Rachel Gibson - Rescue Me

“You’re a nice man and deserve a nice woman.”

Which showed how much she knew. He wasn’t a nice man. He’d seen and done things he would never talk about with anyone outside the teams. Things civilians would never understand. Horrific things that left a mark on his soul, yet things he wasn’t sorry about and would do again if his country asked it of him. Things he would do to protect his family. Only his family didn’t need him to protect them anymore.

“I think you’re really great, Vince.” Her big brown eyes looked across at him.

His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. He opened the text and read: Rescue me. There was a lot to do at the Gas and Go. He’d spent all day looking at apartments, and the last four days he’d spent with Sadie. He was behind on his renovations. He could get in a few good hours yet today. He needed to get in a few more hours today before he left for Seattle in a few days. The unexpected trip was going to set him back even further, which could cost him money.

Vince hated losing money almost as much as he hated the unknown unknowns and owing people.

He slid the phone into the side pocket of his cargo pants. “It’s late,” he said. “Time to go home.” He ushered Becca out the back door and jumped into his truck. On the drive out to the JH, he didn’t bother to ask himself why he was dropping everything to rescue Sadie. It made no sense, and he preferred things to make sense. A well-executed plan. A clarity of purpose. A known known.

He turned off the highway and drove beneath the entrance of the JH Ranch. He’d like to tell himself that it wasn’t anything more than a sex thing. That was the simple answer. Straightforward. Clear. But walking toward him, tiny plumes of dust coming off the heels of her boots, looking sexy as hell, was one smoking hot complication. What old Don Rumsfeld called the known unknowns.

The smart thing to do would be to turn around before the unknown part of that equation blew up into a shit storm. He hated shit storms. Hated the feeling creeping up on him like he was in unfamiliar territory. Every good warrior knew when to abort. To get the fuck out. For half a second he thought of flipping a U. Then she smiled and her hand lifted in a little wave and it felt like someone shoved a fist to his diaphragm. He had to remind himself to breathe. He hit the button on the door and the window slid down.

“Hey there, sailor,” Sadie said as a cloud of pale dust rose from the dirt road. She looked through the open window and her gaze met black hair and green eyes set in a face that just seemed to get better-looking every time she saw him.

“Where ya headed?” he asked.

“Anywhere.” She waved the dust away. “Interested?”

“Depends.” He grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

She smiled, a real smile, for the first time that day. “Poor decisions we’ll probably regret later.”

He motioned to the empty seat beside him. “Hop in.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Several cars filled with mourners had passed her on her walk down the road. They’d been kind and well-intentioned, but she was all talked out. She slid into the seat and pulled the belt around her. “Lord, what a day.” She took off her hat and leaned her head back.

“Tired?”

“Mmm.”

“How’d it go?” He turned the truck around and headed back toward town.

She turned her head on the rest and looked across the cab at him. This from the guy who said he didn’t want conversation? “The service was nice. Tons of flowers, and a lot of people turned out. Enough food to feed a village. Which in Texas is a big deal.” Sitting in the comfort of his truck, she let herself relax for the first time all day. Perhaps in the past week. “What did you do all day?” Wow, they alarmingly sounded like a couple. Which was a little scary.

“Looked for an apartment and bought an air mattress and sleeping bag in Amarillo.”

“I didn’t know you were looking.” He wore his usual uniform of brown T-shirt and beige cargo pants. He was the only guy she knew who could wear such bland colors and make them look anything but dull.

He pulled onto the highway. “Luraleen came home last night.”

“I know. She was at the funeral and brought a Frito pie afterward.”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “Which is just one of many reasons I moved out.”

Her brows lifted up her forehead as she studied his profile, his big neck and shoulders in his tight T-shirt. “You found something already? That was fast.”

“I move fast.”

“I remember. The second time I met you, you had your hand up my dress.”

He chuckled and glanced over at her. “You weren’t complaining.”

“True.”

He reached around the back of his seat and handed her a cold bottle of Diet Coke and a bag of Chee-tos.

She looked at the orange bag in her lap. Felt the cold bottle in her hand, and her chest suddenly got heavy. The bottom of her heart pinched a little. In the past, men had given her flowers and jewelry and lingerie, and her heart was getting all achy about Chee-tos and Diet Coke? “Dinner?” It had to be the emotions of the day. “Careful. Next you’ll be asking me to a movie.”

