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Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me)

Page 18

by Masters, Kallypso


  Without making some drastic modifications to his coping strategies, she held no hope he’d ever be able to change the way he dealt with life. That certainly wouldn’t come overnight.

  He tossed the duvet off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Why don’t I take the spare bedroom tonight?”

  His words robbed her of breath. Why had they surprised her so much? Marc had been running from her emotionally since New Year’s. The physical chemistry that had been there from the moment they met had all but disappeared. The emotional chemistry had been an illusion.

  “No need for you to get up, Marc.” He halted, and she felt his gaze on her as she walked to the closet and pulled out her rickety suitcase.

  Time for a reality check, Angie. Your fairy tale is over.

  “I’ll take the spare, Marc. It’s too late for me to drive home tonight.”

  Home? She didn’t have her own house anymore. The thought of moving back with Mama didn’t set well with her. All she knew was that she had to get out of here.

  Oddly enough, no tears formed this time. Careful not to disturb where he lay, she threw the suitcase on her side of the bed, opened it, and walked to the dresser to grab the clothing from the top drawer. She left behind some of the sexy lingerie he’d bought her. She wouldn’t be needing them.

  “Don’t leave.”

  His voice seemed a million miles away. She wouldn’t look at him. He’d only weaken her resolve. From the night they’d met, he would allow her to come just so close but never too close before he’d push her away again. Marc had worn a real mask then. When she destroyed that one, he’d merely changed to wearing a figurative one.

  Dio, and she once had thought she was the one with the trust issues.

  “Look, Angelina, I just need time to process this shit.”

  Angelina’s heart hammered to life, and her hands became ice cold. Fight or flight?

  After emptying the second drawer with her jeans and a few sweaters, she had reached capacity in her case. She glanced his way. His gaze silently pleaded with her for…something. Solace? Comfort? Her nurturing instinct kicked in, and she nearly moved to hold him in her arms.

  Then his expression became shuttered again. “This trip is not about you, cara. You know who you are, where you came from. I have to figure this out on my own.”

  He couldn’t have been any clearer.

  Her voice came out in barely a whisper. “I hope you find what you’re looking for out there, Marc.” She closed and zipped the case, hauling it to the floor faster than he could get to it to help.

  “Are you leaving me, too, Angelina?”

  She flinched. Too? If he thought she wanted to leave him, he was so very wrong.

  “Marc, I can’t stay if you continue to push me away, cast me aside. I have needs, too. And foremost is my need to meet your needs. That’s what love is, Marc.”

  “No, that’s what being a mother is. I never asked you to be my mother, Angelina. It seems I’ve had no shortage of those in my life.”

  She knew he was hurting, lashing out, but if he thought she wanted to be his mother they definitely had serious problems. She began dragging the case with its broken wheel toward the door before he wrenched the handle from her hand. His touch sent sparks up her arm, and she stepped back as if burned.

  Marc pleaded, “I can’t love you any more than I do now.”

  Angelina avoided eye contact. “That’s what I’m afraid of, Marc. It’s just not enough.”

  Angry that he hadn’t even talked with her about the need to meet his birth father, she asked, “What’s going to happen in Italy to change anything?”

  “I’m going to find out who the fuck I am.” The torment in his voice reverberated around the room.

  Hating to hear the pain in his voice and watch him hurting like this, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He held himself rigid, not embracing her in return.

  No more excuses, Angie.

  “Per favore, cara, I just need some time alone. Time to think.”

  She let go of him physically, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to let go emotionally for a very long time. He would always be the love of her life, whether he wanted to be or not. “I’ll always love you, Marc, but I won’t live this way. I hope you find the answers.”

  Marc extricated her hands from his waist and pushed her away by her upper arms. “Listen, I’ll call you when I get back. We’ll talk more then.”

  “Don’t call unless you’re ready to make some changes, Marc.” She opened the door. “I’ll carry the case downstairs in the morning.”

