Damage Assessment: A Career Soldier Military Romance

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Talk about hands-on care.” Jake’s voice was low, and I knew Tasha couldn’t possible hear him, but still, his words burned.

  “Shut the fuck up.” I twisted so that I could see his face and he could get a look at the fury on mine. “You hear me? I don’t want you to make her feel uncomfortable.”

  Jake’s eyebrows soared almost into his hairline. “Ooookay . . .” He looked as though he might have said more, but Max elbowed him in the ribs, and he snapped his mouth shut.

  Meanwhile, Tasha had switched off her ignition and climbed out of the car. She meandered up the driveway, and I noticed that she was studiously paying attention to the borders of the lawn, with the fresh mulch and flowers, and to the newly-mown state of the grass. She didn’t look our way at all until she was on the sidewalk that led to my front door. When she did acknowledge the lot of us, it was with a big smile.

  “Well, hello, boys. You must be Captain McTavis’s friends.” She stopped a few feet away from us. “I’m Tasha O’Hare, his physical therapist.”

  All of the guys got to their feet—albeit a little slowly—and introduced themselves. I watched, silent, as Tasha shook hands and greeted each one by name.

  “I have to say, this yard looks incredible.” She turned to look out over the lawn. “I mean, I didn’t see what it was like before—”

  “Oh, I have pictures.” Jake stepped up, slid his phone from his back pocket, and flipped his thumb over the screen until he found what he wanted. “Check these out.”

  Tasha pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and peered down at the photos. “Oh, wow. Huh.” She finished and handed the phone back to Jake. “Yeah, now I’m even more impressed.”

  “It was mostly Derek.” Owen spoke up. “I mean, yeah, we helped out a little, but this has always been his baby. It was cool that he could get back out here. You must be good at your job.”

  Her cheeks pinked up a little at the compliment, and I waited for her to look at me . . . but she didn’t. She hadn’t acknowledged my presence the entire time she’d been here, and it was starting to piss me off. It was as though she and my friends were talking about me, like I wasn’t even standing among them.

  “Captain McTavis is an excellent patient, and he works very hard. He’d had such good care all along that I actually did very little. I just provided some guidelines and ideas.” Finally, finally, her eyes flickered to mine. When she looked at me, I felt like the rest of the world had vanished, and it was hard to remember that it hadn’t, that my friends were still here with me.

  “Well.” Shaw coughed a little. “Jake, didn’t you say something about needing to get home? And Dee’s making dinner for Sandra and Colin tonight, so I should be there to give her a hand.”

  They began to move as a group, each of them giving me a pat on the back or a punch on the arm as they passed. Owen and Max gathered the empty beer bottles and chucked them into my recycling bin on their way out.

  “Well.” Tasha stood with her hands on her hips, angling her body away from me as she watched my friends climb into the two cars. “I sure know how to break up a party.”

  “It wasn’t a party.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to clarify that. “They just . . .” I frowned. “Owen saw what I was doing and stopped to lend me a hand, and I guess he must’ve texted the others and told them, too. They wanted us all to do something together again, like old times. But I worked out here. I really did.”

  “Derek.” Tasha stepped closer to me and laid her hand on my arm. “I know. Good Lord, even if I wasn’t inclined to believe you, all I have to do is look at you and see that you did.” She smiled, and my senses went into overdrive. “How do you feel?”

  I considered her question, taking a quick assessment of my body. “Uh . . . good. I mean, I’m tired, and yeah, I’m a little bit sore, but probably not much more than I would’ve been before.” I raised my left leg experimentally, bending it at the knee, waiting for the same old shot of pain to streak through my hip. But it didn’t come.

  “The leg’s all right?” She fell back into her therapist role, watching me critically. “Did you have any problems today at all?”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that no, I hadn’t felt any pain beyond what I’d reasonably expected. But before I could, I saw my opening, my chance to say something that had the potential to make clear exactly what I was feeling.

  “I did have one persistent problem.” Keeping my eyes steady on hers, I reached for her hand, where it still rested on my arm. “I was afraid you weren’t going to show up.”

  She stilled, all of her freezing in place as though she were afraid to even breathe. But she didn’t pull away, and I decided that was a good thing. I plunged ahead.

  “All weekend, I was looking forward to the possibility of seeing you . . . here, at my house. I know it’s crazy, but it’s true.”

  “Derek.” Her voice was filled with a mixture of emotion: worry, trepidation, warning . . . and maybe a little tiny thread of regret.

  “I already know what you’re going to say, and maybe you’re right.” With my thumb, I drew small circles over the back of her hand. “Maybe I’m just interested in you because you’re my therapist, because we’ve been working so closely together, or maybe there’s even some fancy shit psychological word for what I’m feeling. Maybe if I met you under other circumstances, there wouldn’t have been a click. Maybe if I’d met you before my accident, we never would’ve looked twice at each other.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, and I saw her throat work as she swallowed. Knowing that she was struggling here, too, gave me the courage to keep talking.

  “But the thing is, we did meet when and how we did, and while I get that your job, who you are and who I am might make something between the two of us dicey, I also think we’d be damn fools to let a whole lot of maybes and could-bes keep us from finding out.”

