Healed by Love (Love in Bloom: The Bradens)

by Melissa Foster

  “Pesty?”

  “Adorably so.” The honest words came without thought, and he quickly tried to change the subject. “What are you eating these days?”

  “Everything except pickle pizza.” She flashed a cheesy smile.

  “Okay, no pickle pizza.” He was used to feeding himself, which meant protein, protein, and more protein. He hadn’t put much effort into cooking since he’d come home, but the idea of cooking for Jewel rejuvenated him, reminding him of the meals he and Rick had conjured up all those years ago after their father died. He pulled ingredients from the fridge, trying not to think about Rick. Would he ever be able to be near Jewel without thinking of him?

  “How’s eggs—” He looked up and saw Jewel reaching for his journal.

  He bolted around the counter and snatched the journal off the coffee table.

  “Sorry, that’s uh, not very interesting.” He’d felt funny keeping a journal when the therapist had first suggested it, but she’d insisted that others who had suffered survivor’s guilt had found solace in getting their thoughts out of their heads in a private way. He’d found the exercise to be cathartic, although much of what he’d written revolved around his feelings for Jewel.

  Jewel crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Is that a diary?”

  “No,” he huffed, and set it on the bookshelf beside the couch.

  “Then what is it?”

  “A journal.” He headed back to the kitchen. “Eggs Benedict okay?”

  “I don’t eat eggs very often, but I’ll have the English muffin. Do you have salad? Or tofu?”

  “I’m a man, not a rabbit.” He saw her reaching for the journal again. It was just like Jewel to go after what she wanted. He’d never hidden anything from her over the years—except, of course, his feelings. She probably had no idea that he was serious about her not touching it. In seconds he’d trapped her arms beside her head on the arm of the couch. His abs pinned her torso beneath him, and he nudged his fingers between hers, lacing them together, giving him full control. With their bodies so close and their mouths inches apart, he felt every breath she breathed. He could lean down and taste her lips, feel her tongue stroking his as it had that one night too many months ago. His eyes dropped to the pulse beating frantically at the base of her neck. For a second he considered giving in to his desires and kissing her, but based on the way she was staring up at him like he’d lost his mind, she was more likely breathing hard from being held down, not because she’d felt the room heat up fifty degrees like he had. That was probably all in his messed-up head.

  “Now I really want to know what’s in that journal.” Her eyes roved over his bare chest, making him even hotter.

  “Private stuff.” He forced himself to release her, sank down to the edge of the couch, and leaned his elbows on his knees. Christ. He’d been seconds away from kissing her. “Maybe I should take you home.”

  She touched his back, and it made him even more conflicted. “No. Now that I’m here, I don’t want to go back to my empty apartment.”

  He stared straight ahead, trying to keep his feelings in check. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?” She laughed. “You carried me for miles and now you’re making me something to eat. I’d be much more uncomfortable at my place.”

  She obviously had no clue what he was feeling, which meant she didn’t feel a damn thing toward him. He was totally screwed. He let out a frustrated breath and went back to the kitchen to put some space between them.

  “If you don’t have salad…” She sat up, and the bag of peas clunked to the floor.

  “Sit down.” Damn it. He really needed to gain control of his emotions. She wasn’t a soldier, and he wasn’t mad at her. He was pissed at himself for acting like a horny teenager and had accidentally snapped at her.

  He softened his tone. “I’ve got this.”

  She held on to the side of the couch and hopped on one foot toward him. Nate mumbled a curse and scooped her into his arms again. She laughed as he carried her into the kitchen.

  “You don’t listen very well. You’re just like Ric—” He swallowed his friend’s name as he set her on the counter.

  “Rick? I am?” Her eyes were hopeful.

  Nate tore open the English muffins and threw one in the toaster. Then he opened the fridge and leaned one hand on the freezer, his back to Jewel as thoughts of Rick fueled his guilt.

  “So are you a vegetarian?”