  Walking down the hallway to one of the guest bedrooms, her legs felt weighed down with chains. He’d once put her in culinary bondage. Many times he’d restrained her. Those times, he’d always released her. This time, though, he’d shackled her heart in chains she’d never be able to break, and then he’d tossed away the key.

  Ironically, he’d helped her regain some of her self-confidence in the months she’d been with him, which only helped her not to backtrack now. She crawled naked into the lonely, queen-sized bed and hugged the pillow. Still no tears. Maybe she’d cried them all out before she’d lost hope.

  After a night spent tossing in the half-empty bed, she listened as Marc shut the door to the house and fired up his Porsche. He really was leaving without saying good-bye. She tossed the blanket aside and got up.

  What now?

  As her brother Tony would say, it was time to fish or cut bait. Frustrated at falling for the wrong man yet again and with no clue where she could go, she walked down the hallway toward the bedroom to retrieve her suitcase, but it was gone.

  On her way downstairs to the kitchen for coffee, she found the bag sitting near the door leading to the garage. He’d carried it down for her, as if he couldn’t get her out of here fast enough. A part of her wished he’d have at least fought to keep her. If she didn’t know better, she thought he’d almost expected her to leave.

  On the counter, she found a note stuck to her purse: “Be back in a week.” What happened to a few days, which he’d told her last night?

  He must not think she’d leave. Or he expected her to be back by the time he returned.

  Sorry, Marc. You’re going to have to run to me this time.

  She carried her first mug of coffee to the living room. It was too early to call friends or family, so she clicked the remote and her comfort movie began showing on the screen. Maybe Luc Teyssier and Kate could show her that sometimes the girl did get the guy and her perfect little stone cottage with a happily-ever-after ending.

  Okay, maybe her dream home was more a cabin in the woods—not the wilderness, though! She needed the assurance civilization was close by. She looked around the living room. This house had no charm or character. How did a “chintz sofa and ornate Italian iron bed” kind of gal come to be living in a bachelor pad?

  Maybe she was a mismatch to Marc’s life, too.

  Her attention once again on the screen, she watched Kate dressed in an adorable sailor-style boatneck top sitting on a beach chair on the Côte d’Azur, trying to make her boyfriend jealous by flaunting her pretend-boyfriend Luc.

  Angelina realized that through most of French Kiss, Kate chased after her unfaithful loser of a boyfriend who had gone to France for a medical convention and immediately had fallen for another woman. A beautiful woman with a sexy body.

  A woman like Melissa.

  Stop it, Angie.

  Marc hadn’t run off to Europe to be with another woman. Once again, he had gone off alone, shutting out everyone who loved him on some quest for an unattainable dream. Sadly, Marc had rejected her offer of love, family, and a sense of belonging. He might never be able to see what was right in front of his face all along—not only with her, but with the D’Alessio family. His family.

  An hour later, a call to her former landlady told her what she’d expected—the house in Aspen Corners was under a six-month lease until mid-April. Marc would be gone a few days, so t
here was no rush leaving today, but the thought of staying in this lonely house held no appeal.

  Usually Marc ran to the Fourteeners in the Rockies for solace and escape. She supposed the Alps and Apennines would provide comfort for him now. He probably could never love any woman as much as he loved the mountains. Once upon a time, he’d told her they had made him realize how much he wanted Angelina to be a part of his life. He’d fought to win her over back then.

  Well, somehow she didn’t think he’d interpret the message from the Italian mountains the same way. They held too many secrets. He didn’t have anyone there to help translate if he got his signals crossed with all the emotional baggage he was lugging around.

  Already the familiar tugging at her heartstrings had begun. She wouldn’t stay away if Marc gave any indication of being ready to deal with their relationship head on. Maybe her leaving would be the catalyst he needed to change, if he truly loved her the way he said he did.

