As Baron climbed in, Nessa took a breath and prepared to hold on for the thrill ride again.
He said, “I have nothing to add. You summed up the great elevator debate too perfectly.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she told him.
“What about admitting secrets I don’t tell anyone else?”
Nessa perked up immediately, excited that he might answer her question so soon.
She tried to keep it cool. “That might work.”
Baron smiled at her and she knew he was comfortable with her. He started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. “Promise me it won’t turn into a pity party.”
That made her even more curious. “Um, sure. I promise.”
“I told you I was a SEAL. My platoon was captured, held prisoner. And tortured.” He paused for just a second and kept his eyes straight ahead on the road. “Bad stuff. Like you see on war movies.”
Nessa felt her face contorting and she fought to keep the pity look off her face. There was no way to keep her eyes from tearing up, though. She resisted the urge to wipe them and draw his attention.
“When they tortured me, I didn’t say a single word. You wouldn’t recognize me.”
The uneven smirk was back on his face. Even when talking about the most horrible experience, he could still joke around.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I went through therapy of course, I think we all did. I’m not saying it’s for everybody, but for me, being open and holding nothing in has done miracles to be able to move past that experience and … beat it in a way.”
Nessa couldn’t talk. Tortured. The odds of her, a woman who managed information, getting close to someone who had gone through that were infinitesimal.
“I can tell you’re doing pity facial expressions and getting ready to cry.”
Was he bluffing? How could he know that without looking at her? If she spoke, he’d have confirmation, so she stayed silent.
Thankfully, Baron kept talking. “I get it. It’s hard to hear that from someone you’re falling for.”
Nessa couldn’t even dispute or agree.
“I did so many free association exercises, I’d wake up in my sleep shouting, ‘Potato! Light bulb! Grass clippings! Super Mario Brothers!’”
Nessa coughed out a laugh and spittle trickled down her chin.
“Got you,” said Baron, chuckling along. “I’m just glad you’re laughing instead of … doing all the things people usually do when they find out.”
“Sorry,” said Nessa. “I was wrong when I promised you I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a SEAL, I can’t just turn on and off my emotions. But there is a healthy amount of awe and admiration mixed in with those feelings you don’t want to hear about.”
“Thanks,” he told her. “Long story short, unless it’s too late for that, I’m a little scared to try to keep it in at this point.” Pulling up to a stoplight, he looked over at her and she felt a whole new level of respect. It was like looking into the face of a hero statue. Achilles or Hercules.
Nessa reached out to him, put a hand on his forearm. “Don’t keep it in. Even if I act weird about it.”
One eyebrow rose sharply. “And that’s not pity?”
“No,” said Nessa. “I told you when you asked me earlier that I liked it.”
“Good thing I took a risk and asked. Because I like saying it.”
The light changed and the moment was gone. Not gone from her memory, though. She was sure that image of her very own hero would never fade.
7
Baron pulled into the parking lot of the unintimidating restaurant. It had been recommend by Maddox as a place with a safe menu. And dancing. He wasn’t about to push Nessa onto the dance floor, but if the occasion arose, it would be convenient to have a dance floor right there. Exposing her to other people dancing might make it easier to get her to give it a shot down the road.
Not that he was hung up on dancing. It had just been gnawing at him since she said she didn’t like it as something that should be … not remedied, that wasn’t the right word. Attempted. And if she never cracked and never busted a single move, so be it.
The moment of truth had arrived. They walked up to the front door of the restaurant together and he opened the door. Nessa took half a step, but stopped at the threshold and made a noise like hnng-uh as she backed out.
“We’re not dancing,” said Baron. “I’m not going to make you do it. Yes, there is a dance floor and a band. There’s also a great ambiance and delicious food.”
“Can I trust you, Lord Luzader?”
“All day long, Dr. Dimmick.”
Reluctantly, Nessa crossed the threshold.
They ended up in a cozy corner booth with a decent view of the band and the small dance floor. The crowd was larger than Baron expected for a Tuesday night, and most of the patrons weren’t shy about getting out on the dance floor. Nessa seemed to keep one eye on the dancers as they made casual get-to-know you talk.
Baron wanted to know more and more about her, and he wasn’t shy about telling her so. Long before he was ready, the food was eaten and the big hand on the clock had made a full revolution.
Nessa asked him, “See you bright and early tomorrow to dive back in?”
Baron groaned inwardly. “I like the idea of bright and early, but can we change the tomorrow part? I had something come up.”
“What was it?” asked Nessa. “Anything I can help with?”
“About a dozen things actually, and I have to figure out how to cram all of them in to three days so I can get back to work by Friday.”
“Friday?”
Baron sighed. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
“What kind of things?” she asked. Her interest level appeared to be above conversational interest.
With a sigh, Baron said, “The sale of my parents’ company was supposed to be finalized today. The papers were signed, the money was sitting in escrow, and I was in another state starting my new job.”
“And then Murphy’s Law kicked in,” said Nessa.
