Tempting the Soldier (American Heroes Book 1)

by Hope Ford

  I slam the book shut and lay it down on the coffee table in front of me like it’s a snake and will bite me. Madge is still lying there, her eyes closed. I know she’s awake, but I can’t face her right now. Heck, I feel like I should be alone right now, but there’s no way I can just leave. I take a few calming breaths and try to steady my voice. “I’m going to get some water, Madge. Can I get you anything?”

  I no sooner get into the kitchen than I am startled to find Travis leaning against the counter. His eyes tell me that he heard everything, and warmth floods my body. I almost walk away but stop when he straightens as if he’s going to stop me from going anywhere. He walks toward me and is now between me and the exit. My pulse racing, I ask him, “I guess you heard that, huh?”

  He looks surprised that I would bring it up, and honestly, I’m a little surprised myself. I’m the one that goes out of their way to avoid conversations, especially personal ones. But it’s done. I’ve asked him and now I just have to wait for the judgmental look so maybe then I can get out of here and get to my little piece of heaven on the earth… the library. It’s the one place I’m most comfortable, maybe because I can hide behind the book stacks or maybe because I deal mostly with children, but whatever it is, I need that comfort now more than anything.

  4

  Travis

  I see her before she sees me, and I can tell she’s just as affected by the story as I am. The first time I came in the house, I could tell I’d interrupted her and Aunt Madge, so after that, I started coming in the back door. Well, I never dreamed when I came in I would be hearing what I was hearing. Her clean, soft voice read the erotic story and the more she read, the huskier her voice became. I wanted to peek around the corner so bad and look at her face while she was reading, but I wouldn’t let myself. I knew if she saw me, the timid little thing would have run out the front door and not come back.

  When I heard her tell Aunt Madge she was getting a drink of water, I should have left and been unnoticed. But that’s not me. Instead, I stood here and waited for her. Before she even spots me, I notice her cheeks are flushed. But when she looks at me with surprise in her eyes, she doesn’t walk out. I walk toward her and stop only a few feet away. Instead of backing down from me, she surprises me by asking me if I heard her.

  “Yeah.” I smile and clear my throat. “I heard.”

  She starts to stutter, “It’s not… I don’t…”

  I reach for her then, thinking my touch will calm her, but instead it makes her even jumpier. “I’m not judging you. I know my aunt likes those books. The only question I have is do you like reading them too?”

  She starts to nod her head and stops. “I have to go.” She says the words, but she doesn’t move. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and I know one wrong move and she’s going to bolt.

  Even though I want to do the opposite, I release a breath and back away, putting some space between us. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, especially after Aunt Madge told me I needed to be nice to you. I appreciate you reading to her. I wouldn’t want to have to sit in a room and read that to her.”

  She looks like she may not accept my gratitude, but when I see her body visibly soften, she surprises me yet again. “Yeah, you don’t seem like the type to read romance. You seem to be more of an action or thriller kind of guy.”

  I cock my head to the side and stare at her. “I actually don’t have the time to read a lot.” But I could listen to one of those stories anytime you wanted to read them to me. The thought goes through my mind and I push it away just as quickly. I’m a military man, through and through. I may be unable to serve due to my many injuries, but I still consult and do mercenary work when I need to. I’m the worst man for her. I’m a love 'em and leave them kind of guy and she is just the opposite. I’m sure she wants the wedding, the marriage, the whole ten yards. I’m not that guy and my conscience won’t let me do what I want to do with her.

  We’re staring at each other, and she seems ignorant of the inner battle I’m having with myself. “I better go,” she says.

  My aunt walks in. “Nonsense, Bethany. You have a while until your shift at the library. I have a good quiche and some fresh fruit we could have for breakfast or brunch and then I would love it if you could show Travis where the new rose bushes are going.”

  I can see the indecision on her face, but Bethany doesn’t seem to want to upset my aunt any more than I do. She smiles at Madge. “That sounds perfect. Have a seat and I’ll get the quiche out of the oven.”

  Madge has me set the table and bring the fruit while Bethany serves up the quiche. It’s obvious this is a common occurrence between the two of them. I look at the food and then the ladies around the table and I know I’m not about to complain. There’s no way this is going to fill me up, but I’ll fix me a sandwich after awhile.

  We eat and I find a whole new side of Bethany. She’s smart and able to talk about world news, politics, and she even confesses her love of nineties rock music. The more she talks, the more I find we have in common. The way she’s loosened up gives me the opportunity to get to know her in a way I probably never would’ve. When we finish the meal, and I dry the dishes that she’s washed, I follow her out the door. I’m already on to my Aunt Madge and the game she’s playing. She showed me earlier where she wanted the roses and I could figure it out on my own. But I’m not going to stop Bethany from helping me.

  We walk to the corner of the yard and I put my hands on my hips. “Where does she want them?”

  “These are special knockout roses and they need to be planted six to eight feet apart. Madge wants them separate. The hole needs to be dug bigger and deeper than this container.” She points to the black plastic surrounding the roots of the bush.