  “Nate, you can talk about Rick,” she said tentatively.

  He closed his eyes for a beat, hoping she’d drop the subject. “No meat?”

  “It’s not like I’m a real vegetarian or anything. I just don’t really like meat or eggs or some kinds of cheeses. I eat them, just not often.”

  He heard her slide from the counter and land with a thud on the floor behind him. He spun around and found Jewel standing on one foot, reaching for him. He narrowed his eyes in a way that usually sent soldiers heading in the opposite direction. She grabbed the waist of his fatigues and hopped closer.

  Nate froze and lifted his eyes above her head. “Jewel, what are you doing?”

  “I’m hugging you.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.

  Nate’s body went rigid as he fought the urge to embrace her, because carrying her had already brought his desires to the surface. Having her pressed against him again, willing and soft, might just do him in.

  “Jewel.” He used a harsh tone that also stopped soldiers in their tracks.

  Jewel tightened her grip. “Nate,” she whispered.

  Goddamn it. She had no idea how long he’d wanted her to hold him like this, to touch him, be close to him. And now she was holding him because she felt sorry for him? That wasn’t at all what he wanted.

  “Why are you hugging me?”

  “Because you need it.” She reached up and pulled his arms around her. “And so do I.”

  Nate wrapped his arms around her in a loose embrace. She tightened her grip again, but he was afraid to allow himself the same pleasure. He wanted so much more with Jewel, and she obviously saw him as a friend—or worse, a brother.

  “God, Nate, can’t you hug me? Let me feel it. I know how strong you are.”

  And I know how weak I am.

  He reluctantly tightened his grip, and she nuzzled in closer. Nate felt himself getting hard despite his attempt at keeping his distance. He pried her arms from around his waist and took a step back.

  Jewel gazed up at him, her brows furrowed with confusion and a hint of anger in her baby blues. “What is wrong with you?”

  He lifted her by her waist and set her on the counter while her angry stare bored a hole right through him.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Food,” he said, because he knew that saying, Stepping away before I carry you into my bedroom, would get him in trouble. “You need to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  Nate ignored her and yanked open the fridge again, staring at everything and seeing nothing but Jewel. The feeling of her fingers on his back, her cheek against his chest, her heart beating against his abs still fresh in his mind.

  The timer on the toaster dinged, and he was glad for something to do, because apparently food didn’t jump into a person’s hands when they stared at it. He buttered the muffin and slid the plate across the counter to Jewel.

  “I said I’m not hungry.”

  He ignored the fisting in his gut and opened a can of vegetable soup, despite what she’d said, and poured it into a pot. His excitement over cooking had once again been squashed with the mention of Rick. He filled a glass with ice water and set it down for Jewel, then leaned his hip against the counter and trained his eyes on the soup as it heated up.

  “You’re eating that with me,” she said.

  He’d do anything with her. Jump off the fricking Eiffel Tower just to land below her and ease the impact when she hit the ground.
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  “Nate, no one will talk to me about Rick. No one. Do you know what that’s like?”

  He crossed his arms, grinding his teeth so hard they hurt. He wanted to talk with her about Rick so he wasn’t haunting him every minute of the day, but even the thought of Rick made it hard for him to breathe around Jewel.

  “Do you know why I teared up when you found me?” She scooted over on the counter until her hip touched his side. “Seeing you made me sad.”

  Christ. He closed his eyes.

  “I remembered all the times you and Rick were together when I was younger, and I remembered how happy you two were the day you left for the military. I gave you that wallet, remember? With my picture in it?”

  Eyes still locked on the soup, Nate reached into the side pocket of his fatigues and handed her the wallet.

  “Nate,” she whispered. “You still have it?” She opened the wallet, and Nate watched her out of his peripheral vision as she ran her fingers over the picture of him and Rick, and then the picture of her.

  He swallowed against the lump threatening to strangle him.

  “He was so handsome,” she whispered.