“I have an ulterior motive.”

She opened the bottle, took a drink, and blamed the funny little feeling in her stomach on carbonation. “I’m pretty much a sure thing. You don’t need to ply me with Chee-tos and Diet Coke to get lucky.”

“I never rely on luck.” He glanced over at her and the corner of his mouth lifted up. “I rely on a well-executed plan. It’s called full-circle readiness.”

“Is that in the SEALs handbook?”

“Somewhere.” He laughed, a soft, amused sound that tickled her pulse. “Somewhere between ‘on time, on target, never quit,’ and ‘grab your sack and jump.’ ”

She smiled. “Your rucksack?”

“That, too.”

“Do you miss jumping out of airplanes?”

He looked out the driver’s side window. “Not as much as I used to, but yeah.”

“Why’d you get out?”

Several moments passed before he answered, “Mostly because of family obligations.”

She thought there was probably more to the story but didn’t want to pry. Okay, she wanted to pry but felt she couldn’t. “What do you miss most?”

“My teammates.” He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the road in front of him. “Being part of something with a noble purpose.” He paused a moment, then added, “Swimming in the ocean. Attack vehicles tricked out with M–2 machine guns and 40mm grenade launchers. Shooting shit up.”

She chuckled and opened her Chee-tos as they pulled into Lovett. “Sounds like my kind of job. I’m a pretty good shot.”

He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. “For a girl you’re all right.”

“I can outshoot most men. If we have a rematch, I can probably outshoot you, too.”

“That would never happen.”

True. She’d seen his deadly accuracy, courtesy of his government training. “What else do you miss about the military?”

“I miss finning up and hitting the waves.”

“Lake Meredith is about sixty miles west of Lovett.” She took a crunchy bite and added, “My uncle Frasier has a pool a few blocks from here, but it’s past cocktail hour and Uncle Frasier is probably swimming around drunk and naked by now. I could ask though.”

“For the past sixteen years I’ve lived near the ocean. I prefer it to a pool.” He turned onto Desert Canyon Street, then hooked a left on Butte. “Especially a pool with a drunk guy floating around in it like a naked cork.”

Which pretty much described Uncle Frasier.

The Casa Bella Apartment Complex was new and was made of terracotta-colored stucco and Spanish tile roof. There looked to be around twenty units, and Vince pulled the truck beneath a covered parking spot. He led her to an apartment on the second story. It was a basic eight-hundred-square-foot, two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath unit. The carpet was clean and it smelled of new paint, perfect for a guy who didn’t know how long he’d be living in the small town. “If I’d known,” she said as she moved into the kitchen and looked around at the mid-priced appliances, “I’d have brought you a housewarming plant.” She opened the refrigerator and set her Diet Coke next to a case of Lone Star and a six-pack of bottled water.

“I don’t want a plant.” He grabbed her hat and tossed it on top of a box sitting on the counter. Then he slid his hands to her waist. He pulled her back against his chest and kissed the side of her neck. “I didn’t work much at the Gas and Go today. So I shouldn’t stink.”

She smiled and tilted her head to one side to give him better access. “Does that line work for you?”

“Does it work for you?”

“Apparently.”

He unzipped the back of her dress and slipped it from her shoulders. “Your bra’s black.”

“It matches my panties.”

“I noticed.” The crepe dress fell to the floor, and he said against her bare shoulder, “I wanta fuck you with your boots on.” His fingers moved to the back of her bra. “Does that work for you?”

Oh yeah. She turned, and her bra joined her dress. “Yes, Vince.” She pulled his shirt over his head and ran her hands up and down his hard muscles. She kissed the side of his throat and her hand dived down the front of his pants. “You work for me,” she said, and wrapped her hand around his thick, corded erection. “You’re on time, on target, and never quit.” He sucked in a breath and she smiled against the warm skin of his neck. “I believe you called it your ‘full-circle readiness.’ I like a guy who is fully ready with a really nice, big, hard”—she slid her hand up and down his shaft and over the plump head—“body.” She bit the lobe of his ear and whispered, “Fuck me with my boots on, Vince.”