A Man of Honor (6 page)

Chapter Six

“You’re late,” Preston said, sounding more than a little irritated as he paced back and forth near the bottom of his driveway the next morning as Cat pulled up her car. Seeing him with so much nervous energy all the time troubled her.

He’d always been a little hypervigilant, maybe from being a kid whose life was full of the unpredictable, like his father showing up at any time angry or drunk or both, but the war had done something to him. She remembered that during their Skype sessions, he’d be sitting at his makeshift desk in his bunkhouse tapping his pen, drumming his foot so hard that all the odds and ends on his desk would rattle. As if he were trying to hurry time along until he could leave that place. Apparently the habit had followed him home. It was just one way in which the war had changed him.

Cat glanced at her watch. “It’s one minute after eight. And good morning to you, too.”

“Good morning,” he grumbled as he got in the car. He looked a little sheepish, and her heart squeezed a little. He seemed to be trying so hard to be…normal. As if all of it was a supreme effort. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge for the doctor.”

“You think?” she said, but she said it with a smile. “Are you expecting some news?”

He sat up straight and stared out the window. “I’ve been hoping to avoid a third surgery. I’ve been doing extensive PT, and today I find out if it’s working.”

Despite her resolve to distance herself, her heart went out to him. She did her best not to think of the way he’d stepped in and helped her with those little kids. Or insisted on saving a scraggly neglected cat. No, better she focus on his ability to push her away. He didn’t want her help, and he certainly didn’t want a relationship, and she was not going to get drawn into the electric current that was still so palpable between them. Still, he was a wounded soldier, hurting and probably more than a little afraid of what the doctors would say today. It wasn’t in her nature not to help. “I have an idea. We’ve got plenty of time; how about we drive through for a coffee?”

“Well, you do owe me,” he said, but she must have looked confused so he elaborated. “You know. You said you’d do
anything
if I took Brandon to the bathroom.”

“I’d do more for that than buy you a cup of coffee.” Shit. That didn’t come out right. Cat felt her face flare with heat. “What I meant was, I’m so grateful for your help that I—”

His gaze flickered over her, starting low with her heels, up her legs to where her skirt had slid up a little over her thigh. It was the look of a man who unabashedly liked what he saw. She swallowed hard. Words failed her.

A slow crocodile grin spread over his face. “I’d certainly take you up on that offer.” Did he just— How
dare
he—

He calmly slid on his aviators. “What I mean is, you might have to buy me another cup of coffee tomorrow.”

Cat focused on the road. This is what she got for being friendly. He was toying with her. Toying! Just when she vowed to keep her guard up and not even try to make polite small talk, he turned to her and said, “By the way, you look very…nice today.” His gaze drifting over her was wolfish, not
nice
at all. “You’re going to knock ’em dead in that interview.”

Oh, hell. When he said things like that, her steely resolve threatened to melt just like that into a big blob of Jell-O. If things were different, she’d tell him he looked as hot as always, with his navy polo stretched across his broad chest, the tail of that dragon tattoo curling dangerously just below his elbow. The fact that his brace was visible under the bottom of his khaki shorts gave him an edge of humanity that made him even more appealing. He was an intriguing combination of tough and vulnerable, venture capitalist and Army guy, that pushed his sexy quotient through the roof.

She might not be able to control her body’s reaction to him, but she sure as hell could control her mind. “Why the briefcase?” she asked, directing herself to safe ground.

“I’ve got tons of work to do, and I know I’ll be waiting for a long time in the doctor’s office. Are you sure you’re okay spending most of your day with me?”

There was a time when that question would have lit up her world. “My interview will last until one or two. Finn’s covering the kindergarten all day, so I’m in no rush to get back. I thought we could maybe meet up for a late lunch and hit a few antique stores to get some ideas for Maddie and Nick’s wedding gift before we head back.”

“Sounds fun.”

