by Susan Stoker
Hollywood rolled his eyes. “It’s not like anyone could’ve predicted that damn goose being in your trajectory or anything.”
“True. But he’s not pissed at me, just at the situation. When we didn’t land at the drop zone as planned, and no one could find us, he panicked. It wasn’t until an hour after we were supposed to land that he found out I’d been admitted at the hospital.” Coach shrugged. “At least I have another five days off before having to check back in on base.”
Hollywood stood up and held out his hand to Coach. “Glad you’re okay, man. Seriously. Freak accident or not, we couldn’t do without you on the team.”
Coach shook his friend’s hand. “Thanks, Hollywood. Means a lot.”
“Call her,” Hollywood advised. “I don’t know when you said you’d be in touch, but if I were you, I wouldn’t let it sit too long. You went through some shit, but you don’t remember it. She’s probably replaying it over and over.”
“I will.”
“Good. Later. Call if you need anything. Oh, and I’m supposed to pass along a message from Rayne.”
“Shoot.”
Hollywood raised his voice as though mimicking Rayne’s higher-pitched tone. “Tell Coach that Emily and I want to have lunch with Harley to thank her for saving Coach’s life.”
They both chuckled.
“I think I’ll wait just a bit before I spring those two on her.”
“Good call. Especially if Mary comes too.”
“I’ll get ahold of Fletch, though, about her car,” Coach mused.
“Do that. Talk to you later,” Hollywood said as he headed toward Coach’s front door.
“Later. Thanks again for everything.”
Hollywood didn’t respond, merely waved his hand and disappeared out the front door of the apartment.
Harley almost ignored the ring of her cell phone later that day. She was deep inside the code for the new This is War game, trying to get the opening parachute scene just right. She’d added what she thought was some realism to the actual jump, and was working on the scenery shots for when the soldiers were floating through the air. As much as the experience had sucked, it had helped her with what she needed for the game.
Glancing at the screen of her phone, and expecting to see Davidson’s name, Harley was surprised instead to see the word “unknown.”
Biting her hip, Harley hesitated. On the one hand, it could be a telemarketer. But what if it wasn’t? She’d given her number to Coach, but hadn’t gotten his in return.
Deciding she could just hang up if it wasn’t anyone she wanted to talk to, Harley swiped the phone and said, “Hello?”
“Hi, is Harley there?”
“This is she.”
“Hey. It’s Coach.”
Harley’s heart stopped for a moment, then resumed beating at a pace twice what it had been. He’d called.
“Hi, Coach. How are you?”
“I’m good. Nose is a bit tender, but the headache is mostly gone.”
“I’m glad.”
There was silence for a beat. Harley didn’t really know what to say, and she’d never been that good at the whole phone thing. She was bad enough at the social thing, but not being able to see nonverbal clues of the person she was talking to had gotten her in trouble more than once when she’d been in high school. Her siblings didn’t mind her brusque phone manner, they’d known her too long.
“Whatcha doing?” Coach asked.
“Working.”
There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Need a break?”
“Need? No.”
“Let me rephrase that then. Want to take a break?”
“With you?” Harley mentally smacked herself on the forehead. God, she might as well just blurt out “I like you!” and be done with it.
But Coach didn’t laugh at her. He merely said, “Yeah. With me.”
“Sure.”
“You mind if I come over there? I’m not sure my head is ready for a loud restaurant or anything yet.”
He wanted to come over to her place? Harley couldn’t remember the last time she’d had someone over. Well, someone who wasn’t related to her that is. “Oh, yeah, okay. But,” she looked around, grimacing at the mess that was her space, “my place is a mess. When I get in the groove, I kinda forget to clean.”
“I’m not coming over to inspect the place, Harl.”
“Why are you coming over?” The words popped out before Harley could stop them. She closed her eyes and sighed before quickly saying, “Sorry. Don’t answer that. I’m not good on the phone.”
As if she hadn’t said that last part, Coach responded, “I’m coming over because I like you, Harley. I’m tired of my own company and I wouldn’t mind spending some time with you. Getting to know you better, making sure you’re really all right after what happened.”
Harley didn’t have any comeback for that. She still didn’t quite believe a man like Coach would want to date her, but she certainly wasn’t going to dissuade him.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry. So, what time?”
“Maybe in an hour or so? Want me to bring something to eat?”
“Only if it’s Chinese from that new place on Main Street. Not the fast food place, that stuff sucks. And I like anything chicken. Oh and spicy. But not the cashew chicken, they always skimp on the nuts and it irritates me.”
Coach laughed on the other end. “Got it. Spicy chicken, no cashews.”
“Do you know where I live?”
“I do. I talked to the guys. Oh, and in case you hadn’t noticed, your car is outside. They brought it over last night.”
“I saw that. Thanks.”
“Key is under the mat on the passenger side backseat.”
“Great. I’ll get it later.”
“Thanks for letting me come over, Harl. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, Coach. Later.”
“‘Bye.”
Harley hung up the phone and sat back in her seat, staring unseeingly at the computer screen in front of her. What a weird two days it had been. She looked at her watch. Eleven-thirty. She’d woken up early after a nightmare. Of course she’d been falling in the dream. Figured. At least she’d woken up before she’d splatted on the ground.
