“I know, but I had to fill in—”
“For Uncle Keiffer, I know.” Tyler let out a heavy sigh.
Ethan met his brother’s gaze, and the remorse clouding it almost made him feel bad.
Almost.
“But I wanted to hike, so I snuck out and went myself.”
Good God. His heart dropped to his gut then bounced into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t function for several long seconds.
“It was cool, and I was walking and having fun, then I saw the cougar.”
Shit!
“He was big and cool so I followed him.”
He wanted to jump to his feet, but his legs suddenly felt like marshmallows at the thought of his son alone with the carnivore.
“But he disappeared over the edge. So I leaned over to take a peek, but he was already climbing down too far. That’s when I slipped and fell and scraped my arm.” Tyler held up his bandage. “But I didn’t cry. Not even when I couldn’t get back up. It was too far, and there weren’t any handholds or anything for me to use to climb back up.”
Ethan wasn’t sure he could take anymore and contemplated stopping his son, but a niggling told him Tyler needed to finish. So he found it in himself to sit quietly and listen. “Then what happened?”
“I started to call out for help.”
Jesus…that could’ve alerted the cat.
“And after a few minutes, help came.”
He glanced over at the men and couldn’t fathom which one had shown up, but he was so damn grateful and ready to admit it as soon as he knew who to thank.
“I heard Phoebe calling my name.”
He sat up straight. “Phoebe?” His gaze scanned the guys in the kitchen and they all nodded.
How the hell…?
“I don’t know how she knew I needed help,” Tyler said as if answering. “Must be her ninja Jedi skills, but she found me. And when I couldn’t jump to reach her hand, she climbed down. Which was good since the mountain lion must’ve heard us and started to climb back up.”
The tightness returned to his chest, squeezing tight enough to crack a damn rib as the scene played out in his head. And by the time his son finished, and the guys filled him in on the rest, including Phoebe’s injury, he knew five things for sure.
One, he still loved his son more than life.
Two, his son was grounded for life.
Three, he was so furious with Keiffer he couldn’t even look at him. If his brother had just done his damn job, Ethan would’ve been home to take his son for that hike, and no one would’ve gotten hurt.
Four, he needed to visit Phoebe to thank her.
Five, he needed to hit something. Hard. Several times.
As if sensing this, his father rose from the table and sent him a warning glance to keep it together. “Come on, Tyler. I think it’s time we got you cleaned up.” His dad approached his son with a grin. “You’re going to have to keep your arm raised so the bandage doesn’t get wet, which means we’ll have to get creative in order to wash this dirt off you in the tub.”
“Okay, Grandpa.” Tyler turned and climbed back on Ethan’s lap to give him another hug. “Are you very mad at me, Dad?”
He closed his eyes and sighed, holding his son tight, feeling more blessed than ever to have that ability. “No, Tyler. Just scared. What happened to you scared me.”
His little head nodded against his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Part of owning up to what you did includes consequences,” he said. “You need to be punished for sneaking out and hiking by yourself. I want you to think about what a fair punishment might be.”
Tyler nodded. “Phoebe said you were going to be scared.”
Phoebe again.
He kept the twitch from his mouth. “She did, did she?”
How the hell was it possible the woman knew him better than he knew himself? They’d only met barely a month ago.
“Yeah.” Tyler nodded as he drew back to stand by his grandfather.
“What else did she say?” Damn, the question was out before he could stop it.
“That I needed to take ‘sponsability and tell you what I did. And that she was proud of me.” The biggest, brightest, thousand watt smile split his son’s face and lit the whole damn room, knocking the wind out of him.
He was still sitting on the couch, trying to find his feet long after Tyler and his dad went upstairs. Between Phoebe’s actions and the look she put on his son’s face, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find firm footing again.
“Ethan. I’m sorry.” Keiffer dropped into a chair across from him.
Much too damn close to him and the uncontrollable anger brewing inside. He shot to his feet and began to pace.
