“Not much to tell. I remember going into Miss Kerns’ room to check on her before my shift was done, and then just bits and pieces after that. Things are a little blurry, to be honest, since I was already dead on my feet at that point. Nurse Yards saw the back of him when I yelled out, but that’s about as good as things get, I’m afraid.”
His brown eyes narrow on me, and I shift around, trying in vain to hide my hairy legs from view behind the leg of the sofa.
“But?”
Shoot. This is gonna sound crazy to the man. I mean, it sounds nuts to me and I’m the one saying it, but I could swear I know that man from somewhere, even without the memory of his face to haunt me.
I can’t say why or when it hit me that I know him, I just do. One minute I was woozy and suffering from a jackhammered skull, and the next I just had the notion that, if I remembered him, I could not only give them a description, but also a name to go along with it.
“Look, I’m kinda tired—”
“That’s to be expected, since you look like a bull stomped your tiny ass and came back for seconds.”
Oh, the flattery.
“I still want to know what it is you haven’t told anyone yet, Lenny.”
Vagina, stop right there, little missy! Storm using your name is not an invitation!
Besides, my legs are hairy, my pits look like the inside of a wig shop, and I smell a little more than funky right now. Sex with a man I do not know is not on the agenda.
Nipples!
“Er, I don’t remember his face, but I just keep having this thought that I know the guy, okay,” I murmur, squeezing my elbows over my boobs in an effort to hide the state of my over-enthusiastic nipples.
Storm’s eyes go straight to my chest of course, darn it, and I see his eyes narrow before he shakes himself and looks back up at me.
“Know him how?”
“I can’t say. I meet a lot of people on a daily basis when my shifts end up in the ER. The guy could be anyone, for all I know. Look, I’m probably just grasping at straws here or something; don’t take my shit too seriously.”
My feet are shuffling around by now, my body’s way of telling me to get the hell gone before I do something stupid like lick my lips while looking at him.
“Go on to bed, Lenny. I’ll set myself up in the guest room and check the place out, though God knows how I’m supposed to secure it when it’s a breath away from collapsing….”
I dart away, slam my door, and fall onto my bed with a groan before he can finish that sentence.
This is because I put more laxatives in the staff creamer, huh, Lord?
My last thought, as I roll over and surrender to the sleep I’ve been denying myself, is that I’m fucked. There is no way in God’s creation that I am getting away with not falling at that man’s feet if he stays here for more than a few hours.
***
Nick
She’s got childbearing hips. Good boobs. And she smells like flowers.
That’s all I keep thinking as I walk around the house again and make note of every entry point and weak spot in the yard. My dick, which has never behaved this way before, keeps whimpering the longer I deny him access to Lenny Coleman. I force myself to ignore him as I spot yet another break in the fucked-up excuse for a back fence.
This place is not only a dump, it’s also a freaking safety hazard. How people can actually live here is a mystery. I’ve counted ten separate security risks just in the front alone, and that’s without taking into account the windows on the sides of the structure, or that shitty excuse for a back door.
“Well, Tinkerbelle, you little shit, you think there’s any way to get this place secure without it falling down around our ears?” I growl at the mutt, ignoring his wagging tail and the adoration I see in his eyes when he looks back up at me.
One misplaced apology and the runt has been glued to my side the better part of two hours after I checked in on Lenny and saw her sleeping like the dead.
It still pisses me off that someone could do that to the little pint-sized geek, and I swear to God when I find the fuck—
“What you nosing around out here for, boy?”
I roll my eyes and look up at Mrs. T, the old bat in the wheelchair who’s been riding my ass all afternoon.
“This place is a fucking hazard, woman. You may as well not even lock your doors with the way things are right now. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that just because a place looks like shit don’t mean junkies and assholes won’t take what little there is?”
Her snort is loud as she sneers at me, revealing her gummy mouth.