It had been a couple of hours since she’d spoken with her sister and she had forgotten to eat once she’d gotten in the zone with her work.
Focusing on the lines of code in front of her, an idea struck, and Harley leaned forward eagerly. She’d just finish this one small tweak, then she’d get up and clean a bit before Coach got there.
9
Coach wiped his hands down his pants before reaching out and knocking on Harley’s door. He was nervous. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. It was different being the one chasing rather than being chased. He liked it. A lot.
Harley lived in a nicer part of Temple, in a small subdivision of townhouses. They all looked the same, although they were painted different colors. Harley’s place was in the middle of a row of six. Which was in the middle of a triangle of other buildings. The parking was in the center of the group of buildings. It looked well-maintained, and the older lady who’d peered out her curtains at him while he’d walked up to Harley’s door had smiled at him in a friendly way.
After waiting for what seemed like forever, Coach smiled when the door opened. But instead of seeing Harley’s smiling face, she merely cracked the door and peered through it.
“Hey, Coach. I, uh…I lost track of time, and I’m not ready.”
“Not ready? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m good. It’s just that—”
“If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay. I know I’m probably coming on too strong, but I’m going stir crazy with nothing to do, and I really do want to get to know you better,” Coach hurried to reassure her. The last thing he wanted was to make Harley uneasy.
“No! It’s not that. I mean, I want to find out more about you too. Bu
t…I’ll be honest with you. I look like crap. I took a shower yesterday when I got home, but didn’t bother this morning. I’m wearing,” Coach saw her look down at herself before continuing, “a ratty old T-shirt and my fat pants. I haven’t even put on underwear today.”
Coach almost choked at hearing that, but luckily she didn’t notice and kept on rambling.
“I wanted to change. To look better for you. I’m not the prettiest woman around, even when I’m dressed up, but I at least wanted to put some effort into it tonight. I mean, you’re hot, so it seemed the prudent thing to do, but then I started working on my game, and I didn’t realize—”
“Let me in, Harley,” Coach demanded firmly.
“I’m not sure—”
“Let me in,” he repeated.
“Oh. Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Harley opened her door and stood in front of him, shifting uncomfortably. Without looking away from her face, Coach stepped into the small foyer of her apartment and closed the door when she backed up, giving him some space.
Once the door was shut, Coach checked Harley out from head to toe. She was wearing a gray T-shirt that depicted the evolution of man, from a stooped-over ape to a man playing an arcade game. It looked huge on her thin frame, but only hung a bit past her hips. Her pants were black and made out of a soft-looking cotton. He didn’t know what “fat pants” were, but they looked like regular cotton pajama bottoms to him. They were tied at her waist with a large bow and had wide legs, hiding most of her sock-covered feet. Harley’s brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot.
She pushed a pair of glasses up on her nose and put her hands on her hips, and said belligerently, “See? I told you.”
“What would you have put on if you’d had the time?”
“What? Oh, well…” Harley shrugged a little self-consciously. “I don’t know. Probably a pair of jeans and maybe a sweater or something. I would’ve at least taken a shower so I didn’t smell like butt.”
Coach couldn’t help himself. He shuffled forward two steps and leaned into her, burying his nose into her neck by her ear, and inhaled. He heard her take a quick breath, but she didn’t back away from him, merely tilted her head a fraction of an inch, giving him more room. He felt one of her hands rest tentatively on his side.
“You don’t smell like butt. I’d say laundry detergent and cinnamon.”
“Oh, well. Yeah, I had cinnamon toast this morning for breakfast. Probably spilled it on my shirt and didn’t notice.”
Coach smiled at her and eased back. He looked down her body again, noticing that her nipples were once more peeking through the cotton of her T-shirt. He wasn’t an expert, but the fact that she couldn’t control her body’s reaction around him was a good sign. At least for him. Of course, thinking about her nipples got him thinking about what she wasn’t wearing underneath her clothes and about how, if he knew her better, he would’ve loved to take hold of the end of the bow at her waist and pull.
“So, you brought the Chinese?”
Her words jerked Coach out of his sexual daze. God. He hadn’t even been around her for more than a couple of hours and already he was fantasizing about stripping her naked. He was an asshole.
“Yeah, I got you Hunan spicy chicken with jalapeno poppers on the side.”
Coach flinched when Harley reached out and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, towing him into her apartment. “Why didn’t you say so when you first got here? That’s my favorite! The spicier the better! And the poppers are the icing on the cake,” she exclaimed.
Coach smiled and let her manhandle him into her kitchen. She reached out a hand, demanding he hand over the paper bag he’d been holding since he’d arrived. “Gimmie.”
“Yes, ma’am. Far be it from me to get between a woman and her food.”
Harley glared at him for a moment. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No,” Coach told her immediately with a smile. “I’m actually being serious. You have no idea how much of a turn on it is to be with a woman who knows what she wants. Not to mention the whole eating thing.”
“The eating thing?”