She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. She hated herself for thinking it, but part of her fantasized what it would be like to spend the entire day with him. They’d have lunch at a cute little outdoor café and stroll along the streets holding hands and…

No. This was business. There would be none of that daydreaming that had sustained her during their months apart when they’d both so looked forward to being together. When the anticipation of finally being together, touching each other, making
love
to each other, had been all she wanted and all she thought about. And she’d known that he felt the same.

Trouble was, a good part of her still wanted him. Somehow, she had to squelch that. Remain objective, be friendly, and whatever she did, do
not
cross the line.

She needed coffee more than she’d thought. Cat pulled up to the Bean’s drive-thru menu sign.

“Hey, Cat,” her friend Sarah’s voice came through the speaker, and she waved from the drive-thru window. One benefit of living in a small town—people knew who you were by your car. “Your usual? Tall dark roast?”

“Thanks, Sarah.” Cat looked over at Preston. “And for you?”

“I’ll have a raspberry white chocolate mocha,” he said, leaning over Cat a little to order. “No fun.”

She tried to ignore his nearness as she drove up a little in the line, then stared at him. “That is the girliest drink I’ve ever heard a man order. And what’s ‘no fun’?”

“First of all, a guy should be allowed to order whatever kind of drink he wants without getting judged. I thought you were a little more open-minded than that, Catherine. And ‘no fun’ is skinny. You know, no whip, skim milk, that kind of thing.”

“The fact that you ordered all that then want it low-fat is a huge disappointment.”

“I’m not as active as I’d like to be.” He patted his rock-hard stomach. “Have to watch my calories.”

“Right, Mr. Washboard Abs. I mean, if you’re going to go for it, why not go all the way? It’s like someone ordering cake on their birthday and then asking for it to be diet.”

“What about you? Don’t you ever order anything except plain coffee?”

“I don’t ever want anything else. I know what I like.”

“You know what you like,” he repeated, drumming his fingers against the dashboard. “Or is it more like you’re afraid to try anything else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Somehow, she had the feeling they weren’t talking about coffee anymore.

“I’m talking about your fiancé.”

“That’s awfully personal.” She glanced at the door, fighting a sudden impulse to bolt. Oh, hell, she could take him. She wasn’t trying to impress him, and she didn’t care what he thought of her.

Mostly.

“Well, maybe I need to know some personal details in order to find you the right match.”

“I’d rather not.” Yeah, she would really rather not. That was a can of worms she did not want opened.

“The guy was an actuary. His life revolved around predictions. Risk calculations. You couldn’t have chosen anyone safer.”

“Robert had a great job.” In retrospect, that was about all he had going for him. “Why would you criticize it?”

“I’m not talking about the guy’s job. I’m talking about his
personality
.”

Preston insisted on paying. She passed him his coffee, took a sip of hers, and got back on the road. Yeah, she knew what he was getting at. Robert was as exacting and meticulous in his life as in work. He left no room for spontaneity or fun. Everything came down to ratios of right and wrong. And she’d come up in the red.

She shrugged. “I’m not a risk taker. What’s wrong with that?” Preston sipped his coffee, his arm muscles flexing against the sleeves of his shirt. He had big muscles, even bigger than she remembered. She wondered if, since his leg troubles, he was working his arms out double time.

The tail of that dragon tattoo curled around his biceps as he held his cup. She knew now that it spread across his torso, its tail crawling across his shoulders and down his left arm. It was dark and dangerous, just as he was. He’d always been a bad boy. A risk taker to the max. It made no sense that someone like her who never colored outside the lines would be so attracted to someone like him. But she was. Oh my, judging by the way she’d just cranked up the air-conditioning, she certainly was.

He was sitting back, assessing her carefully. “Maybe you are but you just don’t know it.”

She snorted.

“Taking risks can be very…freeing.”

Her knuckles turned ice white on the wheel. His words excited her against her will.

“Life is about more than risks,” she said. “It’s about faithfulness and staying the course. Those are things that make for a real relationship. But then, you wouldn’t know about any of that.”

“You’re right. I don’t come from squeaky-clean genes like you do.”

“Don’t insult my family.”