“You got the money to fix this place, you go on ahead, boy. As it is, what Lenny pays keeps the taxes paid. My other two tenants are useless as the day is long, though God knows I feel too sorry for the little assholes to kick them onto the streets. We do what we can.”
Sure. But what happens when that’s not enough anymore?
I sigh darkly with a groan and take in the ramshackle roof tiles and the listing frame. Goddammit!
“Who are the tenants?”
“Tyrell and Marty Stubbs. Them boys been a thorn in my side since they moved in here, but they’re so darn charming, I can’t bring myself to boot them.”
“Well, by the time I’m done with them, they’ll be wishing you had. Come on, old woman; let’s go get some free labor while I make lists of everything that needs doing.”
“Why, ain’t you a good ole boy? You really think them people will come after Lenny?” she rasps, wheeling herself into the house as Chaser and I follow her.
“Do ticks lick a dog’s asshole, Mrs. T?” I grunt, sighing when I close and lock the back door, only to have the bitch spring back open not a second later.
“Hmph, they can try. My Luther left me a shotgun and no reason to live after his old ass went and left me behind. I shoot first and ask questions later, boy. Ain’t no reason to, seein’ as I’m too old to care about going to prison, and them damned taxes are likely to land me there anyhow,” she mutters, making me smile despite myself.
“Good to know. But even you can’t be awake and alert at all hours, old woman. That’s why I’m here. I’ll be waiting on them, whoever the hell comes knocking, and I don’t ask questions either. Just grab my shovel and take care of business.”
Her cackle rings through the house, as she grabs her cane and the bannister, heaving herself onto shaky legs. My offer of help gets me a sharp rap on the head, and I stand back with a grunt as she starts pulling herself up, step by agonizingly slow step, before wheezing onto the landing with a groan.
“Tyrell! Marty! Get your fine black asses on out here and meet Nicholas, your new boss for the next few weeks.”
I’d assume the two freeloaders would ignore the summons and cower behind their doors, but I am pleasantly surprised when two beefy, young men, one with dreadlocks, one with a shiny bald head, come out and grin at Mrs. T.
“Hey, Mama Bear. What you hollerin’ about at this time of day?”
“Shut your fool mouth, Tyrell, and say hello to my boy Nick. He’s here to look out for Lenny and catch that pig screwing little twerp that tried to hurt her. Now, come on out here, no need to be shy. Nick’s got some plans for you two.”
It’s then that they spot me, and I grin when they both swallow and take cautious steps back. Not for nothing, but I’m a huge sonofabitch thanks to my daddy’s genes, and I ate all my greens, besides.
“You two ready to earn the shitty roof over your heads? Good. Now come on down here and let me put you to work. Now, Marty, you do not want to disappoint me,” I warn menacingly when he seems liable to run inside and lock his door.
“Aw, shit.”
“Touché, Tyrell. Now then. Let’s get this place up to code while Lenny rests and Mrs. T makes us some sweet tea.”
I regret my recruitment no more than an hour later when Marty bashes his thumb with the hammer and starts bawling like a baby.
Christ. He gives a bad name to all big men out
there.
“Shut the fuck up and get to work, you fucking pussy.”
“Nick—”
All it takes to get him back to fixing the porch is a glare, one I give Tyrell in spades just for the hell of it when the lummox seems inclined to start bitching too.
Yes sir, I’m feeling surprisingly good and cheery by the time dusk starts falling and I’ve put some semblance of security around the property. Seems that fishing trip wasn’t necessary after all.
Chapter Five
Lenny
I feel better than I have in a long while as I roll out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom on wobbly legs, my wrist throbbing like hell when I forget the cast and slam it into the doorjamb without thinking.
“Sonofabitchingwhore!”
I keep cursing as I start the tub running and go to unload the waterfall’s worth of urine in my bladder, the obligatory fart sounding out like a bullhorn in the absolute quiet of the apartment.
