by Helen Lacey
“Well, thank you, Mr. Walking Dictionary,” she said, drinking some soda. “But falling in love can be a little problematic, don’t you think?”
“I don’t really know,” he muttered and ate some food.
“I thought smart guys like you knew everything.”
He glanced at her. “Who says I’m that smart?”
Lucy chuckled. “Oh, you’re smart all right. Your mom told me you’ve been asked to teach French at the high school in the evenings, for the adult classes.”
He looked faintly embarrassed. “Yeah... I’m still thinking about it.”
“Why are you so uncomfortable with the fact that most days you’re probably the smartest person in the room?”
He shrugged again. “I could say the same thing to you.”
“Oh, no. I had to study long and hard to get good grades. And I was hopeless at French and Latin.” Her eyes widened. “Maybe you could teach me?”
“Teach you French?” He stretched out his legs. “Teach you how to French kiss, maybe.”
Lucy almost spat out her sandwich as humiliation raced up her neck. “Was I so terrible that I need lessons?”
“Not at all,” he replied softly. “You have a perfectly lovely mouth, Lucia.”
She turned hot all over and tried to eat the rest of her sandwich. “This is really good.”
“My mom is a good cook.”
“She is. I should get her to give me some tips.” Lucy’s smile broadened. “And, just so we’re straight on this, I’m not interested in Kieran O’Sullivan in the least. And it wasn’t really a date, just two former colleagues catching up over coffee.”
“Glad to hear it. The O’Sullivans think way too much of themselves.”
She laughed. “He told me that his brother is going to keep trying to buy you out until you buckle under the pressure.”
The pulse in his cheek throbbed. “Did he?”
She nodded. “And I told him he’d be waiting a long time.”
He glanced at her. “Why did you tell him that?”
Lucy nodded. “Because I think anyone who has been a soldier on the front line for twelve years knows more about pressure and resilience than someone who sits behind a desk at a fancy hotel and barks out orders to employees all day.”
He smiled and drank some soda. “I can handle Liam O’Sullivan...but thanks, it’s very sweet of you to defend me.”
“That’s what friends do for one another.”
He didn’t disagree.
When he stayed silent Lucy spoke again. “Do you miss it? Being a soldier, I mean.”
He nodded. “Sometimes I miss the code...the knowledge that someone always has your back. I miss the camaraderie and the friendship. Do I miss holding a weapon, using a weapon and dodging enemy fire? Not at all.”
Lucy shivered. “I can’t begin to imagine what you went through.”
“At times it was hell on earth over there. A different world. But it was my job, so I did it the best I could while I was there.”
“Why did you leave?’ she asked quietly. “You were a career soldier, Brant. You’re smart and could have worked in many different areas of the military... Why did you leave so suddenly and come back here and buy a burned-out tavern? It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” she said gently. “Unless something terrible happened that made you leave.”
A shutter came down over his gaze. “I can’t talk about it.”
“You mean you won’t talk about it,” she corrected. “There’s a difference, believe me, I know. I spent years refusing to talk about my mom’s death and how I was plagued by guilt because I couldn’t help her. But when I did open up I stopped feeling guilty and experienced an incredible sense of freedom. It’s like I’d been living in a house of glass, too afraid of what would break if I made a sound. But then I was out of this glass house and I could wave my arms around without breaking anything.”
He twisted in the chair, placed the sandwich and soda into the basket and faced her. “Getting inside my head isn’t helpful, Lucy. I’m only interested in living in this moment.”
“This moment?” she asked. “Right now?”
“Right now,” he replied.
“Is that why you’re here with me...to be in the moment?”
“I’m here because...” His words trailed as he reached out and touched her chin. “Because the idea of not seeing you tonight was unthinkable.”
Lucy’s lip trembled. “And are you going to kiss me?”
“Yes,” he said and took the sandwich from her hands and dropped it in the basket. “If that’s okay?”
Her heart pounded behind her ribs. “It’s more than okay.”
His mouth touched hers gently, coaxing a response, and Lucy gave herself up to his kiss without hesitation. She waited for his advance and then invited him closer, loving how he now felt so familiar, so warm and strong, and how his mouth seemed to fit perfectly to hers. It was a chaste kiss compared to the one they’d shared in his apartment, and since they were in the hospital foyer and anyone could have walked by, Lucy was content to simply feel his mouth gently roam over hers. His hand stayed on her chin, steadying her, and she kissed him back softly, loving the connection, loving the moment. Loving him.
“Lucy...” He suddenly spoke her name in a kind of agonized whisper. “When your shift is over, come back to my apartment.”
“Brant, I—”
“I want to make love to you,” he said, trailing his mouth down her jaw. “You’re all I can think about.”
His words were like music to her ears. He wanted her. She wanted him. It should have been as simple as that. But it wasn’t.
“I want that, too...so much.”
He clearly heard the reluctance in her voice because he pulled back. “But?”
“But not until you talk to me. Really talk.”
