Homecoming Hero

by Renee Ryan

  A prosthetic. Wolf drew in a sharp breath.

  That kind of injury could easily turn a man bitter. Wolf had seen it happen often enough. But J.T. hadn’t let his disability hold him back. Instead, he’d gone into ministry.

  What kind of faith did that take?

  More than Wolf would ever have.

  An unexpected wave of awe and respect filled him. Despite losing a leg in combat, J.T. had a certainty that radiated from him. He knew his purpose in life.

  Wolf didn’t have convictions like that. Not anymore. Despite his recent promotion to captain, he didn’t have any real direction, either.

  He realized now, as he stared at the certainty in J.T.’s gaze, that he’d lost more than his friends that day on the Iraqi roadside. He’d lost his faith. And no matter how many Army chaplains quoted Romans 8:28 to him, Wolf didn’t believe God worked all things for the good to those who loved Him. Not anymore.

  J.T. dropped his pant leg back into place and put on his pastor face. “My turn for a few questions.”

  Wolf nodded. J.T. was a brother in arms, one who’d had the courage to reveal his career-altering injury. Wolf owed him the same courtesy. “All right.”

  “Why did you seek out Hailey as soon as you arrived back in the States?”

  Wolf forced down the litany of emotions the question awakened and focused only on words. Words he could do. “I made a promise to Clay, right before he died.”

  “You were in the Humvee with him, right?”

  “Yeah.” The heaviness in his gut, in his throat, in his very soul, threatened to choke him. The only way to control the unwanted sensation was to focus on the conversation. Except…

  Clay should be the one talking to J.T. right now.

  God had taken the wrong man that day.

  Did the Lord make those kinds of mistakes? Was Wolf really supposed to be here? Or was he supposed to be—

  “Go on. What did Clay ask you to do?”

  Wolf swallowed. “He asked me to keep Hailey out of the Sandpit.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” J.T. said. “Her becoming a missionary was Clay’s idea.”

  “Hailey said the same thing.” Word for word, in fact. Apparently she’d discussed her decision with J.T. In detail. Which did not sit well with Wolf.

  “Hailey let me read Clay’s e-mails,” J.T. continued. “They were inspiring and very convincing. I don’t understand why he would change his mind so drastically.”

  Wolf knew why.

  “Because of the way he died. In his last moments of life, he had an epiphany. He didn’t want Hailey anywhere near IEDs.”

  “Even if what you say is true, what makes you think you’ll change her mind? “Because I have to.”

  “You might not like what I’m about to say, but, Wolf, if the Lord wants Hailey in the Middle East, she’ll end up there, no matter what you say or do to prevent her from going.”

  Wolf’s stomach rolled at the thought. “I don’t believe that.” He blew out a hard breath. “I can’t.”

  “I realize that.” The disappointment in J.T. was tangible, but thankfully he didn’t continue arguing his point of view. “So, you want to go over the details of your class now, or later, say early next week?”

  Happy to focus on the new topic, Wolf searched for some shoes other than combat boots. “Now works for me.” He found a pair of worn-out leather flip-flops sitting under the bed. “As long as we can talk over a burger.”

  At the moment, Wolf could use a little junk food. The Dream, not to mention the sparkling conversation he’d just suffered through with J.T., had left an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “I’m starving,” he added for good measure, just in case J.T. thought he was stalling.

  “Me, too.” J.T. opened the door and waved Wolf past. “After you, soldier.”

  Maybe J.T. would turn out to be a friend. A real friend. Then again—Wolf remembered how the man’s eyes turned soft whenever the conversation turned to Hailey—maybe not.

  At precisely 7:00 p.m., Hailey opened her front door and froze. She had to work to keep a sharp thrill from skidding up her spine. But, wow, Wolf cleaned up nicely.

  He’d chosen to wear civilian clothes, which made him look approachable, and yet still very tough. The guy was one hundred percent alpha male. All power and grace and soldier-boy charm.

  For a moment, she could do nothing but stare. He didn’t seem to mind, so she took her time studying him.

  His ensemble was simple. Jeans, a light blue polo shirt and a chocolate-brown leather jacket. His clean-shaven jaw and chiseled features made him look as if he’d just walked off a Hollywood movie set. But the pain-filled eyes made him look lonely. And maybe just a little bit lost. Wounded, even.

  Yes, there was a reason why she’d searched Google for terms like battle fatigue and survivor’s guilt.

  Somewhere during her research she’d had a revelation. The Lord hadn’t brought this man to her doorstep to help Hailey with her grief. But the other way around.

  She was supposed to help him. But first she had to get her mouth working properly.

  He broke the silence for her. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.” Oh, brilliant response. And wasn’t she using all three of her degrees to their fullest?

  Of course, he wasn’t helping matters with his intense eyes and stiff shoulders.

  Finding it hard to catch her breath, she lowered her gaze to the colorful array of wildflowers he held in his hand. “Are those for me?”

  “They are.”

  What a sweet gesture. And an insight into his true nature. Wolf was a good guy, both considerate and thoughtful.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. The man really was hazardous when he looked at her like that. And she couldn’t stop staring at him. She was suddenly thinking of fairy-tale endings and Prince Charming on a white horse and…

  What was wrong with her?

