by Aubrey Cara
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not trusting your friend just because he's a good buddy of yours. He could be some crook for all I know. I need to call around, get some estimates. I have no idea how much this is going to cost. I'll let you drive me home. And tomorrow you can come back to my place and take me out to the Circle F, and I'll ask Diane if I can borrow a work truck. ”
“Kat?”
“What?”
“Get in the fucking truck.”
She had her arms crossed over her chest. Head held high, her nose slightly in the air. She glared at Caleb for a full minute while he just stood there holding the door open. Finally she relented and climbed in the truck, not because he told her to, but because she knew he'd just throw her in the truck when he got sick of waiting her out. And the only reason he was being patient was probably in deference to her getting attacked earlier. She called out, “You could have asked nicer,” as he shut the door in her face.
Caleb came around and climbed in behind the wheel and she told him her address. She couldn't wait to be home, even if home at the moment was her sparse apartment. It was better than Delia's studio back in Virginia, and it was all hers. She would thank Caleb for helping her out tonight, then she'd tried to forget this night ever happened.
CHAPTER TWO
Caleb pulled into an apartment complex attached to one of the new neighborhoods that seemed to have popped up overnight. They had driven in silence, and that suited Caleb just fine. Part of him was still wired from finding Kat bleeding and beat up in the parking lot. Seeing Kat broken like that stirred something deep inside him.
“I'm that building over there.” Kat pointed indicating the two story building to the right of them. “You can pull over here.”
“Do you have an assigned parking spot?”
“Yeah, it's 203, but you don't need to park. I'll just get out.”
He pulled into spot 203 and killed the engine, quickly hopping out of the truck. She jumped out, trotting ahead of him, muttering about neanderthal, asinine, stubborn, archaic, southern men. It made him smile. That was the she-devil he knew.
When they got to her door she pulled out her keys. He snatched them out of her hand. He had her door unlocked and was walking past her into her apartment before she could try to thank him and send him on his way.
The apartment itself was small but nice. The walls were beige, the carpets new. The kitchen opened to the living room from the right. The counters were faux granite, and the appliances were black. Very bland standard fare normally found in a new development like this.
The décor on the other hand was all Kat. The eating area had only a card table that stood on a drop cloth, and that was covered in a drop cloth that was covered in frames, brushes and all kinds of things. The floor in that area had more of the same and what looked to be art projects in different levels of completion. A giant painting of a cow head stared out of big dopey eyes over the table.
The living room housed an old, ugly couch. It was lime green velvet that was bald in spots, and looked more suited to a loft in the city than a new cookie cutter apartment. The couch was covered in different little throw pillows, and sat in front of a coffee table that looked like a halved wooden pallet, with distressed white paint, on little wheels. It was the kind of trendy thing he'd seen advertised in magazines on sale for too much money, but Caleb had a feeling Kat made it herself. He liked that about her.
“Sure, Tex, why don't you come right in,” Kat snarked
Caleb smiled, “Homey place you got here. Is that a goat?” Caleb just noticed what looked to be an antique plate hanging on the wall. The kind his grandma kept in a glass cabinet and only let the adults use on the holidays. This one had the fancy gold border, the roses dotting four corners, and a goat in the middle. Now that he was really looking, one of the throw pillows had a scenic picture of a goat on it and two of the pillows were in the shape of white fluffy sheep. Strange. Seemed Kat had a thing for farm animals.
Having put down her purse on the kitchen counter, she ignored his question saying, “Well, thank you again Caleb. You've been very helpful. As you can see, all is well. You can go now.”
Caleb arched a brow. “Why don't you take a hot shower or a bath? Or would you rather go straight to bed?”
Her lips thinned. “You are going to leave, and I'm going to go to bed.”
