Hot SEALs: SEAL's Ultimate Challenge (3 page)

“Here he comes with his fiancée.”

He was tall, but then everyone was tall compared to Leigha. With blond hair hanging longish down past his collar, a sexy five-o’clock shadow at eleven in the morning, and gray-blue eyes, the man was incredibly attractive. Even Leigha, who’d seen some amazing men pass through the rehab center had to admit he made butterflies flap in her belly. “What’s his name?”

“Cory Nipton.”

The SEAL frowned as he approached with a pretty, sandy-blond-haired woman. “I understand my normal therapist left.”

Eric stepped up to him and smiled. “That’s right. But Leigha will be taking over. She’s just as capable and will help you through your sessions.”

The frown deepened, his brows coming together. “She’s just a kid.”

A spike of anger rippled up Leigha’s spine. But she remembered Eric’s warning. Many of the patients had been through a lot. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) was a real issue with depression as a nasty side effect. She reminded herself how she’d felt when her blown-out knee had cost her the only job she’d ever wanted. She’d been sad, angry and depressed. Fighting that range of emotions along with the pain of recovery had been an uphill battle.

Cory Nipton was no different.

She nodded. “The package might be small, but I know how to get the job done.” Since she’d come to work with the wounded warriors, she’d learned speaking softly got a lot more cooperation than yelling. But she knew how to be firm and didn’t take a speck of guff off anyone.

Having read his file she knew he’d been through several surgeries over the past month, the docs scraping out the shrapnel and shattered bone and cleaning up the dead tissue. Phantom pain had been his enemy during all of that time and still continued to plague him on occasion.

Leigha could work with that. She’d only give him as much as he could handle.

“Can I request a male therapist?” Cory insisted.

His fiancée touched his arm. “Give the woman a chance. She wouldn’t be here, if she didn’t know what she was doing.” She held out a hand. “HI, I’m Delaney O’Connell, Cory’s…fiancée.”

Leigha gave Delaney a grateful smile. “That’s right. So, if you’ll come with me, we’ll get started.”

Cory and his fiancée followed her to a bench near a window that overlooked the well-manicured landscape surrounding Walter Reed. She pointed and said, “Sit.”

“You have a lousy bedside manner,” Cory grumbled.

“What did you expect? You insulted me.” She held out a rubber strap. “Put your injured arm—”

“For the love of Mike, call it what it is. It’s a Goddamn stump.”

Again, biting on her lip, Leigha forced a smile and a calmness she wasn’t feeling, and then nodded. “Okay. Put your arm in the sling. Anchor it around your neck and pull it across your chest. One hundred times.”

Cory’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Leigh crossed her arms over her chest. “Nope. You’re not leaving this room until you’ve done all one hundred.” She stepped back, but didn’t leave. “I’m waiting.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time. I’m not playing stupid games.”

“Are you afraid you can’t?” she asked, her brows rising.

“Hell, no.”

“Then what’s your problem?” she asked, her chin lifting.

“He could be in a lot of pain,” Delaney said, her mouth drawn tight.

Cory raised his hand, and Delaney didn’t say anything else. He took a seat on the bench, eased his stump into the rubber sling, and pulled it across his chest. “This is too easy.”

“Stick to the one hundred. When I think you’re ready, you can increase that amount.” Leigha waited until he started the repetitions, then she turned and walked away to assist another therapist with a double leg amputee. Either he did the exercise or he didn’t. Leigha would be back to give him hell if he didn’t.

AFTER A MONTH in the hospital with other soldiers in far worse shape than he was, Cory couldn’t feel sorry for himself. What was bothering him that day was the fact O’Connell was headed back to the sandbox. He counted off fifty right-arm pulls without talking. The more he did, the harder the action got. Hell, he used to bench press two hundred and fifty pounds. Pulling a rubber strap shouldn’t be this hard. Ten more and he breathed hard, sweat popping out on his forehead. He stopped. “What’s the use? This won’t grow my arm back.”

“Cory, you have to do it. I can’t go back until I know you’ll be okay.” Delaney stood beside him.

For Delaney, and to remove the furrow from her pretty brows, he tried again. When he’d moved it only halfway, he let go and growled. “Fuck this!”