  Hailey considered herself an academic, a thinker rather than a feeler. She was not the fanciful sort. She had a plan for her life, one that had no room for an active-duty soldier with a killer smile.

  He thrust the flowers awkwardly toward her.

  “Oh, uh, thanks.”

  She took the bouquet from him with a slight tremble. Their fingers touched. It was just a brush of knuckles, a mere whisper really, but her heart fluttered against her ribs.

  “Please, come in.” Holding on to a sigh—barely—she stepped aside for him to pass. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  The pleasant scent of sandalwood and spices followed him as he swept into the foyer. The heels of his combat boots skimmed across the hardwood floors. For a big man, he was exceptionally light on his feet.

  But then he stopped abruptly and she nearly collided into him. “Oh.”

  She lost her balance.

  “Careful.” His hands gripped her shoulders gently, holding her until she was steady again.

  “So.” He lifted a single eyebrow. “Where, exactly, am I going?”

  This time she did sigh. She’d forgotten he didn’t know the house. He seemed so at home. Maybe it was that confident stride of his, or that take-charge attitude. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. “Follow me.”

  Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, she led him into the kitchen. She’d set two places on the antique table in the bay window alcove.

  He eyed the settings with obvious misgivings. “Fancy.”

  “It’s the O’Brien family china and crystal. I always bring it out for special occasions.” She smiled up at him. “I thought this qualified.”

  “That’s, uh, nice.”

  She’d lost him. He’d put up that invisible barrier between them, the one that communicated things like “keep your distance” and “back off” and, her least favorite, “not interested.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Or we could eat out on the deck. Paper plates. Plastic cups. At this time of year we might have to contend with the cold, but there won�
��t be any bugs.”

  “I don’t mind cold.”

  “The porch it is.”

  Within moments, she had them settled at the table on the deck. The outdoor lights provided plenty of light. The sounds of traffic and laughing filled the air.

  They ate in silence, which wasn’t as bad as Hailey would have predicted. She liked looking at Wolf. Despite his fidgeting, a sense of peace filled her when she was in his presence.

  As she’d warned, the temperature had dropped below fifty, which translated to bone-chilling cold to Hailey’s way of thinking. Wolf didn’t seem to notice, so she huddled inside her sweater and endured. He took his time eating, seeming to savor each bite.

  Yet the tight angle of his shoulders told her he wasn’t completely relaxed. Every few minutes he would run his gaze from left to right, right to left, instinctively checking for danger.

  “How’s the food?” she asked.

  “Awesome.” He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. “It’s been a long time since anyone cooked for me.”

  Guilt, that’s what made her set her own fork down. “I didn’t make dinner.”

  He lifted his eyes to meet hers and she could see the barrier going up again. And just when they were making progress.

  “You have your own chef.” It wasn’t a question, rather an accusation, as though he didn’t have much use for pampered women.

  She bristled. “Of course not. I don’t have servants waiting on me hand and foot, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  His skepticism radiated in the air between them. “You clean this place all by yourself?”

  From the disbelieving look on his face, she knew he wouldn’t understand why she employed Mama Dee. Aside from the fact that Hailey allowed the historical society to use O’Brien House for special events and tours—and thus each room had to be spotless at all times—Mama Dee needed the money. She was a single mother with five kids under the age of fifteen.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Wolf, but I don’t order out every evening. Tonight, well—” she lifted a shoulder “—I wanted to make sure you had something special to eat.”

  Shock, disbelief, wariness, they were all there in his gaze. “You wanted me to have something special to eat?”

  “I did.” She twisted her napkin in her hands. “My cooking skills aren’t at a level where I could have pulled that off.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Now he just looked shocked.

  And she felt awkward.

  Determined to lighten the mood, Hailey closed her hand over his. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “Yes, I do.” He rotated his wrist until their palms met. He squeezed, held tight for a moment too long then released her hand. “Thank you for going to so much trouble. I’m grateful. But, Hailey, I’m a simple guy with simple tastes. I’d have eaten a PB and J with equal enthusiasm.”

  Happy the tension had lifted, she spoke without considering her words. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

  “Next time.” He smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Me, too.”

  They stared at each other, neither speaking, neither moving. The way he looked at her with all that intensity and raw emotion in his gaze nearly did her in. “Tell me what your dream meal would entail.”

  He leaned back in his chair and, oh, yes, finally, his shoulders relaxed. “You promise you won’t laugh?”

  “Of course I won’t.”

  “Pizza. The greasier the better. There aren’t a lot of Italian restaurants in Iraq.”

  “No.” She let out a short laugh. “I don’t suppose—”

  The squeal of tires sent Wolf jumping out of his chair. He spun around, looking frantically around him. Right to left. Left to right. He flexed his fingers then made a tight fist. His eyes had a wild look in them, yet he was very, very aware. Ultra-alert. Only after he took a few deep breaths, and then several more, did he start pacing the length of the deck.