He sighed, for a moment rethinking his decision to stay the night, but then he thought about finding her in that parking lot. He looked over her bruised swollen cheek and puffy red nose, her eyes a bit bloodshot from crying and decided to stand his ground. She shouldn't be alone tonight. “Kat,” he said. “I'm staying. You were attacked tonight. You have the bruises to show it. And as badly shaken as you were, I would be shocked if you didn't have nightmares. Trust me, you don't want to be alone for that.”
“It was a stupid attack,” she tried to reason. “I should have been paying more attention. I don't know why I freaked out so bad.”
That made Caleb want to shake her. “Could it be because you're not used to being violently attacked on a regular basis? I'm staying. End of discussion.”
*** ***
Kat felt herself give in. She knew his tone and commanding attitude would usually have her hackles raised, ready for battle. And she would have argued more, but she just wasn't up for it. She couldn't believe it. With a sigh she realized she was going to let him stay. “How is it, Caleb McCrae, you always catch me at my most vulnerable?”
“Lucky timing I guess,” he deadpanned.
“Okay, fine. You can stay. But no funny business.”
He just arched a brow. On his sharp features, it looked extra arrogant and seemed to say 'you should be so lucky.' And she knew from experience it would be her luck indeed. Caleb may not be as universally mansome as her friend Del's husband Jake, but he wore his sharp features well. He had an air of tall, dark and dangerous just standing in her living room. His jean encased legs braced as if on a ship, thick arms crossed over his chest. If he were in a romance novel he'd be a pirate or highwayman that kidnapped the damsel and ravished her against her will.
Kat suddenly felt breathless and tingly all over. She was always like this in his proximity. It was disconcerting to say the least. “I think I'm going to take a shower now.”
Caleb nodded, “That's good. I wasn't going to say anything but you reek like beer.”
Kat turned red. She had forgotten she had dried beer down the front of her. Fleeing to her bedroom to grab pajamas she said over her shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable. There's mustard and some expired milk in the fridge.”
Her bathroom was one of those odd double entranced bathrooms. This feature normally annoyed Kat. The doors were adjacent, and her bathroom wasn't large so if you opened both at the same time they'd hit, and she couldn't squeeze out of either one. Right now she was just happy she wouldn't have to go back out into the living room.
She was starting to feel nervous. The only man she had ever had sex with, who had seen her naked, was sleeping over in her apartment. Possibly her bed. The last time they were in bed together he'd done things that would make the guy who wrote the Kama Sutra blush. Or applaud. She wasn't sure.
She tested the water before stepping under the hot spray wincing at all the aches and pains making themselves known. Kat was being silly. He'd probably sleep on the couch. She was getting herself worked up for nothing. She picked up the razor and started shaving her legs. Not because Caleb McCrae was staying the night in her apartment she assured herself. Her legs just needed to be shaved. And when she began scrubbing herself down with her expensive peach vanilla body wash—she saved for special occasions—she told herself it was because she had a rough night. It had nothing to do with smelling pretty for enigmatic Caleb McCrae.
*** ***
Caleb figured he'd better get situated in Kat's room while she was in the shower. He wasn't about to spend the few hours till morning trying to sleep on that old couch, surrounded by sheep and goats. He did check her fri
dge just to see if she had been kidding. She hadn't been. The woman desperately needed to go grocery shopping. He had bachelor buddies that kept a better stocked fridge.
Her room was a bit of a surprise. It was a lot more feminine than Caleb would have expected. The walls were painted a pale tranquil blue. The furniture was obviously antique but high quality. Again, nothing that fit the cookie cutter apartment. The mahogany sleigh bed was centered on the far wall. It was covered in a white bedspread that also looked antique, and more throw pillows. These pillows were ruffly and thankfully devoid of farm animals. Pastoral or otherwise. The end tables were white, with pretty cut glass handles. Little nickel brushed lamps stood one on each side, with cream shades. He went and turned them on, turning off the overhead light.
