by Susan Stoker
Dude laughed at her again. “I’m sure.”
“Okay, I’m 513 in building four.”
“Close your eyes, Shy, I’ll get us there in a bit. You rest and I’ll wake you up once we’ve arrived.”
Cheyenne did as Faulkner said. She closed her eyes again and relaxed into the seat. “Thank you for the ride, Faulkner. I didn’t have anyone else to call.” She couldn’t stop the words.
“You’re more than welcome. Now shush.”
Cheyenne smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. Her head was swirling too much to fall asleep, but it was heavenly to be able to relax and not worry about anything for a while.
Chapter Five
Cheyenne opened her eyes and groaned. She knew exactly where she was and everything she’d said and done the night before. She would’ve been happy if she could’ve forgotten it all, but she wasn’t so lucky.
Last night, Faulkner had pulled up to her apartment building and helped her out of the car. He’d half carried, half walked, her up to her apartment and taken her keys out of her hand when she couldn’t seem to get the key into the lock.
Cheyenne was embarrassed Faulkner had seen her apartment. She was a slob, as he’d claimed to be. She knew it, but it was her little secret. Not anymore. She wasn’t going to agree with him when he’d talked about how he didn’t like to pick up his clothes from the floor. It was somewhat manly and macho when a man did it, but when a woman had a messy house, somehow it was pathetic. Faulkner had opened her door and laughed outright at seeing her mess. Cheyenne had tried to explain when she was home from work she just never felt like cleaning or picking up around her apartment, but he just laughed off her explanations.
“The two of us together would be a mess. But at least I know you aren’t perfect now, Shy.”
Cheyenne had looked at Faulkner as if he had three heads. “Of course I’m not perfect, Faulkner. You’re the perfect one.”
“I think we’ve had this conversation once already. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
He’d led her into her bedroom and pulled back the covers. He’d tucked her in, scrubs and all, kissed her on the forehead again and whispered, “Sleep well, Shy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cheyenne hadn’t thought much about it then, she’d been too tired and frazzled from the drugs coursing through her system, but now, in the light of day, it was freaking her out. Faulkner would see her today? Had they made plans and she didn’t remember? Cheyenne didn’t know if she was ready to spend time with Faulkner…normal time together that was. Without bombs, bad guys, drugs and her being a damsel in distress. She figured he’d get as far away from her as possible, especially after her diarrhea of the mouth last night. Cheyenne buried her head into her pillow and groaned, remembering how she’d actually told him he probably hung out with a gang of hotties. Who said things like that? Darn drugs.
Cheyenne sat up, ready to get out of bed and tackle the shower, when her bedroom door opened and Faulkner strolled in.
What the freaking hell?
Cheyenne pulled the covers back up her body until she clutched them under her chin.
“Good morning, Shy. I hope you feel better this morning?”
Cheyenne could only stare at Faulkner in stupefaction, and nod.
“Words.”
Cheyenne had forgotten that about him. Faulkner liked to hear verbal confirmation of his questions. “I feel better.”
“Good. I made you some breakfast, we can eat after you shower.”
“Breakfast?” Cheyenne could only stare at Faulkner in bewilderment. “I don’t have anything to eat in my apartment. I’m pretty sure that was one of the four hundred and fifty four things I blabbed to you last night, that I now wish I hadn’t.”
“You’ve got food now. I called Fiona, the wife of one of my teammates. She went shopping this morning and brought over a shit ton of food. It should be enough to last you for a while.”
“Fiona?” Cheyenne tried to shake herself out of the weird dimension she felt like she’d fallen into.
“Yeah, Fiona. Now, come on. Get up. Let’s see about removing those bandages. We’ll see how they look and if I think your arms look good enough, you can shower. You can do that after the bandages are gone.”
Cheyenne tilted her head at Faulkner, but did as he asked. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat on the side.
Dude put a hand under her elbow and helped her stand. When Cheyenne had her legs firmly under her, he backed away and waited for her to make her way to the bathroom, which was connected to the little bedroom.