Coach nodded and watched as she turned her attention to unloading the food onto the counter. “Yeah, you know, how most of the time women on a date only want to eat salads and maybe a plain chicken breast when they’re out with a guy.”
His words stopped her in her tracks for the second time. “A date?”
He grinned. “Yeah. A date. I’m considering this our first date. It involves food, conversation, and hopefully a kiss at the end of the night. A date.”
Coach knew he’d thrown Harley for a loop when she merely stared at him in bewilderment. Didn’t she go on dates? She had to; she was funny, pretty, and interesting. A home run in his book. Too many times Coach met women who only wanted to get him into bed. Who had no desire to find out who he was as a person…to see past his uniform to the man beneath. For some reason, he knew Harley was different. Not only had she had the gumption to get them out of the life-or-death situation she’d found herself in the day before, but she’d stayed at the hospital until he’d come to, and had been considerate to Emily’s daughter. Yeah, he so wanted to date her.
“Oh, well. Okay then. I just thought you were…you know.”
“I don’t know, Harley. What?” Coach put his hand over hers on the counter, halting her jerky motions in removing the white takeout containers from the bag.
She shrugged. “Thanking me for yesterday or something.”
“I am,” Coach agreed easily. “But it’s more than that. Remember, I wanted to take you out to eat before the accident. But I’ll tell you, you’ve intrigued me even more now.”
Harley took a deep breath. “Okay, but this,” she spread her arms out, “is me. I sometimes forget to eat and shower for days when I get in the zone with my work. I’m a nerd. I have nerd friends, most of them people I met online. I’d rather stay home and play video games with those online friends than go out. I’m an introvert. I like people, but if I had a choice, I’d choose to be by myself at home. I like to read, and I can eat…a lot. I’m skinny and no matter what I eat, I can’t seem to gain weight. I have a high tolerance for alcohol and could probably drink you under the table.” She stopped and bit her lip as she let her arms fall to her sides.
Coach, grabbed one of her hands and put his other one on her face, running his thumb over her lips once. “I’m in the Army. There are times when my friends and I go days without showering either. We eat packaged meals when we’re on a mission, when we have the time. I don’t care about you being a nerd. If you must know, it intrigues me. I have no problem with you playing video games, I only hope you’ll let me join you. Believe it or not, I’m somewhat of an introvert myself. Even though I can, and will, defend myself, I learned long ago that people are mean. So to avoid that, I avoid putting myself in situations where I have to watch it. That being said, I have no problem stepping in when people are being assholes, and inserting myself into a situation.”
Coach moved the hand that had been cupping her cheek to her waist, then continued, “I have no complaints about your body, Harley. None. In fact, from what I’ve seen so far, it’s perfect for me.” His eyes moved down her body as he spoke. “Long legs, slender fingers, small chest, but oh so responsive.” His eyes sparkled and he saw her shift where she stood when he tightened his fingers at her side.
Finally, he met her eyes again. “As far as food goes? Eat what you want. I would rather have a girlfriend who eats real food than one who’s trying to impress those around her. There’s nothing less sexy than listening to a woman’s stomach growl when we’re out. The only thing I have to disagree with you about is your drinking me under the table. First, I’d never make that a contest, I wouldn’t risk your health. But, if you want to drink, knock yourself out. All I ask is that you do it somewhere safe. And maybe let me pick you up to make sure you get home safely.”
Harley’s mouth dropped o
pen, but no words came out. Eventually she brought her free hand up to his chest and poked. Hard.
“Ow.” Coach grabbed her fingers, encircling them with his palm to keep her from doing it again. “What was that for?”
“I was just checking to see if you’re real or not. I figure you have to be a robot or something. Maybe a cyborg who has been programmed to say exactly the right thing to women.”
Coach grinned. “One hundred percent flesh and blood, Harl. Now, we gonna eat or what?”
“Give me back my hands, and yeah, we’re gonna eat.”
Coach didn’t stop smiling, but he let go of her.
She turned her attention back to the food. “Is eating on the couch all right?”
“Sure.”
“Cool. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually ate at my table.”
Harley turned to the cabinet and pulled out two large bowls and then grabbed two spoons and forks from the drawer underneath it. She brought them over to where he was standing at the counter and handed him a spoon. “For your rice.”
Coach dutifully scooped out a blob of rice and put it in his bowl. He then added his own beef and broccoli to the rice and mixed it together with the fork she’d also handed him. “No chopsticks?” he inquired with a grin.
“Pbfft,” Harley scoffed without looking up as she fixed her own meal. “I can use chopsticks with the best of them, but I’m hungry. It’s much more efficient to use a fork.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Coach told her, thinking to himself how freaking adorable she was. He liked her frank talk. It was refreshing. It was almost like being around his teammates…almost.
They finished getting their meals prepared, topping them off with a few jalapeño poppers, and headed to the couch. Harley sat and tucked one leg under her and got to work on her chicken, not talking to him and not looking up.
Instead of feeling slighted, Coach felt…comfortable. Even though it was the first time he’d been to her house or hung out with her, he didn’t feel awkward or scared he’d say the wrong thing. Harley was down-to-earth and comfortable in her own skin.