Disarm (22 page)

“Because you're involved with someone,” he said. “It wouldn't do you any good if I told you that I got out because I wanted to make you my first priority, that I didn't want to be separated from you any longer. What would it serve if I told you that I'm still in love with you and I would follow you wherever you went?”

I was grinning by the time he was done. “You're right,” I said. “It wouldn't serve anything.”

“That's what I thought,” he said, playing with the label on the beer bottle.

“Except that Seth and I broke up.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“You heard me.”

With a dark frown, he shifted in his seat and reached into his pants pocket. A second later, he placed an object onto the table with a loud thunk, his hand hiding it from view.

“What do you have there?” I asked nervously.

He lifted his hand and revealed a pebble in the shape of a wonky star.

“I thought you'd lost it,” I said, picking it up and turning it in my hands, remembering the day I'd found it. I had been sitting on the sand, just thinking about Henry when I felt something poking the back of my thigh. I'd picked up the rock and thought it a fitting symbol as both the boy and the rock were pains in my ass.

“I thought I had, but I was cleaning out my closet before PCSing out of Korea and found it in an old running shoe.” He gazed at me for a long time. “Do you remember what you told me that day at the beach?”

“That you were the same at the core.”

“Well that, but you also gave it to me so I could remember you.” He gently plucked the rock from my fingers. “The day I saw that rock again, I
remembered
you. I found it again at the exact time that I needed to. Finding this rock again was a sign from the universe that I had to make my way back to you before it was too late.”

He placed the rock on the table between us. “This morning I knew I was already too late but I put that damn rock in my pocket anyway. I was going to give it to you as a parting gift when you finally told me to hit the road, so that every time you looked at it, you would remember me.” He looked down at the rock and then up at me. “Tell me I get to keep this rock, Elsie,” he breathed.

I couldn't look away; our eyes were welded together. I wanted so much to believe him and his pretty words. “How do I know you won't just leave me again and go on another self-finding walkabout?”

He shook his head. “I won't. Give me a chance to prove it.”

“I already gave you a chance and you blew it.”

“Then give me another, please,” he said firmly. He stood from his seat and crouched down in front of me. “Just give me . . . three dates to make it up to you and erase every doubt in your mind. And at the end of those three dates, if you still don't believe that I'm here to stay, then I will give you back the rock.”

“This is an old deal, Henry,” I said with a raised eyebrow. “One that you lost.”

“I'm making you a better deal,” he said, resting his palms on my legs. “I'm betting everything.”

“I want the motorcycle if you lose,” I said with a grin.

“You can have the Volvo too if you'd like. And anything else you want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asked with eyes wide. “You'll give me three dates and I can take you anywhere, do anything?”

“Within reason.”

“Anything?” he asked with a saucy smile and a wagging eyebrow.

I snickered. “To a point.”

“Can I give you a
point
?”

I smacked him on the arm and laughed, feeling a renewed sense of optimism. The self-preserving part of me was shouting to take cover, but the other part—the one who'd run back out to the fray without armor—wanted nothing more than to give Henry his chance. Everybody, including the man who had completely devastated my heart, deserved a second chance, right?

Despite the tears I'd shed the past year and a half and the vows I'd made to myself that I would never get hurt again, deep down I was still the same hopeful, naïve girl. I still wanted my happily ever after with Henry, damn it. If that made me stupid, then so be it.

“So, New Henry,” I began with a thundering heart, “your assignment is to make me fall in love with you in three dates or less. You think you can handle that?”

“I will do more than handle it,” he said with that ornery look I'd known so well. He gave my legs a squeeze as he stood up and headed toward the door. “And Elsie?”

“Yeah?”

“Challenge accepted.”

CAPTURE

FIRST DATE

I woke up with a smile. For the first time in a long time, the ache that had taken residence in my chest was absent; instead I was filled with optimism and a healthy sense of curiosity. I had given Henry Logan three dates to make me trust him again and the possibilities left me prickling with excitement. Our first date was not scheduled until this coming Saturday, so I had to suffer through the entire week imagining what kind of things he could come up with.

Really, the weekend could not get here fast enough. The love of my life had returned and was actively trying to win me back. If that didn't make me wish for Saturday to arrive sooner, then I don't know what would.

I jumped out of bed, eager to get the day started. After I showered and dressed for work, I found a text message from Henry on my phone.

Can't stop thinking about you.

Those five simple words stayed with me throughout the day, keeping that candle inside me flickering with a happy little glow.

The flame was extinguished after lunch, when I received a call on my cell phone from an out-of-state number.

“Hello?” the female voice said. “May I please speak to Elsie Sherman?”

“This is she,” I said, holding the phone against my shoulder as I continued to work on a web project.

“Hi, Elsie, this is Rebecca Holt from Shake Design in Denver.”

I was so stunned I dropped the phone. I'd completely forgotten about the resumes I'd sent out in the middle of last year when I was desperate to get out of Oklahoma. It hadn't mattered where I was going as long as it was out of this state, away from all of the memories. Rebecca was the only one who had called me back. The phone conversation had gone well and even though they weren't currently hiring, she said she'd keep my resume on file.

