Mission Happy (A Texas Desires Novel Book 3) (14 page)

She refused to let his touch deter her from finding the answers she wanted. “You said something last night that stuck with me. What did they find on your brain? Is it bad?”

“I honestly don’t know. I feel the same as I always did. I googled a bit on my phone and it said what the doctor said: they don’t know a lot right now, just the connections to those who serve and they usually find it in a PTSD diagnosis.” His fingers fell away, much like she’d suspected they would. He didn’t like to talk about any of this.

“Are you going to get checked out further?” she asked, lifting his hand back to her breast. She didn’t want him closing her out yet.

Connor’s hand stayed on her, but he didn’t move. After about a full minute, he released her and rolled away. She watched him shift to sit on the side of the bed. When he didn’t rise, she scooted toward him and placed both hands on his shoulders. She leaned in to kiss his neck.

“I got food. I don’t know how long you’re planning on staying, but I need to get the grill lit.”

“I’m sorry for pushing. It’s none of my business,” she whispered close to his ear.

“It’s not that. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve made everything so much easier.” He turned and snaked his arms around her to draw her upper body forward toward his lap, making her sit awkwardly. She wound her arms around his neck so she wouldn’t fall, except he had a firm grip on her, bringing her chest to chest with him. “I just honestly don’t know what I’m gonna do. I don’t even know what the military’s going to expect me to do.”

“You don’t agree with anything they’re doing right now, do you?” she asked with nothing more than a gut feeling.

“No, not at all. I might have all those things, but I take my job and my life seriously. I have coping mechanisms in place that they fuckin’ taught me. I don’t deserve to be forced out. I worked hard and gave them one hundred percent of myself. And hell, they’re the ones that put me in the worst parts of the world…” He stopped speaking, clearly getting himself worked up. She could see the anger building. Normally that would have made her nervous. She didn’t do well with fury coming at her, but for some reason that didn’t seem to apply with this man. She moved her body, straddling his legs as she faced off with him.

“Keep talking, Connor. Let me help.”

He did that eye-scanning thing, looking at every part of her face again, and she simply waited for him to continue. His fingers caressing up her side to the curve of her breast told her where his thoughts had gone. “It’s hard to talk to you naked like this.”

“Try,” she encouraged.

Connor sighed, but did as she’d asked.

“I’ve spent much of the last few years in Syria. I fought, but mostly trained troops in other countries,” he explained. His palms circled her breasts and his thumbs slid across her nipples, but she ignored that, trying to keep him talking.

“So you’re extreme special forces?” she asked, surprised at his calm demeanor. She couldn’t imagine what he might have seen or the stress he’d been under while deployed.

“Pretty much. It’s why my commander fought so hard for me.” There were definitely holes in his story that would need filling, but not now, she just wanted him talking. She didn’t need specifics, only to show him she could bear some of his burden. Her hands moved over his shoulders, cupping his thick neck, and she placed a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“So something happened that caused them to doubt your ability?”

“Not even that.” That question seemed to change the calm dialog they had shared. Connor got agitated, and he moved her off him, then reached for his jeans, pulling them on commando. The muscles in his back and arms tensed, the cords on his neck tightened. She waited, feeling her own light mood slipping away as anxiety filled her. “It was a Turkish motherfucker who wanted me to kill just to kill, to teach that to his troops. He got a kick out of controlling the SEALs. I didn’t take the shot he ordered me too and he reported me.”

Connor entered the bathroom as he finished that sentence. She didn’t suspect he was coming back, so she rose and gathered her clothes. He’d cleaned himself up earlier when they’d remembered the condom, but she hadn’t. As comfortable as he made her, she didn’t like being the only one naked, so she grabbed the white T-shirt he’d worn under his sweater and put it on instead. She schooled her features and waited in the open bathroom door. When the sink faucet turned off, he tossed his toothbrush in a drawer and then finally cast his frustrated gaze to her.

“They brought me home on some R&R bullshit, then tested me because the brass believed the Turkey ambassador’s report of the events. My removal’s all political—nothing else.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not mentioning the seriousness of a PTSD diagnosis. Connor’s jerking movements halted as he approached Julia slowly until he stood directly in front of her.

“I’m… Well, I’m a lot of things. I’ve probably got PTSD. I can’t imagine I wouldn’t because of the situations I’ve been in, but I’m not down and I’m certainly not brain damaged. I’ll work through the PTSD as soon as I get through these next few weeks,” he explained very reasonably.

She nodded, unsure how to respond. For her, she wanted to offer up the money and her name…anything to give him the connections he needed for the mental health professionals to take a good look at him. He just didn’t seem the type to accept her help. She moved to the side, letting him out of the bathroom, but turned in order to stay facing him. He grabbed his sweater and started to shrug it on, but stopped. Instead, he went for his dresser, opened a drawer, and grabbed another T-shirt.

“Do you want this one?” she asked, pointing to his white T-shirt she wore. He turned back to her, his sad eyes roamed her body, and he tossed the new T-shirt on top of his dresser.

