It’s Like That (15 page)

Callie closed her eyes, remembering what actually did it. “Nah, you already know what does it for me.”

“Yeah,” he groaned, “I know. Listen, Callie, I’ve got to get off the phone before I’m tempted to have the first ever phone sex of my life. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“All right. I…” She hesitated and finally said, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby. Bye.”

“Bye.” She hung up the phone and held it to her chest tightly, as though she could feel him over the distance.

Suddenly inspired by his request for the pink heels, she darted out the front door and ran across the small lawn that separated her half of the duplex from Rebecca’s. She knocked and waited, practically bouncing.

Rebecca jerked the door open and with a wide smile asked, “How did it go?”

“Fantastic!” Callie grinned and slipped inside. “But I need a favor…”

Chris scratched absently at the scar running down his face and surveyed the tiny barracks room he’d been issued. They’d put him in single seaman temporary housing with a whole slew of new arrivals to the base.

He didn’t mind; he really didn’t. But most of them were kids, and they looked at him like he was some kind of hero. There had been whispers as the admiral showed him to his room and several knocks on his door since he’d arrived. No one had wanted anything more important than to offer him a beer.

He’d been tempted to accept the first few offers, but irritated by the fourth time. He checked his watch for what was probably the tenth time. Twenty fifty. Winslow would be here by 2100 hours with his truck and he could go to Callie’s. He set his jaw, tense with the anticipation of getting the hell out of here.

Even if he’d been planning on staying in the barracks, he would have changed his mind when he saw the bed. It was a single bed with a blue foam mattress. And it wasn’t an inch over six feet long. He was six-four. His feet would dangle unless he bent his knees and curled up.

Normally that wouldn’t be so bad, but he’d spent more time on his knee today than he had in his therapy thus far, and it was throbbing with each step. The three-hour ride in the van was to blame. He’d spent the entire time unable to straighten his legs. Keeping the knee bent for that amount of time had caused a persistent ache to settle that he couldn’t get rid of. Besides, he’d spent nine months sleeping in filth, curled on his side or chained on his knees. He wanted to stretch out.

So no way was he sleeping on that tiny excuse for a bed tonight.

A low whistle pierced through the hall, loud enough that he heard it clearly despite the closed door. He grinned. Winslow’s calling sign. He gave a responding whistle and was surprised when he heard several of his team members respond.

He jerked the door open and was taken aback by what he saw. His entire team stood in the hallway in their dress whites. When Winslow saw him, he brought them all to attention quickly.

Chris’ breath stuck in his throat.

“Lieutenant Christopher Paulson,” Winslow began, his voice cracking slightly. Chris understood, and didn’t judge him for it. “Please accept our eternal gratitude for your exhibition of extraordinary heroism.” He broke his stance for a moment and said, “You saved my life, sir. And I am proud to inform you that you have received an award nomination for the Navy Cross.”

Chris nodded, having trouble reconciling this stiff, formal group of men with the group of men he’d partied with, drank with, and worked with. He put on the brakes, rewinding what Winslow had just said.

“Whoa, did you say…” He shook his head in disbelief and then started over. “Did you say the Navy Cross?”

Winslow nodded and said, “Yes, sir. The Navy Cross.”

Chris blinked several times. Holy shit, a Navy Cross! That was just one step down from a Medal of Honor. He’d known he’d have something after this whole ordeal but, shit…a Navy Cross?

Suddenly, the award and the stiff formality were too much, and he pulled Winslow into a rough hug and clapped him hard on the shoulder.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He pulled away and looked at each man standing in front of him. “I mean that. For any one of you.” He put his hand on Winslow’s shoulder and said, “You guys are my family. And I know any of you would have done it for me too.”

They all nodded uncomfortably, and Chris grinned and put them out of their misery. “At ease, guys.”

He only spent about an hour with his team, but promised them all they’d get together for a drink the following week. As they were leaving, Winslow pressed his truck keys into his hand and said, “Promise me that you can drive.”

Chris nodded and said, “Yeah man, it’s the left knee. It’s not gonna bother me to drive.”

