His admiration for her doubled. “Good flying on your part,” Coop pointed out.
She grinned. “Yeah, that too. And then after it’s all over and you’ve dropped off your cargo, you celebrate because your team made it out of there and back to base in one piece.”
He could only picture that swagger multiplied whenever she crawled out of a cockpit. He’d seen it before, even while she was delivering and unloading flowers to Drea’s place. He took her hand, touched her cheek. “You have so many layers in there. It makes me want to strip off each one to get to know them all.”
The room got warmer fast when he leaned in, touched his lips to hers. This time it wasn’t urgent take like before, but rather a slow build of greedy need and lusty want. Her arms went around his shoulders. His hands wandered to her back bringing her up against his chest.
Inside, she felt like steam bursting from a hidden volcano she didn’t know existed. She sank into the heat until the kiss played out and they broke apart.
“We should eat outside,” she announced, just to slam the brakes on the moment. “It’s too pretty a night to stay inside.”
“I like making you nervous. It gives me a certain thrill.”
“Who’s nervous? I’m just starving.”
He cracked a grin. “Working up an appetite with you is certainly one of my priorities.”
He sailed over to the cabinet, got down a plate for the meat and snagged the bottle of wine, took both to the patio.
With darkness descending and for ambiance, Coop lit several candles sitting out on the patio table. Over juicy steaks and healthy greens, they ate in companionable silence until Eastlyn leaned back and picked up her glass. “You cook a good porterhouse.”
“Fischer’s been giving me pointers.”
“At the pizza place?”
“Yep. Since I never really dabbled in the whole barbeque thing, he was able to give me all kinds of tips to cook the perfect steak. I think Fischer might be sweet on Sydney Reed.”
Eastlyn lifted one eyebrow. “Interesting. That’s not what I heard. Your sister, Drea, told me Sydney had gone out with Malachi Rafferty, the guy who owns the T-shirt shop.”
“Yeah, but I have it from a reliable source that two weekends ago Sydney went over to Santa Cruz with Archer Gates to catch a movie. It came from Sydney’s own sister, Hayden, at the bookstore.”
Eastlyn hooted with laughter. “Sounds like Sydney’s playing the field, scoping out her choices. I love the dynamics in this little town.”
She suddenly got to her feet, went over to look through the telescope tilting it toward the stars. “So you’re a fan of astronomy?”
Cooper joined her at the telescope, took his turn to peer through the powerful eyepiece. He adjusted the magnification, sharpening the image. “I’m a fan of all the exoplanets that orbit something other than the sun, constellations like Draco and Lyra tend to pull me in, and the meteor showers that light up the sky are a joy to watch.”
His nearness made her heart do a quick double beat in her chest. Her pulse picked up. Her knees wanted to buckle. Who knew she’d find such a guy so easy on the eyes just six blocks from her front door? “Your nerd is showing. But it’s an adorable trait.”
“How adorable?”
She grabbed his shirt, pulled him up close so she could nibble at his lips before planting a kiss on his mouth. As soon as she let go, she muttered, “Right about now your adorable quotient is off the charts.”
“Lucky me,” he said yanking her up against him in return.
They fed off each other’s mouths as the heat ratcheted to a frenzy before settling into silky layers. They fused together, the kiss becoming a molten mass of want.
Eastlyn suddenly came to her senses and pushed him back. “I’ve got to get home.”
“We’re still on for tomorrow, right? You still want to see the old chopper though, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll walk you home.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
He captured her hand in his. “There’s an attraction here, Eastlyn. It won’t do one bit of good to deny it.”
“I know that. But, when you get to know me, there are things you won’t like about me.”
“Like what?”
“For starters I’m missing half my leg. It’s an ugly stump that turns most people off, especially guys, sometimes young and old alike.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I’ve heard that same song before.” Turning toward the front door, she pivoted back. “What are you saying? That my stump wouldn’t be a turnoff for you, seeing me without my jeans?”
“Now there’s a picture.”
“You’ll excuse me if I think you’re full of shit.”
Cooper met her hazel eyes with a stony glare. “What kind of guys have you been dating anyway?”
“Hmm, that would be mostly assholes,” she mumbled as she sailed out the door.
He followed her out into the courtyard, caught up to her at the gate. “You move pretty fast.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice.”
Under a creamy moon that floated on a sea of hazy clouds overhead, they headed along the sidewalk toward her little bungalow.
She filled her lungs with fresh air. “Sorry I didn’t stay to clean up the dishes, usually I offer to help.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You should know, spending the evening with you put me in a much better frame of mind. Thanks for that. I’m still worried about Durke but…”
“I got you to focus on something else. Making out usually does the trick.”
She cracked a smile. “Making out is something I haven’t done for a good long while. You have a knack.”
He busted out in a roar of laughter. “I try.”
By the time they reached her front door, she turned to him with a glint in her eye. “Thanks for taking my mind off everything.”
Coop took her chin. They were standing eye-to-eye when he touched his lips to hers. “Sure, any time, after all, what are neighbors for?”
She touched his cheek. “I’m thinking certain neighbors offer a lot more perks than others.”