Cheyenne walked in front of Faulkner into the bathroom.
“I’ll give you a minute to take care of business, then I’ll be back to help you with those bandages.”
Cheyenne thought she couldn’t have been any more embarrassed than when she’d remembered what she’d babbled last night to the gorgeous man waiting for her in her bedroom, but she’d been wrong. She hurried through using the toilet and brushing her teeth and was standing in front of the sink with her head down, leaning on her hands when Faulkner returned.
He stood behind her and rested his hands next to hers on the counter. Cheyenne could feel his heat along her back. His body was one big muscle and she loved how he felt against her. She felt safe and cared for. It was crazy, but it was also a feeling she knew she couldn’t get accustomed to. She should be more freaked that this man, this stranger, had apparently spent the night in her apartment, and was still there, but she couldn’t muster up the outrage. He’d done nothing but take care of her. Cheyenne knew she could trust him, but she wasn’t sure why he’d spent the night.
“Why are you here?” Cheyenne asked seriously, lifting her head to look at Faulkner in the mirror.
“Because you need me.”
“But we don’t know each other.”
“We know each other better than some people do after a couple of dates.”
“Yeah, but we haven’t even been on a date.”
“Which is something I mean to remedy soon.”
“Do you have a comeback to everything I say?” Cheyenne was frustrated with Faulkner’s calm and rational answers to everything she brought up.
“Yes. Now, are you ready for the bandages to come off?”
Cheyenne nodded, then rolled her eyes when Faulkner didn’t move, but just raised his eyebrow at her instead. “Yes, I’m ready for the bandages to come off.”
Dude merely smiled at her. He stepped back a foot and let her turn in his arms. He reached behind him to pull out a wicked looking knife from somewhere behind him.
“Jesus, Faulkner. Is that necessary to carry around?”
He looked down at the k-bar knife in his hand. “Yeah, Shy, it’s necessary. I’m just sorry I didn’t have it with me yesterday when I was trying to remove all that damn tape from your arms. It was in my truck, but it was a huge fuck up on my part not to have it on me.”
Dude wasn’t going to say anything else, but the knife had saved his life more than once. He brought it up to her arm and said, “Stay still.” He wasn’t going to cut her, he’d rather face ten terrorists with no weapon than hurt this woman, but her standing still would certainly help make sure he didn’t hurt her.
Dude felt Cheyenne go stiff and smothered the smile he could feel forming on his face. He felt lucky as hell she’d been as trusting of him as she had been so far. If she’d told him how she’d woken up and found a man she barely knew in her apartment after a hell of a day, and didn’t immediately kick him out, he would’ve paddled her ass. But since it was him, and since he knew he’d never hurt even one hair on her head, he didn’t say a word at her easy capitulation.
He ran the knife up the bandage on her right arm, easily slicing it. Dude put the knife on the counter and took both hands to peel back the white gauze slowly and easily. He winced at the rough looking patches of skin that had been irritated by the removal of the tape.
“They look good,” Cheyenne said with satisfaction looking down at h
er arm that had been uncovered.
“Good?”
“Yeah, you should’ve seen them yesterday. That stuff they put on my arm is obviously miracle goo!”
They both laughed and Dude grabbed the knife again and made short work of the bandages on Cheyenne’s other arm. When those too had been removed, Dude stepped back. “Okay, Shy, I think you’re okay to shower. Hop in and get clean. I’ll be in the kitchen waiting for you. Take your time.”
Cheyenne nodded and watched as Faulkner backed out of the small bathroom and closed the door behind him. She shook her head in bemusement. She’d planned on spending the day loafing around and being lazy. She had no idea what the day held in store for her now. She didn’t know why she trusted Faulkner. Maybe it was because she’d seen him in the store before. Maybe it was because he was in the military. Maybe it was because of the extreme situation she’d been in the day before and he’d been gentle, and had saved her life. Whatever it was, Cheyenne knew it was probably stupid, but she couldn’t muster up any alarm that he was in her apartment, and had apparently been there all night. Shrugging, she turned toward the shower and turned on the water, letting it get hot as she removed the scrubs she’d slept in.