I hadn't thought about that phone call until now, when leaving Oklahoma was the furthest thing from my mind.

I forced myself to breathe again and retrieved the phone. “Hi, Rebecca. Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” she said. “I was calling about a position for an art director-slash-senior designer. It's a hybrid position, created for our last designer but he has since moved on.”

I couldn't believe my ears. It was exactly the job I'd been trying to convince my boss to create for me but hadn't been able to due to the flagging economy.

Rebecca described the job and its responsibilities and said, “We received your resume last year and were really impressed. Now that a position has opened up, we would like to offer it to you.”

I spoke in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “And the salary?” Screw tact, I needed facts. There was too much at stake to beat around the bush.

Rebecca threw out a figure that made my ears burn. It was, needless to say, substantial. Almost double what I was currently making.

“Thank you, Miss Holt,” I said, with my heart pounding wildly in my chest. “Would I be able to give an answer in a few days?”

“Of course,” Rebecca said. “But I'll need an answer by Friday at the latest.”

“Thank you. When would I have to start if I accepted?”

“In three weeks.”

My heart dropped to my feet. Five days to decide to leave the love of my life for a dream job; it didn't seem nearly enough time.

“Okay. Thank you so much, Rebecca.” I ended the phone call and stared at the computer screen for a long while, feeling like the normally unhurried pace of my life suddenly made the jump to light speed.

I had never been gladder for radio silence from Henry than I was today. He didn't text or call until I arrived home from work and was in the middle of cooking dinner.

“Hey, what are you making?” he asked when he heard the clanging of the wok on the stove.

I put him on speaker as I began to chop the vegetables with a nearly manic intensity. I almost felt sorry for the poor carrots and peppers. “Beef stir fry,” I said. The wok hissed when I threw in the vegetables.

“Mmm. I can smell it all the way from here.”

“What are you having?” I asked, distracted by dinner and life.

He snorted. “Ramen noodles.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.” I picked out a carrot and absentmindedly munched on it while the rest of the food cooked, my mind in a faraway place.

“Please invite me over.”

I finally took note of the longing in his voice. His tapes came to mind then and what he'd said about coming home night after night to an empty house with nothing to eat but ramen noodles or frozen burritos. My heart hurt at the thought, unable to stomach the idea that he was reliving his lonely childhood. “Okay, come over.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. “This won't count as a date, right?”

I sighed impatiently. “Just get over here,” I said. “You've got fifteen minutes.”

“I'm out the door right now!” he said and I heard the door slamming before he hung up the phone.

Even though the drive from the house he was renting usually took at least seventeen minutes, I heard the rumble of his motorcycle no more than ten minutes later.

“You shouldn't speed on that thing,” I said as soon as I opened the door and let him in.

He ignored my words; instead he wrapped his arms around my back and held me against his body. He let out a long sigh. “Man, I've been dying to do this all day,” he said against my hair.

I allowed myself one moment to enjoy his warmth, closing my eyes and breathing in his unique scent, before I pulled away and made my way back to the kitchen. “I hope I made enough,” I said, turning my back to him as I prepared two bowls of food.

“Anything you can offer me is enough,” he said, making me wonder if that was indeed the truth.

We sat on the living room floor, leaning against my couch out of habit, with bowls of stir-fry and rice in our laps. I usually made enough food for at least two meals and thankfully had enough to feed even a sizable hungry man, and boy, was Henry hungry. He finished his dinner in record time.

He placed his bowl on the floor and leaned his head back into the couch, quietly gazing at me. He looked so content in that moment that I decided I couldn't tell him about the job yet, so I just smiled and tried to bask in this little slice of heaven.

“How was your day?” he asked with a lazy grin. He reached out and held my hand, tracing circles on my palm with his thumb.

“Fine,” I said. “How about you?”

“Well, I heard back from the OKC Police Department today,” he said, his face becoming animated. “My application was approved. I go in tomorrow for the physical and written test.”

“So you're really doing it.”

“Yep, I'm really doing it.” He grinned, looking so excited at the prospect of becoming a police officer. Of course, a new career in law enforcement along with the rental house agreement he'd just signed meant that he was tied to Oklahoma now. It wouldn't be impossible for him to break those ties but the real question was: Did I even want him to?

Instead of facing the tough question, I opted for the easy way out. “You know, I don't think that uniform is going to be anywhere near as sexy as your BDUs, but I guess it'll have to do,” I said.

He quirked one dark eyebrow. “I still have some BDUs somewhere. I'll wear mine if you wear your Tomb Raider costume.”

I chuckled. “You're still fantasizing about that?”

“What? It was amazing.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “You're amazing.” The expression on his face softened and I suddenly knew exactly where this was headed. One kiss from Henry Logan had the capacity to send me careening straight into an often-visited town called Trouble.

I extricated my hand from his grasp and gathered our bowls. “You're washing the dishes,” I said, handing him the stack.

