“You’re too young to be on your own.”
“I was basically on my own when Derek was on deployment that last time.”
“But you had all the wives and all his other friends to help in an emergency. Here, you’ve got nothing.”
“But I love it here. Besides, one of your girlfriends would help me out if I needed it.”
He scrunched up his face. “Don’t count on it.”
“Nonsense, Grandpa. Why, the gossip factor alone makes contact with me a rare vintage. They dote on me, Grandpa. Because of you.”
“I just never liked the fact that you met him in a shooting range, of all places.”
Remy smiled. That had been one perfect day. Lots of firepower on the range and oh boy, the firepower later on at his apartment. The man was a heat-seeking missile. He’d been the first lover who rang every bell in her tower. He could hit her target blindfolded. In fact, that sounded rather fun.
“Go see your friends, Grandpa. If you’re still here tomorrow, we’ll have lunch, okay?”
She watched him unsteadily climb into the low chassis of his 2013 white Shelby Mustang GT 500 Coupe. She could practically hear his knees pop as he collapsed into the driver seat and let out a huge grunt. With the cane tossed to the side, the engine revved. The way he made his exit from Main Street didn’t have any resemblance to the way he walked down the sidewalk or got into the car. He was a much younger man behind the wheel of the powerful engine. Most the locals knew to stay off the street when they heard his distinctive rumble. Remy worried for the tourists.
Something caught her eye across the street. There he was, sitting on the back of the bus stop bench, elbows and arms forming a tripod balanced on his knees, chin resting on his hands laced together. He let her take stock of him. His steady gaze was hard to read. But she knew he was letting her make the first move.
She checked the traffic both directions, and it was only after she was in the middle of the street that he sat up, then adjusted his long legs to standing position. He slid his hands into his rear pockets, leaned back on the heels of his cowboy boots that matched hers, raised his chin and peered back at her. She saw his chest expand as her eyes swept over the size of him, which was something she never thought she’d forget. In days past, she would have placed her palm against his beating heart and he’d hold it there, toying with the underside of her hand with his thumb.
But that was then. This was now.
“So are you coming for round two?” She asked, then regretted it as she pinked instantly. The double meaning loomed between them as it always had. Derek’s laugh line at the right side of his mouth twitched as he stifled a smile. Maybe it was a wince. In either case, it didn’t matter. Her heart braced for what he’d say.
“I’m giving you a better chance to explain yourself.” His voice was gravelly, and damn, yes, very sexy. When he said or did anything expressly for her ears or eyes alone, it always felt sexy. “I wasn’t in the frame of mind to see you yesterday.”
Remy decided the protection of being out in the open for all to see was better than inviting him in to her place, where things could happen if the chemistry was sufficient. And then she’d feel terrible afterward. So she sat down on the brightly painted bus bench, which caused him to do the same.
“You scared me, Derek. You were a different person. I didn’t know you all of a sudden. I was afraid if I didn’t get out then, I’d—”
“Be stuck with me out of obligation.”
She adjusted her neck and hoped the new angle would perhaps bring new thoughts she could explain better. “Different than that. I wasn’t helping you. I had to come to terms with that.”
She watched as he looked angry for a split second, until all trace of it left his face.
“Derek, I came to the conclusion if you were ever going to find your way back home, I couldn’t be the reason. You had to do it all by yourself. I was afraid of you, Derek.”
He nodded his head and glanced the opposite way. “You afraid of me now?”
“The truth?”
“The truth.”
“I trust the man I fell in love with. I’m afraid of the man I left. So you tell me, which man is sitting here right now?”
“I’d never hurt you, Remy.”
She immediately shook her head. “You see? That’s just not good enough. You can’t say that. I have to feel I can trust my own instincts, and my instincts told me to get out. You could have done something you couldn’t take back—maybe not hurt me physically, no. But you would have said something that forever would leave a scar. You were so angry and bitter. You blamed everyone and everything on your lack of recovery. Eventually, you’d regret saying something awful and I’d regret hearing it. You were so full of pain you were totally out of control.”
“Well, that’s why they gave me the discharge. I guess you were right after all.”
“Discharge? You mean you aren’t going back to the Teams?”
“I can’t. I’m—”
“Disabled.”
She saw him wince at that.
“I’d say more disqualified. My leg isn’t going to be right, ever. It will only get worse the older I get. Like your grandfather. Except I’ll be forty and using a cane, not nearly eighty.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m working on a couple of things.”
“What things?”
“I’m just looking into a couple of things, that’s all.”
“Can you do private security?”
The traffic began to pick up. She’d already spent too much time out in the hot August sun without a hat. She could see he was becoming annoyed with the conversation.
“Look, Remy. I don’t want to talk about that anymore. I’m working on things, and that’s all I’m prepared to divulge.”
“I get it.” She could tell he had one more question for her.
After a long silence, he started in again. “So why Ray?”
This hit a nerve. Remy stood, so Derek did the same, his fingers fidgeting in the denim of his side seams.
