It’s Like That

Wounded Warrior Book 1

Kristin Leigh

Published 2013

ISBN: 978-1-62210-040-8

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Kristin Leigh. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Callie Alexson has hidden from men her entire life. Shy and self-conscious, she would rather watch from the sidelines than risk being hurt or rejected. When she’s obligated to attend a friend’s pool party, Callie finds herself compelled to shed her shyness beneath the penetrating scrutiny of a stranger.

Chris Paulson is a force to be reckoned with and has dedicated his life to his career as a Navy SEAL team leader. He doesn’t have the time or patience to deal with a love life. That is, until he finds a goddess reclining next to a SEAL team member’s pool. In a single day, she will change everything. The focus he’s always centered on his job shifts to the blue-eyed brunette who makes his heart beat faster.

When Callie and Chris come together everything seems to fall into place. An explosive passion ignites, unlike anything either of them has ever known. They find in each other a love they never could have hoped for—and certainly were not looking for. But when Chris disappears while on a mission, Callie is left behind to face the heartbreak. Will he return to her a broken man? And if he does, can Callie be what he needs to banish the dark demons that haunt his soul?

Dedication

For Punkin

Chris Paulson was many things, most of which were unknown to those around him. But one thing he was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was sexy. Callie Alexson sipped her wine and watched him, making sure to never turn her head and never make eye contact. These had become the rules where attractive men were concerned.

Ever since puberty had cruelly struck at the tender age of twelve, she’d been self-conscious nearly to the point of pain. Those tender, unwanted little buds sprouting from her chest had been a source of embarrassment for her ever since an irritating little snipe of a boy had noticed in the lunchroom and pointed them out to all who were willing to look. The same breasts had continued their unrelenting growth until around age seventeen, and while most men loved a large pair, Callie was terribly afraid they didn’t love anything else large.

Large breasts would have been fine if she’d had a trim little waist and neatly rounded ass to go with them. Sadly, though, genetics had been unkind, and she’d blossomed into a plus-sized figure that hadn’t leveled out until she reached a size sixteen. It was this number that kept her from making eye contact with any man worthy of a rating over five, and this guy was a ten. No, she corrected herself.
This
guy was an eleven.

Callie swirled the wine gently in her glass and turned to set it on the table beside her, being careful to avoid the
clink
that could—
shudder
—bring attention to her. This allowed her a full view of the remarkable representative of manliness she was currently lusting after. It was brief, but it was enough.

She’d heard a great deal about Chris from her best friend, Sara, over the last few years. She and Sara taught together at North Townsend Elementary, and Sara had never failed to try setting Callie up on blind dates with her fiancé’s friends. If Sara’s fiancé had been an accountant or banker, Callie likely would have been ecstatic to be sent on a blind date. But Alan Winslow was none of those things. He was, much to Callie’s irritation, a Navy SEAL. That meant that every single man Sara tried to set Callie up with was a top of the line, class-A hunk, thus way out of her league.

The most common name she heard on these attempts at a setup was Chris Paulson. Sara always said his name with a little twinkle in her eye, and was always deflated when Callie insisted she wasn’t interested in dating. So even though his name was familiar to her, this was the first time she’d seen him. Callie sighed and rubbed her eyes, contemplating their inevitable meeting. She supposed she would have seen him eventually anyway, but it was humiliating to have to meet for the first time at a pool party.

Sara and Alan were tying the knot in three days, and as the maid of honor, Callie had been unable to turn down the invite to their little celebratory housewarming party. The backyard pool was the favorite spot of all the guests, and Callie hadn’t been able to resist the temptation for a swim. Unfortunately, while she was bobbing around on a floating noodle, the groomsmen had arrived. All seven of them were Navy SEALs and had a cumulative score of at least seventy. The sudden overpowering masculinity had caused her to panic, and she’d done what she always did in these situations—slipped away to avoid notice and hide in a corner.

The glass of wine just gave Callie something to do while waiting for the first opportunity to head home without having to speak to anyone else. Sara had found her, though, and pointed out the groomsmen by name. She’d been just about to whisk Callie away for introductions when a crash sounded from the kitchen, and Callie narrowly escaped the pain of meeting these men while wearing a plus-sized swimsuit. She’d be much more comfortable in her jeans and T-shirt. Callie turned her head again to pick up her wine, and sneaked another glance at the sex on legs vision before her. He had dark hair and eyes, and the beginning of a five o’clock shadow.

Chris was saying something to the other men he was talking to and turned enough to give her a full frontal view. His black swim trunks contrasted with the tan that covered his body, and her breath stuck in her throat when the rest of that body came into view. She knew he was ripped, but
damn
. A light sprinkle of hair ran from one nipple to the other then headed south to disappear beneath the trunks. His muscles were sharply defined, and she would swear he had an eight-pack instead of a six-pack. She lingered only briefly on the slight bulge in his trunks before dragging her gaze back up his chest to his face.

Chris’ dark eyes were locked onto her, and the smile that had previously graced his chiseled lips had disappeared. He was studying her as though he needed to figure her out. Callie froze, her wineglass halfway off the table. He flared his nostrils faintly, emphasizing the straightness of his nose. Chris tilted his head ever so slightly and returned the look she’d given him. His stare moved leisurely down her body, lingering on her breasts and hips before returning to her face. Callie’s cheeks heated, and she felt tears prick her eyes. Chris’ lips turned up on one side in a small smile, and he nodded and tilted a beer bottle in her direction. She blinked and looked away. Callie set her wine glass down on the table, grabbed her towel, and fled.

