Hero by Night

by Sara Jane Stone

  “Malcolm isn’t a bad guy,” she said quietly.

  “Look, Lena,” Chad said slowly, humor fading from his brown eyes. “If there’s a chance you can fix things with him, I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “No,” she said flatly. “There’s no chance. Even if there were, I don’t want to go back. Malcolm had an imaginary line of how much he could take before he gave up. We blew past his idea of when my recovery should’ve ended months ago.”

  “Chad!” A shrill female voice burst the bubble around her, Chad, and their too-­serious conversation.

  Lena turned her head, spotting a slim, tall woman with black hair styled into a spiked pixie cut. Ms. Pixie approached the picnic bench and stopped beside Chad.

  “We missed you at the bar last night,” the woman said. “It didn’t feel like a Friday night without you.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I had something.”

  “Forgiven.” Ms. Pixie rested her hand on Chad’s arm.

  “Delilah, this is Lena,” Chad said, carefully withdrawing his arm from the other woman’s hold. He reached for his water, nodding in her direction. “She just moved to Independence Falls. Lena, meet Delilah Travis.”

  Ms. Pixie’s eyes narrowed as she studied Lena. Could the other woman see her “glow”? The thought sent a tingling reminder of what they’d done on her borrowed bed before heading to dinner. And how she’d felt doing it . . .

  Amazing. Orgasmic. Glowing.

  “Welcome to Independence Falls,” Ms. Pixie said, turning back to Chad. “I stopped in to see Josh today at the end of my shift.”

  “How was he?” Chad said, glancing across the table to add: “Delilah’s a nurse at the hospital.”

  “He was giving one of his nurses a hard time about the food. Something about too many vegetables and not enough meat.”

  Chad grinned. “Sounds like my brother.”

  “The nurse tried to explain that he placed the order yesterday. It’s too bad about his memory,” Delilah said, shaking her head.

  “I’m just glad he’s here with us,” Chad said. “Maybe he can’t remember marking those silly hospital menu cards, but he still knows he’d rather have a bacon double cheeseburger than anything they offer.”

  “Everyone in Independence Falls is praying for Josh and hoping he makes a full recovery,” Delilah said. “I heard Eric threw a little party for you and your brothers. Awfully sweet of him what with all the wedding planning on his plate right now.”

  “I don’t think he’s handling much of the planning,” Chad said. “I would bet that is all on Georgia.”

  “I heard,” Delilah said, dropping her voice low, “that Georgia moved up the date.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Eric and I don’t spend much time talking flowers and I-­dos, you know? But Lena might. She’s a friend of Georgia’s. And from what I understand, she’s had a hand in the planning.”

  Lena debated kicking him under the table.

  Ms. Pixie turned to her, head cocked to one side. “Is it true? I’d heard spring, but now it might be a winter wedding?”

  “I don’t think Georgia has made a decision,” Lena said.

  The other woman pursed her lips as if debating whether Lena was hiding the truth.

  “I’m sure it will depend on Eric’s schedule,” Lena added, though she suspected that in this case, the groom would gladly hand over the running of his multimillion-­dollar timber operation if his fiancée decided they should wed today.

  “If you need a date,” Ms. Pixie said, her hand returning to Chad’s arm as she gave him a squeeze, “you have my number.”

  “I’m sure Georgia will want to keep it small. I probably won’t make the invitation list. But if they do, I think I’m covered.” Chad winked at her, before turning back to the woman holding his arm. “Delilah, you might want to place your order for the special before they run out.”

  The other woman nodded, releasing Chad as she stepped away. “I’ll see you around.”

  Lena watched Ms. Pixie walk away. “Wow, she is . . .”

  “Forward?” Chad supplied.

  She touched you like she’d seen you naked and wanted you to remember the moment, Lena thought. “At least she didn’t pour a beer over your head.”

  “Hey now, most ­people like me,” Chad said.

