Hero by Night (7 page)

“It's only a conversation if you say wicked, naughty things back to me, beautiful,” Chad said. The nice-­guy smile he'd worn for the others vanished, replaced by a don't-­tempt-­me grin.

Her breasts responded to his words, tightening, hoping for a touch, a kiss—­something. The need rippled through her, moving lower.

“A good listener is an important part of any conversation,” she said, smiling as if her entire body wasn't vibrating with a foreign feeling—­the need to reach for him. She folded her hands in her lap. “Just something I learned in the army.”

“Yeah, did they also teach you to take orders?”

The low growl of his voice ­coupled with those words—­if Ms. Pixie and friends could hear him now, they'd probably faint at his feet.

“I was an officer. I gave the orders,” she said, feeling as if she was teasing a lion. But he was her lion until they convinced the town he'd shredded the reputation that drew women to him like moths to light.

“Lena, I'm listening. Any time you want to take charge.”

The way he looked at her . . . it was as potent as if he'd run his hands over her bare skin. Her heartbeat sped up and she debated ordering him to march back to his truck, drive her home, and take her to bed. And maybe this time, she'd leave the pink toy on the nightstand.

Maybe.

She raised one hand, instantly feeling something soft and furry. It was Hero, checking in, his front paws resting on the picnic bench beside her. Turning her hand over, she stroked his golden coat. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't stake a claim based on one orgasm and a fake date. Chad wasn't hers any more than he belonged to the ladies of his fan club.

“Do they drive in from other towns to see you?” she asked.

Chad leaned back, palms flat on the table. “Who?”

“I've met more single women tonight in small-­town Oregon then I recall seeing out in Portland on a Saturday night.”

Chad shook his head. “You're funny.”

She'd been labeled a lot of things since she returned home and left the army, but never funny.

“And no, they're all locals. I went to high school with Delilah. Some of the other ladies you met too.” Chad stood, picking up the empty plates and pizza tray. “Did you save room for dessert? They have chocolate and vanilla soft serve.”

“Can they do a swirl?” she asked. The thought of ice cream and pizza all in one night—­she was ready to sign up for more fake dates. “In a cone?”

“Yes, Lena. They do.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “And I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy watching you eat ice cream.”

 

Chapter 8

C
HAD ORDERED THE
ice cream and stepped to the side, glancing out the window. With the sun starting to slip behind the mountains, they had an hour or so before darkness descended on A Slice of Independence's picnic tables—­plenty of time to eat their cones before heading home. Hell, he didn't think he could handle more than sixty minutes of curious old friends stopping by to say hello.

But Lena? She hadn't balked at the parade of women who'd approached their table. He had an oh-­shit moment when he spotted Delilah, wondering if his date would panic. Lena had remained calm. And after the parade wandered away, playful.

Through the window, he watched as she knelt in the grass beside her golden retriever, rubbing the dog's belly. Her long hair felt forward, obscuring her face. The wanting, which had been building inside him since he knocked on her door holding the flowers and her present, rose up, pretty freaking literally. He wished he could take her back to the apartment over the barn and climb into bed with her. They could take turns giving orders, or maybe he'd let her call the shots tonight. Anything to get to the place where she screamed his name as she came, her picture-­perfect body lost in pleasure.

“Chad,” Trish called from behind the counter. “Think you can stop staring at your friend long enough to take your cones?”

He turned away from the window and took the ice cream, smiling at the waitress only a few years his junior. “Thanks.”

With a cone in each hand, he headed for his date, searching for Lena through the screen door. She was still on the ground with her dog. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted three children racing through the grass. Chad frowned. They were heading for Lena, coming at her from behind. For a split second, he debated calling out to her. But then the kids rushed past.

From the doorway to the pizza place, he watched tension ripple through her body.

Hero went from blissed-­out dog to protector, springing to all fours, pressing close to his owner. Her arms wrapped around the animal, her shoulders trembling, her head turning left to right as if scanning the area for the threat. He saw the moment her gaze landed on the kids. Her eyes closed and she buried her face in Hero's soft fur.

She looked so damn alone, clutching her dog. How hard was it to move through each day knowing that the movement of innocent children playing outside might ignite old fears? It took a helluva lot, he realized, to keep pushing forward, to hold out for a future, and to maintain her witty sense of humor in the process.

Chad turned away from the door and returned to the counter. “Trish, can you hold these for a minute? And can you get me a piece of paper and a pen?”

The exasperated waitress behind the counter gave him a you-­can't-­be-­serious look.

“Please?” he added, flashing his signature smile.

Trish shook her head. “For you, Chad, sure.”

She slipped a pad of paper used for taking orders and a pencil across the counter, and then held out her hands to take the cones. “But make it quick. We're slammed here. And these cones will melt soon.”

