaled my own spit and I choked on it for two minutes flat. At least by then there was no telling if the deep red tone in my skin was due
to humiliation or near suffocation.

  He patted me on the back several times, but the delighted glint in his eyes told me he was far less concerned about my well-being than he was satisfied with himself over having played me at my own game. Jackass. That only made me want to put more of my parts on him.

  I coughed one last time and took a breath. “That was a good one. Really. I’m impressed.” Meanwhile, I reached down for the hose and turned it on, rinsing my boots as I spoke. “Well, if you like a wife who cleans, I guess I better get on top of that.” I raised the hose and hit him square in the chest with the water. He was so caught off guard, he raised his hands to try and block it, only making matters more interesting by causing the water to spray in every direction, including mine.

  “That is it, Joss! Now you’re gonna get it!”

  Derek lunged for me and I took off running. With a fucking squeal, no less. Who was this person he was turning me into? This blushing, horny teenager I thought I’d abandoned for good when Cara died and left me with the task of being a mother. And a father. And a motherfucking warrior.

  Blushing, sex and immature giggling had been moved out for dark rings, sleepless nights and soothing lullabies. I liked myself better that way. Because I’d made myself like that part of me. It was my strength. My loyalty. My ability to keep a promise. Realizing that each one of those could fall by the wayside so quickly all because of a charming guy who came with his own set of tools and looked good in a tight t-shirt and jeans, scared the crap out of me. It also made me feel alive. Unhinged alive. Whatever he was unleashing within me, I wasn’t ready to cage up again just yet.

  I was headed straight for the back of the fence line where I knew the water hose wouldn’t be able to reach me, but all the new veggie growing tubs I had back there now had turned my yard into a serious obstacle course. I’d only made it halfway, when I felt Derek’s strong arm reach around my waist from behind and actually lift me off the ground mid-step.