A Change of Heart (Perfect Indiana#3)

by Barbara Longley

  “Don’t get your hopes up about supper.” Cory buckled her seat belt and leaned back into the passenger seat of Ted’s pickup. She placed her hands on the plastic box on her lap, holding it down like it might make a leap for the window. “My mom is not a gourmet cook. She’s mastered the art of the slow cooker, and that’s about it.”

  Her brow was scrunched into worry creases, and Ted fought the urge to place a reassuring hand on her knee. “I’m sure whatever she’s made will be fine. What’s in the container?”

  “I told mom I’d bring dessert.” She lifted the box slightly. “I made lemon bars last night.”

  “I love lemon bars.” He backed the truck out of his spot behind L&L and inched down the alley toward the street.

  “Do you?” Her brow unscrunched. “Me too. They’re my favorite. I have a whole collection of lemon bar recipes, and this is the best of the bunch.”

  “Great. Now I’ve got to worry about drooling while driving.” He turned onto the main street out of town. Cory’s shy grin peeked out for an instant, lighting her face and squeezing all the air from his lungs.

  “I don’t think we’ll be pulled over for drooling over the speed limit,” she teased. “Do you want one now?”

  “Heck, yeah.” His brow shot up. “Is that legal? Tasting dessert before we have dinner?”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She tugged at the lip of the lid, and a wave of lemony scent filled the cab. “So long as we hide the evidence, I think we’ll be fine.”

  “Got it. No crumbs on this shirt, ma’am.” He accepted a rectangle of gooey goodness dusted with powdered sugar and took a bite. The tartness of fresh lemons topping the sweet cookie crust burst inside his mouth in a symphony of flavor. “Oh, yeah.” He shot her an appreciative look. “You can cook.”

  “Lemon bars, anyway.” She stuck her tongue out, sliding it along her lower lip to catch a few crumbs from her own bit of indulgence.

  He followed the path her tongue took, imagining the sweet, warm moistness of the inside of her delectable mouth. Right now she’d taste lemony and tart. Ted’s blood raced, setting a course straight for his groin. Not good. If she caught a glimpse of his reaction to her, she’d freak and that’s the last thing he wanted. He popped the rest of the bar into his mouth, focused on chewing and studied the road straight ahead of him. Asphalt. Broken white lines. Gravel…

  “You were going to tell me about the double-date thing you have going on with Brenda.” Don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t… She stuck a sticky finger into her mouth and sucked. Drooling for an entirely different reason, he watched out of the corner of his eye, fascinated and turned on beyond belief.

  If just watching her eat a lemon bar affected him this much, what would it be like to hold her in his arms, to kiss those delectable lips, feel the warm smoothness of her silken skin against his? A breathy sigh of satisfaction escaped her. He swallowed the answering groan rising in his throat, and shifted in his seat to relieve the growing pressure. Lord, help me out here. “I have a few fast-food wipes in the glove box.”

  “Thanks.” She opened the compartment and fished out a couple of the foil packets. Tearing one open, she handed it to him. “You don’t want a sticky steering wheel.”

  He nodded. If she kept on being so sweet, relaxed and so damn pretty, it was going to be a long frustrating night. “So, you were going to tell me about your deal with Brenda.”

  “You’re kind of relentless.”

  No. More like kind of desperate. “I’m curious is all, and we’re heading to your mom’s anyway.”

  “True.” Another sigh escaped, this one not so satisfied. “I guess you’re going to see soon enough. I grew up in a seedy trailer park on the south side of Evansville. It backs up against Interstate 164, situated next door to a huge, ramshackle trucking company that’s about a zillion years old.”

  She glanced at him, and then turned away. “Growing up poor and living in a trailer park carries a stigma. You’ve got to be loose. Your mama had to be loose. Trailer trash is synonymous with sluttiness in the minds of most of the adolescent boys I came into contact with in school.”

  “Oh.” He searched his memory for any impression he might’ve had from back then. Nothing came to mind. “Huh. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own hogginess stigma back then to realize.” She shot him an amused look, and he was inordinately pleased that he could entertain her.

  “Well, it’s true. Brenda and I had big plans for our futures. We were serious about school, and serious about fighting the trailer trash stigma, so we teamed up. Neither of us ever went out alone with a guy. We always doubled. That way we could watch out for each other.” She shrugged. “Neither of us really did a whole lot of dating in high school other than group things, often including one or two of her big brothers. I had one semiserious boyfriend my senior year, and that was it. I enlisted in the army the day I turned eighteen.”

  Something niggled at him—something he needed to pay attention to. Later. He’d think about it later. Right now he wanted her to keep talking. “What happened to Mr. Semiserious?”

  “We corresponded for a while, but then it kind of fizzled out. He’s married and has a couple kids now.”

  “All right. I get the teaming up as teenagers part.” He glanced at her before taking the ramp onto the highway. “So why now?”

  Her lips compressed into a straight line, and the worry creases reappeared. “She thinks she’s helping me out, like it’s important for me to get back into dating. Brenda believes if she goes into the teaming-up mode, I’ll ease into it.”

  “Isn’t it important to you?”

