Hero by Night

by Sara Jane Stone

  She nodded and turned to her truck.

  “Wrong way, Lena.”

  “If I’m going to be staying for a while, I need to bring my bag up.” She unlocked the cover of her pickup and lowered the gate. Reaching inside, she withdrew a long duffel and set it on the ground. Then she pulled out a bag of dog food. Hoisting the puppy chow over her shoulder, she picked up the bag and headed for the door to the studio apartment.

  “Need a hand with anything else?” he asked.

  “No, this is everything.”

  Chad nodded and turned to the house with a sinking feeling that when she said “everything,” she meant that all her possessions fit into that one bag. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as she disappeared up the stairs leading to the apartment above the barn, her dog at her heels. She was right to be suspicious, but this time he didn’t have an ulterior motive.

  He’d asked Lena to lunch because liked being around her, plain and simple.

  SHOWERED AND DRESSED in a floor-­length, sleeveless sundress, Lena buckled her sandals, slid her revolver into her purse, and grabbed a sweater, her stomach still rumbling. In spite of the noisy reminder, Chad’s sandwiches weren’t at the forefront of her mind.

  Hand on the knob, she cast a backward glance at the envelope Malcolm had dropped off. The medal ceremony. Her family. The vice president. It was too much, too big. But it was also validation. If only she could walk up on that stage and allow the vice president of the country she’d served to pin a medal on her uniform in front of her family.

  Hero nudged her free hand with his nose and she turned to the door. She’d come so far since that first month home when she’d gone to visit her parents in Texas and suffered her first nightmare. From there, it had been a downhill slide. But she was finding her way back. Today she’d reached for a man’s hand. She’d wanted to touch someone. And holding on to Chad hadn’t sent her spiraling into a panic attack.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped outside, careful to lock the door behind her. “If that ceremony were next year, maybe I’d have a shot.”

  Because one touch didn’t mean she was better. Of course, she could always test her theory by touching him again. Maybe his arms this time, to confirm if his biceps felt as good as they looked.

  “Hungry?” Chad called as he crossed the parking area between the house and the barn, his cowboy boots kicking up dust with each step. He wore the same jeans and button-­down flannel shirt he’d had on earlier, the sleeves rolled up. “I have turkey and cheese, mystery soy meat, and peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Mystery soy meat?”

  “Katie’s a vegetarian, so it is always in the house. Just in case you were too, I made one up. I’ll eat anything. If you prefer meat, the real stuff is yours,” he said, now halfway across the parking area.

  She liked the way he started the conversation as he approached, giving her time to adjust to his presence. Hypervigilance was a bitch, and often left her feeling as if everyone around her was sneaking up on her.

  “I eat meat, but I also like a good PB&J.”

  Chad stopped a few feet away, his easygoing trademark grin in place. “I knew we had a lot in common. Ready to check out my favorite picnic spot?”

  “Do we need to walk far?” She’d completed one hike today and had no intention of attempting a second.

  “Nope.” Chad turned and headed for the open field in the backyard. “Just past the clearing there is a good spot by a creek. Brody, Josh, and I camped out there when we were kids. Katie was too chicken to sleep in a tent all night.”

  “What was she afraid of?” she asked, following Chad across his backyard.

  “Bugs mostly.” He held back a low-­lying branch and waited for her to step into the forest. “Don’t worry, I brought spray.”

  “I wish there was a repellent for the things that scare me.” She paused by a tree and waited for him to lead the way. He stayed true to his word, stopping not far from his backyard and pulling a blanket out of his backpack. She helped him spread it out on the ground, took a seat, and accepted a sandwich. “If I could pull out a spray bottle and erase my fears . . .”

  “Your dog would be out of a job,” he said, nodding to the golden retriever who’d claimed a corner of his blanket, content to chew on his toy.

  “True. But he might enjoy retirement.”

  “What frightens you, Lena?” He stretched his long legs in front of him, easing down on the blanket.

  She let out a mirthless laugh. “I have a laundry list of triggers. Loud noises, ­people getting too close, intimate situations. My ex wasn’t fond of that last one. He didn’t like the fact that I braced for hugs as if insurgents were about to storm our house, or that I shied away from his touch.”

  “That’s why he gave up on you?”

  “Yes. But it wasn’t his fault,” she said before Chad joined his sister in labeling Malcolm a jerk.

  “It doesn’t sound like anyone is to blame, Lena. Some things just happen. Like my little brother getting hit in the head while helicopter logging. It was an accident. Sure, there were a million ways to prevent it. He could have stayed home that day. The pilots could have flown a different route, or the copilot could have paid better attention to what was happening on the ground. But you can’t think that way.”

  He handed her a bottle of water. “I try to save my energy for the problems that I know are my fault. Right now, I can’t fly until I fix my reputation or start a serious relationship.”

  “Relationship?” Lena focused on keeping her voice steady. She’d struggled with reading ­people even since she’d returned home. Her life while deployed had been drawn in black and white. Home felt more like a rainbow with the colors constantly shifting. But she’d come a long way in the past few months, far enough to know that helicopter logging and relationships did not go hand in hand.