“Talk?”
She swallowed hard. “About your past.”
He released her and was on his feet in two seconds flat. “Blackmail? Really?”
“Not blackmail,” she said in defense. “If I’m going to be with someone, I’d like to know who he is.”
He frowned. “You know me already.”
“I know what you allow people to see,” she said. “I know there are things about you that you keep deep inside and are afraid to let anyone see. Including me.”
“There’s not.”
Lucy didn’t back down. “I may be naive, Brant, but I’m not gullible. I want to be with you. But I want to get to know you, too. What you think, what you feel.” She put a hand to her heart. “In here. And that includes knowing what you went through when you were—”
“How has you and I sleeping together got anything to do with what happened when I was in the military?” he asked, cutting her off.
“It just does.”
“No,” he said irritably. “This is simply some kind of female manipulation.”
“It’s not,” she implored. “I’m not like that. And there’s nothing simple about this.”
“How’s this for simple?” he shot back. “You want to know about my past because you want to fix me. Well, I’m not some kind of renovation project for you, Lucy. I don’t need fixing. Save that for your patients.”
He turned around and walked away, his straight back and tight limbs making his anger abundantly clear.
Lucy watched as he disappeared through the doors and a blast of cold air rushed through the foyer. Her heart sank miserably and she packed up the basket beside her. So much for a romantic dinner for two.
Lucy grabbed the basket, let out a long, unhappy breath, and walked back to the ER.
* * *
The Parker-Ellis wedding was being held at Grady’s ranch. However, Lucy had stopped by Marissa’s place,
which was next door to Grady’s, to help Brooke and Colleen get the kids ready for the ceremony.
She braided their hair and the three little girls looked so adorable in their lavender-and-ivory dresses. Lucy was a little misty-eyed when she saw how beautiful Marissa was in her lace wedding gown. The other woman positively glowed. Even Brooke, who was as tough as the most ornery cowboy, had a tiny tear in her eye. One day Lucy hoped to be a bride herself. One day. When she was over her foolish infatuation with Brant Parker.
She left with Colleen and the kids and took a seat at the back of the ceremony next to her friend Ash. The huge tent had been beautifully decorated, and heaters were discreetly in place to keep the area warm and comfortable for the guests. The white-covered chairs with lavender tulle bows had been laid out in aisle format and, even from the back, she had a great view of the altar. And of Brant.
He stood beside his brother as best man, dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and bolo tie. He looked so handsome. But tense. His jaw was tight and his back straight. And she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He turned when the music started and their gazes clashed. In the past two days she’d gone from loving him to hating him, back to loving him and then hating him again.
As she met his gaze head-on and realized he wasn’t looking at the bride as she walked down the aisle, as everyone else was, but that he was looking at her, Lucy’s skin burned from head to toe.
Once Marissa reached the altar, everyone turned to the front. The service was moving and heartfelt, and Lucy wiped tears from her cheeks once the celebrant pronounced them as husband and wife. Grady’s daughters were jumping around excitedly as he kissed his bride and the guests erupted into applause they walked back down the aisle. Brant followed with Brooke on his arm and he flipped her a look that was so blisteringly intense as he passed that Ash jabbed her in the ribs.
“Wow,” her friend whispered. “What on earth is going on between you two?”
“Nothing,” she replied and watched as he escorted Brooke from the tent. It was a gloriously cool but clear day and the wedding party headed out for the photographs to be taken. “It’s a long story.”
“I like long stories,” Ash said as they moved from the seating area toward the other side of the tent where a dozen large round tables were set up with crisp linen and white dinnerware. It was elegant and understated and exactly what a wedding should be, she thought as they wove their way through the tables to find their seats.
But Lucy didn’t tell the story. She wasn’t in the mood for any kind of post mortem about her aborted relationship with Brant. Because she was pretty sure it was over. Well, whatever they had was over. He’d made no contact for two days and she hadn’t garnered the courage to call him, either.
By the time the wedding party returned it was time to be seated for dinner and then the speeches began. If she’d imagined Brant would be nervous giving his speech, she was mistaken. He was charming and funny, sharing anecdotes about his brother that made the audience laugh, and at the end there was a toast and applause.
Then later the bride and groom hit the dance floor and swayed to an old Garth Brooks love song that was so sentimental Lucy wanted to burst into tears. Seeing Grady and Marissa together was seeing real love, firsthand. They’d somehow managed to find one another despite the obstacles they had endured and made a lifetime commitment. She envied them. And felt a little sad for herself.
She looked around and noticed Brant dancing with Brooke. More couples were on the dance floor. Since Ash had been chatting with Kieran for the past hour Lucy was now conspicuously alone at her table. A band of tension tightened around her forehead and she grimaced. The last thing she wanted was a headache.
She needed aspirin so she got up, left the tent and headed around to the back of the house. Lucy let herself through the gate and walked in through the back door. She could still hear the music and laughter coming from the tent, but the house was deserted. She’d been to the ranch several times and knew her way around, so she made her way down the hall toward the main bathroom. She was just about to open the top vanity cupboard when she heard Brant’s voice behind her.