  “You look a lot like him.” Nate had always thought they looked similar, in a more general way than specific looks. When Nate looked at Jewel he saw a combination of keen intelligence and kindness in her eyes, her sense of humor, and her big, loving heart—all the same attributes he’d seen in Rick. Only in Rick, he saw a brother, and in Jewel…Well, in Jewel he saw a gorgeous woman he wanted to make his own.

  “I do? In what way?”

  He shrugged, but she touched his arm, and it tugged at his heart. He drank her in for a long moment. He’d always loved her hair. It was the same shade of blond as his. It brushed her shoulders, curling slightly at the ends, and framed her beautiful face. Her eyes were sad, or maybe serious, or both. He couldn’t tell right now because his own emotions were muddling his ability to think clearly. Her lips were slightly parted. Standing before her, his eyes washing over every sexy feature, brought his heart out of his mouth after all.

  “You have the same smile, but your bottom lip is fuller. Your hair…” He reached up and rubbed the ends of a curl between his fingers. “It’s soft…softer than his looked.” He cleared his throat to try to focus on keeping Rick in his sights and not just Jewel. “Your eyes are shaped like your father’s were, but they’re the same color as Rick’s.”

  The edges of her lips curved up. “Nate,” she whispered.

  His eyes dropped to the column of her neck. His fingers twitched with desire to touch the nape. His gaze moved south to her chest, lingering there as he watched her small but perfect breasts rise and fall with each shallow breath, then lower still, to her hands, resting on her thighs. He couldn’t stop the truth from spilling out.

  “And your hands.” He lifted her hand and brushed his thumb over her delicate fingers, having moved away from comparisons and now focusing solely on Jewel. “You have the most feminine hands I’ve ever seen.” Her sun-kissed skin was silky soft. He wanted to bring her hand to his lips, but he stopped himself and placed it back on her thigh, shoving his own hands in his pockets with what he hoped was a casual shrug.

  “You…I…” She held his gaze, her brows knitted together, and he knew he’d crossed a line.

  “I’m sorry.” He took a step away.

  She grabbed his arm. “Don’t be. I never knew you paid that much attention to me.” Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly added, “I just, I was thinking of Rick. People used to tell me we looked a little alike, but no one tells me that I look like him anymore. But my father? Nate, you noticed that my eyes are shaped like my father’s? You can’t imagine how much that means to me.”

  “Your dad was a great guy.” He was relieved that she didn’t call him out for stepping over a line, but even deeper was the sinking reality that she obviously hadn’t even noticed.

  Chapter Three

  THEY ATE IN silence, Nate’s brooding, intense gaze never leaving his bowl of soup, while Jewel tried to figure him out. The more glances she stole, the more confused she became. When he’d looked at her earlier and told her how she resembled her brother and her father, she’d felt naked under his steady gaze. She’d never felt that way before, like he could see right through her mask of strength to the heart of her emotions. Then his gaze had gone cold, as if he’d felt it, too, and didn’t like the feeling, or maybe he didn’t like what seeing her did to him. She didn’t have enough experience to decipher his emotions.

  After they ate, he carried her to the couch and propped up her ankle, icing it again with another bag of frozen vegetables. He handled her carefully, as if she were fragile, which was another thing that struck her about him. Nate was totally male. Alpha to the hilt, from the way he walked with his shoulders back and a swagger that she’d seen turn women’s heads for years, to the intense look in his eyes. But with Jewel, all that intensity seemed to be aimed deeper than his need to be aware or strong. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly, but it was stirring sensations in her that she wasn’t used to—and wanted to experience more of.

  She watched him disappear into a bedroom and return with a shirt on, only to pace the hardwood floors. She liked the earlier view better, but clothes did nothing to hide his impressive body.

  He picked up the remote control, then set it back down. He pulled a book from the shelf, leafed through a few pages, then put it back. Maybe going outside would ease the tension emanating off of him. She hadn’t realized that talking about Rick would upset him so much.