“That’s right. Everything that could go wrong, did. Most of it centered around the Iowa Department of Inspections and Appeals and a form 249-L. There are five dealerships in Illinois, but it’s the one in Iowa that’s causing issues. There’s a reason car dealerships usually don’t span more than one state—a hundred reasons actually, but we only knew about 99 of them until today. Anyway, I need to meet an inspector for an early morning rush inspection of the tiny gasoline tank at that dealership tomorrow morning. Then the title company has to reprint everything from the lender on the DBA business, reflecting the new sale date and the new Iowa disclosures. I have to be there to sign docs. And then there’s—”
“You have to be there? You’re going to Iowa tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see what I’m saying? The travel alone is going to eat half a day.”
“So you’re flying? Of course you’re flying.”
“Yeah.” The more he thought about it, the stress of the situation came back. “Sutton said I can use his private jet.”
“Wow. Okay, what else?” asked Nessa.
“Huh?”
“What other problems came up?”
“Oh. Let’s see. Now all of a sudden the buyer wants my folks to split the sale into two different transactions because they want the five Illinois locations now, but their funding is based on one sale date, which is now pushed back at least one day. And of course, with the change of the date of sale, the buyer wants us to make up their lost revenue and so we need to produce documents based on the day of the week and the season. I basically have twelve major items to cross off my list, and time to do about three things.” He listed off ten other tasks that had to be done ASAP. “Oh, and it would be kind of nice if I could eat and sleep at some point. I’ve already tossed my workout for those days out of the picture.”
Nessa asked, “What time is the plane available?”
“Now,” said Baron. “I didn’t want to use it to begin
with but I need to get this behind me and it’s got to be done before the contract date expires. So Sutton said his jet was at my disposal and to let him know if there is anything he can help with.”
“And who’s on your team?” asked Nessa. “Besides Sutton.”
Baron had planned on taking care of everything. Of course his dad would be busy helping, but he hadn’t thought of enlisting other people for help. His SEAL buddies were all off on missions for Sutton. His sisters and their husbands were scattered around the country. Some of the top brass for the dealership had already taken on other jobs, just like Baron, but there were still a couple of competent people on board.
“I’ve got a couple of general managers from two locations who can help.”
“And you aren’t going to be offended if I give you some ideas?”
“No way,” said Baron. “If you can get me back to you quicker, I’m all ears.”
Nessa’s eyes glinted briefly. “Stop distracting me, you charmer. Call both managers tonight. Leave messages if they don’t answer. Here’s what you tell them …” She went on to lay out a plan, asking a couple of questions regarding whether Baron needed to be present and clarifying some of the tasks he had laid out. She finished by talking for about three minutes without taking a breath, then looked up at Baron expectantly.
Baron thought about the plan and a dozen different ways he could argue. For some reason he still felt like he had to do it all himself. But as he considered each point individually and mentally prepared each argument against it, he was able to answer all of his doubts.
“Will it work?” asked Nessa.
“I can’t think of why not, even though I’m trying to punch holes in it.” He shrugged. “We make a great team.”
Nessa laughed. “Definitely.”
“Couldn’t have done it without me, huh?” said Baron.
“Nope,” she agreed. “If you hadn’t brought a big old problem and dumped it in my lap we never could have solved it.”
“Dumped it in your lap? Well, since you’ve solved all the problems in the world, are you ready to go dancing?”
Oops. That had come out sooner than he planned. Oh well, time to see how daring his date was.
Nessa gripped the table with both hands. It was a trap. He’d lured her in, gotten her all relaxed, then sprung the dance floor.
“No. I’m not ready,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Baron was still relaxed; it didn’t look like he was about to pick her up and drag her out to the dance floor. Yeah, it was only a matter of time until he did something like that or pulled a real surprise, but it didn’t feel like that time was now.
“I’m not going to force you, Nessa. No pressure, no surprises.” He took her hand. The stress drained out of the situation and the restaurant around her disappeared.
It had only been half a day since she’d first seen him and started drooling over him, yet it felt like it had taken years for that first real touch. Instantly her mind went to a bride and groom standing in front of an altar, reaching out and taking each other’s hands. It was energizing and comfortable. Like docking a drained device in a home outlet.
You really are a big nerd, she told herself and focused on his strong relaxed hand. Their fingers were intertwined—hers long and slender and his solid and thick, yet not overpowering or crushing hers.
Together their hands swayed to the music; Nessa couldn’t tell which of them initiated it. The band played a slow song. As couples made their way out to the wooden floor in front of the band, Nessa and Baron sat across from each other, hands locked and swaying in time to the music. Back and forth, back and forth.
Nessa swallowed and kept her eyes on their hands, afraid of the connection if their eyes locked as well. The touch of their hands was as much intimacy as she could handle at the moment.
The band sang, “If I see you in my dreams tonight,” on repeat.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Smoothly, Baron undid the grip but kept contact as he used his fingertips to lead her hand in a half twist, then his fingers fell in behind hers, cupping her hand, definitely in control of the dance. No longer did they go back and forth, it felt more formal and fancy. With his direction, her own hands had no trouble keeping up. Her heart raced, feeling completely enveloped by him.