  After cleaning up the kitchen, she put the mugs away and spotted one Luke had left behind a few months ago. She’d enlist the help of someone else who loved Marc. Guys had a different kind of bond with each other. Of course, Marc could seek help from Adam, but he intimidated Angelina too much, so she’d rather call Luke.

  Luke had moved from Denver last December onto a small spread in Fairchance near Aspen Corners where he’d been pursuing his latest passion—training rescued and abused mustangs for SAR work. She realized Luke also liked to play his cards close to the vest. They hadn’t even known Luke had been working on a house there for the last half of the year until he’d moved in around Thanksgiving.

  Men.

  Wait. Would going to Luke just cause more trouble? In French Kiss, Kate’s boyfriend Charlie became jealous when he saw Kate was interested in someone else. Would Marc think she was trying to manipulate him as Kate had done? Dio, he already had enough trust issues.

  Then again, staying with Luke might bring Marc’s inability to trust to a head. Luke was her friend now, too. If Marc couldn’t trust them both not to betray his trust, then she wouldn’t be able to try and work on reconciliation with him. Jealousy sent Allen Martin off the deep end last fall. Better to find out now if Marc would have such issues. He always claimed her as his. Would he trust her?

  Hanging out at Luke’s would be safer, too. She didn’t want Rafe or Tony to see her back in Aspen Corners, in case she was able to resolve things with Marc. They’d finally started to accept Marc over the past few months but would automatically blame him for her unhappiness in a breakup.

  Angelina hated that word. She wasn’t ready to give up on Marc D’Alessio, but the fewer overprotective brothers there were trying to keep her from being hurt, the better.

  Why couldn’t she have fallen for the much less complicated Luke? He was easygoing, well-adjusted, and stable. Instead, her heart had been captured by a sexy, unattainable Italian.

  Realizing she was too tired to attempt to drive right away, she decided to think a while longer about her options before calling Luke. She returned to the living room and rewound the DVD to one of her favorite parts—the train ride where Luc first realized he was falling for Kate when she fell asleep on the bench seat. Luc kissed her. So romantic.

  Angelina missed Marc so much already. She curled up on the sofa and pressed the power button off. So tired. What if Marc never figured out that she was his perfect Kate?

  Oh, Marc…

  She awoke with a start, and a glance at her watch told her it was after noon. Her stomach growled, so she went into the kitchen to eat some leftovers from Damián’s party. A call to Luke got his answering machine. She told him she’d be stopping by later today; she didn’t say she might be staying a while. Of course, if he didn’t think it was a good idea, she could go to Mama’s.

  Upstairs in what once had been their bedroom, she gathered more things in grocery bags and packed the toiletries in the bathroom. She retrieved a few things from the closet as well, but didn’t take the outfits that reminded her too much of her time with Marc.

  Glancing around the bedroom she and Marc had shared since October, a pounding between her eyes warned of an oncoming headache. She’d better get on the road before it became unbearable.

  Would Marc ever be able to commit to anything more than the happy-for-now so popular in her erotic romances? Those fantasy endings where great sex led characters to believe there was a stronger foundation than there actually was?

  Marc, I hope you find the answers you need in Italy. Or better yet, that you’ll come home with your heart open and ready to receive my love.

  Chapter Twelve

  Angelina rolled over in bed and saw the sun streaming through the slit between the heavy blue and brown drapes that may have begun life as Indian blankets. Good grief! She tossed the ivory chenille bedspread aside and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. How long had she slept? After a few misses, she managed to maneuver her feet into her slippers. The floorboards at Luke’s ranch house were cold when she’d prepared for bed last night, and she was sure they hadn’t gotten any warmer this morning. She pulled the drapes open and saw the snow-covered ground awash in midmorning sunlight.

  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Angelina padded over to the dresser to grab her toiletries bag. In the light of day, she noticed for the first time the framed sketch Cassie had drawn at the hospital when Adam had been recovering from the cougar attack. The smiling woman in the image had an angelic face surrounded by a halo of wildly curly hair. She held a tiny baby in her arms. Luke had said it was his wife Maggie and that she’d been pregnant when she’d died on Mount Evans with Papa. She liked to think her papa was up there in heaven, too, watching over Luke’s family as well as the Giardano brood down here.

