Skye’s skin tingled as she remembered the rapt attention he’d paid to her body in the dark. The tireless energy he’d used over and over, pushing her past every physical, sexual limit she thought she had. The man definitely knew which buttons to push. That part she couldn’t complain about. The lack of sleep though… that was going to be something to get used to. Every night since the dinner party at the CO’s house, she’d averaged less than half her usual shut-eye.
You’ll take catnaps. If the payoff in bed is that good, you adjust. So, adjust already.
The phone rang as she took her first sip of fortifying tea, and Skye reached blindly for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Skye, it’s Beth. How are you?”
Skye smiled and stretched her sore muscles. “Good. Really good. How are you?”
“Panicking. I’m desperate.”
That shook her out of her private sexual gloating. “What? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Huh? No. No, nothing like that.”
Skye breathed a quick sigh of relief. “Okay, start from the top.”
Beth took an audible breath and blew out. “My in-laws are coming to town for a surprise visit.” Her friend’s tone told Skye exactly how welcome the surprise was.
After the shocking visit she’d had with Tim’s family, she could relate.
“All right. Not everyone’s favorite situation in the world, but survivable. What do you need?”
“I need you to host the spouse coffee.”
“Host the what?”
“The monthly spouse coffee. It’s my turn to host this Saturday, but with Toby’s family in town, I can’t. I just can’t. I love them, but they’re embarrassing and pushy and it would make everyone miserable. Me more than anyone.” Beth sounded close to cracking. “Please host the coffee. I will help you with anything you need. Just provide the place and play the hostess. I beg of you. If I have to host this thing with Toby’s parents around, men in white coats will be dragging me out the door.”
Skye stared into her mug of tea. “But I don’t even drink coffee.” Regrettably, on mornings like this.
At that, Beth laughed. “No. I mean yeah, there’s usually coffee. It’s just called a coffee. But it’s basically a get-together of the spouses. A little meet and greet. Ten to twenty women, usually. I’d bet more this time, just because people will want to meet you. We chat, we catch up, we find out the good gossip from around the battalion like deployment changes and training dates and stuff. And then we go home.”
“I don’t know. I mean—”
“I would ask someone else, someone who has experience with these. But everyone I know has already hosted one recently and I feel bad imposing on them.”
“Just not bad about imposing on the new girl.”
“Well, you’re new. You need friends, so you can’t hold a grudge against me.”
She laughed at that. “Point taken.”
There was silence. Then softly, Beth said, “Please.”
Skye sighed and stirred her tea. Time to talk Beth down from the ledge. “And you’ll help me plan everything? It’ll be a hands-free thing?”
“Yes! I will give you my outline down to the last detail. It’s really simple, I promise. Don’t panic.”
“That’s your job, right?” Skye asked.
“Exactly.” Beth’s voice was relieved, even upbeat now. “I’ll email you the plans I created. It has the food list, though you could make substitutions if you have a good cookie recipe or anything you might want to put out.”
Skye thought of her favorite stone ground crackers and soy veggie dip. Probably not a crowd favorite.
She hung up the phone a few minutes later, promising to call Beth later to confirm the plans. Beth, for her part, would take care of changing the invitation and informing everyone.
Letting her head drop to thunk against the fridge door, she beat it gently a few times. The stainless steel was cool against her skin, helping to douse the flush of nerves.
What the hell had she just agreed to? Showing up to an event was one thing. But inviting people into her home… it was like an invitation to judge everything she’d done wrong… in their eyes, anyway. Here, please have this intimate peek into my life, and go ahead. Tell me where I’m lacking, Mrs. Blackwater.
Wandering around the house, mug of tea in hand, Skye took stock of the home that would be infiltrated with women in a few days. What would they think?
Tim’s home was clean, though not pristine. With a quick glance around the room, she realized the last part was basically her own fault. A small pile of magazines sat stacked on the coffee table. A pair of shoes sat to the side of the couch. A pile of clothes she’d started to fold but never finished lay in a heap on the armchair. Her incense and goddess statues cluttered the fireplace mantel.
And yet, Tim never said a word. Her fastidious husband never complained about the wreck she’d created. How unfair was that to him? The more she looked around the room with an objective eye, the more it looked like a Skye-bomb exploded.
Skye set the mug down on the coffee table, then had a second thought, grabbing a coaster from the end table before putting it down again. She rubbed her hands and went to work.
An hour later, Skye flopped down on the couch and surveyed her work. The place sparkled. Or at least, the mirrors and windows did. Everything was neatly tucked away, polished, or vacuumed. Even her incense had found a new home, upstairs in the guest bedroom.
A small sense of pride pushed her to take one step further. Before she could change her mind and give in to the physical desire for a nap, she grabbed her phone.
“Madison? Hey, when do you work today? Okay, if you get off in an hour, can you meet me at the mall? I have some shopping to do.”
Skye shut her phone with a snap. No lounging in bed today. She had some serious work still ahead of her, and a deadline looming.
***
Skye fingered the collar of a simple white button-down shirt. No ruffles, no color, no design. Absolutely nothing that set it apart from anything else in the store.