  I slipped my fingers underneath the palm of her hand and lifted our two hands, twining our fingers. Tasha didn’t tug away from me, even when I gently pulled her a little closer. The eyes she raised to me were luminous, even if they were a little clouded with uncertainty. I didn’t want to push her if she felt uncomfortable.

  Dipping my head until my lips were close to her ear, I whispered, “Should we find out, Tasha?”

  For a moment, she didn’t respond. And then with a soft sigh, she laid her free hand alongside my cheek, nudging my face up and standing on her toes to slant her mouth across mine.

  As we touched, my heart sped up until I was sure she could feel it pounding against her chest. I’d expected her to be tentative and cautious, but instead, her kiss was hungry, full of need. With a groan that started deep in my abdomen, I slid my hands to her ribcage, pressing her body closer to mine. I could feel her small breasts against me, the nipples hardening through her clothes.

  It had been so long since I’d wanted a woman this way, so long since I’d held anyone in my arms. My instinct was to scoop her up and march inside my house, where we wouldn’t come up for air for at least twenty-four hours. But I knew that I was moving too fast and thinking too far ahead. I had to take baby steps, because Tasha was too important to me to rush. I needed her to understand that I wasn’t looking for a one-time hookup. What I needed from her was so much more than that.

  Still . . . for now, I was holding her. Her arms had snaked around to my back, where she gripped my T-shirt, still damp from the day’s sweaty work. And when I traced the seam of her lips with the tip of my tongue, she opened for me, humming in pleasured approval as I explored the inside of her mouth.

  Even though I knew we weren’t going to take this any further today, I couldn’t help letting my thumbs tease the undersides of her boobs, just to give myself the memory of how she felt. With a quick intake of breath, she wriggled against me, and fuck, I was so tempted to cup her sweet tits and play with those hard nipples. I wanted to suck the rosy buds into my mouth and hear the sounds she’d make as I raised her ever higher.


  With enormous effort, I pulled back a little, dropping small parting kisses on the corners of her puffy mouth.

  “If I don’t stop now, I won’t.” My voice was hoarse. “And as good as not stopping sounds, I don’t want to push you into anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

  Tasha let out a long exhale and rested her forehead on my shoulder for a minute before easing away from me. “You’re right. I wish I was the kind of girl who’d say who cares and drag you up to your bedroom, but I’m not.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows knit. “And it’s more than just my job and the fact that you’re a patient. I have my own history, too. I can’t do impulsive anymore. I tried it once, and it was a disaster.”

  I nodded. She must’ve had a doozy of a break-up at some point. “I get that. I’m not looking for quick and easy, Tash. I want more with you. At least, I think I do. I’d like to have the time and opportunity to find out for sure.”

  She met my eyes, searching in mine for something. “I . . . I haven’t been looking for anything, Derek. For anyone, I mean. I’m just getting back on my feet.”

  “I promise, I won’t push you into anything.” I snagged her hand again and lifted the knuckles to my lips. “Just . . . don’t say no, okay? Be open to possibilities.”

  She gazed up at me, and I could tell she was thinking, taking stock of every angle of this situation. When she finally smiled, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  “Okay. Possibilities. But—” She raised one finger between us. “We keep this quiet. I don’t want trouble at work. And when you’re at the clinic with me for your appointments, no funny business, got it? There are lines I won’t cross.”

  “I understand.” I squeezed her hand. “With that in mind, I need to ask you two questions: one to Ms. O’Hare, my therapist, and one to Tasha, the woman who turns me on just by giving me a dirty look.”

  Tasha rolled her eyes. “All right. Both of us are listening. Shoot.”

  “After how well I did today, I was thinking about going back to work, at least part-time. What do you think?”

  She grinned. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask about that. You’ve been ready for a few weeks, but it had to be on your timetable. I think you can handle it without any problem. Maybe start this week at just three days, and take it easy. You’ll be surprised at first how much it takes out of you, going back to a regular routine after being off for so long. Oh, and no physical training for three weeks—and after that, modified PT. I want you to ease back into that regimen.”

  “Will do.” I saluted her, earning myself a poke in the ribs. “Now, Ms. O’Hare, what do you think about me asking this super-hot chick Tasha on a date? I was going to suggest we drive up to Richmond, so she doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing us and getting their panties in a bunch.”

  “Hmmmm.” She tapped her chin, eyes narrowing. “Are you interested in this, uh, super-hot chick?”

  “Completely. She’s all I can think about.”

  Her lips curled up into a smile. “And you think she might be interested, too?”

  “Well.” I leaned down as though I was about to confide a secret. “She just gave me the kind of kiss that makes me think she is.”

  “Was it good, this kiss?” Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away from me.

  “It was the best fucking kiss of my life,” I murmured. “It made me want to drag her up to my bedroom and do things that would make her come until she screams my name. And it also made me want to keep on kissing her until neither of us could breathe.”

  “Well, then.” Tasha tilted her head. “As your physical therapist, I think I’d have to recommend that you ask her out. Your idea sounds perfect—very thoughtful and accommodating.”

  “But do you think she’ll say yes?”