  “Here there, stranger!”

  Lena looked up and spotted a blonde approaching their picnic table, a second woman following behind her. Both women were focused on Chad, their smiles wide and welcoming.

  She glanced back at her “date.” The man was good-­looking, but he wasn’t a god. And from what she’d seen, this town was littered with ripped, muscular men. They could make a “Bad Boys of Logging” calendar and easily fill every month.

  Or maybe not. Eric and Liam had pristine reputations as far as she knew. Sure, they were off the market now. But based on what she’d learned from Georgia, Eric had been devoted to his nephew before falling in love, and still treated the child who’d lost both parents as his own. Lena has a feeling no one in Independence Falls would label him a “bad boy.”

  But Chad? He had bad boy written all over him.

  Lena waited until the last member of the Chad Summers Fan Club moved out of earshot. “I can see why you don’t take women out,” she teased. “You probably have longer conversations in bed.”

  “It’s only a conversation if you say wicked, naughty things back to me, beautiful,” Chad said. The nice-­guy smile he’d worn for the others vanished, replaced by a don’t-­tempt-­me grin.

  Her breasts responded to his words, tightening, hoping for a touch, a kiss—­something. The need rippled through her, moving lower.

  “A good listener is an important part of any conversation,” she said, smiling as if her entire body wasn’t vibrating with a foreign feeling—­the need to reach for him. She folded her hands in her lap. “Just something I learned in the army.”

  “Yeah, did they also teach you to take orders?”

  The low growl of his voice ­coupled with those words—­if Ms. Pixie and friends could hear him now, they’d probably faint at his feet.

  “I was an officer. I gave the orders,” she said, feeling as if she was teasing a lion. But he was her lion until they convinced the town he’d shredded the reputation that drew women to him like moths to light.

  “Lena, I’m listening. Any time you want to take charge.”

  The way he looked at her . . . it was as potent as if he’d run his hands over her bare skin. Her heartbeat sped up and she debated ordering him to march back to his truck, drive her home, and take her to bed. And maybe this time, she’d leave the pink toy on the nightstand.

  Maybe.

  She raised one hand, instantly feeling something soft and furry. It was Hero, checking in, his front paws resting on the picnic bench beside her. Turning her hand over, she stroked his golden coat. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stake a claim based on one orgasm and a fake date. Chad wasn’t hers any more than he belonged to the ladies of his fan club.

  “Do they drive in from other towns to see you?” she asked.

  Chad leaned back, palms flat on the table. “Who?”

  “I’ve met more single women tonight in small-­town Oregon then I recall seeing out in Portland on a Saturday night.”

  Chad shook his head. “You’re funny.”

  She’d been labeled a lot of things since she returned home and left the army, but never funny.

  “And no, they’re all locals. I went to high school with Delilah. Some of the other ladies you met too.” Chad stood, picking up the empty plates and pizza tray. “Did you save room for dessert? They have chocolate and vanilla soft serve.”

  “Can they do a swirl?” she asked. The thought of ice cream and pizza all in one night—­she was ready t
o sign up for more fake dates. “In a cone?”

  “Yes, Lena. They do.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “And I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy watching you eat ice cream.”

  Chapter 8

  CHAD ORDERED THE ice cream and stepped to the side, glancing out the window. With the sun starting to slip behind the mountains, they had an hour or so before darkness descended on A Slice of Independence’s picnic tables—­plenty of time to eat their cones before heading home. Hell, he didn’t think he could handle more than sixty minutes of curious old friends stopping by to say hello.

  But Lena? She hadn’t balked at the parade of women who’d approached their table. He had an oh-­shit moment when he spotted Delilah, wondering if his date would panic. Lena had remained calm. And after the parade wandered away, playful.

