Falling for Her Soldier (11 page)

“Do you want to head back to the studio? It should be empty in about an hour.”

“Works for me.” He was dying to be alone with her. The guilt was really getting to him and being close to her made it less so. The sick twist of irony was not lost on him. He needed to tell her the truth. And soon. But the way Sam was shooting not-so-subtle dagger glares at him, like he knew what Charlie had in mind, he thought maybe he should wait.

“Let me just check with Chick one last time,” Ellie said. “Be right back.”

Charlie watched her leave, her red hair swinging, leaving behind an addictive perfume that made his head feel as if it was going to float away like a hot air balloon.

“Don’t look at my sister like that.”

“I like your sister,” Charlie stated honestly. “A lot. You need to know.”

“She and I had another little chat before you got here.” Sam folded his arms and grinned. “I told her to stay away from you.”

Even though Sam’s demeanor seemed untroubled—if not overly smug—dread gnawed at Charlie’s stomach. Or maybe it was
because
Sam was so calm. “What did she say?”

Sam kept his steady focus pinned on Charlie, but a moment later, he blinked and rubbed his jaw. “She told me to mind my own business, then threatened to kick my ass.”

Charlie laughed out loud as relief replaced the dread. He turned his gaze back to Ellie, who was standing outside Chick’s office, notepad in her hand, pencil behind an ear. Yeah, he
really
liked this woman. Although “like” didn’t seem accurate.

“If she can’t bear to keep away from you,” Sam said, “then maybe
you
should give it a try.”

“I can’t,” Charlie replied. “Even if I wanted to.”

“Watch what you say, buddy.” Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “You sound like you’re in love with her.”

“I’m…” He didn’t know how to finish, but allowed the idea to run through his brain.

“To get her to fall for you, then break her heart, is a real dick move.”

Charlie remained still for a moment, then raked both hands through his hair. “That’s not what I’m doing, Sammy.”

“Hunter—”

“Dude, please don’t call me that. Seriously.”

“Well, I’m not going to call you
Charlie
. Ellie won’t find out that way.”

“I agree, but I’m not agreeing to stay away—”

“Hey, guys.” Ellie suddenly appeared, and Charlie stepped back from Sam. “Why are… What are you doing?” she asked, looking back and forth at them.

“Nothing,” Sam said, rubbing a hand over his shaved head, taking his own step back.

Ellie glared at him then turned to Charlie, her expression softer. “You okay?”

“Me?” He cut a look to Sam. “I’ve never been better.”

“Ohh…kay.” She took a beat. “Well, Chick said we’re free, so do you want to hang out here or—”

“I do not.” Charlie grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Ten

Ellie had no idea what was going on between Sam and Hunter. But she was too miffed at her brother, and then too dizzy from Hunter grabbing her hand and pulling her out the door, to think about much of anything.

“How was your afternoon?” Hunter asked as they crossed the parking lot.

“Good,” she said. “Three classes. It was loud but fun.”

“It’s remarkable what you do. Honestly.”

“Well,
you
can put together a rifle blindfolded, so we both have our talents.”

Hunter’s blue eyes glanced at her and he laughed. “You’re something else. Where are you going?” he asked when she veered to the right. “I’m driving.”

“No, I’m—”

He caught her wrist, then his hand slid down and clasped around her hand. Her skin prickled happily at his touch. “Ellie, I worked on my car for seven years. Please give me this one.”

She couldn’t help surrendering to his plea. He was so earnest about his car—his baby. It was adorable. “Fine. But you have to give me something next.”

“Name it.” He let go of her hand to open her car door, and she felt his eyes glide over her body as she climbed inside, causing her skin to tingle all over again.

“So, what kept you busy this afternoon with no car to tinker with?”

“I was on the phone for a while,” he said, sliding in next to her. “Catching up with some guys from the unit.”

Ellie’s mind shot to Charlie. But it was only a mild whiplash this time. Hunter was sitting beside her, all sexy and dreamy and smelling like a sunny day. He was here, all too tangible, while Charlie was becoming more like a memory. Or a delusion.

“Cool,” she offered. “Then what?”

“Drove to Franklin High and—” He cut off, and when Ellie glanced at him, he was staring straight ahead, his long fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel.

“Yeah? And?”

He seemed preoccupied by the road, then he messed with the windshield wipers. “Two of my friends work there,” he said. “I drop in sometimes. My brother-in-law, Jack, is the football coach and Mac teaches speech.”

“Did
you
play football in high school or—” Ellie had to grab her seat belt when the car swerved then corrected.

“Dammit,” Hunter snapped under his breath, his eyes darting at her then away. “Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She peered over the hood at the road ahead. “Was there a squirrel?”