  I nod my head and get to work. Bethany drops to her knees and starts pulling weeds from the flower bed next to me. When I finish one hole, I ask her, “Do you think this is good?”

  When she turns to me, I can see the sweat on her brow and her face is heated.

  “Hey. It’s too hot to be out here working in this heat with a sweater on. Why don’t you take it off?”

  She starts to shake her head and I tell her, “It’s not like that. I don’t want you passing out and you have a shirt on underneath. I can see why you needed it inside, Madge keeps it cold as a freezer, but you can’t stay out here and dig in the dirt in this July heat in a sweater.”

  She looks as if she’s about to give in, and I tell her with honesty, “You can trust me.”

  Instead of waiting for her to answer, I get back to work. I know she won’t take off her sweater if I’m staring at her. I put in the rose bush and pack it with soil before turning back around.

  And I have to stop myself from making the biggest fool out of myself. The little woman that I thought was dowdy in her shapeless sweaters is in fact a knockout. Her v-neck T-shirt is still loose, but it doesn’t hide her shapely curves. She catches me staring, but I feign innocence. “How’s that?” I ask, pointing at the first planted bush.

  She looks at it. “It’s perfect.”

  It isn’t long before I’ve finished all three and Bethany has grabbed the hose to water them. And while she works, I can’t take my eyes off her. The timid librarian has me thinking things I shouldn’t… especially about her.

  So when she tells me she has to go to work and slides the sweater over her arm, I let her go with only a grunt, thanking her before I go back inside.

  5

  Bethany

  Usually, I love afternoons in the summer at the library. It’s then when the kids who absolutely love to read come in. They don’t want to go outside to play, or play video games; no, they want to get lost in a book.

  But today’s different. I can’t seem to concentrate, even when Timmy, my favorite eight-year-old, comes in, and I sit and listen to him read a few chapters of the newest adventure book.

  “Miss Bethany, are you okay?”

  I laugh it off. “Of course. I
’m just thinking about what book we’re going to read next week.”

  He looks as if he doesn’t believe me, but we both look at the door when the buzzer goes off and a big man comes in. Instantly, my heart starts to pound in my chest. What is Travis doing here?

  I stand up and walk over to him. “Hey. Is Madge okay?”

  He reaches out to touch me, but I take a step back. He drops his hand and looks at me curiously. “Yeah, Aunt Madge is fine. She had some friends over to play Bridge, and I was hoping you’d go to dinner with me.”

  My response is immediate. “Why?”

  He laughs and just by the sound of it, I know he’s not used to being questioned and has probably not ever been told no.

  He leans back against the checkout counter, crossing his feet at the ankles and crossing his arms on his chest. “Because I don’t want to eat alone. Because I don’t know anyone else. Because I want to spend time with you.”

  “Who are you?” Timmy asks. He glances over Travis’ scar, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

  I look down at Timmy and brush the hair out of his face. “Timmy, this is Mr. uh, Travis. He is Madge’s nephew.”

  “But he’s old.”

  I laugh and take in the surprised look on Travis’ face. Trying to hide my smirk, I tell Timmy, “Nephews can be any age.”

  Travis squats down to Timmy’s eye level. “And who are you?”

  I can tell by the look on his face he’s wondering if Timmy is mine. A part of me is flattered and a part of me is insulted. Does he think I look old enough to have an eight-year-old? I would have been sixteen when I had him. “This is one of my star readers.”

  Timmy beams at the pride in my voice. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Bethany.”

  “Nope, you let me walk you out. Can you watch the desk for just a minute?” I ask Travis. There’s only two other people in the building, but I hate to leave it unattended. I just want to make sure Timmy gets with his mom.

  “He can walk me out,” Timmy says, sticking his thumb out at Travis.

  “Do you mind?” I ask him as another person walks up to check out their books.

  “Sure,” he says easily and follows Timmy out the door.

  I watch them go and check out the woman waiting patiently for my help. I scan her three books and hand them to her and she is gone before Travis gets back. I’m looking out the front doors and watch as Timmy’s mother has found her new target. Unfortunately for Timmy, she’s more concerned about taking care of her needs instead of those of her son. Even from this distance, it seems that Travis is immune to it. He gives Timmy a fist bump and starts walking back into the building, with the mom watching him as he goes. I try to act busy, like I wasn’t just gawking at him.

  “So dinner? And by the way, I got Timmy’s blessing,” he tells me with a smirk.

  Is there anyone immune to his charm?

  “It’s not a good idea.” I tell him honestly.

  The last person comes up to check out and when I’m done, I walk the gentleman to the door and lock it behind him. I only have a few things to do before we close and I walk around, putting away the few stray books that were left on tables.

  “Why do you think it’s not a good idea?”

  I had hoped he would give up, but instead he’s following behind me, picking up the books so that I have to get them from him. I shuffle them in his arms, so they are grouped by location, and then take two off the top. I refuse to look up at him, because I know as soon as I do, I’ll be going to dinner with him. I won’t be able to tell him no.