“Everything okay, Lucy?”
She swiveled on her heels. “Fine,” she said breathlessly. “I was hoping to find some aspirin.”
He frowned. “Kitchen. Pantry. Top shelf.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, I’ll get it for you.”
Heat coursed over her skin at his touch and she longed for the strength to pull away. But he held her firm and led her down the hall and toward the huge kitchen. When he released her she crossed her arms and waited while he opened the pantry and took out a small container of painkillers. He filled a glass with water and placed both items on the counter.
“Thanks,” she said and took the medication.
“Headache?”
“Almost,” she replied. “Just getting it before it gets me. So, how’s your uncle?”
He shrugged lightly. “He seemed okay when I saw him this morning.”
“I checked on him yesterday afternoon and he seems to be recovering quite well.”
“I hope so.” He rested his hip on the counter. “He was miffed that he missed this today. So, are you enjoying the wedding?”
“Sure,” she said, placing the glass down. “You?”
His mouth twisted. “Sure.” He met her gaze. “That’s why we’re both in here.”
“I was looking for aspirin,” she said and shrugged. “What’s your excuse?”
“I was looking for you.”
Her heart skipped a beat and she was suddenly absorbed by him. “Why?”
“You know why.”
His deep voice resonated around the room and even though she was desperate to leave, she couldn’t. “I don’t know. You’re confusing me, Brant. Nothing has changed since the other night.”
She was right to say it. Right to remind him.
His gaze darkened as he looked her over. “You look so beautiful in that dress.”
The long-sleeved deep red soft jersey dress molded to her breasts and waist and flared out over her hips. She’d had it in her closet for two years with rarely an occasion to wear it. Sometimes she wondered if it was going to gather dust along with her old prom dress. “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself. It still doesn’t change anything.”
Silence stretched between them and Lucy was so caught up, so hypnotized by his dark blue eyes, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. She could only feel. He looked lost and alone, and she remembered how he’d accused her of wanting to fix him. And she did. She longed to make him whole again. Because she knew he would make her whole in return.
“Okay,” he said finally, as though it was one of the hardest words he’d ever spoken. “I’ll tell you. I don’t know why I want to tell you. I don’t know what it is about you that makes me want to talk about things that I try not to think about. But for the past two days all I’ve been able to think about is you when I should be doing a hundred other things.”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. She waited. The silence was agonizing. The hollow, haunted look in his eyes made her ache inside and when he spoke again her heart just about broke into pieces.
“Three men in my unit died,” he said quietly, his voice little more than a husky whisper. “And they died because of me.”
Chapter Ten
Brant knew there was no taking back the words once they were out. He’d kept them inside for over a year, never daring to say them out loud. It should have felt good. Cathartic. Instead, every morsel of guilt and regret he’d felt since that day came rushing back and almost knocked him over.
Three men—whose names would be forever etched into his blood and bones and his very soul—had died to save him.
“Tell me what happened.”
Lucy’s voice, soft and concerned. A voice that haunted h
is dreams and consumed his waking hours. When good sense told him to stay away, he was inexplicably drawn even more toward her. When everyone else made him clam up, Lucy Monero did the opposite. Talking to her was, somehow, salvation.
“They were protecting me,” he said flatly.
Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t tell you anything in detail. This is classified information, or mostly, anyway. I can tell you that I was part of a small team who infiltrated deeply and secretly. We were on a mission and deep in enemy territory. Intelligence is often gathered via listening devices, some high-tech, other times just basic radio-frequency stuff. We’d been listening for several hours and I had information,” he explained and tapped a finger to his temple. “In here. I was a translator and because of the situation we were in there was no time to document all the intelligence.”
She nodded. “And?”
“Radio contact was made. A pickup point was decided. And then the mission turned bad and we were suddenly surrounded by insurgents. There seemed no way out. We were bunkered down behind a ridge of rock and held that position for eight hours, randomly exchanging gunfire. We all knew it was highly unlikely we’d all survive. Decisions had to be made. And then three other soldiers in my unit lost their lives making sure I got back safely. For the greater good, you see,” he said cynically. “Funny—but nothing felt good about any of it.”
She took a step closer and grabbed his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah...me, too. Do you get it now? Do you understand why—?”
“I understand guilt,” she said, cutting him off gently. “And I understand why you feel as you do. But they were doing their job, right? Just as you were? Which doesn’t make it your fault.”
“I know that...logically,” he said and gripped her hands. “But there’s this thing about logic—it has a way of camouflaging truth and grief and guilt. So it doesn’t matter how often I tell myself I’m not to blame. It doesn’t matter that the intelligence eventually got into the right hands. It doesn’t matter that the insurgents were defeated because of that intelligence. Because all that matters is that three lives were lost...three families are mourning...three men are dead...and I’m not.”