  She slipped her arms around my neck, urging my lips close to hers, and kissed me with her mouth open, her tongue stroking against mine. Just when I was about to reconsider the whole dragging her up to my bedroom idea, she murmured something low.

  “I think it’s a pretty safe bet that she will.”

  Chapter Five

  Tasha

  Over the next week, I spent each day vacillating between euphoric anticipation and paralyzing doubt.

  The anticipation was heady and fueled in no small part by the texts that appeared steadily on my phone from one Mac, which was the name Derek had used to enter his information on my phone. He’d sworn that no one would ever be able to figure out that pseudonym. I’d expressed my doubts, but he’d kissed me until I forgot what I’d been protesting.

  The man was relentless. He sent me messages each morning, wishing me a good day at work and hoping I didn’t have any ‘surly, uncooperative patients.’ I’d giggled at that and responded that thanks to him, I’d met my quota this year for those kinds of patients.

  The texts continued throughout the day, sometimes just checking in, others telling me how he was doing. And every night, he reminded me of how many hours until our Friday night date.

  What woman wouldn’t be walking on air with that kind of attention?

  But the doubts were strong, too. Of course, I worried about what would happen if something real and lasting developed between Derek and me. I’d have to tell Corinne and the clinic leadership eventually, and things could get messy. There were ethical lines I was skirting here, and others I’d flagrantly crossed. It made me nervous.

  I’d known I was treading on dangerous ground when I’d gone to Derek’s house on Sunday. To my credit, I had tried to mitigate the potential complications by getting in touch with Shaw Kincaid, using the number he’d given me that first day, explaining that I’d assigned Derek a task and suggesting that he could stop by to make sure the patient was complying. He’d been easy-going about the idea, telling me he thought he could get all of their buddies together to go over.

  I’d breathed a little easier, hearing that. I could stop by Derek’s house so that I didn’t disappoint him, and at the same time, we’d have several chaperones, making sure that we kept everything between us on a professional level only.

  But then I’d gotten held up when I’d stopped to see my parents, and by the time I’d arrived, the guys were getting ready to leave. I knew I should have left then, too. And when he’d touched me, I knew I should have gently but firmly shot him down. It might have hurt, but in the long run, it would have been better for both of us.

  It had been his words that had seduced me even more than his lips or his hands. What he’d said about exploring possibilities struck a nerve until I knew there was no way I could say no. I had to try. We had to see.

  Aside from the complications of work, niggling questions about whether or not I was ready to make this leap now assailed me, usually attacking in the middle of the night, when everything seemed worse. Given my background, it was only natural that I’d move cautiously into any new relationship. I wasn’t sure I could trust my own judgement.

  Not for the first time, I wished I had a close girlfriend I could consult. That was one of the downsides of growing up in the Army; while I made friends quickly, I rarely kept in touch beyond social media shout-outs and Christmas cards. The girls I’d gotten to know in high school, when we’d actually stayed at one posting for all four years, had dropped from my life after I’d gotten involved with Wes. Isolating me had been one of his crueler goals.

  Of course, there was always my mom, but I knew I couldn’t confide in her. She’d freak out about me being with anyone just now. Or she’d have my dad run a thorough investigation on Derek. She’d end up stressing me out more than I already was.

  And so I rode the waves of joy and fear on my own until Friday night. I only saw Derek briefly during the week; given his progress, it was completely appropriate to cut back his therapy times. When he did come in, I reviewed his status, reiterated the importance of easing back into work and recommended that he continue using the essential oils. He’d winked at me and promised that he�
�d never stop using the oils . . . that he’d gotten completely addicted to them over the past few months.

  I was sure my face had gone red; although his words were innocent and in keeping with our therapist-patient relationship, there had been something in the way he’d said them that had lit up parts of my body. I couldn’t help flashing back to how his hands had felt just below my breasts, teasing with his feather-soft touch.

  On Friday, I left work right on time and drove home as fast as the speed limit would allow. Derek was picking me up at six, which meant I had about forty-five minutes to get ready. The beauty of having short hair was that I didn’t have to fuss with it, which would help tremendously. I jumped into a fast shower, and washed, shaved and rinsed all the necessary parts. Wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I rubbed cream into my legs and arms, adding a little bit more for my stomach and breasts. A tingle of excitement sparkled through me; it was as though by paying attention to body parts I’d been neglecting for quite a while, I was giving into the idea that I planned for more than just kissing at the end of tonight’s date.

  I wasn’t into heavy makeup at the best of times. I studied my face and ended up dotting on some concealer, dusting on some powder and brushing on a little mascara. It made my skin tone a little more even without overdoing it.

  Derek had let me know that the restaurant he’d chosen was, in his words, “nice without being too fancy schmancy.” I’d interpreted that to mean I could wear a dress without feeling out of place. I didn’t have too many date outfits; everything in my closet was geared to comfort for work and the occasional Army dinner or ball when my parents forced the issue of my attendance. But a few months back, on impulse I’d bought a deep green silk dress. It fit me like a glove, hitting just above my knees, and while it was low-cut enough to make it seem I had actual cleavage, it wasn’t too daring. The tiny straps over the shoulders were each adorned with a single bow.