By the time I’ve wiped, stripped, and tied a towel around my arm, I’m just awake enough to slide into the bath without killing myself and groan at the heat sinking into my aching muscles.
“You okay in there?”
My scream and the resultant freak-out have me crying out and cursing as I drop my arm into the water, submerging the cast. I completely forgot Storm was here. And by God, do I blush to my roots when I realize he must have heard the fog horn that sounded from my ass.
“Fine!”
Not fine. Not fine at all, I think, as I remember the reason for him being here and also the fact that, if not for his presence, I would have likely still been hiding in my closet while Chaser barked like a maniac and pawed at the door, giving up my hiding place anyway.
Not for nothing, but I am totally terrified now that the drugs and pain meds have worn off, and I realized exactly how much danger I could be in. As the victim of an armed robbery when I was in high school living with Mom and Pete, I know exactly how bad things can get.
When I was younger, I had that chip on my shoulder that screamed, “Do not be a victim” and, if asked, I would have put my hand on a stack of Bibles and sworn that I would have single-handedly disarmed and shot every one of those punks.
The reality of it was me cowering beside Mom while they roughed Pete up and threatened to kill us all unless we gave them what they wanted. I will never forget what that felt like, how afraid I was. And, as such, I have the paranoid fear that never leaves you.
That’s why I live here, in the shittiest house in the state, because I can’t stop thinking that no one would bother to even give this place a second glance.
Plus, I’ve seen Tyrell when he’s mad and, boy, do I pity any fool who decides to mess with him. He’s an up and comer in the boxing world and could lay a dude flat with one punch.
“Lenny?”
“I said, I’m fine! Just, I’ll be out in a minute!” I yell, groaning at the cast and the oily hair and hairy legs as I fall back with a tired sigh.
Gone is my rested feeling, as fear and desperation niggle at me. What if I don’t remember who the man is that was in that hospital room? What if he thinks I do remember him, and he comes back for me?
Dammit, I should never have agreed to help Sheila in the first place and—
I screech when the door swings open and almost drown myself trying to hide beneath the clear water when Storm comes striding in, his face set in harsh lines.
“Get out!”
“Nope. Hair needs washing, and it’ll take more than one hand to get rid of the bush… on your legs. Now, shut up, stop flapping round with the cast in the water, and chill. I’ve seen boobs and snatch before, lady.”
Huh. Now that’s a total let down, seeing as I was kinda hoping he’d see my boobs and snatch and start thinking he wants these suckers.
“I can bathe myself,” I huff, curling my front into my knees to hide at last parts of myself from his critical eyes.
“Really? And here I thought not, since your hair looks like it doesn’t know what shampoo is, and your legs are wild enough to require a damn lawnmower. Shut up and stop being so squirmy, Lenny. I can do this without attacking you,” he mutters sardonically.
You know what? Fine. I’m a doctor. We’re notoriously unabashed about nudity. Right?
Wrong.
I’m practically vibrating by the time he’s shampooed and rinsed my hair, and I’m into drooling, grunting territory when he slathers my tresses in conditioner and leans me back to rest against the back of the tub.
“I do clean myself, ya know,” I mumble dreamily when he places my right foot on his thigh and starts on the soaping. “Been working sixteen-hour days for the last few weeks since some of the staff are on leave and the hospital is too cheap to approve hiring temps.”
I should be mortified and cringing when he starts gliding the razor down my leg, but I’m so relaxed and boneless I can’t raise an eyelid. I haven’t been touched like this in a long time, and I have never experienced another person besides Mom caring about me this way.
It feels good and makes me tingle, even as he mutters a few curses and has to beat the razor to clear out the jungle of hair before going at it again.
“I get that. One time my team and I had to stay in place for two days solid while waiting on an incoming mark. I damn near pissed down my leg at one point, and I know for a fact Jericho did something with a water bottle that should have been impossible.”
His husky voice has my eyelids fluttering, and I find myself staring into his brown eyes with a grin.
“You Army or Navy?”