“Sorry? Dammit, Keiffer, Tyler could’ve died, and you’re sorry? Phoebe could’ve died and you’re sorry?”
“Yeah, man, what more do you fucking want from me?”
Now Keiffer was on his feet, too.
“I don’t know. For you to be more responsible. To get help.”
Suddenly, Scott and Jeremy were blocking him while Mason and Ben pulled Keiffer away.
“I don’t fuckin’ need help. Just maybe for you to get off my goddamn case! And for you all to stop looking at me like you’re waiting for me to off myself, too! Newsflash! I’m not a coward. Greg was a coward.”
“Keiffer! Greg was in pain.”
“Yeah, well, I am, too. But committing suicide is not even a thought. So quit looking at me that way.”
“All right,” he said, admittedly a little relieved to hear, although, he suspected other people with PTSD had felt that way and still ended their own lives. “But don’t keep things bottled up. Talk to someone.”
“It’s not that simple, Ethan. You don’t get it. Some days I’m fine. And then others…you don’t know how it feels to wake up and not want to get out of bed. I tried. I swear I fuckin’ tried to get up today, but I just couldn’t…I couldn’t…”
The pain and remorse was so raw and deep in his brother’s voice Ethan’s throat instantly closed. He pushed his friends aside and yanked Keiffer in and held tight.
“I’m sorry, man,” he choked out. “I’m sorry. You need to get help. You know this isn’t right.”
His brother drew back and nodded. “I know. I just need time. I have to deal with this in my own way.”
That wasn’t working out.
“Keif.” Mason set a hand on their brother’s shoulder. “You know this is PTSD.”
“Jesus.” Keiffer brushed past them and strode a few feet away. “I don’t have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You know I came back fine from combat. Tell them, Ben. You know I came back just fine.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to be in a war to get PTSD,” Ben said quietly. “A traumatic instance is the cause.”
“Finding Greg’s body with the gun in his hand would do that,” Jeremy said. “Trust me, between the guard and the force, I’ve seen some nasty shit, and it eats at you.”
Keiffer nodded.
Thank God. Maybe they were finally getting through to him a little. Baby steps.
“Google the symptoms of PTSD, Keif,” Mason suggested. “I did, and you have several.”
Again, his brother nodded, and some of the tightness around Ethan’s chest eased. He loved his brother and wanted him to get well. He’d do anything to help him. But never again would he fill in for his brother if it meant breaking plans with his son.
“I’m really sorry about today, Ethan.” The remorse in Keiffer’s gaze matched his words.
He nodded.
“Speaking of today,” Jeremy said. “What’s the scoop on Phoebe?”
“Yeah, she’s Lea’s neighbor from New York, right?” Scott asked. “You never told us she lived next to a famous Broadway star, and a beautiful one at that.”
Ben smiled big and smug. “Yep. And she’s single.”
Bastard.
“Really?”
Ethan didn’t l
ike the gleam in Jeremy’s blue eyes.
“How’s a woman that hot still single?”
Or the interest in Scott’s. His stomach bunched as if punched.
“She has gumption and a sweet a—”
“All right,” he cut the cop off. “That’s enough.”
He wasn’t going to stand there and let them continue. If anyone was going to talk about her sweet ass it was him. But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his style. He’d just think about it. A lot.
Jeremy and Scott both turned to him, and he wasn’t sure what they saw, but they suddenly grinned and held up their hands.
“Sorry, Ethan. Didn’t know.”
“Yeah, no harm done.”
Keiffer actually grinned. “Probably should’ve warned you, Ethan’s been sniffing that skirt since last month.”
“Good for you, Ethan”
“Yeah, good for you,” Scott agreed. “She certainly stepped up to the plate today. But she refused medical treatment. Said she was going to see the doctor. I hope she did. Maybe you can make her go if she didn’t see this Doctor Capaldi.”