He studied my face for a moment before he rose to his feet and headed to the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later he had washed, dried, and put away all of the bowls, utensils, and the wok. He looked around but found nothing else to aid in his obvious procrastination. “I guess I'm done,” he said, wiping his hands dry and hanging the towel.

I stood from the dining table, where I'd been pretending to work on my laptop but had really been watching him from the corner of my eye. Judging from the way he'd grinned to himself the entire time, I had a feeling he probably knew.

“I guess it's time for me to go,” he said, hedging for a rebuttal.

“I guess so.”

At the front door, he turned and bent down to press a warm kiss on my forehead. “Thank you for letting me invite myself to dinner.”

“It's tradition.” I grinned. “It wouldn't seem right if you didn't invite yourself to dinner with a Sherman.”

A shadow of a smile crossed his mouth. “You listened to all of the tapes?”

“Yes.” So maybe I'd even listened to them more than twice, but he didn't need to know that I had clung to his words like buoys to keep me from sinking into the depths of hopelessness. Just knowing that he had loved me at all had gotten me through the night on more than one occasion.

“You don't remember that night at my college graduation party?” he asked, his eyes flitting across my face.

“I wish I did,” I replied, shaking my head. I would give anything to remember the first time Henry had told me he loved me.

He drew me to him. “Me too.”

“Do you want the tapes back? I have them in my bedroom,” I said, trying to twist out of his arms but he wouldn't let go.

“No, you hold on to them. You're the keeper of my secrets.”

I stilled at his words. I held my breath, then let it all out, letting go the opportunity to tell him about another secret.

As he walked out, I called out, “Hey, Henry?”

He turned on a heel. “Yeah?”

“We may need to speed up the three-dates thing.”

“Why?”

I tried a nonchalant shrug. “I just can't wait that long.”

“Then when?”

“Tomorrow night?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Okay.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Hey, Elsie?” he called as he walked away, his voice echoing in the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Henry returned to my apartment the next day, after I came home from work.

“You do remember we had a date, right?” I asked, looking pointedly at his long-sleeved Under Armour shirt and black workout pants. For a wild moment, I wondered if he was taking me to the gym but quickly dismissed the thought. It wouldn't top the list of the worst dates ever, but I was pretty sure it'd be in the top ten.

He folded his arms across his wide chest. “Go get some sweats on. I'm taking you to Krav Maga.”

“What Maga?” I asked. “That sounds painful.”

He walked past me, right into my bedroom. “Krav Maga. It's an Israeli fighting style.”

I stopped at the door and watched him going through my closet. He came out holding a pair of running capri pants, a moisture-wicking shirt, and my running shoes. “You're taking me to the gym for our first date?” I asked with a sinking feeling. I had just gotten home from a long day at work; the last thing I wanted to do was exercise.

He handed me my clothes. “I'm sorry if it's an awful idea for a date, but you didn't give me much time to prepare. And since class is usually on Tuesday night, I thought I'd take you to see something I'd been working on.”

“You're really going to take me to watch you beat up on other people?”

“No,” he said with a grin. “You get to do some beating up of your own.”

With a resigned sigh, I walked into my room to get changed. Henry moved to the doorway and just leaned against the jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. “A-hem, I'd like to change,” I said.

“Go on. I'll wait,” he said.

“I'll Krav Maga all over your butt if you don't get out,” I muttered, pushing him out of the room and locking the door. “I might just start beating up people right here.”

He chuckled on the other side of the door as I undressed. “I've seen you naked before, remember?” he asked. “I've seen your breasts fit snugly in the palm of my hands. I've seen that ass of yours turn red when I spank it.”

My face burned at his words. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror and turned around to look at my butt, curious what shade of red he was talking about.

“And I've seen your inner thighs, when I run my tongue along the smooth skin all the way up to . . .” His words thinned out. He cleared his throat.

I pressed my head against the door, aching to hear more. But he said nothing. “Henry?” I asked.

“Get dressed, Elsie,” he said with a strained voice. “Or I'm going to break this door down and we'll never make it to class.”

We made it to class on time. The drive over had been tension-filled, and I might have caught Henry adjusting his pants a few times but he didn't breathe another word about naked body parts. He seemed to understand that I needed my space and he actually tried to respect my boundaries.
Tried
being the operative word as the man still took advantage of his uncanny ability to turn me on.

Henry had notified his instructor earlier that he would be bringing a guest along and they accommodated me by explaining the principles of the fighting style, then performed some basic maneuvers, moving at half speed for my sake. I practiced some elbow and knee strikes with Henry but I called it quits after a while, feeling guilty that I was keeping him from real training.

I sat on the sidelines, content to watch Henry and the others doing their thing. My eyes were fixed on him as he worked with a partner on punching combos, amazed at his fluidity and speed. He looked in his element as he punched and elbowed the hand pads, all the while bouncing on his toes. As they changed sides, he looked over to me and flashed a wide grin that I automatically returned.