  “I was under the impression you’d banned that word from your vocabulary,” she added.

  “You’re right.” He smiled as if every word out of his mouth made perfect sense. “But it turns out, I need a girlfriend.”

  She listened as he explained how his position at Moore Timber, and his dreams of helicopter logging, meant he needed to appear serious about one woman.

  “Now I’m aware of the fact that this crazy situation is my fault. Hell, you saw the proof last night that I’ve earned my reputation,” he added. “And fixing it? That’s on me too. But what you’re going through? You were just doing your job, Lena. The way I see it, the fears following you now aren’t that much different than Josh’s short-­term memory loss. And I haven’t met a single doctor or nurse who expects my little brother to solve his problems on his own.”

  Lena froze, the peanut butter from Chad’s homemade sandwich stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d spent months surrounded by ­people pushing her toward an imaginary timeline as if she could check the boxes one by one—­therapy, ser­vice dog—­and become the person she’d been before. She had the tools, now it was up to her to do the rest, to fix her troubled mind.

  But out of all the ­people in Independence Falls, the man with the panty-­melting smile didn’t see it that way. Sitting here, eating a sandwich that desperately needed more jam to justify the label PB&J, her dog relaxed at her side, she felt as if who she was might be enough.

  For now.

  Tomorrow? She’d like to wake up one step closer to normal.

  A plan formed in her mind as she took a sip of water. “Are you going to do it? Settle down?”

  “I’m not interested in leading someone on who is hoping for a ring in a few months,” Chad said. “But I need to do something.”

  “Helicopter logging means that much to you?”

  “Yes.” There was passion and fire behind that one word. “I told you about my dad, right?”

  She nodded. The man had been his hero. His words stuck
with her because her father was a Hero, capital H, to most ­people, but he’d never been hers.

  “Flying a helicopter was his dream. But when he left the army and faced the fact that he had four mouths to feed, he stuck with the family trucking business. He still found a way to take me and my brothers up in a helicopter and teach us the ropes.”

  “You could enlist,” she said. “The army is always looking for pilots.”

  Chad shook his head. “Logging is in my blood. This place, this land—­I love it here. I know it doesn’t sound like much of a dream, flying around the forest and hauling out trees, but it’s mine.”

  Who was she to challenge a person’s hopes and dreams? Lena slid another quarter of the more-­peanut-­butter-­than-­jelly sandwich out of the bag and took a bite. Her goals for the future included finding a job and maybe, if she could push past her fears, accepting a Silver Star for serving her country.

  And finding her way back to that moment last night, when she’d hovered on the edge of an orgasm . . .

  When he’d touched her, awakening her desires with his words, this charming man had offered a glimpse at what the future could hold for her. Maybe she was finally starting to recover from the shattering trauma of surviving in a war zone. Or maybe it was this man, and his wicked demands, that had delivered her one step closer to normal.

  “What if you knew it was just for show? What if it was clear from the start that rings and promises were not part of the deal?” She lowered the sandwich to her lap, her gaze fixed on Chad’s chiseled, too-­good-­to-­be-­true features. “What if I pretend to be your girlfriend?”

  “A fake relationship?” Chad blinked and stole a quick glance at Hero as if checking in with her canine companion to see if she’d lost her mind before looking back at her. But her dog remained focused on his toy.

  “We could go out on dates and hopefully change this town’s perceptions of you. At least until you find a copilot.”

  “Lena, I appreciate the offer. But I’m not sure that’s the best idea—­”

  “It is,” she said. “Everyone sees me as damaged and untouchable. They would never guess it was just for show.”

  His brow furrowed. “You really want to do this? Go out to dinner with me and let Independence Falls think we’re dating?”

  “Yes. But I have an ulterior motive.” She drew a deep breath. “I want our relationship to be real at night. When we’re alone.”

  Chapter 6

  CHAD FOCUSED ON the smudge of peanut butter on Lena’s cheek. Nine times out of ten, he could read a woman’s signals and follow her words, even if she said one thing and meant another. But with Lena, he needed clarification. It was like flying over a logging site. A little bit to the left led to trouble when you had a giant metal hook hanging down and a person on the ground trying to grab it.

  “I’m going to need you to spell out what you’re asking for,” he said.

  She looked him straight in the eyes. For the first time since he’d met this mysterious, intriguing woman by Eric’s pond, he saw a soldier. The wealth of determination in her expression blew him away.

  “I know last night didn’t end well—­”

  “You’re the first woman who has ever pulled a gun on me in the sack.”

  “You’re the first man to touch me and leave me wishing for more in nearly eighteen months,” she countered. “More if you count the fourteen months I spent in Afghanistan.”

  “Wow,” he muttered, his mouth full of fake meat. What the hell else was there to say to that? “Wait, you think I healed you?”

  Because if she thought last night had ended well . . . shit, what the hell had her sex life been like before she’d gone to war?

  “No. But you made me think I’m closer to normal,” she said softly. “And that’s my dream. I love Hero, but I hate the fact that I need him. And—­”

  She drew a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the blanket. He had a feeling there was so much more she wasn’t telling him. “And we have chemistry. I want you to touch me and whisper dirty things in my ear.”