His bunching stomach suddenly knotted. She wouldn’t see a doctor. Not with her issues with the press. Dammit. That meant she needed treatment.
This time, Keiffer actually laughed outright. “Did she say her doctor or the doctor?”
Scott frowned. “Uh…the, I think. Why?”
“Oh, man, Ethan. I like her.” His brother’s smile grew. “There’s a Doctor Who marathon on TV, and Capaldi is the actor’s name.”
Ethan muttered a curse and strode for the door.
First he was going to thank her.
Then he was going to spank her.
Phoebe wasn’t sure who invented peroxide, but she wanted to beat the tar out of them every time Jill poured some on the top of her arm.
“Sorry,” her friend said, blowing on the cut in an attempt to lessen the sting. “You sure you can’t go have this looked at?”
She glanced at the mirror in her bathroom to check out the quarter size scrape in the middle of a blob shaped black and blue bruise that curved around her back. She didn’t even remember getting it. Had to be in her haste to grab the leather straps and not get eaten.
“I’m sure.” She nodded, wanting to get back to her Doctor Who marathon she could hear on the TV in the living room. “Just put that healing ointment on it now. It’ll be good in a few days.” Of course, the same couldn’t be said for her shoulder which hurt like a son-of-a-bitch if she lifted her arm too high.
So, she was just not going to lift her arm too high. She had great mobility in it otherwise, and thankfully, none of her routines required a hand stand. She smirked at her own stupid joke, then grimaced when Jill spread the salve.
“Do you want to cover it, or let the air get at it?” Her friend held up the gauze bandage Phoebe had stopped at the store to grab on her way home.
“Air,” she replied. “I’ll cover before rehearsal tomorrow.”
Jill nodded and straightened the supplies on the counter while Phoebe tried to decide what to wear. She’d slipped into a front-hook peach bra and matching panties after her shower, but wasn’t too keen on having any material touch her arm.
Opting for a pair of slip on shorts with ACTRESS written across the ass, she contemplated nothing but her bra on top. She wasn’t going anywhere, and when she ordered pizza later, it would just be the delivery boy’s lucky day.
Unless he recognized her and posted on social media about her answering the door in her underwear. Damn. Sometimes it sucked to be her.
She was still rooting through her closet when she heard a car door slam.
Jill poked her head out of the bathroom. “You expecting anyone?”
“No.”
“Order pizza?” her friend asked on her way to the bedroom window in front.
She laughed. “Not yet.”
Jill sucked in a breath then turned from the window to smile at her. “I don’t think you need to worry about a shirt,” she said as the doorbell rang. “It’s Ethan.”
Ethan? Shoot.
She wasn’t ready to face him. Although, she wanted to know how Tyler was doing; she just wasn’t up for a reprimand at the moment.
Phoebe grabbed her robe from a hook on the closet door and gritted her teeth as the satin brushed her bruise when she slipped it on. Rushing out of the bedroom, she tied the sash and just managed to step into her living room as Jill waited for her to nod before opening the door.
“Hi, Ethan. She’s in there with the doctor. Bye, Phoebe,” the bugger called, then closed the front door behind her.
Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she stared at Ethan standing in the entryway. Then he stepped into the room, and she forgot how to breathe. His gaze was dark and full of emotion, with gratitude and need vying for top billing as he strode straight for her and pulled her in for a hug. Safe from his view, she squeezed her eyes shut at the feel of his strong, heavy arm resting atop her wound. Then her brain registered the feel of the rest of his body.
His chest was warm, and solid, and she melted into him, deciding he mustn’t be there to reprimand. Which worked for her.
“Thank you so much for what you did today,” he said against her temple. “Tyler told me how you saved him.”
She nodded, brushing her cheek against his chest. “I know you said to stay away from him, but when I saw him go into the woods alone…I had to follow.”
“I’m so damn glad you did.”
He squeezed her tight, and sharp pain radiated in her shoulder too sharp for her to squash the yelp.