“No, I…” He pulled at the neck of his T-shirt. “I was…” He dipped his chin and exhaled out his nose. “Anyway, we should—”

“So, football?” Ellie repeated. “Did you play?”

Hunter seemed fascinated by the radio all of a sudden, switching first to a news station then jabbing the button, scanning to something loud and guitary. “Uh, yeah,” he said, glaring at the console. “A bit.”

“Oh.”

Huh. That’s odd. Most guys love reliving their high school glory days.
More and more, Ellie was discovering that Hunter was not like most guys.

“So, you were just hanging out in the locker room with Jack?” she asked. “Male bonding?”

Hunter chuckled softly and turned off the radio. “Basically. Then Jack had practice, so Mac and I hung out during the free period.”

Jack and Mac. Such manly names. She wondered if Mac had played hockey with him that morning, too, though she didn’t remember hearing the name. It was nice that Hunter had guy buddies outside the Army. Sometimes she worried that Sam didn’t get out with civilians often enough. And then what if the Warrior Station closed?

But she couldn’t think that way.

Stay positive. We’ll raise enough money and everything will be fine.

“By the way, Mac told me Rick is going to put something in the paper about the WS tomorrow, then every day till the fund-raiser.”

“Really? That’s incredible. Thanks for doing that.”

Hunter shrugged but then pulled back a proud little smile. “No problem. Mac owed me a favor.”

“I thought Rick is the one who owns the paper.”

“He is, but he’s engaged to Mac.”

This was getting confusing. “Rick is engaged to your buddy Mac?”

Hunter stared at her for a minute, then burst into laughter. “Mackenzie,” he corrected. “Mac’s her nickname.”

“Mac is a woman?”

Hunter nodded, still chuckling as he idled at a red light.

“So you were”—she tucked some hair behind an ear—“you were with a woman this afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, all the stories Sam had shared about Big Game Hunter came rushing back, blinding her objectivity: the serial dating, the sleeping around, the general male-pigness that she simply wouldn’t tolerate anymore. Had Sam been right to warn her?

“Oh.” She folded her arms and stared straight ahead. “So you left me at the studio after we…” She tried to block the memory of their sexy almost-kiss out of her mind. “And then you hung out with—”

“Ellie. I’ve known Mackenzie my whole life. She’s my sister Tess’s best friend, and she’s engaged to Rick.
Engaged
.”

“I heard you,” she said, feeling the irrational burn of jealousy.

Suddenly, the car swerved and slowed, then Hunter pulled to the side of the road, setting the car to park. “Let me get this straight. You’re jealous of Mac?”

Heat flooded her chest and cheeks; she couldn’t stop it. “I’m not
jealous
.”

“You’re blushing and you won’t look at me.”

“So?”

“Ellie.” He unsnapped his seat belt and slid across the bench seat. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t nice of me to laugh.” He touched her shoulder. “I should have been clearer. Yes, I was hanging out with Mackenzie today, but we…” He paused. “We were talking about you.”

Despite the fact that she was still beet red, she turned to face him. “Me? Why?”

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “For starters, she wondered why I was in such a good mood.” He fingered a strand of her hair, then swept it off her shoulder, exposing her neck. “So I told her.” His finger slid up her neck, making her tingle all over. “About you.”

A swarm of butterflies flew loose in her stomach and she couldn’t help blushing again at his sweet, romantic confession. “Oh.”

He rested his hand on the back of her neck. It was warm and strong and made Ellie’s breath slow. “Please don’t be mad at me for that. You have no reason to be jealous of Mac…or any woman.” His intense blue eyes slid to her mouth. “Believe me.”

Ellie felt her lips part, dying to go to him, to kiss him. “I believe you, Hunter.”

For a moment, something seemed to change on his face. His hand remained on her neck, but his eyes dropped away. “Thanks.” The next second, he slid back behind the steering wheel. “We should go,” he said, and put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

Lust had taken the place of jealousy, too easily to justify forgetting about her twenty-two more man-less days. And now, her overwhelming emotion was frustration, leaving nothing for Ellie to do but sit on her hands and stare out the window.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the ballet studio. “Jane’s last class is almost done,” she said.

“Oh, sorry. Back at the WS, you said we could practice in an hour. I guess I kind of dragged you away.”

“What was that about?” she asked, unlocking her seat belt and swiveling around to face him. “Are you and Sam mad at each other?”

He rubbed his square jaw. “Not exactly.”

“Because it looked like you guys were about to throw down.”

Hunter laughed. “We’re in the middle of a disagreement.”

“About me?”

He looked at her and shrugged.

“This is none of his business,” she growled under her breath, feeling pissed off all over again.

“He’s your brother.”

“Well, he’s acting like a damn prison guard. I don’t
need
that.”

“What do you need, Ellie?”