She grabbed two.
“I’m still not sure why you need to go this far out,” Madison called.
She turned around to find her sister-in-law-turned-pack-mule behind a pile of clothing. “Because it seems like these functions pop up all the time. These spouseish things. And what I’m learning is in situations like this, it’s easier to swim with the flow than fight upstream.” She turned and started to rifle through another rack of clothing. “Especially when the answer is as simple as an outfit.”
“But I like your clothing,” Madison complained. “It’s you. It’s who you are. It’s not scrubs!”
Skye laughed. “Scrubs are adorable on you. You’re a nurse, after all. What else would you wear? Thanks for meeting me here after your shift, by the way. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“You’re right.” Madison plopped down on a riser holding a few mannequins dressed in what Skye could only call Country Club Chic. “ER is definitely not my favorite rotation. But when someone says shopping, I heed the call.”
“That’s why I love you,” Skye called out an aisle away.
“Can I start a fitting room for you?” a sales associate asked Madison.
“Oh, thank you, God.” She dumped the pile of clothing in the capable woman’s arms and dusted her hands. “Skye, I’m no expert with shopping, obviously,” she started, fingering her light blue scrub shirt and smiling, “but aren’t you buying a few too many clothes for the purpose? To have something on hand for those rare spouse occasions? One or two things should do it. But the way you’re picking out clothes makes it look like you’re on What Not to Wear. Are Stacy and Clinton going to pop out from behind some rack of clothing and scare the shit out of me?”
“I don’t want to leave anything to chance. I just need to have a few different options.” Skye battled back the feeling of defensiveness. Madison was being kind, because that was who she was. There was no way she’d put Tim in the position of having to defend her or be embarrassed by her. She wanted to be prepared for any occasion.
“I still think you’re overreacting. I bet a lot of people think you dress cool. And if they don’t, then screw them.” She held out a vibrant green and purple tank and thin sweater set. Skye shook her head.
It was so simple for Madison. Skye envied her that. “Easy for you to say. How hard do you have to think about what you put on before you go to work?” Skye grabbed an oatmeal-colored sweater and held back the shudder.
“Point taken,” she conceded. “But still. My brother likes you for you. Clearly. He married you.”
Skye turned and stared at Madison, one eyebrow raised. There wasn’t any need to point out the obvious out loud. He married me drunk off his ass. He didn’t know if he liked me.
“Okay, well, I mean he’s still married to you. He would have left by now if he didn’t like you. Tim’s not one to surrender quickly, but he also knows when to cut his losses. They kind of drill that into their heads from the minute the ink’s dry on the commission paperwork.”
“I appreciate the sentiment. And it does make me feel better. But this is something I need to do.” For my marriage, she silently added and hauled a pile of shirts to the dressing room. She undressed and stared at the pile of colorless clothing on the bench. Screwing her eyes shut, she grabbed the first thing and pulled it on. Okay. Time to open your eyes and look. Open. Open your eyes, Skye.
She cracked one lid and glanced in the mirror. The lumpy brown summer cardigan had no shape, no definition. The light, loose knit was woven into something resembling a swirling pattern over the front. It hung well past her hips. Okay. This could not be right.
“Come on, Skye. Do you have something on?”
“Um.” It was… something all right. Something horrid.
“Just come out so I can tell you it’s awful and we can move on.”
She stepped out of the dressing room to find Madison sprawled over a bench, shopping bags tucked under her feet. Her sister-in-law’s eyes widened almost comically, then she snickered.
“I’m sorry. Exactly what were you going for again? Crazy Cat Lady Chic?”
“Bite me.” Skye turned back into the dressing room and shut the door. Okay. Number one was a failure. But now that she looked at the sweater again, that’s because she just grabbed something at the end out of frustration. Time to try on something more normal. She slipped into a pair of black capris and one of the white button-down shirts. It wasn’t ugly. Turning around, she gave her butt a good once-over. At least it fit her. Braced for criticism, she stepped out.
Madison gave her a long look and shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?” After the stress of picking something out and trying to not look like someone’s shut-in aunt with too many felines, fine was no longer good enough. “Fine.”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” Unaware of Skye’s inner turmoil, Madison stretched and rolled her shoulders. “Don’t you wear something like that to work at Fletchers?”
She looked down, then in the three-way mirror at the end if the dressing room. “Oh my God. You’re right.”
Madison laughed again. “Trying too hard. Just pick out something you actually like.” She sobered a little. “You don’t really think my brother cares what you wear, do you?”
Skye glanced back at the pile of clothing and didn’t answer the question. “This might take a little longer than I thought. Do you mind?”
Madison sighed and sprawled across the bench, waving her hand toward the stall. “Shoo. Go find something. But you owe me ice cream after this.”
“Deal.”
***
Tim came home to a pristine living room. The floor was vacuumed, the tables were dusted, he couldn’t see a hint of clutter. It smelled cotton fresh, like laundry just out of the dryer. Even the couch throw pillows looked fluffed.
There was only one explanation.