  Through the window, he watched as she knelt in the grass beside her golden retriever, rubbing the dog’s belly. Her long hair felt forward, obscuring her face. The wanting, which had been building inside him since he knocked on her door holding the flowers and her present, rose up, pretty freaking literally. He wished he could take her back to the apartment over the barn and climb into bed with her. They could take turns giving orders, or maybe he’d let her call the shots tonight. Anything to get to the place where she screamed his name as she came, her picture-­perfect body lost in pleasure.

  “Chad,” Trish called from behind the counter. “Think you can stop staring at your friend long enough to take your cones?”

  He turned away from the window and took the ice cream, smiling at the waitress only a few years his junior. “Thanks.”

  With a cone in each hand, he headed for his date, searching for Lena through the screen door. She was still on the ground with her dog. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted three children racing through the grass. Chad frowned. They were heading for Lena, coming at her from behind. For a split second, he debated calling out to her. But then the kids rushed past.

  From the doorway to the pizza place, he watched tension ripple through her body.

  Hero went from blissed-­out dog to protector, springing to all fours, pressing close to his owner. Her arms wrapped around the animal, her shoulders trembling, her head turning left to right as if scanning the area for the threat. He saw the moment her gaze landed on the kids. Her eyes closed and she buried her face in Hero’s soft fur.

  She looked so damn alone, clutching her dog. How hard was it to move through each day knowing that the movement of innocent children playing outside might ignite old fears? It took a helluva lot, he realized, to keep pushing forward, to hold out for a future, and to maintain her witty sense of humor in the process.

  Chad turned away from the door and returned to the counter. “Trish, can you hold these for a minute? And can you get me a piece of paper and a pen?”

  The exasperated waitress behind the counter gave him a you-­can’t-­be-­serious look.

  “Please?” he added, flashing his signature smile.

  Trish shook her head. “For you, Chad, sure.”

  She slipped a pad of paper used for taking orders and a pencil across the counter, and then held out her hands to take the cones. “But make it quick. We’re slammed here. And these cones will melt soon.”

  Chad picked up the pencil and started writing.

  I want dibs on calling the shots, beautiful. I want to watch you lick your chocolate/vanilla swirl and imagine you on your knees, your mouth working its magic.

  He folded the paper three times and slid it across the counter to Trish. “I’ll take the cones. Would you mind dropping that note off with my date?”

  Trish nodded to the filled restaurant as she handed over the cones. “Chad, we have a full dining room.”

  “I don’t see any food waiting in the window,” he said. “Please Trish? I’ll double your tip.”

  “You’re headed out there,” the waitress challenged. “Why do you need me to deliver a note first?”

  “Because it will make her smile.” Chad glanced out the window. Lena had returned to the bench, but Hero remained at her side. There wasn’t a hint of joy on her pretty face. “And maybe laugh.”

  Trish picked up the piece of paper. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  Chad waited by the door, tracking the waitress’s movements as she hurried to the table. Trish smiled at Lena, set the note beside her, and cleared the remaining dirty dishes. Confusion chased by concern flickered in Lena’s eyes. And then she unfolded the paper.

  Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes widened. And then she laughed. Chad stepped out the door, grinning like fool as melted ice cream ran over his hands. He liked Lena just like that—­hot, flushed, and laughing.

  “Here’s your cone.” He stopped beside the picnic table, holding it out to her.

  She took the dripping treat and raised it to her lips. Her tongue ran around the base, licking up the drips. Once. Twice.

  Shit, he needed to sit down before he fell to his knees and begged her not to stop. He wanted to watch her eat ice cream all night.

  Lena glanced up at him, her lips hovering over the cone. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

  “You need instructions?” Chad claimed his seat on the bench, his frozen treat still dripping. Right now, he didn’t care if it formed a puddle on the table.

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  “Start at the bottom.”

  Her wide blue eyes stared back at him over the top of her treat as her tongue obeyed his orders. Watching her, he wished he could toss her over his shoulder, carry her to his truck, and beg her to treat his cock like an ice cream cone.