The blond physical therapist appeared. “Cory, the only way you’ll get better is to fight past the pain, and use those muscles that haven’t been used in a month. Now do it.”

Her voice was soft but firm, but Cory heard the steel in it. She wasn’t letting him get away with whining or quitting.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Delaney asked.

“Not really. I’ve been working part-time up until today. Now I’m fulltime and Cory will be working with me.” She placed the rubber strap over Cory’s arm again and stepped back. “I’ll be Cory’s physical therapist for the next few weeks.”

Cory read between the lines,
Like it or not.
“I don’t want a different therapist,” Cory groused. “What was wrong with Michaels?”

“He was transferred to San Antonio Medical Center. He’s leaving in two weeks.” Leigha nodded toward the rubber strap. “Now, give me five more repetitions with the strap.”

“I don’t have the rest of my arm. Why bother?”

With squinted eyes, she crossed both arms over her chest and leaned close, whispering, “Are you a SEAL or a pansy ass?”

Delaney’s brows dipped, but her lips twitched like she couldn’t decide whether to bitch at the therapist or laugh.

If Cory had his choice, he wouldn’t have minded a little catfight between the two women. Anything to take the attention off of him. The pain ripping through his arm made him grind his teeth, but he’d be damned if he let it show in front of the little fireball of a female therapist.

Leigha raised her brow.

During one of Cory’s rest breaks when Leigha had gone off to help another soldier, Delaney touched his shoulder. “Cory, honey, I need to leave. I have to pack and be on the plane in two hours.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come along to the airport?” Cory looked up. He’d love to go anywhere and get away from the miniature Attila.

Delaney shook her head. “I don’t like tearful goodbyes, and I don’t want to worry about you getting back to the hospital.”

With only one arm.
She didn’t say it, but Reaper heard it anyway. He captured her hand and held on, as if holding onto the last link to his former life as a SEAL. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, O’Connell.”

She smiled, and then her gaze flicked to the side.

Even her smile seemed more distant. He could understand. Once you got orders, your mind was a thousand miles ahead. In Delaney’s case, it was several thousand miles ahead, across the ocean to the sandbox they’d left behind a month ago. She couldn’t stay with him forever, playing nursemaid. She had a military career.

Anger and pain seared through him. What the hell kind of life would he have post-military? All he knew were tactics and shooting. Hell, now he couldn’t even shoot. His trigger finger and entire arm were gone.

A wave of anger and depression washed over his thoughts. He fought to keep it from showing in his face. O’Connell didn’t need to leave feeling sorry for him. She needed a clear head and conscience to see her through the tough jobs she had ahead. The woman was still working to prove herself with the 160
^th
Night Stalkers. A month on leave wasn’t helping, and Reaper had been selfish to want her to stay. He stood and faced her. If he was fair, he’d tell her to forget their engagement. Go. Find a whole man who can give you what you deserve. Love, an exciting life, and the ability to hug you with both arms.

For a long moment, O’Connell stared up into his eyes, her gaze searching his. Then she leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

She linked her hands behind his head and gave him the first real kiss he’d gotten. He cupped the back of her neck and thrust his tongue past his lips to tangle with hers. Before he’d lost his arm…before O’Connell, he’d been a player, flirting with women and kissing indiscriminately. He considered himself a good kisser. But something wasn’t right in the kiss he shared now with O’Connell. Sure she’d pecked his lips, kissed his forehead, and let him kiss hers, but they’d never really shared a let’s-get-naked-and-fuck kiss.

“Eh-hem. Want me to come back later?” Leigha stood behind Reaper with her brows raised.

O’Connell straightened, her cheeks burning. “No. I was just leaving.”

“Take your time. I’m here all day.” She winked at Reaper and performed a perky about-face.

O’Connell chuckled. “I think you’ve met your match in that one.”

“Yeah.” Reaper frowned, his gaze following the woman across the floor. Then he turned to O’Connell. “Promise me you’ll Skype when you can.”

“I’ll try.” She slipped her purse strap onto her shoulder. “With the time difference, I’m not sure how often I can.”

“And tell Tuck I’m okay. He’s probably blaming himself.” Reaper stared down at his arm. “He shouldn’t. I don’t.”

