Rich Soldier: The Dirty Thirty Pledge Book 2

by Wylder, Penny

  And now he has everything. Money and popularity, and he swept back into my life looking to take me back. I let him have me. He got what he wanted.

  Well, enough is enough. I've got a good job, and eventually I'll take over the company. I'll start dating again. I'll find someone that will fill the hole that Wallace left, and then after that, maybe I'll be able to move on. I shove down any feelings to the contrary. Because I don't care.

  I definitely don't care that being with him felt like coming home. Almost like I'd never left. I don't care that watching him walking away feels like déjà vu, the grief threatening to swallow me. I don't care that the thought of walking away feels like something that I can never do. I don't care.

  I don't.

  Slipping down onto the balcony again, I go into the house, but this time I don't go for the mini-fridge. This calls for vodka. I don't drink often, but tonight, I think that this calls for it.

  8

  Wallace

  I already gave Frankie a heads up that I didn't want to talk about this near Glenn. He's so single minded, he wouldn't understand. He'd only see me trying to get back together as a way to avoid the stupid pledge, and I don't really feel like dealing with that. I’ll talk to him about this when I’m less freaked out, and I’ve either moved on or come back from this fuck up. Not before. It’s not like Frankie and I can hide from him at his own bar. The owners of a bar can’t walk in without some kind of commotion.

  No doubt he’ll ask me about it later.

  So when I walk into First Shot, Frankie is sitting in a corner booth and has two beers ready. The good ones. I slide into the seat across from him and knock back a portion of it without even saying hello.

  "That bad, huh?"

  "You have no idea."

  Frankie laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Well, you take your time, and you tell me what's going on."

  We've gotten closer since Frankie came back to Green Hills, but there's still a lot of stuff that I haven't told him. About my father and about Tia and about the nightmares. So I tell him all of it, and by the time I'm finished, we're both near the end of our second beer.

  Frankie runs a hand through his hair. "Jesus, Wallace."

  "I know." He sighs, and takes a good long look at me. I make a face. “Any advice?”

  He takes a long sip of beer before he answers. “First things first, you need to get yourself some help. No one should be going through what you're going through alone. You know I'll do what I can but you need to talk to someone who can help you heal. You can't be flashing back to the war every day for the rest of your life. Especially—shit man—I had no idea that you'd gone through that."

  Nobody does. Nobody has. Frankie’s the first person I’ve told the real story of the reason I was discharged from the military, a raid gone wrong that was an ambush. Everybody died. Except for me, and it was a stroke of luck that I was found before I bled out. I spent a good six months in the hospital before they sent me home with an honorable discharge, and I came back to a hero’s welcome and a fortune that I’ve never been able to bring myself to spend. Because I don’t deserve it.

  Holy shit.

  That’s the first time those words have popped up in my mind and it’s like a lightbulb going off because it’s true. That’s how I feel. I lived and everyone else died. Dumb luck. Why do I deserve to have all this money when they’re dead?

  I've been stubborn about getting help. I know I have, but it’s time. These feelings aren’t going away, and besides, a good night’s sleep sounds amazing. "I'll try," I say.

  "And the second thing is that Tia is right. You're a selfish fucker."

  I shake my head to clear it. "What?" I’m getting a little tired of being blindsided by people.

  "You're an idiot."

  "Frankie," I say, "I didn't come and pour out all my troubles to you for you to kick me when I'm down, you know?"

  He laughs and drains the last of his beer. "I know. But it's the truth. You walking away from her like that? That was stupid. Taking charge can be a good thing, but when you take charge it's good to let people know, and check if they're okay with it. Taking matters into your own hands without talking to anybody else, she's right, that's arrogant and selfish. It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than her."

  "I wasn't—"

  "Even if you weren't," he cuts me off, "looking back, would you do the same thing?"

  I shake my head. "I don't know."

  "You were young. You didn't have the experience that you have now. Look, I know that you're convinced that you did the right thing but you didn't. It may take a while still for you to see it because you've been sitting with it for a long time, but you didn't do the right thing."

  "Yeah, I'm getting that now," I say. "But that's not something I can just fix. It already happened. I thought telling her what I did would be good, but that didn't work out."

  Frankie smiles. "And this is the part where you're an idiot."

  "What do you mean?"

  He rolls his eyes. "Case in point. Do you really think Tia would be so pissed at you now, what like...twelve years later, if she didn't want to be with you?"

  "I think that's probably a stretch. She said that she couldn't even look at me, and then she kicked me out of her house."

  "Can you blame her?" He shoves his empty glass away. "She wanted you. She had sex with you. She gave in after she had already said no once. She's clearly still got some kind of feelings for you. But when she finally dared to ask what happened, you basically told her that you didn't care about her feelings in the slightest, and she's pissed. But feelings like the ones you guys have don't go away overnight. You need to show her that she can trust you. That's the key. Trust."

  "Great," I say, "that's perfect. Because I haven't even told her about the nightmares, or about the pledge. I don't think those things are exactly going to make me trustworthy."