  “No.”

  “Cory, you’re young, intelligent, and attractive.” He kept his eyes on the road. She tensed up beside him, gripping the plastic container in her lap so tight, he worried for the lemon bars inside. “You’re not going to let what happened one day in the entire span of your life ruin your chances at happiness, are you? Maybe Brenda is right. Maybe if you start out with people you know and trust—”

  “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” she snapped, and her lungs worked away like a bellows.

  “Explain it to me.”

  “Don’t you think I’d love to date, fall in love, and all that?” she huffed.

  “How should I know? Do you?” His heart stopped midbeat, awaiting her reply.

  “Of course I do, but I can’t. Even the thought of…of…”

  “You don’t have to say the words. I know what you mean.”

  “It makes me nauseous. I get the dry heaves, and my skin crawls, and…and I have nightmares. Not exactly what a guy wants in a girlfriend, is it?” She glared at him. “I can’t stand the thought of physical intimacy. There. I said it.”

  “You didn’t always feel that way though, did you?”

  “No.” She made a strangled, choking sound, but the grip she had on the box eased a smidge. “I used to be fairly normal.”

  “What if you replaced the bad memories with good ones, like one at a time? Start out small.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know if that’s possible. Rape is such a violent intrusion. Any illusions I ever had of…of being secure, or…safe…” Her lips compressed again, turning down at the corners. “It’s all gone, shattered into a million splintery shards. Everything in my world changed that day, and I don’t even feel like the ground I walk on is solid anymore. That center of gravity that keeps us all grounded? I’ve lost it.” Her voice hitched. “And I have no idea how to get that back.”

  “I’d like to help if you’d let me.” I’d like to be the one to replace the bad memories with good ones. He wanted to give her a brand-new center of gravity. He wanted to be the one she could rely on when the nightmares came to haunt her.

  Her breath caught, and her eyes widened a fraction.

  “What?” His own grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  “You’re the first person I’ve ever said all that to.”

 
“Thank you for trusting me. I’m always willing to listen, and I promise to keep everything to myself.”

  “Why?”

  Because I think you could be the one to fill this gaping empty place in my heart? Yeah, not going to say that. “Why what?”

  “Why are you always so nice to me? Why are you willing to listen to me go on about my personal demons?”

  “I like you. Is that so difficult to accept? Now and then I get glimpses of the firecracker you were before that asshole broke your world.” He shrugged. “I’d love to see you regain your center of gravity and your sense of security.”

  “Hmm.” She studied him, her eyes roaming over his face, frowning when they tarried a fraction of a second on his mouth. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Her pupils dilated when she lifted her eyes to his. Hadn’t he read in one of his sister’s magazines that our pupils do that when we’re attracted to someone? Yeah, this was a good sign. He grinned. “You’re entirely welcome.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  Damn. What’d I do now? He raised his brow in question.

  “We just passed the turnoff to my mom’s.”

  “No big deal. I’ll just get off at the next exit and turn around.” He wouldn’t mind if they kept on driving all night if it meant she’d continue to open up to him.

  “Yeah, see, that’s the problem. Because of summer road construction, the next exit with a turnaround is about ten miles west of here.” She fished her cell phone out of her purse. “Take exit 170 and hang a left. That’ll take you to an eastbound ramp. I’ll call my mom to let her know we might be a few minutes late.”

  “I think we’ll be fine.” He nodded toward the clock on his dashboard. “We were a little early anyway.”

  She set her phone on top of the box of dessert bars and relaxed into the leather seat. Also a good sign.

  “Do you want to hear something really sick?” she asked, biting her lip. “I get it.”

  He blinked, confused. “Get what?”

  “I get why rape happens in the military.”

  “It shouldn’t happen.”

  “I know, but when you consider the type of person attracted to the armed forces, and the type of soldiers the armed forces actively seek—aggressive with an overload of testosterone—”

  His eyes widened. “Are you all of those things?”

  “No. People enlist for all kinds of reasons. Some just want the benefits and access to training and education they couldn’t otherwise afford. Some have a highly developed sense of honor and patriotism, a certain percentage are unemployed and have nothing else to do, but…” She propped her elbow on the window frame and rested her chin on her fist. “Ultimately, the army wants men who are driven to fight…men who want to shoot at an enemy.”

  She turned to face him. “Like any other slice of society, the good, the bad and everything in between are represented. There are some enlisted personnel who are pretty close to criminal to begin with, especially the bullies. Put those men who already teeter on the edge of criminality into a dangerous situation where they’re under fire, stressed out and on an adrenaline rush twenty-four–seven, and something’s going to snap.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what happened to you.” His jaw clenched. Right now, he was the one who wanted to strike out at an enemy, and the man who had hurt her topped his most wanted list.

  “I know that.” She blew out a shaky breath. “It hasn’t been that long that women have been a part of active combat duty alongside the guys. The army is a behemoth, slow to turn when it comes to updating their collective consciousness, or…or accommodating change, no matter how necessary that change might be. Rape should not happen—ever. No matter what side you’re on. But historically, it’s always been a part of war, just not…it should never be…”

  It didn’t help. This understanding she described didn’t help the anger roiling in his gut on her behalf. “No one should be assaulted by someone who is supposed to be on the same side.”