  “Can we go outside and sit down by the water?”

  He lifted serious eyes to hers.

  “I just feel confined.” She wasn’t about to say that he looked like a viper ready to strike.

  He nodded and grabbed the bag of frozen vegetables. He shoved it in the pocket on the side of his fatigues.

  “You’re bringing that?”

  He scooped her into his arms, his muscles more tense than they were when he’d carried her out of the woods. “Yeah. You still need to ice your ankle so it doesn’t swell.”

  As he carried her outside, she wiggled her foot a little. “It doesn’t hurt like it did. Maybe it’s almost better.”

  He carried her down by the water and set her on the grass. She watched the muscles in his jaw clench as he sat beside her and pulled her ankle up on his thigh, then set the frozen vegetables on it. She tried to lighten the mood.

  “I could get used to you carrying me around. Maybe you could carry me to work each day.”

  That earned her a sexy smile that made her stomach flutter.

  “And what would I get for being your personal chauffer?”

  She grinned. “Me.”

  His thigh flexed beneath her foot, and she realized what she’d said. Oh no! She hadn’t meant it in a literal sense. She’d been teasing like they always had.

  Wasn’t I?

  His eyes darkened and narrowed as if he were weighing her comment, and that heated look made her mind wander.

  What would it be like to be taken by Nate?

  Chelsea had tried to hook her up with a few guys, but she’d never felt anything remotely close to sexually attracted to them, and with Nate she felt like her skin was on fire. She looked away, trying to stave off the lust simmering deep inside her.

  “Now, that’s worth considering.” The underlying sensuality in his tone flustered her. The side of his mouth tipped up in a smile that made her ten kinds of nervous.

  “Why do you look like I just found you in the woods again?” His eyes were trained on hers, and she fumbled for words.

  “I…Do I?” She tried to smile, but she was too nervous. She couldn’t stop thinking about being taken by Nate, which would be fine if she were alone. Only she wasn’t alone. She was with him, wanting him. His intense gaze made her wonder if he could read it all over her face—and if he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  Breathe, breathe.

  She realized th
at she’d become so good at ignoring her desire for Nate—reliving that kiss only late at night, in the privacy of her bedroom—and letting life take over, that she had repressed the truth of how often and how badly she wanted him.

  Until now.

  “Yeah, a little.” He smiled. “Relax. Does your ankle hurt?”

  Relax? Was he serious? Too many truths were firing in her brain. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. It had been Nate’s leaving that had nearly crushed her when he and Rick joined the military, and the end to every subsequent visit had left her reeling even more. And after Rick was killed, when Nate had reenlisted for another two years, she’d been devastated. She’d felt like she’d lost him, too, and had buried those feelings even deeper until she believed they’d never existed. And the fact that he’d never acknowledged her as more than Rick’s sister made all those feelings seem wrong, which made burying them feel right.

  “Jewel? Does your ankle hurt?”

  No, my heart does.

  “Huh?” That’s your brilliant response? “No.” She shifted her leg off his lap. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did.”

  “That’s good.” Nate pulled one knee up and rested his arm on it, and now he was the one shifting his gaze away. He looked out over the water and didn’t say anything for a few minutes, giving her time to gain control of her emotions.

  “So, how are the kids?” he asked.

  She was relieved by the change to a safer subject. Uh-oh. Does he need a safe subject as much as I do? Do I want him to need one?

  She forced herself to answer as if her hormones weren’t suddenly on full alert and her nerves weren’t prickling every limb.

  “Patrick is all teenager. Worse than he was the last time you were home—moody and mouthy. Krissy’s still going to one rehearsal after another. And Tay, well, at ten she has more friends than I ever will.”

  “What’s up with Patrick? Anything I can help with?”

  “I don’t know.” She ripped a few blades of grass from the ground, needing someplace to direct her nervous energy. “He’s just moody.”