“I’ll let him know.” O’Connell hesitated. “Cory?”

“Yeah, babe?” He still held her hand, weaving his fingers through hers.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “You realize that was our first real kiss.”

“I know.” He smiled. “I’m just sad it wasn’t before…” He shrugged. “You know.”

“Before you lost your arm?”

Reaper winced. O’Connell called it as it was.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said.

“Does to me. It might have been better.”

“The kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t feel anything, either?” she asked.

Reaper’s brows furrowed. “Is that what you think?” He pulled her into his one-armed embrace and kissed the top of her head. “Of course I did.”

O’Connell’s brows wrinkled, and she bit on her bottom.

“Wait,” Reaper said, a single word echoing in his thoughts. His chest tightened.

Pressing her lips tight, she glanced up at him.

Reaper set her at arm’s length, his frown deepening. “Either? Are you telling me you didn’t feel it?”

She hesitated, glanced to a far corner and then said, in a flat tone, “I wanted to.”

He tipped up her chin and stared into her blue eyes, his gut clenching. This was O’Connell, his best friend. “I thought you loved me.”

She touched his arm. “I do. I’m just not sure it’s the kind of love you need.”

“O’Connell, I’ve loved you from the first time you spilled popcorn on the couch in our apartment at Little Creek.”

She smiled through tear-filled eyes. “Tuck was mad. He missed a pass by the Miami Dolphins when they played the New England Patriots.”

Tuck had been mad. The couch was brand new, never initiated with food or drink. “He got over it. Especially when you started picking up all the popcorn in his lap. Seems to me he forgot all about the game.” Reaper grinned. “For a while there, I thought you two would get together.”

Eyes widening, O’Connell opened her mouth.

Before she could say anything, Reaper continued. “But when he didn’t make a move, I figured I had a shot. So, you didn’t feel anything when we kissed?” He shook his head. “Then I’m not giving my best.” He winked. “I used to have a reputation with the women, until I met you. I had a knack for flirting.” His chest puffed out.

“Why did you stop flirting?”

All the air left his lungs, and he sagged. “What’s it matter? I got my girl. Why should I flirt?”

“Cory, you can’t wait around for me. What if I don’t come back?”

His chest pinched. Even if he hadn’t felt anything with their kiss, he still loved her and Tuck. They were his family. “You’re too damned good a helicopter pilot to bite the big one in the sandbox. You’ll be back.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear it. One of us has to carry on the tradition of duty, honor, and country.”

Searching his face, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Promise me this.”

He captured the finger and kissed the tip. “Anything.”

“Keep your options open.”

He frowned. “I love you, O’Connell. I don’t want anything else.”

“Promise me,” she insisted, narrowing her gaze.

He didn’t want anyone else. O’Connell was tough, smart, and everything he could want in a wife. “I’ll think about it.” Again, O’Connell appeared to want to say more but bit her lip again instead.

Finally, she said, “Play nice with your therapist and be strong.”

“I have to be. We’re getting married when you get back.” He drew her close with his good arm and crushed her lips with his, hoping the second real kiss had more spark than the first.

When he broke off the kiss, he couldn’t deny the distinct feeling he was kissing a friend, not a lover.

O’Connell ducked her head and hurried away.

Reaper let his gaze follow her until she disappeared. Was he wrong to want her as his wife? After the two kisses, he found himself questioning everything about their relationship. But he’d proposed, and she’d accepted. He couldn’t go back on his word. At the same time, he couldn’t hold her to her promise when he’d forced an answer during a traumatic moment and he wasn’t even sure he’d ever find another job. How would he contribute to their marriage?

He wasn’t the kind of man who’d live off his wife’s income. Reaper had a lot of thinking to do. But within moments, the golden-haired Attila descended, and put him back to work.

Where had such a petite and pretty young woman learned to be so damned bossy? Reaper didn’t know, but by the end of his sessions together, he’d find out. Maybe she’d mellow by then. All he knew was at that moment, with the pain shooting through his arm, he hated her with a passion, he hated that he’d lost his limb and the only job he’d ever loved, and he hated that he would probably lose O’Connell and Tuck, the truest friends he’d ever known.

Chapter Three