Carly jotted some notes in Amanda’s file, avoiding the woman’s inquiring gaze. “It’s not like that. I’m just renting a room,” she murmured, pretending to concentrate on her report.
His family did not need to know they were having sex. Or had sex, more like it. Having meant it would continue.
Amanda sat up on the table, pulling her paper gown tighter around her. “That’s good, that man has issues. I love him like a brother, however he’s a bit off his rocker.”
“From the war,” Carly murmured.
“Yeah. First of all, anyone who volunteers to keep going back is crazy in the head anyway, but being over there made it worse. You know he’s got PTSD, right?”
“I figured.”
“Just be careful,” she warned.
“Why? Do you think he’s dangerous?” Carly tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.
Amanda chewed on her bottom lip, a serious look on her face. “I don’t know. He’s only been home for six months. I don’t know him well enough. I mean, Max did allow him back on the force.” She shrugged. “Although he’s on probation for another six months. And Max insists he go to counseling.”
“Is he actually going?”
“I’m not sure. If he isn’t, Max will be pissed.”
“It was probably a good idea,” Carly murmured, then chewed on the end of her pen.
“Yeah, my husband can be smart sometimes. Though, please don’t tell him I said that,” Amanda said, her eyes twinkling.
“I’ll keep your secret. Now, I’ll leave you to get dressed. You’re leaking.”
Amanda looked down at the two wet spots on her paper gown. “Holy hell. I’ve turned into a damn milk cow.”
Someone had the garage blocked. Carly sighed and parked alongside the driveway in the grass instead. She didn’t recognize the car, but most likely she wouldn’t unless it was Matt’s SUV.
She hit the garage door opener before getting out, since she never carried her house key, and entered the house through the garage, listening for voices. Sounds of movement came from the direction of the kitchen, so she headed that direction. Then she heard it. The joyful humming.
That definitely crossed Matt off the list of possible people in the house.
She peeked into the kitchen and saw Mary Ann, Matt’s mother. Shit!
Before Carly could back away quietly, Mary Ann turned, spotted her, and screamed, her hand coming to her heart. When the scream died, her mouth continued to hang open.
Double shit.
Carly was just as surprised to see Mary Ann in the house as Matt’s mother was to see her. She doubted Matt would have told his mother that she had moved in. He didn’t seem the type to over share with his parents.
“Doctor Stephens! You scared me. I didn’t expect anyone to be here since Matt’s working.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you had a key to the house.”
“I don’t,” she said, then blushed. “Okay, I do, but don’t tell Matt. Amanda made a copy for me. He’d kill me if he knew.”
“I doubt he’d kill you,” Carly assured her.
“What are you doing here?” Mary Ann asked, with a sudden curious expression.
“I was about to ask you the same question.”
Carly watched Mary Ann’s wheels turning and groaned silently. The woman was putting two and two together.
“Have you been seeing each other?” The joy in possibly finding Matt a mate lit up his mother’s eyes.
Oh brother. She needed to get this cleared up and quickly. “No,” Carly’s voice broke and she cleared it, trying to stay calm. “No, Mrs. Bryson, it’s nothing like that—”
“Oh, call me Mary Ann, dear.”
Carly half expected her to dance a little jig across the kitchen. “Mary Ann, then. And please call me Carly. No, I’m only renting a room. That’s all.”
Her face dropped, and Carly actually felt guilty for breaking her bubble. Damn it.
Carly took in the bags of groceries littering the counter. “You do his shopping?”
“I stock his fridge when he’s not home.”
“But he doesn’t know you have a key?”
“No.”
Carly arched an eyebrow. “So… Does he think the grocery fairies come to restock the fridge and pantry?”
Mary Ann opened her mouth and then shut it with a snap. “Oh boy. You’re right. How stupid am I?”
Yikes. Now Carly felt even worse. “You’re not stupid. You love your son and want to help him like any great mother would. It’s a sweet thing you’re doing.”
Mary Ann’s spirits seemed to lift a bit and she went back to unpacking the groceries. Carly helped. Plus, being hungry, she wanted to see if Mary Ann brought anything good. Whatever she ate, she’d replace as soon as she got the chance.
She found a jar of peanut butter, some jelly, and a fresh loaf of bread.
“What are you doing?” Mary Ann asked.
Heat crawled up Carly’s neck. “Making a sandwich. I’ll buy him some more.”
“Oh no, you are not making a sandwich.” She waved a finger at Carly. “I’ve got something better.” Mary Ann quickly moved to the fridge and pulled out what looked like a homemade casserole. “I made him some lasagna.”
Yeah, there was no doubt Matt knew his mother had a key to the house. Homemade dishes just didn’t appear out of thin air. And burglars didn’t break it to leave food. If they did, Matt probably had the skills to make booby traps to foil intruders. If not take them out efficiently and painlessly.
Her mouth watered at the sight of the lasagna. It was a better choice than a PB and J sandwich. A million times better.
“Let me warm some up for you.”
Carly wasn’t going to argue. She had to admit she was beginning to fall in love with Matt’s mother. Especially when the delicious smell of the lasagna getting hot and melty hit her.