Above one of the end tables hung three pictures in ornate silver frames that looked like lace. They were hanging from fancy ribbon. One picture was of Kat, her sister Macy and Macy's partner Sally, along with another women that was probably their mother, and three well manicured dogs. Another was a group shot from Del and Jake's wedding, and the last one was of three donkeys, with their head in the window of a car. The shot had been taken from behind. Three jackasses in a car, Caleb chuckled. He wondered if she'd taken it herself.
A big dresser took up the far wall by the door. The dresser had a big vanity mirror facing the bed. That made Caleb smile with ideas.
The only new piece of furniture in the room was a book case. It was the kind anyone could order from Ikea. Caleb wandered over to check out her books and was surprised to find Danielle Steele and other paperback romance novels filling the shelves next to the kind of classics he would have pegged her for reading like Wuthering Heights, To Kill A Mockingbird, and Jane Eyre.
Caleb undressed to his boxers, setting his shirt and pants over the end of the bed, and tucked his boots right under the bed. When the toe of his boot hit something he reached under the bed to see what he had hit and pulled up a box. Without thinking he opened it. He quickly shut it and put it back, looking behind him to make sure the bathroom door was still closed. Caleb had officially snooped out something he knew Kat would not appreciate him finding. But god damn, did the contents make him smile. Just from his glimpse he'd seen vibrators, a little butt plug that made his head spin, lube, and furry handcuffs. Caleb was instantly hard.
He tossed the nonsensical decorative pillows off the bed, pulled back the bedding and got in. He was immediately surrounded by Kat's peaches and vanilla scent. Lying in her bed was in no way helping his erection. Especially when he realized she probably lay in this very spot using those toys he had just found. He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face and started counting backwards. He gave his dick a sharp pinch to calm his little guy down.
He was beginning to worry he had vastly underestimated his ability to control himself around Kat when she came out through the bathroom door. The scent of peaches and vanilla followed her out and Caleb wondered if the scent was a shower gel she used.
Her auburn hair was damp and hung in loose curls past her shoulders. When he had first met her it had been shorter. He wondered if she was growing it out. He'd like that. He could picture one of those tawny red curls playing peek-a-boo with her nipples. Her nipples that were even now pointing out at him through the little tank top she wore. Kat had an ample figure that was curved in all the right places. It made his hands itch to touch and his mouth water wanting to taste.
Kat looked a bit jittery and he tried to curb his expression to be a bit more neutral as she practically dove under the covers. She shut off the light on her side, so he shut off the one on his side. They lay there side by side for a minute, and right when he was about to say good night, Kat said, “I thought you'd sleep on the couch. Not that I'm kicking you out, I just didn't think you'd be...here.”
He sighed, “Your sheep and goat pillows freaked me out.”
Kat snorted, but then she huffed and flopped around trying to get comfortable. Caleb rolled to his side and pulled her lush, squirming body into him. Her leg fell over his, her head tucked onto his chest. She froze all movement. He could feel every muscle in her body was comically taut. Even as stiff as she was, her body felt good against his. He squeezed her with the arm wrapped around her back and kissed the top of her head. “Relax. Get some sleep.”
She lay there ridged for a full minute before one by one her muscles eased. Her breathing grew deeper, but he knew she wasn't sleeping from her fingers painting little circles on his chest. He had other ways to keep her hands occupied but thought she may take exception to his suggestion. He was starting to drift to sleep himself when she whispered, “Caleb, are you asleep?”
He grinned, “Out like a light.” She smacked his chest. “What's up, kitten?” Besides his cock bobbing above where her knee rested against his thigh.
“I'm not a kitten.”
“You curl up like a kitten, and I know for a fact you practically purr after a good orgasm.” He couldn't see her flush but he knew she was probably bright red all the way down to her ample chest. “That makes you a kitten.”
“Whatever.” She moved to pull away in a huff and he wouldn't let her.
Holding firm he asked, “Hey, what's up? I'm awake. Talk to me.”
She sighed and settled back down. “I can't sleep.”
“We haven't been lying here very long. I don't think you really gave it a shot.”
