No way. Not with her. Never.
Six
“Let’s add some more bubble bath, okay?” Ember added the amber liquid to the stream beneath the running faucet. After a delicious lunch, she’d taken Nima upstairs for a bath in the oversized tub. Ember wanted to make sure every last bit of blood evidence was washed off the girl’s pudgy body. But mostly, she wanted to get that ugly, old-fashioned velvet dress out of sight. Ugh. What an awful thing to put on a sweet little girl.
Maxwell Farr and Fred Middleton had yet to show, but it was a decent drive from Alexandria, so she wasn’t worried. Both new to The TEAM, they were ex-Army rangers who knew about good defensive tactical strategy. Fred hailed from the bayous of southern Louisiana, while Maxwell was Montana born and raised. They’d be there soon enough.
But the tub was so big, and naked little Nima looked lost sitting in the middle of it. The more it filled with water and bubbles, the smaller she seemed. There was only one solution. Ember undressed and joined her.
Nima clapped when the water level rose with Ember’s arrival, and the bubbles flew. Her eyes wide with surprise, she clapped again and sputtered. Ember giggled at the unexpected playful side to the usually somber child. She clapped and played pat-a-cake. More bubbles flew.
“Mama!” Nima squealed, another surprising foray into no-kidding, childish behavior.
“No, sweetheart,” Ember explained. “Me Ember. You Nima.”
“Mama Ember!” Nima chortled, her face full of mischief.
“But I’m not really…” Ember paused. What did it hurt? If Nima wanted to call her Mama, then so be it. It was puzzling that Nima spoke so seldom, though. Maybe it was the language barrier, but Ember doubted it. Nima didn’t seem to have much trouble speaking in perfect English when she wanted to. Interesting. No, make that spooky, but kind of cute. Nima already had some serious feminine mystique going for her.
“Okay. If I’m Mama Ember, you’re Princess Nima, okay?”
Nima clapped, her face filled with delight. Ember couldn’t hold back a full-blown giggle. Playing in the tub with this delightful little girl almost made the disasters of the operation fade away. Before long, they had bubbles in their hair, on the walls, and all over the floor.
“You are such a doll,” Ember said as she snagged the washcloth and pulled Nima toward her. “But we’ve got to get you clean. Let me check those ears.”
Nima cocked her head while Ember cleaned gently. She washed the little girl’s hair, then her own until they both looked like drowned but happy divas.
“Hang on, baby,” she said as she lowered underwater to rinse her head. “Don’t let go of my fingers.”
Nima grinned and gripped Ember’s fingers. The kid was nearly floating on top of the water, her little pink backside peeking up through the bubbles. Ember leaned backward until her hair submersed, and then, oh, why not? She ducked entirely underwater, shook the shampoo out, and came up quickly, much to Nima’s delighted squeal. Sudsy water shifted from one end of the tub and back again. Ember smoothed the water off her face with one hand, the other still gripping Nima. She blinked, her eyes still full of bath water.
And oh, my hell.
Rory stood at the door, his mouth gaping like a goldfish. If he’d been underwater with her, he could have made bubbles with all the lip-smacking he was doing.
“Umm, hi,” she said, because she was as surprised as he was.
He took a quick step backward and slammed the door.
Nima’s eyes widened at his abrupt departure, but Ember grinned. “Oh, oh. I think Uncle Rory saw something he wasn’t supposed to see. He’s been a naughty boy.”
Nima splashed and more bubbles flew, only there weren’t many left. The shampoo had decimated the suds, leaving Ember and Nima exposed. Ember’s, umm, other girls were exposed, too. She scooped a handful of the remaining suds to cover her breasts, which didn’t really cover much. The bubbles were mostly gone. Her girls were—not.
“Did you need to see me?” she called out after Rory, chuckling at the innuendo she’d tossed in his direction. Ha! Hadn’t Alex told him to take care of his girls? Had Rory already seen enough of his girls? Maybe not. Oh, if Alex only knew how many ways she could twist his innocent, male chauvinist comment. Men. Flash a little skin and they all turned into little boys with a hard-on.