* * * *

Chris frowned at the empty lounge chair shoved into the back patio corner. She was just there. He searched the pool, hoping to see her surface and fling that glorious mane of hair behind her head while thrusting out those sonnet-inspiring breasts. She wasn’t there either, so he glanced around the other guests, trying to spot the black-and-pink swimsuit she’d been wearing. When he didn’t see it, he walked away from the gun-control argument he’d been engaged in for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t even say excuse me; he just walked away. He didn’t care to explain himself further.

Chris strolled through the house, the air-conditioning causing goose bumps to rise on his arms and chest after the extreme August heat. When he didn’t find the goddess anywhere in the house, he searched for Sara instead. Sara would know who she was, and whether she was single. Sara had been trying to set Chris up forever, and would jump at the opportunity to send him on a date.

She was forever trying to convince one of her schoolmarm friends to double-date with them, and though he was willing to go, he was always relieved when the prude turned it down. Chris always pictured a severe, stern woman with no figure chasing him with a ruler. He knew the stereotype was completely wrong, though, because his own mother had been a teacher, and Sara was a teacher. But he couldn’t help it. It was what always crossed his mind.

This girl had been so far from that image that it had sent his libido into overdrive. She had looked like a wet dream lying there on the plastic lounge chair. Plump without being fat, she had curves in all the right places. Chris had felt her gaze on him, and hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to peruse her body the way she’d done his. Her breasts had been mouthwateringly large, and had dipped into a waist that probably wasn’t flat, but was just right. Her hips flared up and then down into perfect, shapely legs that looked the exact right length to wrap around his hips. He’d had to look away for a moment and close his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to walk around Winslow’s pool sporting a hard-on. And when he’d looked back, prepared to crawl to her chair and beg her to let him lick her from head to toe, the goddess had disappeared. Spotting Sara rummaging around in the refrigerator, he downed the rest of his beer and prepared to grovel.

“Hey, Sara.”

She glanced up at him and nearly lost her grip on the refrigerator shelf she was adjusting. “Hey, Paulson. What’s up? Having a good time?”

He reached in and grabbed the shelf and gently moved her out of the way. “Yeah, great. Nice pool.” He grinned at her and, with a flick of his wrist, settled the shelf in the right spot.

Sara frowned at him. “Thanks. I hate those things.”

He grinned back. “Hey, listen. There was a girl here a few minutes ago. Brown hair, blue eyes I think, black-and-pink swimsuit. I was gonna go talk to her, but she’s missing now. Any idea where she is, or even who she is?”

Sara cocked her head to the side and lifted an eyebrow at him. “Why? Interested?”

He nodded. “Maybe. Who is she?”

“She left.” Sara began arranging bottles of wine on the newly adjusted shelf and continued. “She doesn’t like crowds, and she’s almost painfully shy.”

He reached around her into the fridge and grabbed another beer. “Shy? Why the hell would she be shy? She’s a fu—freaking goddess. Who is she?”

Sara straightened and closed the fridge door and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “She’s very self-conscious. And go ahead and say ‘fucking.’ I’m marrying a SEAL, remember? A little bit of profanity doesn’t bother me.”

“Okay, fine,” he said. “She’s fucking hot. So who the hell is she?”

Sara eyed him warily. “What are your intentions toward her?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Sara. I just want to ask her out.”

She watched him with her arms crossed and her toe tapping, waiting for his answer.

He rubbed a hand over his head and said, “Fine, I’d like to fuck her, yeah. But I’d like to take her on a date first. If she likes me, maybe we’ll go out again. And then on another date, and then we’ll have a fan-fucking-tastic time in bed, and none of it will be any of your damn business after you tell me her name.”

Sara narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger at him before saying in a voice that would do any SEAL proud, “If you hurt her or break her heart, I will hunt you down. There is nowhere you can hide that I will not find you and beat you black-and-blue.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis.

He rubbed his chest where her wickedly long fingernail had stabbed him as if it had actually hurt. “Okay, I promise not to hurt her. But if you don’t tell me her name, I’m going to tell Winslow you had a stripper for your bachelorette party.”

She gasped and poked him in the chest again. “How do you know about that?”

He grinned. “Bryant’s girlfriend told him. He told me.”

Sara pursed her lips. “You SEALs gossip like a bunch of old women. She was sworn to secrecy!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Her name, and your secret is safe.”

Sara sighed and twisted the top off of a wine cooler. “Callie. She’s my maid of honor. You’ll be her escort at the wedding.”

He blinked, stunned. “
That’s
Callie? The schoolmarm?”

Sara huffed, offended. “Well I wouldn’t call her a schoolmarm. But yeah, she’s the girl I teach with that I’ve been trying to set you up with. And…” Sara glanced over his shoulder. She muttered, “Speak of the devil.”

He grinned at her and turned.

Oh dear God, he’s standing there.
Callie glanced up at the unattainable man talking with Sara and promptly looked back at her best friend.

“Sara, I have to go.” Holy crap, he was tall. Well over six feet, but not skinny and bony the way some tall men were. She felt a bead of sweat form between her breasts and resisted the urge to rub it away. Safer now in her swimsuit cover, she could ignore him and the insulting look he’d given her earlier.