ROMANCE: Older Man Younger Woman Romance: Daddy’s Business Friend (First Time Virgin Pregnancy Taboo Romance) (Alpha Male Contemporary Romance Short Stories)

by Charlize Starr

  “Good morning,” she said, as he approached.

  “Would have been better if I had woken up next to you,” he said, dropping his gym bag at her feet.

  “I’m sure you had no trouble finding someone to keep you company,” Cecily said. Beckett tried to hide his disappointment. Truth was, he hadn’t found anyone who compared to Cecily. There had been a barfly hanging off him for hours last night, but she wasn’t Beckett’s type. Her teeth had been ruined by meth and her hair was thin and lank. She had nothing of interest to say, she just kept laughing at everything Beckett said, even when it wasn’t a joke. He had left her sitting alone at the bar. He had told her he was gonna hit the hay and then he just got on his bike and never came back.

  “No,” he said, with a shake of his head. “My bed was cold and empty last night.”

  “Let’s start with some twenty-pound weights,” Cecily said.

  “Twenty pounds?” Beckett scoffed. “I was curling twenty pounds in elementary school.”

  “And we’re all really impressed by that,” Cecily said. She turned around and reached for the dumbbells, giving Beckett the perfect view of her ass. He sighed without meaning to and Cecily came up, rolling her eyes.

  “Go,” she said, depositing the weights in his hands. He easily lifted the weights up and down, curls, hammer curls, concentration curls. “Does that hurt at all?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “I’m trusting that you’re not lying to me now,” she said.

  “I’m not lying to you, although I would rather be lying underneath you.” She rolled her eyes, but Beckett could see the slight flush on her chest and cheeks.

  They moved up to thirty pounds and he still felt strong. He lifted the weights easily. Ten reps in and he wasn’t straining or tired. For a moment, Beckett allowed himself to hope that he was alright. Maybe his injury wasn’t that bad.

  Then she gave him forty and, for the first time, he started to worry.

  He lifted the weight and then, as he lowered it behind his head, he felt his right arm start to struggle and shake. Come on, he pleaded with himself. You can do this. But his arm didn’t agree. His face went red and he bit his lip. He was actually going to drop the weight.

  Then Cecily was behind him. She steadied his arm with her own, taking just some of weight off of him. He breathed out a sigh and continued the set with Cecily’s hands on his arm. Her fingers were soft but her grip was strong. She moved with him and, in the mirror, he could see her face. She was deep in concentration, her dark eyes focused on him.

  He had almost forgotten how beautiful she was. So many girls now thought skinny meant beautiful. Beckett was tired of looking at gaunt, tired-looking fashion models. He wanted a real woman, someone who ate solid food and wouldn’t go flying off the back of his bike. He liked the fullness of Cecily’s cheeks and lips. When she smiled she looked like an angel.

  “Ok, that’s enough,” she said, taking the weights from him. “Let’s stretch you out for a minute. Lift your arms over your head.”

  “You know,” he said, as he lifted his arms. “I’ve never had a girl boss me around like this. I’m normally the one giving commands.” She was standing right in front of him, and so he could see the blush on her tanned skin.

  She bent his elbow and pushed down on it, and he couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him.

  “Did that hurt?” she asked, releasing her grip.

  “No,” he said, with a shake of his head. “It felt good, actually. Do it again.”

  She smiled and pressed down on his arm. “This is a good stretch for your triceps,” she said.

  He couldn’t help the grateful groan that escaped his lips. He wondered how long it had been since he had actually stretched. It had been a long time since someone had stretched him. He forgot how good it could feel.

  “Now I’m the one begging you not to stop,” he said, surprised at how haggard his own voice sounded.

  She smiled and let go of his arm, “We can come back to that, but right now we should move on.”

  “To the bedroom?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Are you gonna do that the whole time we’re here?” she demanded. “Is this just a big joke to you?”