She’d asked herself this question over and over again, knowing she and Ray were just friends, so spending the night with Ray, even though they were fully clothed, wasn’t a risk. She’d already decided to leave Derek when she came over. Already told Ray she wasn’t going to be his girlfriend that night nor any night. That was as many bases as she was capable of covering.
Ray listened to her. She told him she thought Derek was better off without her, and Ray agreed. Was he trying to set her up for when he got home? That kiss he gave her as he headed to the plane the next morning wasn’t a best friend kiss. But Ray was going off somewhere dangerous. She was proud of him, she convinced herself. She admired him. They parted as friends with possibilities. Not real benefits, just possibilities. Like the dangerous possibility that was standing right in front of her now.
She’d never admitted to herself or to Ray why she chose him, but suddenly it became crystal clear.
Looking up to Derek, she wanted to tell him the truth. “First, I didn’t think I was strong enough to handle what you were going through. I thought I’d mess it up.”
“But—”
“Stop it, Derek. Let me finish.” She wrung her hands in front of her and sorted for a good choice of words. It was important to say it right. “And because he was the closest thing to you, when I said good-bye to him, I was saying good-bye to you. I could say good-bye to him. I couldn’t say it to you.”
“Remy—” He’d reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She felt herself stiffen and knew she was on thin ice.
Stepping back so that his arm dropped to his side, she whispered softly, “I’m not ready to just jump back into something physical. You can get that anywhere.”
She saw him reflexively squeeze his fists. “I’m not looking for that.”
“No? Because it would be easy for me to just drop all my standards and forget about everything except the physicality we shared. It was great
, Derek. Doubt I’ll ever have that again, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do that now.”
“So what is it you want?”
She searched his eyes, needing to see what his reaction would be. “Time, Derek. I need more time.”
For the second time in twenty-four hours she turned and left him standing behind. Her head was held high, her neck straight, her heart beating like a kettledrum in her chest. She measured the steps, one at a time, then lost count as she hit the stairs to her apartment above the candy shop. Inserting her key into the lock, she didn’t check to see if he was even watching her.
In the privacy of her own tiny world, she collapsed onto her bed and began to cry. She was safe for now. But her heart had paid the price. She wasn’t afraid of Derek any longer and what he might do. She was afraid of what she would do.
Or what she might never have again.
CHAPTER 5
SONOFABITCH! He hadn’t wanted to touch her, reach out to her, show her he still had feelings for her. His plan was to show her he was put back together. That he didn’t need her or anybody. That it didn’t matter he was no longer a SEAL. His identity wasn’t all wrapped up in being a professional Boy Scout. His mission was to show her he wasn’t affected by the cards he’d been dealt.
Maybe she’d actually done the right thing by leaving. He barely remembered talking to her those ninety days when he came back from deployment and tried to put his life back together. At first there was the concern he’d lose his leg. Then it was that he wouldn’t be able to walk. Then run. One by one, he’d blown up every obstacle with sheer grit and determination, summoning up all the steel he had. He was obsessed with getting back onto the Teams. He didn’t want to be one of the ones who couldn’t make it back.
The physical therapy was painful, and they warned him against working too hard, trying too hard, forcing himself into a state of mind that was coiled up like a big snake ready to strike. He knew he’d become a nasty son of a gun, but he had only one path ahead of him, and that was to make a full recovery, no matter the pain, and no matter how he had to keep crashing through it.
But when he hit that plateau and felt himself falter, begin to fall back, it scared him. The pain pills began not to work more than about thirty-five percent of the time, so he increased the dosage more than was recommended. He told himself he was special, he could handle it because of his training.
Then he had trouble sleeping. He knew the lack of sleep was making him paranoid. And who could blame Remy for spending time with her girlfriends toward the end? Just because he was in pain and miserable, didn’t mean she had to go through it.
So she’d gotten out before she grew to hate him any more. That’s what scared her. Of course she didn’t want to go back and revisit that.
Derek watched her tackle the stairway at the side of the commercial shop. He waited to see if she’d sneak a peek out that tiny window upstairs, but it never came. She was a smart girl. A good girl. And it was time to move on. She was way too good for him.
He wondered what would have happened if he’d gotten the letter from Remy that she couldn’t bring herself to send. He didn’t even ask her what she was going to say, as if hearing it would cement the finality that they would no longer be a couple going forward. She’d made that very clear. His heart was just fine with it, the more he thought about it.
Getting back in his Hummer, he glanced over at the application to the Culinary school lying in a light cream yellow folder with burgundy printing. A stenciled block print of a bunch of grapes was the school’s logo. He checked the address of the school at the top of the page and put it in his GPS.
“Hold on for the route guidance. You are five minutes from your destination,” the sexy voice told him. For the heck of it he decided to see if SIRI and the sexy broad encrusted in his GPS could communicate.
“Hey, Siri, talk to my GPS Unit, please. Say hello.”
“Hello dear unit. Nice to make your acquaintance.”
“Turn right at the next block in two hundred feet,” said his GPS, totally unaffected.
“That’s a helluva way to talk to SIRI. Hey SIRI, are you offended? This bitch just ignored you.”