Five
In the dream, she’d gone back in time six years earlier to Southeastern Iraq, and a rural, dusty combat post out in the middle of nowhere.
At the controls of her army Black Hawk helicopter, twenty-five-year-old Eastlyn Parker pushed the engine to the max knowing they were battling time. Somewhere in the distance a soldier’s life hung in the balance.
As a matter of routine she flew with a crew of six, which included her co-pilot, two seasoned flight medics along with a paramedic, crew chief, and enough medical equipment and supplies to make sure any wounded soldier had a chance at surviving an injury.
Once they received a call, it would normally take the “Dustoff” crew a quick eight minutes to get airborne. From that moment on, every precious second counted. That’s why Eastlyn flew like the hounds of hell were chasing them now.
She and her crew had already made four medevac runs that day, pulling the wounded out of several other combat zones, flying them to the field hospital located in Central Iraq.
Coming up on the designated site, she saw a wave of thick, black smoke and located the best spot to touch down. On this, her fifth run of the day, Eastlyn eased the aircraft onto the rocky desert sand in the midst of enemy fire.
A burning rubber smell hit her nose. Gunfire broke out around them.
Amid the hostile welcome, she looked out the window, spotted the chaotic scene, a Humvee on fire, and a bleeding soldier lying on the ground a few feet away from the still burning vehicle.
Members of her team jumped out and immediately went to work on the man. Even through her sunglasses she could tell his injuries were severe. Blood covered his chest because shrapnel had eaten through the flesh.
Another Jeep exploded to their left, the result of more rocket fire.
The co-pilot,
Moe Turner, shouted over the din of the chopper blades, “What’s taking so long? We need to load up and get the hell out of here. Now!”
Used to Turner’s outlook in messy situations like this one, she replied, “We just got here. Relax. We’re not going anywhere until they stabilize that soldier for transport.”
Another round pinged the metal on Turner’s side.
“We’re taking fire!” said the jumpy co-pilot, who peered over her form to give his own diagnosis of the wounded man lying on the ground. “He looks like he’s a goner already. He isn’t even on the stretcher yet. We can’t wait forever.”
“We’ll wait,” Eastlyn commanded. “We’re not moving an inch until they’ve loaded him up.”
“One day you’re gonna get us all killed, Zerker. You know that?”
“We’re not budging until they get that guy’s IV started and get him on board. You got that?” Eastlyn snapped.
“Sure, I got it. Even though we’re about to get our asses handed to us by a bunch more lob bombs, I got it.”
To emphasize Turner’s point, a rocket-assisted-mortar exploded nearby. The ground shook when it made contact with another Humvee, sending metal shards shooting out in all directions.
Eastlyn directed her crew chief to radio HQ. “We’re getting shelled here. Have them send in air cover.”
“Roger that.”
Another several long, anxious moments ticked by while they waited for the crew to load up the GI. When they finally had him on board, Turner yelled, “Let’s get out of here.”
Eastlyn felt the jolt of fire as she lifted the helicopter into the sky. The bird rattled and shook, the vibration making the aircraft sway under a combination of heavy wind gusts and more rounds of rocket fire. Maneuvering the chopper through the storm of sweltering air and up to ten thousand feet, she dipped over the dry, dusty terrain, desert that seemed to go on and on. She headed for cover behind the stretch of mountain slopes.
Her eyes shot open as she came out of the dream like a fog lifting and dragging her over the edge of a cliff.
She’d lied to Nick Harris about not remembering him. She recalled that particular day, that specific soldier, mainly because he’d been in so much pain, so much distress. On the flight to the hospital, the paramedic had warned everyone he might not survive the seriousness of his injuries.
But Nick had made it. Not only that, he’d done his best to pull her out of her own patch of quicksand.
For the first time in a long while, Eastlyn realized she needed to put the past where it belonged. She closed her eyes, dropped back into her pillow.
And this time, she clung to the hope of better days.
Six
Army training didn’t go away when a person mustered out.
Eastlyn’s habit of rising early didn’t change on weekends. So Sunday morning while drinking her second cup of coffee, she stood in front of her tiny closet and pondered what to wear.
She hadn’t packed a lot of clothes when she left Bakersfield. Nick and Cord hadn’t exactly given her a lot of time. Who was she kidding? She’d never kept that much at the boarding house, preferring instead to store most of her stuff at a storage facility a couple blocks away.
Staring at her meager wardrobe choices, she gave up. “To hell with it. This isn’t a date. I’m headed to an old barn to inspect a hunk of junk. Who in their right mind thinks about dressing up for that?”
“If you’re worried about it, Cooper’s already seen you in your work clothes,” Scott pointed out from the other side of the room.
“Would you stop sneaking up on people?” Eastlyn shouted when she was finally able to catch her breath enough to speak. “That Peeping Tom thing you do is unnerving.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help out. You’re obviously going off the deep end about this. No one’s gonna notice that you always wear the same thing—over and over again. Jeans and a shirt are perfectly acceptable attire for hanging out. And that’s what you’re doing with Cooper, just hanging out. No need to change things up when your primary concern is making sure no one sees your prosthetic.”