  “I take the idea of being inside of you very seriously,” he said, that smirk back on his face. It was easy to rile her up, and Beckett had to admit that he liked it. He liked that flush on her cheeks and the way she glanced at him in the mirror and then quickly looked away when their eyes met. She was flustered, and there could only be one reason why. She still wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  “Ten push-ups, and not the girly kind,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, and he got down on his knees and stifled a hiss of pain as he put all his weight on his shoulders. “Only ten?” he asked from the floor. “I can do one hundred without breaking a sweat.”

  “Not with that shoulder you can’t.”

  “Oh, I didn’t have any trouble holding on the other night, so I’m not worried,” he said, as he completed the push-ups. But around number six his arm started to shake, and he struggled to finish the set.

  He hated this. He was supposed to be in peak physical form. He was supposed to be a warrior, but now he could barely do ten push-ups.

  “Good,” she said, as he stood. “I don’t want you to worry about long term issues with this shoulder. As long as you keep up with your physical therapy it should fully heal.”

  “So,” he said, taking a few steps and closing the distance between them. “Any after-hours care you and I can do together? Some more stretches? Maybe a steam?”

  She shook her head and took a step back. “You might think this is a joke, but I take it very seriously. This is my job and your life. I would hope you could find it in yourself to really care about this and work to improve.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. It was hard to take anything seriously outside of the war. There were no bullets flying past his head. He didn’t need to search the road for bombs when he drove. Life sometimes seemed so silly in the civilian world, people’s problems so mediocre. They were pretend problems, not real ones.

  “Why don’t you tell me where your injury came from?” she asked him. “You must remember some detail from the day of the attack. There has to be some memory of how you got that injury on your shoulder.”

  He shrugged, “Sorry, it’s just a blur.”

  She crossed her arms and sighed, then for a long time said nothing. “I’m willing to put the work in to make you better, but I can’t do all of it. You have to help. Your bad attitude is only hurting you. Who do you think wins if you skip physical therapy? Who do you think wins if you treat your own health like a joke? It’s not you, that’s for sure. Most likely it’s no one. So, you know what? We’re done for today. Why don’t you spend about five minutes in the steam room, and then you can go.” She glanced at the clock and then back at him. “Your hour is almost up, anyway.”

  He watched her walk away. It was the last thing he had expected to happen. He took a deep breath and did as he was told, walking to the steam room with his head hanging. It was rare for someone to stand up to him and call him on his shit. That had always been Andy’s job. It seemed that without his best friend to tamp down his more sarcastic tendencies, Beckett was out of control.

  Chapter Eight

  Cecily stormed into her office and slammed the door. She couldn’t let him get to her like that. She needed to be strong and professional even when other people weren’t. If only his offer hadn’t been so tempting. She hadn’t met anyone else like him since their night at O’Neils, and what was more, she didn’t want to.

  She had started comparing all men to Beckett and they all came up short. He was singular, one of a kind, and even though he was her most difficult patient, she still wanted him.

  She had dreamt of him for the last three nights, waking up in a hot sweat in the middle of the night. She couldn’t control her dreams. She
couldn’t stop her subconscious from imagining all of the things she wanted to do with him. He was a puzzle and she was desperate to solve him. It would have been easier to not care at all.

  She needed to know more about the attack, but Beckett wasn’t talking and his chart was too blacked-out to be helpful. Fortunately, those weren’t her only options. After her shift was over, Cecily changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and walked the three blocks to the military base.

  Captain Williams was knee deep in an elaborate flower bed when Cecily found him. Wearing a khaki hat, Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, he almost looked like a man out on safari. Next to him, in a small playpen with a shade overtop, was a little toddler playing with a set of blocks.

  “Captain Williams?” Cecily asked, as she stepped onto his meticulous, green grass.

  “Yes,” he said, turning to face her. He had a serious demeanor that Cecily wasn’t expecting from a babysitting man who was currently weeding.