Winslow nodded and turned, walking only a few steps before stopping and speaking quietly over his shoulder. “She mourned you, Chris. She was basically the walking dead. She didn’t come back to life until I told her you were alive.” He turned to face his friend fully. “Promise me you won’t hurt her. She’s my wife’s best friend. I don’t know how I’ll look her in the face again if you hurt her.”

Chris took a deep breath and blew it out in a frustrated sigh. He’d been warned not to hurt Callie by so many people that he was beginning to wonder if they all thought he was a complete and total ass. “Look, Alan…” He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. He contemplated for a moment, his hands on his hips, staring at the ground. Finally deciding to just be honest, he said low enough that he couldn’t be heard by anyone else, “I’m in just as deep as she is. I promise.”

Alan nodded once and then turned without another word and left. Chris jingled his keys absently for a few seconds, considering what to take with him to Callie’s. It took him less than ten minutes to pack a bag. After all, he didn’t really have much. Just a few T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, and his shaving kit.

He got in his truck and started it, rubbing his hands over the steering wheel and leather seats. He loved his truck. He’d carefully chosen every detail and saved for two years so he could buy it outright. It was his baby. He loved the way the Flowmaster pipes purred when he started it and revved the engine. He loved how he could drive anywhere he felt like, thanks to the lift kit and four-wheel drive. He even loved the way the shadowed Chevy emblem stood out against the charcoal gray color.

But he didn’t want to spend any more time loving his truck tonight. He had something better to love. He scrolled through his short contact list on his newly acquired cell phone. He found her name and dialed. She answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was husky, drowsy from sleep, and he felt guilty for waking her.

“Hi. I’m home. Got my truck back.” He grinned and said, “And a phone, obviously. Would you like some company?”

“Mmmm,” she moaned, and went silent for a minute.

“Callie?” His heartbeat picked up speed out of a confused combination of fear and arousal.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice still husky and soft. “I was stretching.” He heard her yawn and stifled his own responsive yawn. “Yeah, come on over. I’ve been on the edge of my seat all day.”

“Me too, baby. Hey, give me your address again. It’s been a while.” He popped open his center console, and sure enough, his pen and writing pad were still there.

“417 A, Terrace Drive,” she murmured.

He didn’t bother writing it down. A folded page marked where he’d written it down so long ago when he’d taken her on their first date.

“ETA twenty minutes.” He tossed the pen and pad back into the console and closed it.

“I guess ETA means ‘I’ll be there in…’ twenty minutes?”

He grinned. With most people, it was irritating when he had to explain military lingo. But Callie could make a guess and come up right at least 50 percent of the time. “Yeah. Be there in twenty, baby.”

“Mmmmkay,” she muttered. “Bye.”

He hung up and put his truck in gear. About halfway to her house he passed a drugstore and pulled into the empty lot and parked. He sat there in his truck for at least five minutes arguing with himself.

He finally decided it was better to be prepared and two minutes later pulled back onto the road with two boxes of condoms riding along with him. They’d talked about slowing down, and he’d meant it. But he didn’t trust himself to actually follow through, and he wanted to be prepared. Just in case.

Callie’s duplex wasn’t hard to find this time. He didn’t even pull up his GPS, since he remembered the turns when he got to them. He took the condoms with him, still hidden in the bag, and knocked on her door with his stomach in knots. He didn’t know if it was the condoms that were the cause, or if he was just nervous. He scoffed. He was a SEAL. Navy SEALs didn’t have nerves. They have rebar-enforced steel.

The door opened and he amended his previous thought. Other Navy SEALs might not have nerves, and he might be lacking them on occasion. But when Callie opened her door wearing…that …Oh yeah. He definitely had nerves. And they were on fucking fire.

