Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (37 page)

On the way
into town, Graham said, “Callie’s coming out of her shell.”

“Yes, sir, she seems to be.” Beau enjoyed the drive into the city. The freeway was now clear of snow and ice and the landscape around them was blinding, with white snowbanks dotted with evergreens in thick groves.

“The fact that she’s back doing her belly-dancing exercises tells me a lot.” Graham slowed down as he hit the outer limits of the town. “What about her nightmares? She was getting them just about every night when she first came home.”

Beau wasn’t going to tell him about the one night he’d slept with Callie. “They seem to be getting less frequent. The last two nights, she’s slept through the night and hasn’t woken up screaming.”

Graham grunted and then said, “Is that hard on you?”

“Yes, sir. But we know the drill. There isn’t a black ops man who doesn’t have some trauma every now and then. It actually helps me to help Callie.”

“True,” Graham said. He turned down a street. “There’s a shopping mall up ahead. You said you wanted to get Callie a gift for Christmas. I’ll drop you here and then drive over to the feed store. It will take me about an hour. I’ll meet you out at the front door then, all right?”

Beau nodded, seeing the shopping mall coming up on their right. “Yes, sir, that would be fine. Thanks.”

*

By the time
Beau returned to the ranch, it was five p.m., and he thanked Graham for the ride and trotted around the parking area and off to the cabin. Smoke was rising from the chimney in the pink dusk light. Just above the western horizon, he could see a thin slice of a recent new moon. It was quiet and beautiful as he stomped his boots free of snow and entered the cabin.

“Good timing!” Callie called from the kitchen.

Beau met her smile and closed the door. “Smells good. What’s for dinner tonight?” He shucked out of his winter coat and hung everything on the pegs on the wall. He had a sack in his hand and he took it down to his bedroom, returning afterward.

Sauntering into the kitchen, he inhaled the tangy scent. “What are you making? It really smells great.” he said, leaning over her shoulder at the stove. Callie was wearing a frilly pink apron, which Maisy, the seamstress in the house, had made for her.

“I made us meatloaf with real mashed potatoes, and I’m making the gravy right now.”

“Never bother a woman makin’ gravy,” he said, leaning down, pressing a kiss to her temple. He wanted to do more, but he wasn’t going to destroy a good meal by turning her around and kissing her senseless. Which is exactly what Beau wanted to do. “How about I set the table for us?”

“Go ahead,” Callie said, giving him a warm look. She stirred the gravy in the pot with a whisk. “What did you get in town?”

“Oh, a few things I needed,” Beau said, purposely vague. He pulled down the plates from the cabinet. “How did your workout go?”

“Good, but after not doing it for two weeks, I can feel the difference.”

“You’ll get back into working out every other day, and your body will snap right back into it. Muscle memory.”

“Says the Delta Force operator,” she said with a chuckle.

Beau felt the warmth in the cabin, but really it was Callie’s presence. She looked fetching in her jeans and bright green sweater, her hair still in a ponytail. The pink apron made her look very domestic, and he could definitely get used to this.

“Graham and I unloaded about a thousand pounds of sweet feed into the main horse barn when we got back,” he told her, laying out the flatware on the table.

“We were running low,” Callie explained. “There’s another front coming in two days from now. He likes to be stocked up in case we have a blizzard.”

“There’s always work on a ranch,” he agreed.

They fell into a companionable routine. Beau set the table, made them a salad, and got their drinks. Callie brought the large meatloaf on a platter, pulled the mashed potatoes out of the warmer, and put fresh, hot rolls on the table. Beau pulled out a chair for Callie to sit in, then sat at her elbow, serving her first.

“This reminds me so much of my own family,” he confided. “Ma has an old iron Ruby wood-burning stove like we have in the cabin, as well as at the main house. Brings back lots of good memories.”

“Dara and I learned to cook on the wood stove,” Callie told him, enthusiastically digging into her dinner. “We didn’t have electric or gas until we left home. And believe me, there’s an art to cooking and baking on a wood stove.”

“Oh,” he murmured, “I know. Ma made us three boys learn to cook on it, too.”

“I would love to meet your family someday, Beau.”

His heart pulsed. “I think we can make that happen,” he said. In his head, he had a vision of bringing Callie home to his family, introducing his wife-to-be. Every day, Callie was responding positively to his being in her life, along with Graham’s strong suggestion to get her outdoors and working.

Everyone healed differently, Beau realized. For athletic, type A people like Callie, movement was the key. For someone like Dara, sitting around and reading a good book, being alone and quiet, helped her heal. Beau was glad Callie was so athletic and loved being outdoors, because he did, too.

“Our families seem to be so similar,” she said, cutting into her meatloaf.

“They’re both country folks, and both have a wood cooking and baking stove, animals, and a garden.” He met and held her gaze, seeing yearning in her eyes for him. “You’re in the mountains of Montana and we’re in the hills of West Virginia. You have cattle and horses and we don’t.”

“But your pa tans hides. That’s working with animals in a different way.”

“True enough.”

Their dinner was a special gift to Beau. He loved their time talking and sharing. Afterward, he cleared the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He’d bought some chocolate chip cookies at a bakery at the shopping mall, and produced them along with coffee.

Then, their intimacy was gone. Callie tired easily and she apologetically excused herself, going to the small office down the hall from the two bedrooms. Beau knew she called Dara every night and sometimes, they would talk for nearly an hour. He smiled a little as he cleaned up the kitchen and prepared it for breakfast the next morning. He ached to be in bed with her tonight but made no move, gave no verbal cues.