Aggravation emanated from the other side of the door. “You were supposed to be giving her a bath.”
“I am.”
“You never said you were taking one with her.”
She was right. He was angry. “I didn’t plan to.” She used her most patient voice. He was, after all, the guy in charge. She owed him a polite explanation. Kind of. “We’re both girls, in case you haven’t noticed. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing a striptease in here. Sheesh. We’re just taking a bath together. Give it a rest.”
“But you’re... you’re....” He sputtered. “You’re not dressed, and she’s just a little girl.”
“So what? Don’t you ever shower or bathe with Tyler? Not even at the swimming pool?” Ember put a dollop of the remaining suds on Nima’s head. “There. That will keep him quiet.”
Nima ducked her head into her shoulders, peeking out from under the drippy suds with a big smile.
“Yeah, b-b-but....”
“But what, Dennison?” She egged him on. “You want to join us? Come on in. There’s plenty of room in this big ole tub. The water’s fine and so are your girls.”
“No. David’s on the phone. Thought you’d want to hear what he has to say. That’s all.”
“I’d love to. What’s keeping you?” Ember grinned wickedly at Nima and whispered, “How much do you want to bet he says no?”
“No!”
Wow. That answer was quicker than she’d expected. Nima giggled at the fun game like she knew what Ember was doing.
“Gee whiz. I guess you’ll have to tell David I’m indisposed at the moment. Could you, like, take a message for me and my girls?” She wrinkled her nose and instantly Nima did the same. “He’s so grumpy, isn’t he?”
Nima scrunched her shoulders, her cute little nose, too
Ember giggled harder. She could picture him at the other side of the door, his hands on the frame, his head lowered, maybe shaking it as he tried to figure her out.
“I guess.” His grumbly voice receded down the stairs. Apparently he was taking the call from the safety of the couch. The big chicken.
She stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in one of the huge bath sheets before she pulled Nima out of the water and dried her. Then the real fun began. Ember dressed the little girl in comfortable, chocolate brown leggings with a pink ruffled top. To finish it off, she dried Nima’s hair, pulled it up into a topknot and tied it off with a pink ribbon. By the time she was through, Nima looked more like the all-American little girl next door instead of the future Dalai Lama. She looked cute.
“You’re beautiful,” Ember exclaimed.
Nima scrunched her nose. “Me boo-di-foo.”
And then, simply because it would irritate Rory, Ember walked downstairs with nothing on but the towel. He was on the phone with David when she plopped Nima onto his lap, but wow. If only he could’ve seen the look on his face. Those dark blues all but popped out of his head. Ten shades of scarlet slithered up his neck and right on into the roots of all that gorgeous dark hair. For once, nothing sarcastic poured out of his lips because his smirky mouth had dropped open. Wide open.
“And for your information,” she announced with her nose lifted high, “my name is Mama Ember and this is Princess Nima. You will treat us accordingly.”
“Mama!” Nima bounced on Rory’s lap. “Yep! Mama Ember!”
He winced. The big jerk probably needed to make a major adjustment in his, umm, major guy department. She sashayed back upstairs, making sure to put a little more jiggle into her swinging hips than normal. Not until she was out of his sight did she drop the towel. Yes! Take that, Dennison. Mission accomplished! Fist pumping her r
ight arm, she grinned at the one-sided conversation coming from below.
“Umm, what? What’d you say, David?” Rory didn’t sound so smart now. “I’m sorry. Say again.”
She grinned in triumph. He might be the grumpy one in the house. He might be rude and bossy and grouchy most of the time, but her agent in charge had just gotten the comeuppance he deserved.
She dressed in the new black jeans and hoody she’d just bought, and took extra time drying and brushing her hair. Before she left the bathroom, she leaned over and shook her head to give those blonde tresses a windblown effect. Hopefully, it would rattle him even more. It might not be her usual feisty look for the day, but he’d get the message. The gloves are off, buddy. There are two women in the house, and you are so outnumbered.