  Frankie snorts. "If Annabelle and I can get through that pledge than so can you. It's a stupid thing, but you haven't even done it yet. You can dance your way out of that one. And as for the nightmares, get help, man. If you tell her what's happening and you're already getting help to solve the problem, that's good. If you're going to keep being stubborn and pretend like you can muscle your way through this like it’s no big deal, then that's gonna backfire."

  I roll all this information around in my head. "You really think that I still have a chance?"

  "I think you have a chance at a chance. Just be careful, and try not to blow it. You know her. Let her know that. Show her that you remember who she is and what she loves. Because you might still have a chance, but even I can see that this is your last one.”

  "Yeah." That's pretty damn clear.

  Frankie smiles. "Speaking of beautiful women, I need to get home to mine. See you around this weekend?"

  I nod. "Sure thing."

  He claps me on the shoulder as he leaves, and I sit for a while and think. I should have done this sooner. I’ve been running from my problems, but I realize there’s no avoiding them anymore. Time to sit with them and finally work out my shit. It’s clear that everything I thought before was wrong. I need to fix things before I can even think about breaking the ice with Tia.

  I've still got some time before my birthday if I want to get out of this pledge, and I'm certainly not going to push her. I think that that would be a big mistake. In the meantime, I need to get some help. And I know someone, someone who stays up really late, who might be able to do it.

  Heading outside so I can sober up before I go home, I pull out my phone. We haven’t talked in a couple of months, but I know he'll take the call. Just as I’d expect, he answers on the first ring. "Hey Jerry," I say. "I need your help."

  9

  Tia

  The next two weeks are pure torture. I do my best to put myself and Wallace at separate worksites, but it doesn't always work out. My nights are plagued by dreams and ridiculous longing for that pleasure that only he can give me, and my days
are spent watching him work, seeing how competent and capable he is, and bracing myself against his simple and charming smiles, the glances in my direction. He doesn't push me, and he doesn't flirt. He respects the boundaries that I've put in place, and I love him for it. And I hate him for it.

  The gifts start showing up the second week. Not flowers, but objects that suit me to a tee.. And even though the notes are never signed, I know they’re from him. There’s a hammer in my favorite shade of purple and engraved with my initials. A basket of my favorite chocolate. It’s expensive and hard to find, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen it sold in town.

  A brand new drafting table and about a year’s worth of supplies are delivered to my house. It’s beautifully constructed from cherry wood, and it’s perfectly my height. I should send all of these gifts back, but I don’t. I don’t acknowledge them either. But they do what he wants them to—they get me thinking about him.

  He's driving me to distraction, and it shows. I fuck up on sending the correct supplies to the correct sites one day, and it costs us hours of lost time. I make a few mistakes in the actual work that need to be fixed, and when my dad asks me if I'm feeling all right, I know that we can't stay like this forever. Wallace Monroe has invaded my mind, and I don't know what I can do to get him out. I swore that I was done with him, but it doesn't feel that way. How can it feel that way when he’s always here and there’s an undeniable pull between us?

  I want to scream and rage at him for what a ridiculous idiot he is. But I also can't ignore that I’ve missed him. Both physically and as a friend. I’ve pushed that to the side for a long time, telling myself I've got friends. Close friends. But honestly, nothing has ever come close to the way that Wallace and I used to be. And I'm not an idiot. I know that if we ever reconciled, it wouldn't immediately go back to the way it was, but the possibility hanging just out of reach makes my chest ache. And keeping him at arm’s length is exhausting.

  Carefully orchestrating my work schedule so I we don't have to be near him is using up so much of my energy that I know I'm going to make more mistakes. And while I'm hoping that my dad is going to pass the business on to me, I can't be making stupid mistakes. Even if Wallace is misguided, and spending way too much money on me, he's an honorable guy. He's going to respect the boundaries that I set. I've always known that.

  If I want to resolve our relationship, one way or another, so we can both focus on moving forward, I’m going to have to be the one to make the first move.

  I wait until the end of the day and watch Wallace as he leaves. We’ve been working on a new house down a shady lane of trees. He heads toward his truck and I follow after a minute, listening to the sounds of the rest of the crew packing up and heading home. His truck is parked underneath a huge oak, overlooking one of the valleys on the outskirts of town. It's gorgeous. And I'm glad that e he's parked hidden from the road so we won't have an audience of any stragglers.

  "Wallace?" I call as I walk toward the truck. “We need to talk. You’re not going to win me back by buying expensive gifts.” I round the truck and freeze. He's shirtless. I’ve caught him in the middle of changing out of his sweaty clothes. His pants hang loose on his hips, and when he turns to face me, they're unbuttoned, showing too much skin tracing down below where I can see.

  Fuck.

  Seeing him like this sends a shot of adrenaline to my system. I'm suddenly filled with pure need, wet between my legs and not really caring what I came here to say to him as long as I can keep staring at his body, imagining what it would be like to watch him moving over me again. My mouth is dry, and I swallow.

  His voice is rough. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” I say, still unable to tear my eyes from his bare chest.