The band changed songs as did the rhythm. Nessa gave in to Baron’s lead, not sure how to keep the rhythm on her own.
One, two, three. One, two, three. The table was the dance floor and every bit of Nessa was in her hand. Baron held her entire body in his palm, and was safely and oh so pleasantly holding her, giving her the experience of dancing. An experience that should have terrified her, yet with him, felt so safe.
Nessa closed her eyes and felt even more enveloped by his strong, soldier’s arms. He went off script again and led her from one side of her hand, then from another in swaying motions. She felt like a princess in an elaborate gown, who with the wave of a magic wand, knew how to dance and had entirely lost her fear to do so.
Baron was a master, entwining their hands, then cupping hers. Spinning, dipping, keeping them in the rhythm of the music and making her feel safe. With every variation of the dance, he touched a different part of her—through her hand—and a new tingle of pleasure shot through her.
At one point his fingers made a quick stroll up her wrist and a shudder of delight ran up her arm and passed through her entire body. A moan escaped her lips.
“You’re dancing,” he said quietly.
“I think they call this following,” muttered Nessa. She licked her lips. This dance of their hands left her feeling so far out of her comfort zone, yet enveloped in a bubble of safety. Her eyes were still closed and she still felt as if he was holding all of her.
“This is a waltz,” he said, moving back into the one, two, three rhythm. “This is a two-step.” Now their hands bobbed from one corner of the table to the other, dancing faster and in a one-two, one-two clip. He kept them on pace, all while continuing to dip and spin her. Nessa felt like she’d known how to dance her entire life.
“They didn’t teach you this in the SEALs,” she told him. They kept dancing as they chatted.
Baron chuckled. “Maybe they did. We had to fill those long nights of deployment somewhere, and all of us had to come home someday and be able to win over beautiful women.”
“Oh yeah. Who was your favorite dance partner?”
“My pillow, of course.” He said it like he was being totally serious. “But for variety, I’d use the broomstick sometimes, even though it made my pillow super jealous.”
Nessa laughed and her eyes cracked open. He was looking at her, and his smile was even and natural, not his smirky half smile. Somehow, Nessa didn’t feel self-conscious in the slightest.
“Welcome back,” he said.
The restaurant came into focus, the band, the people on the dance floor, the cutesy decorations on the walls. “Do we have to stop dancing now that I’m back?” she asked.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The song ended and the band jolted into a fast-paced song. Nessa instantly became tentative. Dancing to fast songs was too unstructured and spontaneous to suit her. At least with the slow dance she could fall back on the one-two or even one-two-three pattern.
She started to pull her hand back.
“Wait,” said Baron, and his hand stepped around behind hers to keep it on their tiny, impromptu dance floor.
Nessa’s hand froze—not running to be a wallflower, not attempting to move to the unfamiliar music.
“It’s no trickier than slow dancing. Watch.”
He pulled his palm around and laid it flat against hers all the way from the heel of their palms to the tips of their fingers. Nessa kept herself on the verge of bolting, but went along. She loved the contact with him too much to pull away.
“Now,” he said, “keep your upper body in place and just move your … feet to one side then the other. One-and-two, o
ne-and-two.”
Together the base of their palms bopped to one side then back to the other while their fingertips stayed mostly in the center.
“You’re a natural,” said Baron.
“Ha, nice try. I feel like an elephant on roller skates. Imagine if I was dancing with more than one hand.”
“You are a ballerina,” he said, adding in a little more motion to the back and forth of their hands. With a slight twist to the right and left, it gave her the feeling of stepping forward and back, like some sort of salsa dance. Or was that a samba?
Again Baron moved his hand in an unexpected way, and Nessa tripped over her own wrist. She didn’t know how else to describe it. Baron caught her, and Nessa realized her heart was racing as if it had been a close call out on the real dance floor. It made her chuckle, and even though their dance was a silly imitation, she didn’t want it to end.
“Keep doing the original side-to-side,” he told her, leading her back into the one-and-two, one-and-two. Once he got her established, he got fancy again, flirting hard with her in the dance.
Nessa was doing the basic move still, but felt like a part of something much more intimate and expert. Never in her life did she expect to feel so adroit on any dance floor. And her guide had come from the most unexpected source.
“Where did you become such an expert?” she asked. “For real.”
“I have four sisters,” he said. “All of them were into dance, and always needed a dance partner to practice with. I dragged my feet back then.” Their eyes caught and locked. “But after tonight, I need to thank each of them profusely.”
Once again, Nessa felt like a princess who’d been discovered by the prince she was meant to be with.
The band stopped playing and said something about a break. Nessa was still under a spell, and her hand came to a stop along with Baron’s. He had swept her completely off her feet by not pushing her to get on her feet.
In a voice measured enough to not break the spell, she said, “Good thing they took a break. I’m exhausted.” She glanced at his lips; they looked so … sweet and … inviting.
The Honest Warrior: Navy SEALs Romances 2.0 Page 4