* * * *

When Callie hung up the phone she lay in bed for a total of thirty seconds before leaping up and getting ready. She slipped on the lacy black teddy Rebecca had talked her into, brushed her hair, and slipped on the hot pink heels and anklet Chris had specifically requested. She’d been mortified browsing in the plus-sized section of the adult novelty store, and she and Rebecca had engaged in a heated argument over why it wasn’t just called “Dildos R Us,” but she’d caved and bought it anyway. The guy at the counter had been creepy, smirking at her as he totaled her purchase. But Rebecca had given him a nasty look, and they’d left without comment or incident.

Now if Chris liked the damn thing, it would all be worth it. She jumped when he knocked on the door and tottered through the house on the heels, trying to get her balance and get used to walking in them again. She made a couple of laps around her coffee table before she was satisfied enough to actually open the door. When she opened the door her breath caught in her throat. He was so delicious. A gray shirt hugged his muscled chest and faded jeans rode low on his hips. A lazy smile froze on his face as he took in her appearance. She held her breath and catalogued his face as his gaze roamed down her body.

The low neckline of the negligee plunged, revealing enough cleavage that very little was left to the imagination. The fabric gathered just beneath her breasts with a tiny ribbon and filmy see-through fabric formed the baby-doll bottom. A pair of underwear that was little more than just three strings completed the ensemble if you didn’t count the heels.

His smile faded a little more as he took in each aspect of the teddy and was replaced by a serious, intent stare when he reached the shoes. She guessed he was counting the shoes.

“Fuck.” The word came out hoarse and drawn out, as though it had two syllables instead of one. He suddenly jerked his eyes back to hers and she took an instinctive step back.

He glanced behind him as a car drove by slowly and then bit out, “Get the fuck inside. Now.”

She obeyed, confused by the barely leashed violence simmering in his eyes. She reached her hand out, almost but not quite touching him. “Chris?” she whispered, worried that this had been a bad, bad choice.

He closed the door behind him and locked it, dropping his bag and taking a deep breath before turning almost in slow motion to face her.

“What the fuck do you mean, opening the door like that?” Suddenly, he was right in front of her, jerking her into his arms, and she hadn’t even known he was going to move. “Someone could have seen you!” he growled, baring his teeth. His hands bit into her back, pulling her so tightly against him she couldn’t breathe. “No one gets to see you like this but me.
Capiche
?”

“Chris, I…” She faltered, not sure what to say, not sure why he was so angry. Was this PTSD? She’d heard about it and read about it, but never met anyone suffering from it. She knew about the irrational anger and mood swings, but not how to deal with it. So she decided to do the only thing that made even a little bit of sense, and she placated him. “I’m sorry, Chris. It won’t happen again.” She tried her best to keep her voice even and soothing, when what she really wanted to do was smack him.

His eyes smoldered down at her for another minute before he took a deep breath. His eyes widened and he released her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her. “Jesus, Callie, I…” He looked around, a little lost. “I…I…” he began, so obviously unsure of himself that her heart broke.

She put her hands on his shoulders and stroked him, running her hands down to his elbows and back up to rest on his shoulders before repeating the action. “It’s okay, Chris.”

He inhaled a sharp, shaky breath and wrapped his arms around her waist. The gentleness of this embrace was startling compared to the previous embrace, and Callie pulled his head down to her shoulder and whispered soft words in his ear.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not mad.” She rocked him gently until he pulled away and reached for his cane. She hadn’t even noticed he’d leaned it just inside the door.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and stared at the overnight bag he’d dropped. “I am so sorry, Callie. I just…I don’t know. You look amazing and that car drove by, and I thought someone else might have…”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, placing a finger against his lips. “I know.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled her tighter into his embrace. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swear I’m not a mean man. I’m not overly possessive or jealous. I don’t know where all this is coming from.”

She pulled back and framed his face with her hands. “Don’t you? Chris, you were held against your will for nine months. You’re going to have some issues coming back. If you thought you could just come back and every part of your life would be exactly the same…well, you were fooling yourself.” She watched him carefully, keeping her eyes on his, hoping he could read in her expression how much she cared.

He shook his head and closed his eyes before resting his forehead against hers. “I know,” he whispered. “I just thought that you and me…that we’d be the only thing that it couldn’t touch.”