  “Hi,” Cecily said, extending her hand, “I’m Cecily Williams, I’m a resident down at the VA hospital.” The Captain removed his gardening gloves and shook her hand. His handshake was firm.

  “As you know, I’m Captain Williams, and this is Theresa,” he said, pointing to the little girl, who was letting out a big yawn and blinking up at them sleepily. She had big, dark eyes and a thick head of hair for such a little baby. “She’s the daughter of one of my corporals. He had a job interview and his wife had work. So she and I are spending the day together.”

  “That’s nice of you. Your garden is lovely,” she said. There were bright red roses nestled in green leaves, with green tendrils snaking around everything.

  “Gardening soothes me. I like planting things and watching them grow. Tending to it is a healthy hobby. But I doubt you’ve come all this way to compliment me on my garden. How can I help you today?”

  “I was wondering if I could talk to you about one of your soldiers, Beckett Mitchell? I’ve been treating him with physical therapy, but I’m having some trouble accessing his history. A lot of his file was blacked out.”

  Captain Williams nodded solemnly and squinted at her. “Come and have a seat.” He led Cecily to his shaded patio. The baby let out a tired cry and lifted her arms up at the Captain. He picked her up and rested her against his shoulder. He rubbed her back and she quieted quickly. Cecily guessed she would be asleep within about five minutes.

  “I served with Beckett on three different tours,” the Captain said. “He’s smart and capable. One of the best soldiers I’ve ever seen. I expect big things from him. He could go high in the military. I could see Beckett as a general. His men respect him, his superior officers trust him. Beckett was the guy who rallied the troops. When they were tired, Beckett was the one who jumped up and got everybody moving. When they were too exhausted to move, Beckett was the one who got them up. He never complained, never shirked his duties.

  “He was great with the local populace too. He would always have candy for the children. He was patient with them and he forced the other soldiers to be patient as well. He even took the extra step to learn some of the language. Not just ‘put down your weapon’ and ‘don’t move’ but things like ‘we’re here to help you’ and ‘you aren’t in any trouble.’ He was kind, which can be rare in the armed forces.”

  “It has to be hard to stay kind in that environment,” Cecily said quietly.

  “You have no idea, doctor,” Captain Williams said. “It takes real strength to not view everyone there as an enemy. It’s hard to treat them like people, but Beckett always kept his cool. He was never cruel or malicious, never, not once. What is your concern with him, if you can tell me?”

  “He’s not taking his treatment seriously,” Cecily said, shaking her head. “He’s been coming regularly, but it’s just for show. He treats what we’re doing like a joke. But I know he needs help.” She paused, unsure of how to continue. “He won’t tell me anything about the accident that injured him and killed the other members of his patrol. He claims he can’t remember anything about how he got his injury, but I find that hard to believe. On the other hand, I don’t have anything even close to combat experience, so who am I to argue with him?”

  “That attack was bad, really bad. No one’s sure what happened in that building.” Captain Williams paused and patted the sleeping baby’s back, as if mustering his strength to continue. “It’s hard to be the lone survivor.” He spoke slowly, choosing his every word carefully. “It’s hard to smile and continue to live knowing that so many others didn’t. There’s a chaos that comes with battle. Sometimes it’s just luck that keeps you alive, nothing more. But if luck kept you alive, then why wasn’t it there for your brothers? Why did you live and they die? It’s a question with no answer and it haunts soldiers.”

  “There has to be something I can do for him,” Cecily said.

  “Beckett isn’t the kind of guy who talks about himself,” the Captain said. “He’s more focused on helping others. Soldiers like Beckett have a hard time asking for help. It looks like weakness to them and they want to remain strong. Their lives depend on not only being strong but looking strong. Any sign of weakness could be the thing that gets them killed out in the field.”

  “But we’re not in the field. He’s safe here. I want him to know that he can talk to me.”

  “Have you told him that?” the Captain asked.