  “Swirl your tongue up to the top,” he continued, keeping his voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear his raw, needy words. “Wrap your lips around the top. Keep working your tongue, beautiful. And suck.”

  She closed her eyes and he swore he heard her moan.

  “Ah hell, Lena, I’m going to buy you ice cream very damn day just to watch you enjoy it.”

  She laughed, licking up the drips before nodding to the melted disaster in his hand. “You should start on yours before it disappears.”

  “Yeah, I’d rather—­”

  “Chad!”

  A booming male voice that he’d heard one too many times playing flag football in high school shattered the moment. Chad spotted two guys winding their way through the tables. To call them friends would be stretching the definition of the word. But Tim filled in for Eric’s crew chiefs when needed. He’d graduated Independence High a year behind Chad and was young for the job. Being the Bull of the Woods came with a fair amount of responsibility, and demanded respect—­at least when they were on a job site.

  During the off hours? Not so much. Tim and his sidekick, Peyton, enjoyed their share of recreational substances. One look at the pair, and Chad had a bad feeling the guys were high as a freaking kite right now.

  “Hey.” Chad greeted them. “I figured you guys would be harvesting that tract of land up near The Dalles for another week.”

  “Nope, finished yesterday and spent today driving home,” Peyton, the larger of the two guys, said, stopping in front of their table. Yeah, the men had clearly been smoking something before stopping for pizza.

  “We could work faster with a helicopter hauling the logs out,” Tim pointed out, his lips forming a smirk reminiscent of grade school bullies on the playground. Chad had stood up for enough kids to know the look.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re working on getting the new bird up in the air,” Chad said, turning to Lena. “Guys, this is Lena. She just moved to the area. Lena, meet Tim”—­Chad pointed to the shorter man—­“and Peyton.” He indicated the larger man. “These guys work on one of Eric’s crews.”

  “Welcome to Independence Falls.” Peyton offered Lena a goofy smile, and Chad’s jaw tightened. He wanted this conversation over. Now.

  “Did yo
u guys try the pie of the day?” Tim asked.

  “Nope,” Chad said. “It had mushrooms and Lena is not a fan. But if you head inside and talk to Trish, I’m sure she’ll hook you up.”

  “No shrooms?” Peyton said, his bloodshot eyes widening. “What if someone held a gun to your head and ordered you to eat a mushroom?”

  Chad opened his mouth to tell Tweedledee and Tweedledum to go inside and order their damn dinner.

  “I’d take the gun away,” Lena said simply before returning to her ice cream

  And just like that another oh-­shit moment faded away.

  “She’s a marksman,” Chad added. “Served two tours in Afghanistan. And she’s also a ninja. So you guys might want to watch your step.”

  Lena met his gaze, her blue eyes dancing with laughter.

  “Whoa,” Peyton said. “I didn’t know the army trained you to be a ninja.”

  Before Chad could tell Peyton to take his stoned ass away from their table, the larger of the two guys crossed behind Lena, moving fast for an impaired man. He swung one leg over the bench and sat down. Too close, dammit.

  Lena’s eyes widened, her hand tightening around the cone until it snapped in her hand, covering her fingers in ice cream.

  “Back away from my girl.” Chad was on his feet, his cone tossed to the ground. He planted his palms on the table, ready to physically remove Peyton from the table. This was no longer a game. He could see the panic in Lena’s wild-­eyed expression.

  “She’s a ninja, man,” Peyton said. “I need to talk to her.”

  Hero abandoned his place in the grass, racing toward his owner. He gave two sharp warning barks at the confused, high-­off-­his-­ass idiot.

  “I was joking about being a ninja, but she did serve. And fast movements startle her, OK?” Chad said, his voice low and even.

  Hero placed his front paws on the bench, wedging his body between Lena’s trembling limbs and Peyton’s larger frame. Getting the message, Peyton stood and stepped away from the picnic table. A second later and Chad would have physically removed him.