Cheyenne spent way too long in the shower, but it felt heavenly. She scrubbed her skin as hard as she dared, and could stand. The hot water felt like it washed her worries away along with the dirt and grime from her ordeal the day before.
She finally turned off the water and stepped from the shower stall. Sitting on the counter was a change of clothes that definitely hadn’t been there when she started her shower. Cheyenne blushed furiously, knowing Faulkner had been in the room while she’d been completely naked just a few steps away. Had he seen anything? Did he like what he might have seen?
Cheyenne had been honest with him in that she didn’t think she was horrible looking. She did like parts of her body, but others she could take or leave. Cheyenne wasn’t huge, she wasn’t skinny. She didn’t have long hair, she didn’t have short hair. She didn’t have lavender or ice blue eyes, she had normal brown eyes. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall either. She was right smack in the middle of everything. Pretty darn normal. Her mom and sister had told her often enough that she was nothing special, and while Cheyenne knew she shouldn’t listen to what they said, in this case they were more right than wrong.
Cheyenne quickly dressed in the clothes he’d left on the counter, blushing at Faulkner’s choice of underwear. It was obvious he had to dig deep in her undie drawer to find the black lace nylon thong. She normally didn’t wear such a thing, and she knew it’d been buried under the more practical cotton and nylon bikini underwear. She wasn’t going to put them on, but she couldn’t resist. She felt tingly and beautiful knowing Faulkner had picked it out and she was now wearing it.
He’d also pulled out a pair of gray sweat bottoms and a V-neck shirt which plunged way too deep for Cheyenne’s peace of mind. The bra he’d also dug out of her drawer was the one push up bra she owned. She’d bought it on a whim, thinking it might make her feel sexy, but it hadn’t, it’d made her feel uncomfortable and like she was falsely advertising something she didn’t have. But now, wearing it because Faulkner had picked it out? She got it. She felt sexy.
Cheyenne looked at herself in the mirror when she’d finished dressing. The bra made her have more cleavage than ever before, and it definitely lived up to its name. It pushed her boobs up and accented them inside the low cut shirt. Cheyenne knew she should probably put on a regular T-shirt, and probably one of her regular bras, but she made herself walk out of the door of the bathroom and into her room.
She might never have a chance like this again. She had no idea where this, whatever this was, was going to go, maybe nowhere, but she’d ride the wave for as long as she could. She’d be a fool not to. She had no idea what Faulkner was still doing there. Cheyenne had been honest, too honest, thanks to the pain killers, last night when she’d questioned what Faulkner was doing with her, but it was no more clear now in the morning when her mind wasn’t clouded by drugs as it was last night.
Cheyenne walked into the main area of her apartment, and stopped abruptly and stared. Faulkner was standing in her kitchen at the stove holding a spatula over a steaming pan that held what looked like an omelet. He looked up when she entered the room as if he could sense her there.
“Hey, you look a lot better.”
His words were innocuous, but the look in his eye was anything but. Cheyenne watched as his eyes went from her feet, up her legs, stopping at her chest for a moment, then coming back up to meet her eyes.
“Thanks.”
They looked at each other a beat longer than was truly comfortable, or polite, before Dude looked back down at the omelet he was making. He took a deep breath and tried not to imagine how the underwear he’d picked out would look on her without the sweats and shirt in the way.
He’d opened her drawers looking for something for Cheyenne to wear after her shower and came face to face with her underwear. It was stuffed into a drawer haphazardly, with no organization and nothing was folded. Dude had been stunned for a moment, then, as if he was watching from far away, saw himself shifting through the cotton until he’d seen the miniscule little black thong on the bottom of the pile of material. He’d plucked it out without thinking and rubbed his thumb over it.
The same thing had happened when Dude had found her bras. They’d all been sensible and comfortable, except for the black lace number with the strategic padding. Dude wasn’t an expert, but he knew what the extra material in the corner of the cups was for.