“Define Offended. Or is this a joke?”
“Hell yes it’s a joke. You tell me, SIRI. Will I see Remy again while I’m up here?”
“Interesting question, Derek. I don’t have enough information.”
“Guess.”
“What are my choices?”
“Yes or no.”
The pause made Derek feel SIRI was actually thinking and weighing her answer.
“No.”
For just a nanosecond, Derek let his stomach heave like he’d been punched there by one of his old BUD/S instructors. He turned the corner and began driving down a tree-lined road. A large stone castle-like complex appeared on his right.
“Your destination is one hundred feet, on your right.”
“Hey, SIRI, will I find what I’m looking for here?”
“Also an interesting question, Derek. Yes.”
“Hey, SIRI, thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Derek.”
He parked around the side, in a parking lot bordered by flowers and a variety of vegetables, like cauliflower and cabbage, used as edible decoration. Two young apprentices in white chef’s jackets were walking down a gravel pathway with wicker baskets over their arms. They bent and clipped green herbs and flowers, placing the sprigs into the baskets carefully. He knew that even on Saturday the school kitchen was open for business. The tourist trade was an important part of the school’s training, or so the brochure said.
He brought the folder with him, at first running up the concrete steps, but then feeling the stiffness and minor pain in his thigh, he slowed down to a careful climb. Inside, instrumental music wafted through the halway. The tall walls were adorned with black-framed pictures of various students posing with what he assumed were world-class chefs from all over. He recognized names of restaurants he’d seen written up in expensive magazines.
An attractive brunette looked up as he entered the doorway to the Admissions Office. She gave him a quick perusal and then a full smile. Her eyes sparked in surprise.
“May I help you?”
“My name’s Derek Farley.”
She stood up, revealing a healthy cleavage Derek wasn’t going to admit he noticed. Her handshake was all business, cool and firm.
“Nice to meet you, Derek Farley. I’m Camilla Bernstein, Associate Admissions Director here. Are you considering joining us?”
He held up the folder. “My buddy told me about your program for returning veterans.”
“You are a veteran?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have a seat,” she efficiently commanded, as she slipped into her chair. “We have a very lucrative package for returning vets. We have a waiver of fees, low interest loans and generous payback terms.”
“Terms? As in terms to pay for the schooling here?”
“Yes, Mr. Farley.” She retrieved a folder from the file drawer to her right. “We have a military loan deferment program—” She opened the folder wide, took out a cream-colored piece of paper artfully printed up with the school logo at the top, also in burgundy. “Here we go, Mr. Farley. This is a breakdown of what we offer, if you qualify.”
Derek scooted the chair closer to the edge of the desk, placing his palms against both sides of the notice. It was a list of fees for enrollment. He scanned several options and, as his eyes glanced to the bottom of the paper, he saw in bold a grand total:
Twenty Eight Thousand Six Hundred Dollars.
He swallowed. The number hadn’t quite sunk in yet. “This is for the whole program, not the part time one, right?” Knudsen told him there was a guest student, limited enrollment program he might be most suited to. Now he knew why.
“Yes. Not including course fees, lodging or food. But yes, this is the cost of the school, per semester.”
Derek scowled and dar
ted a hard look at the Associate Admissions Director. “Who in their right mind pays this kind of fee? That’s over fifty thousand dollars a year.”
“Well, if you’ll look on the backside, you’ll see that you have over five years to pay it back and, I might add, at no interest expense.”
“That’s over a hundred grand!”
“Well, assuming, of course, you don’t take longer than two years to graduate, Mr. Farley.” Her cool eyes were not showing any signs of disturbance. Derek figured she was used to going over these numbers and probably not surprised by his reaction.
“Well, Miss—?”
“Bernstein.”
“Miss Bernstein. I don’t know a single vet coming out of military service, spending months in the hospital recovering from injuries in the war, having that kind of cash. I can’t see how any vet like me would even be able to pay any of this back. Do chefs make that kind of money? Because my disability checks would be sorely short.”
“Disability?”
“Oh, trust me, I could be a cook.”
“A chef.”
“Miss Bernstein,” he said as he leaned into the desk and winnowed down his squint to show he was serious. “I can cook, believe me.”
Her eyes fluttered, and he caught her gulp for air, and then the twinkle returned and her pallor changed from ice blue to a nice healthy pink blush. All of a sudden she became a looker, and she most definitely was looking.
She matched his body language, leaning toward him softly. Though very thin, her ample chest got dangerously hampered between her and the edge of the wooden desk. He only took a quick look down at the pillows of flesh all trussed before his eyes.
“I can see that, Mr. Farley.”
DEREK BOLTED FROM the double glass doors, racing down the concrete steps to his Hummer, the paperwork for application to the school, including a request for a full scholarship tightly gripped in his right hand. He threw it on the floor and stared at it like it was a dead rattlesnake he’d just killed.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he whispered. He leaned his forehead into his fingers placed at the top of his steering wheel.
St. Helena Vineyard Series: Love Me Tender, Love You Hard (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Cookin' With SEALs Book 1) Page 4