Rory was off the phone by the time she walked downstairs. Instead of joining him and Nima, though, she busied herself in the kitchen doing dishes. He stayed quiet on the couch. But there were only so many dishes. It didn’t take long to tidy the small kitchen.
She turned to face him, fully expecting a stern rebuke from her agent in charge. The sight that met her eyes melted her heart. Rory had Nima snuggled in his arms, the two of them sound asleep in the corner of the couch. With one boot on the floor, his other leg bent to cradle Nima, she was tucked under his chin, one tiny hand fisted against her lips.
Ember’s heart stuttered. Aww. What a sweet picture.
Sitting in the chair opposite them, she just watched. It did her heart good. A handsome man with a kid was the most adorable and sexy combination in her playbook. And he could cook, too. Despite their antagonism toward each other, she had no doubt he was a good man and a great father. His good looks had always been her downfall, which was why his sudden disapproval had hurt her feelings. But here he was, the one to fall asleep instead of her this time. He had to be exhausted.
But why was it important not to share the domestic side of his life with his friends at work? The TEAM was comprised of nothing but old soldiers, herself, and Mother. And yes, she got why he might not want Mother in his business. No one did. Mother could be intrusive, nosy, and controlling. She even tried the patience of Alex, not like that was hard to do. She seemed to forget who was the boss, but for the most part, she was just lonely. Mother didn’t even have a cat like Ember did, just her online gaming buddies who built video games and played hacking scenarios with her when she wasn’t in the office. That was the lonely genius called Mother.
Nima wiggled on Rory’s stomach. Instantly, he patted her back to soothe her, even in his sleep. Ember smiled. She made the rounds to the little bungalow, checked the locks and tidied the bathroom in case Rory might want to shower later.
And then, because he hadn’t stirred, she opened the front door very carefully and sat on the brick step outside the door. Maxwell and Fred would arrive soon. That alone brought added comfort. Reinforcements always made a difference.
The crisp autumn air smelled earthy and fresh. Dark clouds along the west horizon pushed a light breeze over the brick driveway. From her vantage point, green fields wrapped around the McCormack summer home and barn. Deciduous trees in various shades of reds, yellows, and oranges lined the fields. When the door opened quietly behind her, Ember held her breath. Here it comes. I’m in trouble.
Rory joined her on the step, but he didn’t say a word about her sensational act with the towel. “I thought I heard the door,” he said quietly.
“I needed some air. It’s pretty out here.” She glanced sideways at him. He didn’t look mad. “Is Nima still asleep?”
“Yes. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to fall asleep with her.”
“I’ve done it enough. Something about Nima makes us relax.”
“She likes to snuggle,” he said simply. “And she’s warm. Maxwell and Fred should be here any minute.”
“That will be good. What did David have to say?”
“Not much. He explained the process of how the High Lamas select the next Dalai Lama. That’s about all. David gets into all that stuff. I was only half listening.”
Of course he was only half listening. What red-blooded man wouldn’t be half listening with a naked woman traipsing around the place in nothing but a towel?
“So you’re Mama Ember now?” he asked, without a trace of sarcasm.
“I am according to Nima. What else did David have to say?” she asked, hoping to divert him away from her towel routine. She still couldn’t believe she’d acted like that. What the heck came over her?
Rory yawned. “He mentioned something about the Living Buddhas of the three great monasteries and a series of tests and the direction of the smoke when the current Dalai Lama is cremated. It sounds like a lot of mumbo-jumbo to me.”
“I think all religions sound like a lot of mumbo-jumbo.”
“That’s because you don’t believe.”
“You’re right, and I don’t want to. I mean, look at all the religions in the world. They all want you to think they’re the right church, whatever that is. They all want your money. And they’re the reason for most of the world’s problems. I don’t need any of them.”
“You’ve got to believe in something, Ember.”
“So what religion are you?” she asked defensively.
“Catholic.”
“Why?” That surprised her. A lot of the guys coming home from the Mideast returned disillusioned with God in general.