“I am not.” Her forehead creased in deep lines. “Is it that obvious?”
Scott cocked a brow. “You can deny it all you want but look at what’s hanging in your closet. It’s either boring pants near the same color or sturdy work jeans.”
“What are you the fashion police? Go away.”
“I’m just saying you should wear what’s comfortable. Pay no mind to what people say. Who cares if people think you dress like a guy most of the time? No jewelry, no frills, that’s Eastlyn Parker.”
“What people?”
Scott ignored the question and went on, “No, you definitely have the right idea. Stick to what works for you. Keep wearing your work clothes wherever you go, no matter where it is. A trip to an old barn deserves a practical outfit. I wouldn’t even bother to accessorize or put earrings on, plain works for you.”
“What is this, reverse psychology? Why should I care about what I wear?”
“That one’s easy to figure out. Since losing your foot, the prosthesis makes you self-conscious about wearing anything other than pants or jeans. Putting on a dress might test the limits of Cooper’s attraction to you. You’re not prepared for the disappointment in his eyes when he sees your leg uncovered for the first time.”
“Oh, go to hell. Leave me alone.”
Scott held up his hands in a sign of concession. “I’m out of here. But don’t say I didn’t try.”
After his disappearing act, she plopped down on the edge of the bed.
She decided today wasn’t the day for pushing the envelope. What would it hurt if she kept the fantasy for a little while longer that he’d find her attractive regardless of what her leg looked like?
Having made that decision, she tapped her prosthesis before tugging on her jeans. She found a bright red blouse in the back of her closet and snubbed her nose at Scott while she buttoned it up.
She started out of the room and spotted her little ceramic jewelry box. Digging around the few pieces, she found what she wanted, a pair of earrings made from carnelian gemstones. The jewelry had been a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and with some reluctance, had to admit the orangey-red jewels made the blouse pop. The stones also set off her hair and eyes.
“Okay, Scott, you win. Satisfied now?” she asked as she made her way into the kitchen.
After cramming down toast and jam, Eastlyn cleaned up the mess, drank the last bit of coffee and went outside on the stoop to wait for Cooper to show up.
Prepared for a late arrival, she was surprised to see Cooper show up at ten on the dot.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was waiting outside, pacing back and forth on the concrete.
At the wheel of his 1967, fully restored Ford Mustang, he swung into the driveway, and watched her jaw drop at the sight.
Eastlyn stared at the two-door vintage forest green convertible. “Holy crap… That’s one nice pony you have there. This ride rocks.”
She ran her hand over the hood, felt the heat of the engine. “What have you got under the hood?”
Cooper grinned at her reaction. “Two-eighty-nine.”
“Dual muffler,” she muttered in approval, as she climbed into the passenger seat. She rubbed a hand over the dash in appreciation. “Restored to factory condition. You have good taste.”
He slanted her a look. “I certainly do.” He picked up her hand, kissed the palm before shoving the gear into reverse and taking off down the street.
She noted he hadn’t let go of her hand until he’d shifted out of the driveway. A tad uncomfortable in the close quarters, she made small talk. “Where is this place we’re headed? Will we get to let this baby run on the open road so I can see what she’s got?”
“Cleef’s place is a few miles south of town and about five miles after the cutoff. I think that’ll be enough distance to show
you what she’s got.”
“Where’d you get the wheels? This car suits you.”
“It belonged to my father, Layne Richmond. After my dad disappeared—and before anyone knew he’d been murdered under the pier—my grandfather kept his car in the garage. All that time, I don’t think grandpop had the heart to take it for a spin, not even to keep it in running order. When grandpop died, about ten years back, he left the Mustang to me in his will. He left Drea the loft space over the florist shop and Caleb inherited his house on Cape May. After such a long time parked, however, the car needed a major overhaul to get it on the road. The good part about that was it didn’t have many miles on it. Grandpop had kept it out of the elements and the damp weather we have around here.”
“Your grandfather must’ve known you didn’t want to live in town. So he left you something other than property.”
“Oh, he did. I’m sure that’s the reason for it. I feel bad about that now.”
She ran a hand up his arm. “Don’t. The guilt is a waste of energy. Believe me, I know.”
“What about yours? The guilt, I mean.”
“I deal with it every single day,” Eastlyn said with a bite to each word, shutting down any further discussion. But then she realized he was staring at her. “How do you know? What makes you think I’m dealing with guilt?”
“Simple. Scott mentioned it…several times as a matter of fact.”
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You too? Scott’s been bugging you about me? Who does this guy think he is anyway?”
“I’m pretty sure if they live in Pelican Pointe, they’re on Scott’s radar. After all, he bugs everyone.”
As soon as they reached the Coast Highway, Eastlyn prompted, “Punch it. Show me what this pony can do.”
Coop didn’t need any more encouragement than that since there wasn’t much traffic. He gunned the engine for a burst in power and speed. They hugged curves and zipped along flat stretches of roadway, eating up pavement. With the ocean on the right and rolling hills to the left, they cruised with the wind in their faces.
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