  A tiny smirk forms at the corners of his lips. “Okay. You need something else?”

  The way he phrases it implies that it's him that I need, and I have to force myself still to keep from nodding. "N-no," I say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Bullshit," he says, stalking closer. "I know we haven't been together in a long time, Tia, but I still know you. I know that you don’t want anyone to give you flowers and I know that you love to draw more than anything in the world. I know what you like, and I know what you look like when you want me."

  "I don't," I say too quickly. "Want you."

  "You do." He's almost too close, and I can feel the heat coming off his skin. "I need you too. I know we have so much to talk about, and you have no idea how much I want to make it right. "

  I look up into his eyes, and butterflies drop to my gut, because deep down I know that he's right. The last two weeks have been nothing but build up and tension. There's a reason that I haven't even been able to think straight when he's around me. I want him so fucking bad that my body is screaming, and I hate that he knows it. I know he can see it, too, because my nipples have gone hard through my shirt and I'm having a hard time catching my breath.

  "I hate you," I say. "Just so you know."

  His mouth quirks up into a half-smile. "I do know that." And then he kisses me.

  It seems so simple, his hand curling around my neck so he can tip my face up to his. Our lips meeting softly, hesitantly at first, before deepening into each other. But for me it feels like an earthquake. The world shifts, like somehow it won't be the same after. And something in my mind tells me that I should stop.

  But I don't stop. I keep going, running my hands down the bare skin of his chest and grasping his shoulders to pull him closer while he winds his arms around my waist, hauling my body against his. I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of this feeling. It makes me feel feminine and delicate in comparison to his hard body. I like being reminded of that. That he's bigger and stronger and can take me and protect me all at once. It makes me shiver. He pushes the light button-down shirt I'm wearing off my shoulders so there's only a camisole left.

  He pulls me closer again, weaving one hand into my hair and pulling gently and I shiver again. Dammit.

  “Are you going to say no again?” he asks, his lips brushing against my temple.

  I take a deep breath. “No.”

  10

  Wallace

  It all happens very quickly. Because once Tia consents, I can't hold myself back anymore. I lift her up so her legs wrap around my waist and I lower us down into the back of the pickup. She caught me at the perfect time because I'm already half-dressed and it only takes a couple of movements to strip my pants off, and couple more for me to strip off hers.

  I press my lips against hers again, and her cherry flavored gloss sends me spiraling back in time. I’m delirious to be so close to her again, and even though I know we're still broken, the fact that she's here with me is a step forward. The past two weeks, keeping myself away from her, never saying a word, never more than a smile, have been hell.

  Every night I've had to get myself off because I couldn't breathe without thinking of her, and I’ve spent my days hard just being near her.

  So today, now, touching her, breathing in her scent, sheathing myself in a condom and sinking into her feels like a goddamn miracle. She groans underneath me, and I swear that being inside her is the best thing that I've ever felt. It always has been, and I'm going to do my best that it always will be. I wish I could take my time, but just like at the house, neither of us can take it slow. We need hard and fast and god yes, and fuck.

  "Yes," I say to her, because that's all there is. "Yes." My lips crash down onto hers as I thrust in deep, and her pussy clenches around me like a vice. A perfect vise. That I never want to lose again.

  Tia wraps her legs around my waist, and I love the feeling of her heels digging into my ass, urging me faster. She doesn't have to tell me twice. I'll gladly fuck her hard and then do it again. And again. Anything to show her that I want her to be mine. I grind my hips down onto hers, purposely catching her clit between our bodies, and she gasps, eyes going wide with shock and pleasure.

  I forgot how much I like this position, whe
re I can see her face and know how close she is. See how she's reacting to my teasing so I can drive her crazy. Weaving my hand into her hair again, I pull her head back so I can reach her neck, sucking hard. I want to leave a mark so she'll remember the kind of pleasure only I can give her, and I want to see it on her.

  Just the thought makes me drive faster, harder, and Tia bites down on her lip to keep from crying out. She's never been quiet during sex, and there's part of me that wants to hear her scream out in the open. And another part of me that wants to keep this safe and quiet. Later, once I win her back, we'll take a trip so far out into the hills that she can scream as loud as she likes.

  Reaching between us, I find her clit with my fingers, pinching and rolling, and she shudders beneath me, going rigid. And then she groans, her body shaking with her orgasm and her breath coming in little pants in my ear. Her pussy is fluttering against my cock, and I love the way she's gripping my shoulders like she needs to hold on. Like I'm her anchor. Yes.

  That thought rides down my spine and with one final thrust, I come, lightning pouring through my body as I slam deep, shuddering with the force of the climax.

  We're both breathless and spent. I don't want to move, but we're not here for cuddling. This was to clear the air. I pull my pants back on and it's another second before Tia does the same and shoves her feet back into her boots. Not a second too soon either, because her father comes around the trees. "Tia?"

  I quickly manage to throw on my new shirt, just like I was doing when Tia came around the corner. He stops, but he doesn't seem to find anything odd about the situation. "I saw your car was still here," he says. "Just checking to make sure you're all right."