“It’s how I was raised.”
“Wow.” She rolled her eyes. “Now there’s a good reason to believe in something.”
“Actually, it is.” He turned to face her. “I follow in the footsteps of some very brave and smart men and women who’ve sweat blood and tears to give me what I have today. They taught me right from wrong. My family is why I’m a Marine. It’s a proud tradition. Who else would I want to follow, some idiot in Hollywood who tells me what to wear, eat, and drink? Think about it.”
“Whatever.” She brushed his very logical answer away, like cobwebs that might get into her head if she listened too long. He did make sense in his annoying, smug way.
“Let’s not talk religion, okay?” He turned away, the subject closed like everything else in his life. Annoyance edged back into his voice.
“Good. Religion is stupid anyway.” Ember turned away from him too, toward the trees. For a moment, they sat in silence. She changed the subject. “Fall is my favorite time of year,” she said wistfully.
“I give. Why?”
She answered despite the perturbed tone to his voice. “All the colors, I guess. Spring is all pinks and soft colors, but fall is bright and vivid. It’s like it takes Mother Nature all summer long to come up with the most awesome colors. They’re like fireworks. They make the rest of the world pop and zing before everything turns gray and cold.”
“I did notice you like vivid colors. Why all the crazy get-ups?” For once, he’d asked a personal question without the sting of sarcasm.
She shrugged. “They make me feel good.”
“Hmm. Colors and crazy clothes make you feel good. Why?”
He didn’t understand. Men usually didn’t. “It’s like this. Say I’m feeling sad and need a boost, you know, like a pick me up for my inner soul. I change the way I look outside, and it affects the way I feel inside. It’s like a new hairdo. It works every time.”
“Go on.”
“Okay, like I had a close friend who died a while ago. You remember him, Todd Chandler. At first I wore nothing but black because I was sad. I missed him, but one day I was putting on my kohl black eyeliner, and I decided I was only making myself sadder. So I changed my hair to blue, then bright orange. By the time I got to green, I felt a whole lot better.”
“I do recall the green hair.” He sounded so analytical, like he was working a puzzle. “Why all the piercings and tattoos? Same reason?”
“Sure. Look at this one.” Ember pulled the side of her shirt up and the top of her pants down enough to reveal her slender waist and hip. An artfully ink
ed, small green frog tattoo sat at the top of her hip, its long back leg hanging to one side as if it had barely landed.
Rory glanced and quickly looked away.
“For Pete’s sake. Did you even see it?”
“I saw it. It’s a frog.” He scanned the brickwork to the big house, obviously flustered at her display.
She twisted around to help him see it better. “Come on, Dennison. Look again. It’s cute.”
At her insistence, he eyeballed her exposed skin one more time. The inked green frog licked its lips. It had bright orange eyes, and it was the cutest thing ever, but Rory blushed, blinked, and averted his eyes too quickly to have really seen the fantastic artwork.
She smacked his shoulder with her open palm. “I can’t believe it. I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I?”
“No,” he answered a little too quickly. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
That made her grin. “Wow. A big old Marine like you and you’re shy? What? You don’t like looking at a lady’s bare hip?”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I just don’t think women should be ogled.”
Wow. He’s uptight with women’s bodies. Maybe he’s gay after all.
“What about you? What do you do when you’re feeling sad?” she asked.
Again he raked his fingers through his hair. Waves of ebony ruffled and stood straight only to fall against his scalp where they belonged. The image of her fingers combing over that hard head tantalized. What would his hair feel like between her fingers? Some guys shaved their heads to varying lengths for the sake of fashion, all of it prickly or spiked, but his? Two or three inches and trimmed at the neckline, nothing like the jarhead cut of a USMC grunt. More like....
Stop thinking about his hair already. But soft. Yeah. His hair would feel soft. And clean.
“I play with Tyler. We go to baseball games and the gym. Guy stuff.”
The wistful tone in his answer struck a chord. She held her breath.
Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6) Page 8