  “Not in so many words.”

  “I try not to make generalizations,” the Captain said. “But I think they’re warranted in this situation. Men don’t read minds. Women are better at looking at nonverbal clues and guessing what people are thinking. Tell him he can talk to you. Tell him over and over again until it sticks. It’s hard to earn a soldier’s trust, but it’s worth it.”

  “He’s always joking around with me,” Cecily said. “He won’t have a real conversation. He’s always trying to flirt with me and making these little comments to get a rise out of me.”

  “I believe that’s called a coping mechanism,” the Captain said. “He’ll do anything to keep from having to actually talk about his feelings. In a lot of ways, fixing broken bones and torn muscles is easier than treating a mental illness. With a broken bone, you can see it on an x-ray, you can point to the specific problem and decide the best way to fix it, you can chart its progress as the patient improves.

  “Mental pain is harder. It lurks below the surface, defying all description. It’s hard to diagnose and even harder to treat. Tracking the healing progress is nearly impossible. The urge to just give up and call it hopeless is strong. But talking about it is the first step. Talking eases the burden. There are no more secrets to carry after that. It’s no longer a burden you must suffer alone. There’s a reason they say confession is good for the soul. I have confidence in you, Dr. Williams. You’re the first doctor who has ever actually come to me to talk about a soldier. Clearly you care and you’re dedicated. It’s not going to be an easy job, but you’re the best person to do it.”

  Cecily left the Captain with the sleeping baby on his porch and slowly walked back to the VA hospital. This was all so complicated and confusing. She wasn’t his shrink. She wasn’t qualified to crack open his head. But if she didn’t do it, who would? Beckett needed help on more than just his shoulder, but he would never go back to therapy willingly.

  She cared about Beckett. She wasn't sure if it was the sex, or the times they had spent together at the hospital, or some strange combination of both. She had never cared about anyone like this before. She didn’t do relationships; they were too complicated. She didn’t have the time or any interest in them. Then she met Beckett, and now he was all that she could think about.

  She didn’t care that he was complicated and messy: hell, so was she. She didn’t care that a relationship with him was a bad idea, she still wanted it. She just needed to get him to open up first. They could never really be together until he dealt with the pain from the accident. Even if they didn’t get together, Cecily still wanted t
o help him. He deserved it.

  Chapter Nine

  Beckett sat at the empty kitchen counter, sipping from a cup of coffee. He had so far managed to avoid putting a shot of whiskey in it. His muscles were sore from the physical therapy the other day. Thankfully, it wasn’t too bad. It was a comfortable sort of sore, the kind that meant he was doing something right.

  He was daydreaming about Cecily when there was a loud banging noise on his front door. He had a doorbell, but whoever was there didn’t seem interested in comforting chimes. The pounding on his door was relentless, a thundering hit that echoed around his apartment. Whoever was on the other side of the door was not going to be ignored.

  He peeked through the peephole and his heart stopped. It was Patricia. She looked harried and tired. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she was wearing an oversized t-shirt over a pair of baggy jeans.

  He tore his eye away from the peephole, worried she might somehow see him through it. What should he do? Was there a chance she didn't know he was here? The lights were off. He could just hunker down and wait for her to leave.

  No, he couldn't do that. He wasn’t some coward who hid or ran from confrontation. Besides, that was a real person on the other side of that door, a woman with hopes and dreams and a house full of kids. It wasn't right for Beckett to ignore her or hide from her. What happened to Andy wasn’t her fault. Patricia was the love of Andy’s life; she was the only one who could have saved him. But she was an ocean away when Andy needed her the most.

  “Hi, Patricia,” Beckett said, when he opened the door. She crossed her arms and nodded at him, and he saw a box at her feet. Dusk was falling outside and a few stars were visible above them.

  “Hi, Beckett. I’ve been waiting for you to come by, but I guess you’ve been too busy,” she spat.