Chad picked up the pencil and started writing.

I want dibs on calling the shots, beautiful. I want to watch you lick your chocolate/vanilla swirl and imagine you on your knees, your mouth working its magic.

He folded the paper three times and slid it across the counter to Trish. “I'll take the cones. Would you mind dropping that note off with my date?”

Trish nodded to the filled restaurant as she handed over the cones. “Chad, we have a full dining room.”

“I don't see any food waiting in the window,” he said. “Please Trish? I'll double your tip.”

“You're headed out there,” the waitress challenged. “Why do you need me to deliver a note first?”

“Because it will make her smile.” Chad glanced out the window. Lena had returned to the bench, but Hero remained at her side. There wasn't a hint of joy on her pretty face. “And maybe laugh.”

Trish picked up the piece of paper. “Fine. I'll do it.”

Chad waited by the door, tracking the waitress's movements as she hurried to the table. Trish smiled at Lena, set the note beside her, and cleared the remaining dirty dishes. Confusion chased by concern flickered in Lena's eyes. And then she unfolded the paper.

Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes widened. And then she laughed. Chad stepped out the door, grinning like fool as melted ice cream ran over his hands. He liked Lena just like that—­hot, flushed, and laughing.

“Here's your cone.” He stopped beside the picnic table, holding it out to her.

She took the dripping treat and raised it to her lips. Her tongue ran around the base, licking up the drips. Once. Twice.

Shit, he needed to sit down before he fell to his knees and begged her not to stop. He wanted to watch her eat ice cream all night.

Lena glanced up at him, her lips hovering over the cone. “I haven't done this in a while.”

“You need instructions?” Chad claimed his seat on the bench, his frozen treat still dripping. Right now, he didn't care if it formed a puddle on the table.

“I'm listening,” she said.

“Start at the bottom.”

Her wide blue eyes stared back at him over the top of her treat as her tongue obeyed his orders. Watching her, he wished he could toss her over his shoulder, carry her to his truck, and beg her to treat his cock like an ice cream cone.

“Swirl your tongue up to the top,” he continued, keeping his voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear his raw, needy words. “Wrap your lips around the top. Keep working your tongue, beautiful. And suck.”

She closed her eyes and he swore he heard her moan.

“Ah hell, Lena, I'm going to buy you ice cream very damn day just to watch you enjoy it.”

She laughed, licking up the drips before nodding to the melted disaster in his hand. “You should start on yours before it disappears.”

“Yeah, I'd rather—­”

“Chad!”

A booming male voice that he'd heard one too many times playing flag football in high school shattered the moment. Chad spotted two guys winding their way through the tables. To call them friends would be stretching the definition of the word. But Tim filled in for Eric's crew chiefs when needed. He'd graduated Independence High a year behind Chad and was young for the job. Being the Bull of the Woods came with a fair amount of responsibility, and demanded respect—­at least when they were on a job site.

During the off hours? Not so much. Tim and his sidekick, Peyton, enjoyed their share of recreational substances. One look at the pair, and Chad had a bad feeling the guys were high as a freaking kite right now.

“Hey.” Chad greeted them. “I figured you guys would be harvesting that tract of land up near The Dalles for another week.”

“Nope, finished yesterday and spent today driving home,” Peyton, the larger of the two guys, said, stopping in front of their table. Yeah, the men had clearly been smoking something before stopping for pizza.

“We could work faster with a helicopter hauling the logs out,” Tim pointed out, his lips forming a smirk reminiscent of grade school bullies on the playground. Chad had stood up for enough kids to know the look.

“Yeah, yeah, we're working on getting the new bird up in the air,” Chad said, turning to Lena. “Guys, this is Lena. She just moved to the area. Lena, meet Tim”—­Chad pointed to the shorter man—­“and Peyton.” He indicated the larger man. “These guys work on one of Eric's crews.”

“Welcome to Independence Falls.” Peyton offered Lena a goofy smile, and Chad's jaw tightened. He wanted this conversation over. Now.

“Did you guys try the pie of the day?” Tim asked.

“Nope,” Chad said. “It had mushrooms and Lena is not a fan. But if you head inside and talk to Trish, I'm sure she'll hook you up.”

“No shrooms?” Peyton said, his bloodshot eyes widening. “What if someone held a gun to your head and ordered you to eat a mushroom?”

Chad opened his mouth to tell Tweedledee and Tweedledum to go inside and order their damn dinner.

“I'd take the gun away,” Lena said simply before returning to her ice cream

And just like that another oh-­shit moment faded away.

“She's a marksman,” Chad added. “Served two tours in Afghanistan. And she's also a ninja. So you guys might want to watch your step.”