“Army. Born and bred. My daddy would have rather died than see me join the Seals, though God knows I would have made it into the program.”
“Huh. My dad was Army too. Died in the line of duty and all that shit. I recognize the posture and that no-nonsense tone. I planned to enlist the whole time I was in medical school, till Mama had a conniption and threatened to go on a hunger strike. Apparently, her baby going off to war was not in the cards she laid out for me.” I chuckle, enjoying his snort and head shake.
“Ain’t no place for a little thing like you, sugar, and no, that ain’t me being sexist, since some of the best people I worked with were kickass women who’d have cut off my nuts if I’d so much as tried to suggest they couldn’t do the job. I mean, someone soft like you.”
He’s all but done with my legs at this point, and I stifle a moan of disappointment when he rises and tilts me back to rinse my hair one more time.
“Soft? Because I’m not in shape? I used to run track. I wasn’t always this jelly bellied.”
“Not that either, woman. Ain’t nothing wrong with your body, trust me, my dick is more than happy with all that softness. I mean you’re soft inside. You care a lot, which is great, but that isn’t what you need for Army life, not if you want to survive, at any rate. Most of us, we find a way to switch off to get the job done. You’d be eaten alive by some of the shit that went down while I was in the service.”
I want to argue that point and assure him that I’ve seen plenty enough sadness in my line of work to make anything else I would see normal and a walk in the park. I’ve seen a mother scream herself into a catatonic state after she watched her six-month-old take his last breaths, thanks to a drunk driver getting behind the wheel.
I’ve seen a man say goodbye to the woman he was married to for fifty-seven years after cancer took her from him. I’ve been there when a man got impaled by a steel rod on a construction site, falling face first into the rod and living to know the agony of having it removed and needing ten facial reconstruction surgeries.
At this point in my career, I don’t think there’s a thing I could see that would shake me, not anymore.
“You’d be surprised what happens to civilians on a daily basis, soldier. Grey’s Anatomy isn’t just a show on TV, you know.”
He grunts at that and stands to grab a towel, his expression daring me to wuss out and crawl back into myself. Am I mortified at the though
t of rising and letting him see me in my full glory?
Hell, yeah! I haven’t been naked in front of a man in four years, and obviously, even then, he found me lacking enough to want and need more than me.
“Come on, Coleman. Don’t puss out now, lady. I need to dry you off and take a look at that cast. You went and screwed it all up.”
“Me? Everything was just fine till you banged on the door,” I gasp, ripping the towel out of his hands and pulling it around my dripping body.
That crooked smile I’ve come to expect peeks through, and he shakes his head all buddy-like at me before grabbing me around the waist and just lifting me as if I weigh nothing.
I always thought women were idiots when they went all swoony over a man’s strength and ability to lug them around like glass or something. I mean, come on, who cares whether or not a guy can do that crap if he’s decent, loyal, and a good provider, right?
ME!
I care because, as Storm folds me into his chest and carries me into my room, I feel so feminine and girly; I could be a candidate for the high school glee club. Dagnabbit, Sheila was right, that bitch. Feeling like a woman around a man does make the difference.
“Okay, seriously, put me down, Storm. I can handle it from here,” I mutter, needing a whole lot of space from the hunk before I go against years of self-denial and make a huge mistake.
I don’t want a man, I keep repeating, even as my nether parts start clamoring for more than just a quick peck from Storm. What? You thought I didn’t see him eyeing the pink parts? Puhlease. I’m a girl, I can feel a fly looking at my junk; we’re just neurotic that way.
“Fine. But I’ll brush your hair. You got shit to fix that cast, Coleman?”
“Cabinet under the basin,” I yell, grabbing an oversized tee and a pair of skimpy shorts.
What? My legs look great after that shave, and it’s hot in this bitch, okay? Do not judge me. I’m only one weak human with enough pent-up sexual need to make a Playboy Bunny look like a virgin.
THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 4