  Back and forth. Back and forth. When he started on a third pass, Hailey took charge. “Let’s go inside. You can tell me about Clay over dessert.”

  Chapter Five

  Shadows chased one another around in the kitchen, layering an eerie, desolate mood over what had started out as a promising evening. Despite the many deep breaths he took, Wolf’s pulse refused to slow to a normal rate. Unease from the squealing tires still nagged at him. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and waited for Hailey to speak. To smile. To do…something.

  She could at least turn on a light. But instead of reaching for the switch, she moved through the room, igniting candles along the way. The golden glow cast a romantic mood.

  Had she done that on purpose?

  Or was she trying to calm him with the soft lighting?

  Either way, a strange, sweet feeling melted through him, permeating the steely place deep in his core no one had ever breached. Wolf had been alone so long he thought he’d gotten used to the solitude, maybe even craved it on some deep, unhealthy level.

  But something in him had shifted. And now he wanted more out of life than merely existing from one day to the next. He sensed Hailey was the key to this change.

  Which was too bad for him.

  She was Clay’s sister, aka off-limits.

  It didn’t matter that her presence soothed Wolf in a way nothing had since that day on the Iraqi roadside. It didn’t matter that she’d known exactly what he needed when that car had startled him. What mattered was why he had come here tonight. Because of his promise to Clay.

  He could almost hear his friend saying, This is not a date, Wolf-man. Not. A. Date.

  Struggling to keep his mind on his real task, Wolf looked everywhere but at the beautiful woman in the kitchen with him. He was making a considerable dent in cataloging the items in the room—antique table, china, fancy stoneware, various pots and pans—when Hailey finished lighting the candles and turned to face him directly.

  Their gazes locked and the air clogged in his throat.

  He forced out a slow, careful breath.

  Hailey O’Brien was a stunning woman, even in a simple pair of jeans and a sweater. Wolf knew he would find an expensive designer label somewhere near the waistband of those perfect-fitting jeans. And that pretty blue sweater had definitely cost more than he made in a month.

  The woman had style, with the expensive taste to match, which only managed to punctuate all the reasons why she couldn’t go to the Middle East as a missionary.

  Feeling restless again, Wolf looked away from those mesmerizing green eyes locked with his. His gaze landed on a photograph secured to the refrigerator by two heart-shaped magnets. He squinted through the threads of golden candlelight. A man and woman stood arm in arm in front of a Christmas tree. Wolf stepped closer and realized he was staring at a relatively recent snapshot of Hailey and Clay.

  They were both dressed in formal black, wearing their perfect smiles and classic good looks as comfortably as Wolf wore his BDUs.

  “That’s from two Christmases ago,” Hailey said in a soft voice from behind him. “Right before his first deployment.”

  Wolf nodded, but remained silent. What could he say, anyway? I’m sorry? Did you have a good time that night?

  “We used to throw a Christmas party every year,” she continued. “It was a family tradition my parents started before either of us were born.”

  Family tradition. Those two words were everything Hailey stood for and Wolf did not. Consequently, his mind spun around one unrelenting realization.

  The Lord had taken the wrong man that day.

  Clay had had a reason to live, a purpose outside the Army. Wolf had neither. No family. No wife. Not even a girlfriend. And he certainly didn’t have a sister determined to head into a dangerous war zone for her pie-in-the-sky ideals.

  Which reminded him…

  Hailey wanted to talk about her brother. Wolf wanted to talk about the Middle East. He’d do both with one conversation.

  But not in thi
s house. There were too many reminders of Clay surrounding them.

  “It’s still early.” He faced Hailey straight on. He told himself he needed to be able to see her expression, to read what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers, but the real reason was he couldn’t look at Clay anymore. Not even in a photograph from two Christmases ago. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  “A ride?” She took two deliberate steps away from him. “On…on your motorcycle?”

  Her voice shook just enough to make Wolf forget about important conversations and painful memories and well, everything, except calming her concern. “No, Hailey,” he said in a soothing tone. “I drove my car.”

  “You did?” Was that disappointment in her voice?

  Interesting.

  “You want to ride on my bike?” Wolf couldn’t have been more surprised.

  Or more pleased.

  The idea of Hailey sitting behind him, hanging on to his waist, trusting him to keep her safe around hairpin turns, brought forth all sorts of warm, fuzzy feelings. Disconcerting for a guy who didn’t do warm or fuzzy. Ever.

  Not. A. Date. Why couldn’t he remember that?

  “Well, actually…” A line of concentration dug a groove across her forehead. “I do.”

  She had a million doubts in her eyes, but she didn’t back down.

  Brave girl.

  “You’re sure about that?”

  She gave him a careless lift of her shoulder. “A short spin around the block might be fun.”

  Oh, yeah, it’d be fun. He’d make sure of it. “How about next time? When we go for pizza?”

  At the suggestion, everything about her seemed to relax. “That works for me.”

  Worked for him, too. And if he had his way, he would ignore his misgivings and make sure their “short spin around the block” was a date.

  But tonight, he had a more pressing matter to address. One he wanted finished between them. Tonight. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Okay. I just need to get my coat and then we can go.” She hurried out of the room.