“Caleb.”
“Alright, what can I do? I can warm you up some expired milk...or I can do something I know will have you sleeping like a baby, or at least too satisfied to care you're still awake.”
Her hand grabbed his hands stroking up and down her sides, halting his movements. He sighed. A man had to try.
“Talk to me,” she said.
He sighed. Why did women always want to talk? “About what?” he asked.
“I don't know. Why'd you leave the military?”
That blindsided him a bit but it should have been expected. It wasn't like it was common knowledge, or that he'd talked about his plans of the future. He debated what to tell her and simply said, “It was time.”
“That's it?”
Caleb scrubbed his face with his hand, “I had always planned on coming back to the ranch, but I hadn't known when. I had started drifting from mission to mission.” He wasn't sure how to explain how getting sent out over and over until everything lumped together had affected him. “I'd become detached—which is good to a degree. It's necessary. It keeps your head clear, but my last year in I was burnt out. My head wasn't clear anymore.”
A lot of the guys in his unit had people back home that centered them. Grounded them. He didn't. He had avoided emotional entanglements and conversations like this one. He smiled in the dark. He could practically hear his head doctor ask him, how's that been going for you?
“I was having nightmares,” he admitted. “Even when I was awake. 'Episodes' my shrink called them.” He still remembered sitting in the psychiatrist's office. The walls had been a light green, the furniture cream colored. Pictures of flowers were on the wall. Everything about it was meant to calm. The place had even smelled like some nice potpourri. It had made him as jittery as a pickpocket in a police station. The elevator music had made him want to stab someone. He felt like a nut job jackass sitting there. He had been ready bolt when the doctor had come out for him. She had looked like the old sex guru Doctor Ruth and sound like Phyllis Diller. She had cut through the bullshit. Her help had chafed. He'd wanted to tell her to get bent every time he walked into her office. Damned if she didn't know it, too.
“Is that what you were talking about earlier tonight?” Kat asked. “When you said I didn't want to be alone when I had nightmares?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you still have them?”
“Not very often. Every once in a while nowadays.”
“Did something bad happen?”
He huffed a sardonic chuckle. “Lots of bad things happened, kitten. I'm not sure what triggered it tho
ugh.” He knew that's what happened with most guys. Something specific. Missions went sideways and they'd watch their buddies get blown away. They'd get home and still be living the nightmare. Sometimes it wasn't one thing. For some guys it was everything, right from the second the drill sergeants start wearing them down in basic. They'd get shipped out and be living high stress situations. They'd go home to their family with something in their minds already snapped.
Some drink to deal with the bad nightmares and panic attacks, some kill themselves. Some shoot their wives. Those are the big stories. The ones that make the news. Like when women have postpartum and kill their kids. Hundreds of women have it in lesser degrees but you don't hear about that as often. It was the same way with PTSD.
In his case he'd just gotten tired of always being in a high risk situation. He was sick of watching people die. Each time he'd been shipped off he felt the clock ticking. Every time his feet hit American soil he'd wondered why he was still alive.
He never heard the clock ticking working at the ranch. His mind cleared. The hard labor kept him from feeling so haunted. He'd even stopped feeling so damn angry all the time. When he was on Circle F he felt a little more certain the universe had made a good decision in sparing him.
“I was lucky in a way, I guess. I could feel myself sliding over the edge and got help.” He'd hated every second of it, but he'd gotten help. Caleb didn't want to talk about his ongoing road to recovery with PTSD so he asked, “So, why don't you tell me why you snuck out of my hotel room back in Virginia? Or why you've not given me the time a day since you first saw me again at Jake and Del's wedding?”
*** ***
Kat had been so absorbed in wrapping her head around this big indomitable man in her bed having PTSD, that his question took a moment to register. When it did she felt flustered. She made circles on his chest while she searched for something to say. She tried to pull away, now uncomfortable she was put on the spot. He of course tightened his hold.