  When I’m walking away, I tell him, “Because we’re different. Too different. And you’re here for what, a few days? You’d trample on me in that amount of time. I’m not interested.”

  I hate to be so blunt, but everything I said was the truth.

  “First of all, I have two weeks here. Second, I’m glad you have such a high opinion of me.”

  Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around, Bethany. I say it over and over, but I can’t stop myself, because I hear the hurt in his voice and I know I need to apologize. I face him then and look right in his face. He’s closer than I thought, and I look up at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but I’m serious when I tell you… I mean look at you, then look at me.”

  His gaze goes down my body and back up again. I try to stand still, but in all honestly, I want to cover myself. A part of me wants to run, but another part, another unfamiliar part, wants to stay. “I’m looking at you. And I’m not going to take advantage of you. I won’t touch you, unless you ask me to. I just don’t want to eat alone.”

  He looks innocent, but I know what he’s thinking. And he’s probably right. He could have me begging for his touch in less than an hour. I can’t deny the attraction I feel for him. But I give in anyway, telling myself over and over that I can handle this. “I’ll have dinner with you… but no funny business.”

  He laughs out loud at my outdated term, proving even more how different we are. I’m old fashioned and he’s a man of the times. But he agrees anyway. “No funny business.”

  I nod my head and walk away, but I can still hear him mutter, “Unless you ask for it.”

  6

  Travis

  She has her sweater back on, but it doesn’t bother me. Before I wondered what she looked like underneath the bulkiness, but now that I’ve seen her, I like the thought that she’s covered and no one sees her. It’s like it’s a secret, the body she’s hiding from the world.

  We walk over to the diner and as soon as we walk in, heads are turning. It seems everyone knows the sweet librarian and they go out of their way to talk to her and say hi. Me, on the other hand, I get the sly and curious glances. There’s no doubt that people are wondering what we’re doing together. We take a seat in the corner booth and the waitress asks Bethany what she’d like to eat.

  “Just a salad, with ranch on the side.”

  I stare at her, ready to argue, but I don’t want to embarrass her. I turn to the waitress. “I’ll take two hamburgers, double fries and two large shakes. One chocolate…”—I look at her waiting for her to respond with a flavor she might like, but she doesn’t answer—“and one strawberry.” I know I made the right choice by the way her eyes light up.

  She watches the waitress gather up the menus and walk away. “That’s a lot of food.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I ordered some of it for you. You need more than a salad. When you’re with me, you eat what you want.”

  Instead of arguing with me, she leans across the table like she’s conspiring with me. “Tell me the truth, the quiche and fruit this morning… how long was it after I left you ate something else?”

  I laugh out loud. “Busted. As soon as you left and Aunt Madge laid down for a nap, I was fixing me a big, thick ham sandwich with all the fixin’s.”

  She laughs then. “I figured as much. That was nice of you not to hurt Madge’s feelings over the quiche.”

  I shrug off her compliment. “So tell me about you.”

  She shrugs and instantly starts to fidget. I put my hand over hers, but when she looks around the restaurant to see if anyone is watching us, I release her, holding my palms up at her. “Sorry, it was instinct. So about you?”

  “There’s not much to tell. I went to high school here. Got an associate’s degree in the next town over. I would say I’ve never been out of Tennessee, but I can say I’ve never been out of east Tennessee. I’ve lived in this small town my whole life. I know everybody and everybody knows me.”

  The waitress brings some waters, letting us know our food will be right out. “What about family? Do you have any family here? Or a boyfriend?”

  She takes a drink of her water. “My parents are older. They retired to Florida the year I graduated high school.”

  “You didn’t want to go with them?”

  Her lips lift in a small smile. “No, this is my home. I’ll never leave here.”

  I’ve never met anyone that l
ives as simply as Bethany. She’s happy and content with her life just the way she is and there’s something comforting about it. I notice she ignored my other question. The waitress brings our food and sets it down, and she was smart to bring it on two plates. I push Bethany’s burger and fries at her. “So what about a boyfriend? Is there anyone that would be mad you’re here with me tonight?”

  She opens her mouth and closes it again. I can see the debate going on in her head and I tense up, waiting for her response. “If there was someone, I wouldn’t be here right now. What about you? Is there a woman that would be mad you’re having dinner with me?”

  “No. I date women, but I don’t have any commitments.” And as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I made a mistake. I can see it on her face as if it’s a deflating balloon.

  But I can’t apologize for it. I’m telling her the truth.

  I want to say something, to ease back into the flow of conversation, but I can see her mentally shaking herself. “So tell me about you.”

  We continue to eat our food and I tell her about my time in the military, and just glance over the fact that I was honorably discharged.

  “So you’re not in the military anymore?”

  That’s a difficult question to answer, because really, once you’re in the military, you’re always a part of it and it’s always a part of you. “Technically, I am not a soldier for the US military. But I do still work with them.”