  Her glance strayed to the hand-carved wooden frame, and upon closer inspection she saw two gold wedding bands inset at the lower right-hand corner, the smaller one fitting inside the other. She recognized the larger one as the ring Luke had been wearing when she’d first met him in Rico’s bar. He must have made this frame himself. She saw intricately carved leaves and flowers on the face of the frame, wondering at the significance of the objects he’d chosen to carve in a tribute to his wife and baby. So much love and attention to detail.

  Angelina’s eyes stung. He must have been devastated to have lost his wife, knowing she carried his baby. Angelina pictured her father insisting on going down alone to rescue the injured woman, knowing his time on earth was going to be cut short by cancer anyway and not wanting any of the other SAR professionals to be taken away from their families if the snowpack gave way, which it had.

  Hearing the protesting whinny of a horse coming from the direction of the new barn on the other side of the corral, Angelina turned and headed toward the kitchen to find it deserted. She’d intended to get up early enough to make Luke breakfast, but the mug and egg-encrusted plate in the sink told her Luke had taken care of himself. Some guest chef she was. Part of the deal when she’d asked him to let her hide out—er, stay—here a while was that she’d prepare him gourmet meals.

  Not that Luke had demanded anything in return for giving her a safe place to land. He’d welcomed her with open arms and no strings attached.

  Surely Marc would come to his senses and realize she only wanted to help him face whatever tormented him from the past. She couldn’t help but wonder where he was and what he was doing. Had he found his father yet? If so, how had the meeting gone?

  After toasting a couple of pieces of the sourdough bread Luke had made in his bread machine, she downed half a cup of coffee and returned to the bedroom to dress in jeans and a T-shirt. She slipped into one of Luke’s flannel shirts for an extra layer, not planning to be outside long. Five minutes later, shivering from the cold despite the added shirt, she entered the horse barn in search of Luke. It was warm inside the building, once she got out of the wind.

  I’ve seen the storm clouds in your past

  But rest assured ’cause you are safe

  A
t home at last

  Who was that singing?

  I rescued you, you rescued me

  And we’re right where we should be

  When we’re together.

  She crept toward a stall at the opposite end of the barn and peeked inside to find Luke leaning against the wall opposite a brown and white mustang. He strummed a guitar and seemed totally uninterested in the horse, which eyed him cautiously from more than half a double stall away. The poor thing had gouges in its flank, and part of its right ear had been torn off. The abuse these animals had suffered was criminal. Thank God someone rescued them, and Luke had then been able to give them a place to further heal and regain their strength and spirit. She didn’t know how many he’d been able to take in so far. She’d seen six in the corral last night, but with a heart as big as his, she guessed he’d always have room for one more rescue.

  Heck, he even had room for a rescue of the human variety—her.

  But singing to them? Angelina stifled a giggle, not wanting to disturb the scene. She had no idea Luke could sing—and so well—much less that he sang to his horses.

  The mare moved closer to Luke with infinitesimally small steps. What the heck? She’d heard of horse whispering, but horse serenading?

  Inch by inch, Luke seemed to be coaxing the animal toward him as he sang Paul Brandt’s I Do. Finally, the horse was only a foot or so away from the blue feed bucket hanging on the wall next to Luke when she dipped her nose inside. Luke continued to sing as if the horse wasn’t there at all.

  Amazing.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Luke’s soft-spoken words jarred Angelina until she realized he was speaking to the horse. She nearly giggled again but was mesmerized as he slowly laid the acoustic guitar down, propped it against the wall, and reached out to stroke the horse’s neck. The skittish creature stopped eating and backed away again. “There, now. You’re safe with me. I’m not gonna hurt ya, darlin’.”

 

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