  Chad let out a slow breath, running his hands through his hair. “Lena, I’d like to help you. And for selfish reasons, I’d love to take you up on your offer. I want to fly almost as much as I want to breathe. But I’m not so sure I’m the right guy. I don’t know the first thing about what you’re going through. I never served. And aside from hanging out with Georgia, I don’t know anything about PTSD.”

  “I’m not asking you to be my shrink,” she said. “I have one of those. I want you to be my lover, or at least try. And I’ll do my best to convince Independence Falls that we’re dating. Of course, if the thought of sex with me turns you off—­”

  “No.” He wanted to agree to her plan. It was as crazy as flying blind over a forest, but part of him wished he could make Lena his.

  “If we do this,” he said, in his best no-­nonsense voice, “I don’t set the limits. You do. Understood?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m game for anything. I want you, Lena. But I think we both know this is shaky ground. Promise me, you’ll tell me no whenever you need to say the word. I don’t need a reason. And I swear, I’ll always listen.”

  “I promise.” She held out her hand, her fingers trembling. “Then it’s a deal?”

  He gave her a gentle, quick handshake to seal their crazy plan before pulling back, allowing her space. “Deal. But I need you to promise me one more thing. When I’m in your bed, the gun is unloaded.”

  She smiled. “No loaded weapons in bed. I can do that.”

  He shook his head. Part of him knew this was wrong. She was hurting and he wasn’t the man to help her. But part of him flat-­out wanted her. “We might both regret this, but how about dinner tonight? I could pick you at five?”

  “It’s a date.”

  CHAD HAD SPENT more nights than he wanted to admit in the apartment over the barn. But he’d never knocked on the door holding a bunch of flowers and a gift bag. And he’d never been nervous.

  “Hi.” Lena opened the door wearing the same long dress she’d had on earlier. She’d added lip gloss, but one look told Chad he’d overdone it with the flowers.

  “Hey.” He offered his trademark smile, the one that made most women melt. Except Lena. She drew her brows together, studying the offerings as if they were part of a foreign ritual she didn’t understand.

  “I’m ready to go,” she said, still eyeing the flowers.

  “May I come in first?” he asked. “Put these in water?”

  “Of course.” She stepped back from the door and turned to the stairs.

  “What did you do this afternoon?” He followed her up to the studio. They reached the top step and Hero paused on the landing, glancing back at him. Chad smiled at the dog, but as with his owner, it didn’t exactly lead to a doggie smile. The retriever just studied him for a moment longer before stepping into the studio.

  “I spent the afternoon job hunting online at the library. And it was . . . discouraging.”

  “Not much out there?” he asked, knowing the answer.

  “No.”

  They reached the apartment and he held out the bouquet. “Maybe these will brighten your day.”

  “I didn’t realize fake relationships came with flowers and presents.” She took the colorful arrangement, waiting for him to hand over the bag.

  “This is just a little something to get us started,” he said, holding it out of her reach. “For your side of the bargain.”

  She held out her hand. “Hand it over, Chad Summers.”

  Hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake, running their deal into the ground before they left his family’s property, he gave her the pink gift bag. She set the flowers on the two-­person table and pulled out the tissue paper. Then she reached inside, her blue eyes widening as she removed her present.

 
“You bought me a vibrator?” Lena turned the pink silicone sex toy over in her hands. “Thank you. But—­”

  “Lena.” He reached out, careful not to touch her as he took the vibrator from her. “Let me show you why.”

  “Now?”

  He nodded, his courage building. The way she looked at the toy in his hands, she wanted the pleasure it promised. After hearing her desperate moans, her pleas for a release that had remained out of reach because he hadn’t known the rules of the game last night, he wanted to send her soaring. But this time, he refused to scare her.

  “What about dinner?” she asked.

  “We’ll get there. The night is still young. And since I’m grounded until we find a copilot, I don’t have anywhere to be at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Do you?”

  “No. The library is not open on Sunday.”

  “Then we have all night,” he said, making a mental note to offer the computer at the house for her job search. But he didn’t want to distract her now, not when she was focusing on his hands. “Is your gun unloaded?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s in my purse, but no bullets. And I can put Hero in the bathroom.”

  “That would be good.” He glanced at the golden retriever sitting practically on his mistress’s feet. Later, they would also talk about why she carried a revolver with her to dinner—­and everywhere else. He had a long list of questions. Some she might not wish to answer, and that was fine by him. But he’d like to know if she had a permit to carry a concealed weapon.

  After he found out what noises she made when she came.

  “Once he’s settled, come sit on the bed.”

  Lena obeyed, leading an unhappy Hero to the studio’s bathroom. “Stay,” she murmured to the dog through the hollow wood door. The dog whined as she crossed the room, selected one of the chairs from the two-­person table, and positioned it in front of the door.

  “In case he tries to break out,” she said.

  “Good thinking,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll fix the lock.”

  Lena walked over to the bed and sat, every muscle in her body visibly tense. She might as well have been settling into the dentist’s chair.