She stared at him while a million ideas ran through her mind, her core temperature elevating with each additional thought. Her fantasy ended with her breaking the biggest promise she’d ever made to herself. Her inner perfectionist would not let that happen.

“I need…to go inside.” She grabbed the door handle and practically jumped out of the car.

Hunter didn’t follow her right away, but Ellie couldn’t wait. She needed to
not
be sitting on that bench seat beside him, not if she didn’t want to blow her goal.

Twenty-two more days, champ
, she thought as she bit the inside of her cheek and hustled inside.

“Hey, you.” Jane waved as Ellie marched through the door. She was in head-to-toe leopard. Only Jane could pull that off and not look skanky.

“Hey,” Ellie said as a line of bun-headed teenagers trotted past and out the door.

Jane draped a towel over her shoulder. “So where’s Mr. Big Guns—”

“Shhh.” Ellie hushed her right as Hunter walked in.

“Oh, hey, Hunter,” Jane said, then gave Ellie the eye.

“How are you, Jane? Need any tulle lugged upstairs?”

Jane laughed. “Thanks again for that.” She leaned against the reception desk and glanced at Ellie. “He’s a good one.”

“Is the room cleared out?” Ellie asked, attempting to talk over Jane’s extreme lack of subtleties.

“It’s all yours, nice and private.” Jane waved toward the studio with a flourish. “You guys picking up where you left off and…whatnot?”

Ellie felt her cheeks get hot at the insinuation.
Again with the tact, Jane
.

“I still have a lot to learn,” Hunter said, his eyes flitting around the room, settling on the empty studio. “I’m sure Ellie’s raring to get started on me.”

Ellie saw Jane’s mouth open, so she shot her a silencing glare, grabbed Hunter’s hand, and pulled him into the studio.

“I’ll lock up in a few minutes,” Jane called through the glass doors. “Then you’ll have the place all to yourselves.”

Ellie didn’t reply. Didn’t even look back.

…

“Are we doing more boxing?”

“Box step,” Ellie corrected, dropping her purse on a chair then fishing out her phone.

Hunter laughed. “Ahh, that’s what I meant.”

“No more box step. I think we should get right to it.”

“Right to it,” he couldn’t help repeating, grinning at her.

“The tango, I meant.” When she blushed like that, the woman was beyond irresistible. “We should get to the tango.”

“Oh.” He nodded, trying to look pensive, even though his mind hopped to other things they could be getting right to. “If you say so.”

Ellie cleared her throat and plugged her phone into a jack. “So, you showed me this morning you’ve got good rhythm—” She coughed like she was choking. “I mean, well, yeah, rhythm. Anyway, some ballroom dances are formally structured, but the tango has an open position, easy to fake your way through, which is why I chose it for us. Plus, it’s dramatic-looking, a crowd-pleaser. Everyone’s tangoed across the kitchen tiles in the heat of the moment.”

“I haven’t,” Charlie said, keeping his eyes steady on her, a bit entranced by her words. Had she taught like this before, or was he her first private pupil? He had no clue. She was a kind sister, a good friend, and an amazing dancer—he knew that about her. But he was greedy, and he wanted to know everything.

“Anyway,” Ellie continued, “the box step we did this morning is smooth, with a continuous rhythm. The American Style Tango is open to interpretation. The promenade, that’s the basic walk, goes back and forth between slow and quick. The bottom two beats are sharp and staccato, while the top two are gradual and slithery.”

“I don’t know if I can slither.”

She laughed. “Let’s try.”

“Ellie,” he said. “I have to admit, I have no idea what you were just talking about.” Honestly, he’d gotten hung up imagining what she might look like being
slithery
. He liked where his mind had gone.

“Come here,” she said, walking to the middle of the room. After a brief pause of
how-did-I-get-myself-into-this-again
? he joined her.

“Can we do the forehead thing?” he requested hopefully. “That was…useful.”

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning a charming shade of pink. “I
think
you have that move down pat.” She opened her arms to her sides. His reflex was to rush forward and wrap himself around those curves. But he knew she was setting the start position. Damn stupid tango.

When he reached for her hand, she pulled back. “Our position is different with tango.”

As long as he could touch her, he didn’t give a rip.

“Take my right hand.” He did so eagerly. “Our arms are straight and high, the frame is tight.” She demonstrated.

He liked it much better when her hands were resting on his chest, better yet when his arms were completely around her. He already hated the tango.

“Your right hand goes higher on my back,” she said, “right under my arm, elbow out.” Charlie slid his hand around her back, already feeling happier. “Um…higher,” she said, “and over more. Your, um, your fingertips should be touching my spine.”

“Like this.” Charlie slowly trailed his fingers over the bumps of her backbone, one by one. The sound of her breath hitching made him smile.

“Yeah. That’s, um, good.”