Ethan stilled, then drew back. “I’m sorry. Where are you hurt? Let me see. I know you didn’t go to the doctor, other than the one playing on the damn TV behind us.”
She bit her lip. “Figured that out, did you?”
“Yes. Now let me see where you’re hurt.”
She scrambled to grab her ruined purse from the couch. “I keep meaning to give you your knife back that I found in my penthouse. Although, I’m sure glad I had it today.”
“Keep it,” he replied, stepping closer, determination squaring his jaw. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”
“It’s okay. Jill helped me.”
“Phoebe.”
She sighed and eye rolled him. “Fine.” Then untied her belt and let the robe slip off her body. Damn thing hurt anyway.
He muttered a curse as he studied her bruise. “I’m sorry, Phoebe. Is this going to hinder your performance?”
“No.” She told him the truth. “That’s two weeks away. I just might have to be careful with rehearsals the next few days, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, trailing a finger up the unmarked part of her arm, over her shoulder to her neck where he leaned in to brush her skin with his lips. “Any way I can make it feel better?”
Her knees literally knocked together and she grabbed his upper arms for support. “Depends.”
On if she was dreaming this.
God, she hoped she wasn’t dreaming this.
“Yeah.” He continued to kiss her neck, slowly making his way up her throat. “On what?”
“How long can you stay? And do you have a condom?” she responded, sucking in a breath between questions as he slid his thumb under her bra and unhooked it with a flick of his finger.
His stubble grazed her throat, sending goose bumps down her right side as he kissed her jaw. “A few hours,” he replied, cupping her ass with one hand, and her breast with the other, while he brushed his thumb over her nipple…twice. “And yes, two.”
She smiled, running her hands up his chest and shoulders. “Good.” She held his heated gaze. “Sounds like the perfect ratio for us.”
He brought his grinning mouth to hers as he backed her up to the oversized chair she’d splurged on. “Indeed it does.”
Then he was kissing her like she meant everything to him, shocking her with the fierceness of his need. She trembled and slid her hands under his shirt to stroke his
hot skin. He broke the kiss and reached behind him to grab the back of his collar and yanked it off one-handed.
Dead-sexy move that had her body quivering in anticipation, and when he dropped to his knees and ran his hands up her legs, she reached out to grasp his shoulders.
“Ethan…”
He had her body aching for him and he’d barely touched her, but remedied that by kissing her belly while he tugged her shorts and panties down, following the procession with his lips. Hands on her hips, he urged her to sit down on the chair at a slight angle, so her wound cleared the back cushion, lifted her legs over his shoulders and looked his fill. “Gorgeous. I’ve been thinking of this for weeks.”
With the pad of his finger, he stroked while kissing her upper thigh, slowly making his way to the center, treating her to those occasional caresses that had her eyes drifting shut and urging him to give more by shoving her hands in his hair.
He slid a finger inside and groaned. “So damn wet.”
And when he pulled out just as deliciously slow in an upward motion, he ripped a raw sound from deep in her throat that lasted as long as the stroke. He did it again and again, holding her in that hot, fuzzy limbo between need and release. She was shaking and panting, gripping his head as everything inside her tightened, and just when she didn’t think he’d ever take her to the final level, he licked her.
Phoebe cried out and bucked. Using his finger and tongue in a heart-pounding duet, he took her out of herself, and she came undone with a liberating, wild abandon that left her quivering and weak.
He sat back and gazed at her. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
From somewhere, she found the energy to smile, but was thankful nothing more was required as she watched him strip in sexy, economical moves. He grabbed a condom from his pants, opened the packet then rolled it on, his smoldering gaze never leaving hers.
Placing his hands on the armrests, he bent down and brushed her lips with his for a drugging kiss that stoked the heat simmering low in her belly. They broke for air, and as she worked to get her breathing under control, he switched their positions, and she found herself straddling his lap.
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