She helped Mary Ann unpack the rest of the groceries while she waited for her meal. After a few minutes, they were done and so was the food.
Mary Ann insisted she sit down at the table so she could serve her, and Carly decided not to fight it. Her mother had never been a good cook. Mary Ann’s lasagna looked and smelled delectable.
The first bite was so hot it burned Carly’s mouth, but she didn’t care. Her eyes rolled in ecstasy. Mary Ann sat across the table from her, watching, while Carly took bite after bite. She didn’t even want to slow down to wipe sauce off her mouth.
“Mmm. Mary Ann, that is heaven. Pure heaven. You can sneak in here any time and bring food. Hell, I’ll leave the door open.”
Matt’s mother giggled and blushed. “You should taste my famous shoo-fly pie.”
Carly winced before she could stop herself. Ugh. She hated shoo-fly pie. “What else ya got?”
Mary Ann frowned, her brows pinning as if shocked that someone didn’t actually like that excuse for a pie. “No? You don’t like shoo-fly?”
“No. Not my thing.” Carly shoved another forkful of lasagna in her own pie hole. It just wasn’t a shoo-fly pie hole.
“Weeeell, I make a great pecan pie with chocolate and bourbon…”
Carly gave her a great big smile even though her mouth was full of pasta and yummy melted cheese. She pointed her fork at the older woman. “Now you’re talking, lady.”
Mary Ann smiled back. “Oh, I’ll have to make one for Ron too. That man loves my desserts.”
One day Carly hoped to have a solid relationship and eternal love like the two of them had. Maybe one day…
“So tell me,” Mary Ann lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in, as if worried someone eavesdropped. “Has he been sleeping in the house?”
Carly shook her head. “I’ve only been here a couple days, but he heads to the tent every night.”
A sad look overtook his mother’s face. “Who lives in a tent when there’s a perfectly good house to live in?”
“Someone who’s stuck in their own head, that’s who,” Carly answered, trying not
to spit her food across the table.
“You’re a doctor. Can you help him?”
Carly tried not to choke and quickly swallowed down the last bite of lasagna she had in her mouth. She placed her fork carefully on her now empty plate.
“Thank you for dinner, Mary Ann.” She cleared her throat. “But I don’t think I’m the type of doctor he needs.”
“Maybe you know a good one who can help him,” she insisted.
Carly understood how desperate Matt’s mother was to help her son. But from what Amanda said today, he was already supposed to be seeing a doctor or therapist of some sort. Hopefully someone who understood PTSD. Maybe someone actually recommended by the VA.
She was an OB/GYN, she could help him with STDs, not cognitive-behavioral therapy. “Is he on any type of meds?”
Mary Ann shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. He won’t talk about it.”
Carly really felt for her. His mother’s pain was obvious. The woman only wanted the best for her son. “Are you seeing a therapist yourself?”
Mary Ann looked at her in surprise. “Me? For what?”
Well, there was Carly’s answer. That was a big fat no. “Sometimes it helps for loved ones to talk about the struggles dealing with a family member suffering with a disorder. You need to take care of yourself first if you want to help him.”
Mary Ann made a noise and waved her hand. “I’m perfectly fine. I have a new grandbaby and Marc’s about to get married. Finding a good woman would probably help Matt out of his funk.”
Carly doubted the answer was that easy.
“Maybe you can help him now you’re living together.”
“I already said I’m the wrong type of doc—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Mary Ann,” Carly said slowly and distinctly. “We’re only roommates, nothing more. And not even that, really. More like neighbors who share a common area.”
The older woman waved her hand around again. “Nonsense. If you two are around each other enough, you never know what can happen.”
Carly spine stiffened for a moment before pushing her chair back abruptly. She carried her plate to the sink and didn’t face Matt’s mother when she said, “I am sooo not the answer to your son’s problems.”
Especially since she was saving up her money to adopt a baby and Matt wanted nothing to do with children. That put the kibosh on any relationship between the two of them, other than it being anything but sexual in nature.
But Carly couldn’t tell his mother that.
Chapter 7
Matt stood in the open flap to his tent and regarded the dark house. It was late. His shift had dragged on longer than expected due to a man leaving Crazy Pete’s bar who decided he was sober enough to drive.
The man had been wrong.
Luckily, the drunk hadn’t hurt anyone and only ended up with a few bruises of his own. When Matt received the call from county dispatch, they advised him the car ended up in ditch, and it certainly did. He found the driver asleep behind the wheel. Or passed out cold. One or the other, not that it mattered. By the time he got the guy processed and released, his eight-hour shift ended up stretching to almost ten.
He’d grown used to long days and even longer sleepless nights while in the military, but since Carly had moved into the house a couple nights ago, he felt a bit more anxious to head home than normal.
Since it was after one in the morning, he had avoided the house and went straight out to his quarters. Instead of heading to his cot to sleep, he found himself staring at the house, wishing for some sign she was awake and waiting up for him.
He couldn’t get his mind off of her. The silky robe she wore this morning had clung in all the right places. The outline of her nipples showed through the thin fabric, making him want to latch onto them with his mouth and suck them until she cried out.