Sneaking another look up at Cheyenne, Dude knew she’d at least put on the bra he’d picked out. He could see more than a hint of her cleavage as she pulled herself up on the stool at the bar that ran along the edge of the kitchen. He smirked as a slight blush came over her face. She’d caught him looking.
Dude turned and grabbed one of the plates he’d placed next to the stove and expertly scooped up the omelet and transferred it to the plate. He took a fork, placed it on the plate and brought it over to Cheyenne.
“You didn’t have to cook,” Cheyenne tried to protest.
“I know. Eat.”
“I didn’t have anything in my fridge but salad dressing…You said someone named Fiona brought all of this?”
“Eat, Shy.”
Dude smiled as Cheyenne dutifully picked up the fork and cut into the omelet. He didn’t move from her side until she’d taken a bite and closed her eyes in enjoyment. He went back to the stove and broke more eggs into the still hot pan. Dude divided his attention between Cheyenne eating and his own omelet.
By the time he finished making his own breakfast, Cheyenne was eating her last bites. She suddenly looked at him in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited for you. Jesus, I’m horrible.”
“It’s fine, Shy. If you’d waited, yours would’ve been cold.”
“But…”
“I said it’s fine.” Dude knew he was being a bit harsher than the situation called for, but he couldn’t help it. It was a part of who he was. He was used to being obeyed. It came from being a SEAL and being in situations where obeying was second nature and necessary for survival. He wasn’t into total control and the bullshit that went along with the BDSM lifestyle, but he certainly needed to be in control when he went to bed with a woman.
Dude hadn’t really thought about what that might mean in a real relationship, because he’d had never had a real relationship. As most of his buddies had done before they’d settled down, he enjoyed picking up women. He’d take them home and have an excellent time for the night. But after that one night, they were gone. Every woman had known the score and none had any complaints, at least none they’d verbalized to him. They’d all willingly turned over control to him and left the next morning, but Dude had never really thought about how it would work for more than a night.
He shook his head. Dude wanted Cheyenne, and not like he’d had other women. He lik
ed her. As he’d told her the night before, she was interesting and fun. Those weren’t adjectives he’d used to describe women in the past that he’d liked. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to get to know any of the women he’d taken to bed before. That probably made him a dick, but he couldn’t change his past now.
Liking a woman and wanting to get to know her before sleeping with her, was new for Dude. He’d also never invited his friends into any relationship, whatever kind of relationship he had with Cheyenne, before. He’d never gone out of his way to have a one-night-stand interact with his friends. But here he was, one day after meeting Cheyenne, and he’d voluntarily reached out to his friends for her help. Fiona had been overjoyed to help him out and go shopping for food. Dude hadn’t wanted to leave Cheyenne while she was hurt and loopy from whatever drugs the staff at the hospital had given her, so he’d called Cookie, but gotten Fiona instead. She’d bought enough food for at least a month.
Dude had spent the night on Cheyenne’s couch, waking up at least once an hour so he could pop his head into her room and check on her. She’d been dead to the world. She hadn’t even stirred when he’d stood by her bedside. And the one time Dude had actually touched Cheyenne, she’d groaned and rolled toward him, not away from him. It had been harder than Dude had thought to leave her room after that.
Now here he was, bossing Cheyenne around and generally pushing himself on her. Dude knew he should leave and give her some room, but he honestly didn’t want to.
“What were your plans for the day, Shy?”
Cheyenne looked over at Faulkner as he ate. She pushed her plate away and leaned on her elbows. “I hadn’t really thought much about it. I usually just hang out on my days off.”
“Hell, I didn’t even ask what you do for a living. I’m sorry.”
Cheyenne shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not like we’ve really had a chance to chat about our lives. Besides, it’s not that interesting really. I answer the phone when people call 911.”
Dude lowered the forkful of omelet he’d been about to put in his mouth and looked at Cheyenne incredulously. “What?”