To push Callie would be crazy and he knew it. Yet, there were only three weeks left, and already he was grieving that he’d have to leave her behind. At least when he did, he knew she would be safe. He’d be going back to Afghanistan, but she would be home, surrounded by loving family, no bullets being fired at her. That gave him a sense of peace he wouldn’t have had if Callie had decided to go back to Kabul and work at the orphanage.

He watched television out in the living room for about an hour, his gaze straying toward the popping, crackling fireplace. Having shut off the kitchen light, Beau enjoyed the flames leaping and jumping, creating different shadows around the room. There was peace in this cabin. And happiness. Even though Callie was in the office and probably catching up on Facebook with her Hope Charity friends, this cozy place felt like home. Their home.

Beau didn’t want to go there, but his heart did. This cabin would be perfect for them. It was small, nurturing, and intimate. For the first time since he’d entered the Army, he allowed himself to dream of a future—with Callie. He was nearly dozing when he awakened, hearing Callie’s slippered feet coming down the cedar hall toward the living room.

He saw she was in her favorite old flannel granny gown and her chenille bathrobe. He must have dozed for a while, because she smelled of just having come from a bath, her cheeks a flushed pink.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but it’s nearly eleven p.m. I’m hitting the sack.” She leaned over where he sat, kissing his cheek. “Good night, Beau . . . Thank you for being here for me . . .”

That feminine scent of hers drove him crazy with need of her. Beau wanted to reach up, slide his hand behind her nape, and draw her down and really kiss her. Her hair tickled his face as she pulled away from him. “I’ll get a shower and hit the sack, too,” he mumbled, hearing the drowsiness in his voice.

“Okay,” she said, straightening. “See you in the morning. Good night . . .”

Beau sat there, seeing the yearning in her eyes for him. But she said nothing. Disappointed, he slowly sat up, rubbing his face as the door to her bedroom quietly shut.

*

Callie’s scream had
Beau snapping upright in bed. He moved, throwing the covers off, her cry scaring the hell out of him. Having no idea of time, he had left his door ajar as always, wanting to keep tabs on Callie in case she got up or needed something. He went to her door, knocking softly.

It opened. Callie’s hair was mussed, her face drawn, tears in her eyes.

“Nightmare?” he asked thickly, reaching out, opening his arms to her. She was in her nightgown, looking so damned vulnerable. Every particle in his body surged forward, wanting to protect her.

Callie nodded, her lower lip trembling as she came into his arms. Groaning, he took her full weight, her arms going around his waist as she buried her head against his chest beneath his chin. Sweet. So sweet. And rounded, curved, and so damned feminine. He felt his erection growing quickly, and there was no way to hide it from Callie, whose round belly lay against it. He leaned down, kissing her temple, inhaling her subtle wildflower scent deeply into his lungs.

Her fingers dug into his back as if she were still fighting the nightmare, and he felt her quiver almost imperceptibly.

“I-I need you, Beau,” she sobbed against him. “I need you . . .”

“Shhh, you have me, sweet woman’. I’m here,” he whispered, stroking her back, feeling the flannel beneath his fingertips, feeling the luscious curve of her spine. Beau stopped himself from allowing his hand to stray below her waist. How badly he wanted to cup those beautiful, well-rounded cheeks of hers. And then his world tilted.

Callie pulled back, sliding her hands in a frame around his face, pushing up on her toes, her lips finding his mouth, and Beau’s whole world exploded into heat, light, and bolts of electricity. He was taken aback at first by her assertiveness, pressing against his lips, demanding entrance, the hunger urgent within her, infecting him, sending his heart racing with anticipation.

Her kiss was totally unexpected; his body howled with keening fire that raced up through him, knocking out his mind and throwing him into the primal male hunter zone. Her lips were setting explosions off in his lower body, tightening him, thickening him, until he took her, now—at last—in command.

She arched into him. Beau understood what she wanted and he was more than willing to surrender to her needs. Her lips were full, sliding against his, her tongue boldly tangling with his. In moments, Beau eased from her. Only their heavy, ragged breathing and the pounding of their hearts could be heard as he stared down at her.

“Callie,” he groaned, “is this what you really want? Are you telling me you’re ready?”

She gave a slight nod of her head. “Love me, Beau. I need you . . . please?”

Her barely whispered words, heavy with ache, damn near totaled him.

“Okay,” he growled, and in one smooth motion, he picked her up in his arms. He was taking her to her bed, and nothing would stop him now. His whole world was made of fire, boiling heat combined with a deep hunger begging to be satiated.

Beau sat Callie on the edge of the mattress and in moments, his T-shirt and boxer shorts were gone. Callie quickly removed her gown, allowing it to slide to the floor.

Beau couldn’t breathe for a moment as he stared down at Callie. She sat like the curvaceous goddess she was, her hair a crimson waterfall around her shoulders, halfway down to her beautifully formed breasts. His gaze took in those perfect berry-colored nipples, standing so tight and ready to be touched and tasted. Just as he remembered. And then everything stopped.

As Beau laid her down on the bed, coming alongside of her, he stilled the movement of her hips, which urged him to take her. “Are you still protected, Callie?” he demanded, trying to keep a shred of common sense before their raging need consumed all thought.