  “No one should ever be sexually assaulted, no matter what, but yeah. Exactly. It really does a number on your head.” She pointed ahead. “There’s our exit.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THIS BARING OF THE SOUL left Cory with a giddy sense of relief, and she didn’t want it to end. What was it about Ted Lovejoy that made it so easy for her to open up? He made her want to put her unsorted feelings into some semblance of order, and then put them to words. She glanced at him as he focused on getting them back on track toward her mom’s. Her eyes fixed on his hands where they rested on the steering wheel. He had nice hands, masculine and strong, confident—if hands could be described as confident. Maybe not. Masterful. Yeah, that was better.

  Ted had the hands of a workingman, yet he was so much more. Not only did he help his family out on the farm, he also created high quality, handcrafted furniture and ran a successful business. The man was too capable and too good for words, and that was sexy.

  He cleared his throat, and she lifted her eyes to find he’d caught her staring. All the heat pooling in her middle shot up to her face. She turned away.

  “Do you mind if I ask a question, Cory?”

  “No, I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

  “I’ve been doing some reading about rape in the military, and from what I’ve gathered, a majority go unreported, or if they are reported, nothing comes of it. What was it about your case that drew so much attention?”

  “After I reported the assault, my superiors brushed me off no matter how high up the hierarchy I went. I pushed the issue and threatened to take my case to the media if they didn’t do something. So they did…something. They decided I have a personality disorder.” She studied the dashboard of his truck, avoiding the pity she feared finding in his expression. “Reporting my CO’s sexual assault against me resulted in my less-than-honorable discharge.” The familiar band of tension tightened around her chest. “That really ticked me off.” She risked a glance and noticed his jaw twitching before she turned away again.

  “It makes me angry just hearing you talk about it.”

  “Thank you.” No pity. Just anger on her behalf, and that warmed her heart. “There’s a lot of shame and blame involved with rape, and it’s a threatening situation all the way around. I’m sure that’s why most victims just disappear into the woodwork. I couldn’t let that happen. It’s not right.” All the anger and helpless rage she kept mostly under control surged, and her grip on the lemon bars went postal again.

  Memories of the past year flooded her, the frustration and isolation, the overwhelming sense of betrayal she’d suffered. She pushed them all back into the far recesses of her mind. She didn’t want to turn into a quaking mess in front of Ted. “There are a number of organizations trying to address the problem in various ways. I have a friend who is very involved with the Service Women’s Action Network, and I contacted her.”

  She forced herself to ease her grip on the box in her lap. “SWAN is working to draft legislation and get laws passed that will make things safer for women in the armed forces.” She looked at him, and this time her gaze was steady. “They put me in touch with the Yale Law School Veterans Legal Services Clinic. They’re working with SWAN to draft the new laws, and they took my case pro bono. In exchange, I agreed to testify in front of congressmen and senators about what happened to me in order to help the cause. SWAN did several press releases, and the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a media feeding frenzy.”

  He turned to face her, a look of comprehension covering his features. “I can’t even imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you. Especially after everything else you’d already gone through.” He shifted, turning back to the road. “You’re a brave woman, Cory. I hope you know that.”

  “I don’t know about bravery. Mostly I was motivated by rage, and I had no idea what I was getting into.” More memories rushed back—the lack of privacy, cameras flashing in her face during the trial, seeing her personal horror headlined on a daily basis. She’d h
ated having her life laid bare to the world. As far as she was concerned, the media circus was another kind of rape, another violent intrusion into her personal life. “Brenda says I’m the poster child for rape in the military. I only did what I did because I hoped it might prevent someone else’s life from being destroyed.”

  “No doubt you are the poster child, and I’m certain you’ve helped a lot of women come forward with their own stories.”

  “Maybe.” A shudder racked her. “I don’t ever want my name to appear in a newspaper, magazine or on the Internet again. The whole experience…” The sudden sting of tears took her by surprise. “It was horrible,” she whispered, wishing she could bear having Ted’s arms around her.

  She pointed ahead, struggling to get a grip on her emotions. “There’s our exit. We’d better not miss it a second time. Turn right at the stop sign, and the road will take you straight to the trailer park. Just look for the Pine Glen Mobile Homes sign on the left.”

  He made it onto the off ramp and pulled to a halt at the stop sign. “I’m sorry you went through all of that. You’re getting regular paychecks now, and plenty of therapists work on a sliding scale. Have you given any more thought to—”

  “There’s a principle involved here.” Dammit. Didn’t he get it? “I served my country for eight years.” She glared at him. “Eight years with a perfect record. I intended to make the military my career for the next twenty. I shouldn’t have to pay on a sliding scale. I want back what was stolen from me.”

  Her heart pounded so hard her ears rang. Unfit to serve. That was the thorn that festered in her like a boil, and only one thing could make it go away. “When my record is straightened out, the first thing I plan to do is sign up for therapy. I didn’t ask to be raped, and I sure didn’t deserve to be treated the way I was by the institution I pledged my loyalty and service to for all those years.”