His cock stirred at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d had sex and after the past two nights of welcomed release, he was tempted to go into the house and join her in bed. Her beauty rest be damned.
Since tomorrow was Saturday, she most likely didn’t have to work, anyway. She could catch up on any interrupted sleep.
He scrubbed a hand over his hair and blew out a breath. Look at him trying to justify his desire to go in and fuck her…
He shook his head and glanced back over his shoulder into the dim interior of his tent. This was his sanctuary. Once his brothers had helped him set it up, no one, not even his family had been inside.
This was his space. His to retreat to. His comfort zone.
The therapist didn’t like that he had it. Then again, Matt didn’t give a shit what the therapist liked or didn’t like. He only went to see the shrink because he was given no choice. A stipulation Max demanded in order for Matt to return to active duty for the police department.
So he attended his weekly sessions with gritted teeth. The VA doctor had even given him a prescription for some sort of anti-depressant. Though he never filled it. He was not going to start popping pills.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
A flash caught his eye and he glanced back at the house. Through the windows of the sunroom, he could see the kitchen light had been turned on.
He secured the flap on his tent and strode toward the house with a purpose. And that purpose was to be between Carly’s soft thighs within the next few minutes.
He slowed as he walked through the sunroom and entered the kitchen. She was bent over in front of the fridge, moving things around. She straightened with a large pan in her hands. When she turned, she squeaked in surprise, and then visibly relaxed when she recognized him.
“Jesus, Matt. You gave me a freaking heart attack.”
“Sorry.” He moved closer and glanced at the dish in her hand. “Is that my mother’s lasagna?”
Amusement filled him as her cheeks reddened and she looked guilty.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Her lasagna kept calling out to me.”
“Good shit, isn’t it.” Not a question but a confirmation. His mother’s cooking definitely was the bomb. She always stocked the kitchen and then acted like he couldn’t figure out who did it.
He knew she had a key. He wouldn’t complain about her invading his privacy as long as she continued to drop off homemade dishes like her lasagna. It sure beat military chow. Or MREs. Or a mouthful of sand.
Matt frowned.
“Are you mad I’m eating it? It’s addictive.” She slid the pan onto the counter and pulled off the plastic wrap.
He realized she thought he was frowning because of her actions, not his own thoughts. “No. I don’t blame you for pilfering my meal.”
She smiled. “Want some?”
“Hell yes, I want some.” His voice even sounded husky to his own ears.
She turned toward him with a spatula in her hand, her robe gaping enough for him to get a healthy eyeful. “You’re not talking about lasagna, are you?”
“No.”
“Is this going to be a nightly thing?” she asked, smirking. She licked some sauce off her finger, causing his cock to stir.
“Lasagna?”
“No. Sex.”
He sure hoped so. “I’ll leave that up to you to decide.” He closed in, unable to keep his eyes off her in that sexy, clingy robe. Wrapping his arms around her, he slid his palms along the silky fabric at her waist and buried his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply.
“Oh, sure. Put the pressure on me,” she murmured, dropping the spatula on the counter with a clatter.
Her nipples pebbled beneath the robe, and he tucked a finger where the fabric met in the V over her breasts. He tugged and, from where he tucked his face, could see the upper curves of her breasts easily.
His cock grew painfully hard. He broke her hand free from the counter where she gripped it like a lifeline and placed it over the bulge in his BDUs. “No pressure. You can say yes to this, or no.”
“Sounds fair,” she said, swa
llowing hard.
“Very fair. Which one is it? Yes?” He slid her hand up to the top of his erection. “Or no.” He pushed it back down. Her fingers closed around him and squeezed. He groaned against her skin and thrust into her palm.
“By the way, I told your mom we’re just roommates,” she said, her voice ragged, her breath hitched.
“Good,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. He traced her collar bone with his tongue, pushing the fabric out of his way, then sank his teeth gently into her shoulder.
Carly gasped and leaned back against the counter. He quickly untied the sash of her robe and it fell open.
“You don’t want lasagna?” she asked shakily, her eyes hooded as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Fuck the lasagna.”
“Don’t ever say that in front of your mother, she’d cry—” Her words turned into a gasp as he pressed his mouth against the skin above the narrow strip of hair at her pelvis.
Her fingers gripped his head, directing him lower, but he resisted and looked up her body instead. “Turn around.”
Her face appeared flushed, though not from embarrassment. From need. She clearly wanted this as much as he did. She turned to face the counter.
“Drop the robe.”
Without a word, she slid the silky fabric over her shoulders and it slipped to the floor. He nibbled along the globes of her ass, appreciating the roundness, the firmness. He separated her cheeks, running his tongue along the crease.
“Matt…”
“Hush.”
Her thighs trembled against him. He stroked a finger between her legs, finding her wet with arousal. She was so responsive to his touch. The thought became heady and intoxicating. As he slipped a finger inside her with ease, she groaned, pushing her hips toward him, giving him better access to slide in another. Her pussy, slick and ready, gave him no resistance.
He climbed to his feet and observed the woman before him. Her head bowed, making her loose blonde hair a curtain. Her breath became rapid, ragged.
Brothers in Blue: Matt Page 6