“I’m not insulting them. I’m only pointing out that someone like me doesn’t do long-term relationships. Yet I think I understand enough about people to be of some guidance to you.”

“I don’t need your guidance.”

“Maybe you do, Cat. I think there’s a part of you that enjoys risk.”

He was such a puzzle, like his drink order. How for months he’d seemed to want her so badly, how sometimes he could still flash her the most smoldering of looks, yet act like there was never anything between them. Like it was all a fantasy she’d made up in her mind.

“All I want is to survive this next week,” Cat said. “I promised to play along with dating you, but I really don’t need your help finding someone to date. So you can keep your editorials to yourself.”

A smart-ass smile curved the corner of his too-full mouth. “All I’m saying is that maybe there’s a part of you, deep down inside, that not only wants to play with risk, but craves it.”

The way he looked at her, with a slow burn in those Siberian husky eyes, made her shudder. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Or you never would have shown up at my place like you did.”

She stared at him openmouthed. His eyes flashed with amusement. She was not about to sit here and take that.

“You may have been a brave soldier, but relationships scare you shitless, don’t they? It’s a shame, because whatever you’re going through might be easier to handle if you let people in.”

There, take that
. He was so know-it-all, she wanted to shake him. Break through the concrete wall he’d built around his heart. She had no idea if what she’d said had penetrated, because all he did was narrow his eyes and stare at her for a long second.

“I didn’t sleep so great last night,” he said. “Think I’ll close my eyes for a while. Wake me when we get there?”

Maybe. That is, if she didn’t decide to abandon him somewhere on the side of the road first.

…

Cat was a half hour early when she pulled into the medical office building’s parking lot and turned off the ignition to wait for Preston to be done with his appointments. Her hands were shaky, and she couldn’t focus on checking email on her phone. She was sweating in her suit, and her feet were sticking to the bottoms of her heels.

Calm down, calm down
, she told herself. It was only a job interview. One she’d walked out on. One she’d needed. Hell, she needed
any
job at this point. She couldn’t afford to be picky, especially when there’d been nothing wrong with the job they were offering. She simply couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in the wrong place, leading the wrong life. Everything had felt wrong. Her heart had started racing, and she’d started hyperventilating. Next thing she knew, she’d walked right out of the building and into her car.

She’d never done anything so unprofessional. What if word got back somehow to her family?
Shit, what had she done?

Restless and hot in the car, her blouse sticking to the skin of her back, she walked into the office building. Preston had said he’d text her when he was finished, but surely he wouldn’t mind if she sat in the waiting room. Maybe by the time he came out, she’d calm down.

She walked into a bright, sunny room painted a cool tone of blue with a small tabletop fountain near a window surrounded by plants. That seemed very Zen, so she headed to a nearby seat and flipped mindlessly though a magazine. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast due to her nerves, and it was close to one o’clock. Despite being upset, she was suddenly very hungry.

The receptionist station was shuttered. A door opened and a kindly looking woman holding some paperwork called back the one other person in the waiting room. What kind of office was this with only one patient and a shuttered desk? She wandered up to the counter in front of the receptionist’s window and took a business card off a pile. It said
Anita Garandi, M.D., Psychiatry
.

She froze. Preston was seeing a shrink? Oh. Well, she’d definitely go back out in the car and wait, protect his privacy. Not for the first time, she wondered what was really going on with him. Somehow, she sensed from the beginning that it involved much more than his wounded leg. What the hell had happened to him over there, and was it the reason he’d pushed her away?

Despite her resolve to get over Preston, she felt a faint glimmer of hope. She still couldn’t stop indulging the fantasy that he’d pushed her away for reasons that had more to do with what was going on inside him than outside.

There she went again. Dreaming things were different.
Grow up, Cat
, she scolded herself.
Being dumped has made you pathetic
. It seemed, surprisingly, to make her cling even more ferociously to her belief that true love conquers all. But sooner or later, she would have to stop fantasizing about a fairy-tale ending and get on with real life.