Little elves had broken into the townhouse and cast some magical cleaning spell.
No, that wasn’t fair. She was more than capable of cleaning up the house. It just didn’t occur to her. Messes, a little clutter, disorganization never seemed to affect her like it did Tim. But then, Skye’s own mind seemed a tad cluttered at times, in the scatterbrained sort of way. It wasn’t laziness, just, well, Skyeness.
But at the same time, the sight of no cups or magazines or opened junk mail scattered around his home made him smile. Tim dropped onto the sofa and took stock of the clean room. She’d even polished the mirrors and glass on the entertainment center. It was amazing. Relaxing. Normal.
No. Not quite. Something was off. Tim couldn’t ignore the little voice in the back of his mind saying that something wasn’t right. He scanned the area, looking for things out of place. Something broken. Something missing.
Something missing. Skye.
Not the woman. The presence. Skye’s things were gone. It was always Skye’s junk mail and magazines cluttering the coffee table. Her mug of half-finished tea leaving a ring on the wood. Her clothes draped over various pieces of furniture. Her little stick things burning on the mantel.
It was all gone. As if all signs of her existence in his home, and his life, had evaporated. Someone walking in at this very minute wouldn’t have a clue he didn’t live alone. Where was she? Skye the woman, that was. It was her day off. He assumed she’d be lounging on the couch watching a movie when he came in, ready to snuggle until dinner.
“Skye?” he called, standing up and heading to the silent kitchen. No surprise, no Skye. He headed toward the stairs, listening for the run of water or a door closing. Something.
Silence.
He jogged up the stairs calling her name. Then he had a thought and peeked through the window at the top landing to the street. Her car was gone. How had he missed that when he first pulled up? Must have been on autopilot, too intent on getting inside to notice.
But even as he started back down the stairs, he heard a car pull up. He opened the front door just in time to see Skye struggling with a handful of massive shopping bags.
“Good timing.” She thrust one handful at him and waddled around until she could drop the lot in a pile next to the couch, then sank down to the cushions herself.
“Busy day?”
“Whew. Shopping has never been so difficult,” she said with exaggerated exhaustion.
Tim surveyed the haul. “Did you leave anything for the rest of the city?”
“A few things. The very ugly things. Including a lovely brown sweater that will go well with a cat,” she said with a laugh. “Madison says hi, by the way.”
“Oh.” That was new. He’d never had any of his previous girlfriends spend quality time with his sister before. “So she was your partner in crime for the shopping spree. She didn’t encourage you to wipe us out, did she?”
“Nope. It only cost me a giant ice cream cone as payment. She wasn’t too excited to be dragged out after her shift, but I wanted to beat you home.” She blew out a breath, shifting a curl that draped over her cheek. “Not that it worked out. Come help me drag these upstairs?” She pushed herself up with a delicate grunt and headed for the stairs.
“Yeah. Sure.” As he followed Skye up, he made the split-second decision to ask, “Do you want to go out tonight for dinner?”
Skye paused at the top and shot him a grateful smile. “Bless you, child. Yes. The thought of having someone else cook for my tired butt is vastly appealing. I can try on a new outfit too,” she mused as she headed for the bedroom.
Tim wondered if any of the sacks contained something sexy for her to wear later that night. May
be lace, sheer, even completely transparent… The thought had him hard in an instant, and he shook it away the best he could. Now wasn’t the time.
Or was it?
Skye dropped the sacks on the bed—the made up bed, surprisingly—and stripped her tank off in one smooth motion. The creamy skin of her belly had his muscles tightening, coiled, and ready to pounce. He started to reach out for her. But she barely even registered his presence as she dug into one sack, then another, looking for something. She glanced up and asked, “You’re not wearing that, obviously. Change.”
He looked down at his cammies and boots and laughed at himself. He hadn’t even taken the time to change after he got home. Too blown away by the state of cleanliness.
Rifling through one of the drawers he wondered what plethora of colorful concoctions Skye had come home with this time. What sunburst of design would she grace the world with that evening?
“Where did all your stuff go that was on the fireplace mantel?” he asked as he folded his uniform. “The incense and the statues.”
“Oh, I put them in the guest room for now. I promised Beth I’d host the spouse coffee on Saturday for her. I should have asked you first, but she absolutely panicked so I just said yes. And I figured I would put that stuff away for now. After Saturday I can put it back out.”
The plan made sense. Though he wasn’t pleased with her feeling like she had to hide the stuff. But maybe it was just easier to host with less things around. He turned to ask her but stopped with his mouth open.
Skye stood with her back to him, fiddling with something in another bag. She wore a lightweight sweater in pale green, the sleeves hitting just below her elbows. A pair of crisp khakis elongated the line of her legs. And on her feet were a pair of simple flat shoes in the same color as her pants.
She glanced up at him as she fixed an earring. A tiny earring that he could barely see across the room. A very un-Skye-like earring.
The dazzling smile she sent him took his breath away. “Do you like?” She spun around with her arms out, showing off the conservative outfit.
The Officer Says I Do Page 21