Lena met his gaze, her blue eyes dancing with laughter.

“Whoa,” Peyton said. “I didn't know the army trained you to be a ninja.”

Before Chad could tell Peyton to take his stoned ass away from their table, the larger of the two guys crossed behind Lena, moving fast for an impaired man. He swung one leg over the bench and sat down. Too close, dammit.

Lena's eyes widened, her hand tightening around the cone until it snapped in her hand, covering her fingers in ice cream.

“Back away from my girl.” Chad was on his feet, his cone tossed to the ground. He planted his palms on the table, ready to physically remove Peyton from the table. This was no longer a game. He could see the panic in Lena's wild-­eyed expression.

“She's a ninja, man,” Peyton said. “I need to talk to her.”

Hero abandoned his place in the grass, racing toward his owner. He gave two sharp warning barks at the confused, high-­off-­his-­ass idiot.

“I was joking about being a ninja, but she did serve. And fast movements startle her, OK?” Chad said, his voice low and even.

Hero placed his front paws on the bench, wedging his body between Lena's trembling limbs and Peyton's larger frame. Getting the message, Peyton stood and stepped away from the picnic table. A second later and Chad would have physically removed him.

“Sorry man,” Peyton said, his brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on the angry retriever. “We got in the mood for pizza on the way over, you know? And I've always wanted to meet a real ninja.”

“Not today,” Chad said. “You might want to order your pizza. Now.”

Chad waited until they walked away before sitting down. “Lena, I'm sorry—­” He caught himself. Those weren't the words she needed to hear. She didn't need pity, not from him or anyone else.

“—­about your ice cream,” he added.

She picked up a napkin and started cleaning her hands. “Me too,” she said, her voice shaky.

Chad glanced at the stoned men stumbling through the door to the restaurant, wondering if he should go after them and throw a few punches after all. After robbing Lena of her teasing, confident tone, Tim and Peyton deserved to have their butts kicked.

“I'd only had one good lick of the vanilla,” she continued, the tremble in her tone fading with each word. “I was thinking about moving on to the chocolate. You know, spice things up a little bit.”

Relief swept over him. If she'd been anyone else, he would have pulled her close, held her tight, and told how much he admired the way she refused to let her fears hold her captive.

“Lena, I'm ready to move past vanilla whenever you are. With you, I'm up for anything.”

L
ENA FOLLOWED
C
HAD
to his truck, forcing a calm she didn't feel. Hero clung to her side, his body pressed against her leg as they walked. Children and stoned men who believed in ninjas—­those things didn't send normal ­people diving headfirst into a panic attack.

She stopped by the passenger side door and rested her forehead against the window, closing her eyes. “Shit,” she murmured. “
Shit.
I just wanted to eat a pizza with my pretend boyfriend.”

“Hey now,” Chad said. “I'm not complaining.”

She opened her eyes and turned her head, spotting Chad leaning against the rear of his truck. He wouldn't approach her with her eyes closed, she realized.

“You have good ears,” she said.

He headed toward her, walking around to open her door. “I grew up with two brothers and a sister. I think they would tell you I have selective hearing. Before we finalized the sale with Moore Timber, I would run the other way when I heard the word ‘paperwork.' Hop in, Lena.”

She climbed into the truck, buckling her belt as Hero claimed the space between them. Chad pulled out of the lot, waving to the growing crowd at the picnic tables.

“So you're continuing the job search tomorrow?” he asked as they turned onto the two-­lane country road leading to the Summers family home.

“Yes.” She needed to find something soon or she'd be forced to turn to either her ex or her parents for money. Neither option appealed to her. She didn't want to give them one more reason to look at her and see failure. “Is there an Internet café in town? I need to find a computer.”

“Come by the house in the morning,” Chad said. “Katie has a desktop in the study that you can use.”

“I don't want to be in the way.”
Or face an inquisition
, she thought.

“You won't be.” Chad steered the truck down the bumpy driveway. “You can help yourself to the fridge. There will be coffee. Brody makes a pot every morning. And Hero's welcome.”

“You had me at coffee,” she said. “Thank you.”

He parked the truck by the barn, but kept the engine running as he turned to her. Flashing his panty-­melting smile. “You're my girl, now.”

“It's not real, Chad,” she murmured. The parts of her body that would have ignored that smile twenty-­four hours ago sparked with interest. Now that she knew his smiles weren't empty promises.

“Lena, we made it real tonight. After what happened—­”

“I'm sorry,” she said. The words felt like a reflex.

“No, Lena. Don't apologize.” His smile faded. “Word will get back to Eric that we went out for pizza, and I just about murdered one of his guys for sitting down next to you.”