“You keep wearing that. I like it on you,” he said, that special look he gave tugged at her heartstrings. Seconds later, the look turned heated, but he did that same thing he’d done the morning they’d woken together at the hotel. She could see the strength of his mind in the way he cleared his thoughts. The lust turned into resolve, and he pointed toward the bedroom door. “I’m going to cook. Feed you, so you’re not on the road too late.”

That made her smile. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Never. You can stay the night and I’ll drive you back in the morning. You can trust that you’re safe with me. I promise I can protect you,” he said offhandedly.

He left before she had a chance to respond. She was certain he could take care of her. Julia grinned and ducked inside the bathroom. He made her feel good. What a seriously rare gift he had.

~~~

“Are you certain you like your steak medium-well? I’m pretty sure that goes against all things right in our universe,” Connor teased, grinning over her.

Julie huddled under a thick fleece blanket. By her own admission, she was freezing even with the fire pit going a few feet away and a heavy blanket wrapped around her. Julie had refused to let him move the dinner inside or to put on any more clothing than his T-shirt. It was a sweet gesture—one he liked more than he wanted to admit, because she claimed his cologne lingered on the shirt. Sweet but nuts in his opinion. He wore his lightweight sweater and still added a windbreaker. The cool front had blown through in a big way, dropping the temperature into the low fifties.

She gave a gagging expression while drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her blanket-covered arms around her legs. “I can’t believe you eat it rare. That might be a deal breaker in our budding relationship.”

He laughed at her, pulling her steak off the grill, putting it on her plate. She’d made it clear—no blood was to touch her thoroughly cooked piece of meat. Connor grinned to himself at the very emphatic side to his easygoing girl.

“I don’t know what this will taste like. I’ve never cooked a steak this long before.” He picked up both plates and moved toward the table while chuckling at his own joke. When he put the plate in front of her and went for the seat next to her, her playfully indignant gaze met his and her lips turned pouty.

“I thought you were sitting here with me to keep me warm,” she said, dropping her feet to the patio floor.

“You want me to do that while we eat?” he asked, using a hand on each chair arm to stop himself midway down.

“Of course!” she declared, bounding up.

“Okay, okay, let me cut this, first,” he said, sitting and reaching for his cutlery. “What if some of the juice drops on you?”

“You mean the blood?” she asked. He stopped seconds before he made his first cut into the meat and looked at her. She was still standing, but now she looked horrified. God, she was a cute thing.

“Yeah, what if it drops on you with all your rules that no juice can come in contact with your food,” he explained, quickly making his cuts.

“I’ll put napkins down.” She shrugged. “I like your arms around me. They’re like as big as my thighs.” She reached over to scoop the baked beans and salad onto her plate. When she got hers full, she began to put some on his plate.

“I think my biceps are actually bigger than your thighs. You’ve got little skinny legs,” he said, pushing out of his chair.

She stopped with the tongs full of lettuce close to his plate.

“Are you saying I have chicken sticks for legs?” she asked accusingly. That look of indignation might have actually been real. He laughed again, pushing his plate closer to hers as he moved.

“Calm down. You know I think you’re perfect. My bicep measured right at twenty-one inches on my last exam. I’m not sure your thighs are that big,” he said, lifting both his hands. After a second, she continued to move the tongs, adding the salad to his plate. He guessed he’d gotten the answer correct when she stepped aside to let him in her seat.

The chair fit his frame perfectly, and she snuggled down, sitting across his lap, making sure the blanket covered her completely. He reached out and scooted the table closer to them, rather than attempting to move the chair forward the few inches. He absolutely wasn’t complaining. She’d come up with the idea that they sit together when he’d first lit the grill. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and there was no way they’d eat much dinner sitting like this, but he liked having her close. She was a breath of fresh air every time he had the privilege of talking to her.

The nagging guilt didn’t seem to matter. It wasn’t fair at all to Julie to start a relationship now, but dammit, he didn’t want to let her go.

She stuck an arm out of the perfect cocoon she’d created around her body and reached for the roll of paper towels. She unrolled too many before she laid them across her blanket, then moved his plate closer to him and handed him his fork. He laughed when she placed her plate on her lap, and began arranging her food perfectly so nothing touched and then began to dive in.

“You don’t seem as cold as a few minutes ago,” he observed. The blanket had fallen off half the side of her body as she cut her steak and took a bite.

“You warm me up nicely,” she said. When she swallowed the steak, she beamed at him. “It’s delicious, Connor.”

Julie reached over, speared a huge chunk of salad, and opened her mouth wide to get it all inside. He wasn’t sure he’d ever thought the word adorable as much as he had when he was with her, but she just was. She turned back to him while chewing and gave him a quizzical look. She swallowed and brought the side of a paper towels to her lips as she spoke. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m watching you.” That seemed to make zero sense to her. She took his fork from his hand and speared a piece of his steak. She carefully led the piece to his mouth over one of the towels she’d placed over the blanket. She stopped and cringed just shy of his mouth.

“Don’t make me watch you eat it.”

He took the fork and guided it between his lips. She couldn’t go the distance, which made him want to smile even more. He reached for another bite as she did the same with the steak on her plate. “It’s incredible and so tender. Connor, you can cook!”

He liked her praise. He enjoyed cooking as a whole. When she took another bite, she rolled her eyes and her gaze landed on his. “This might be the best steak I’ve ever eaten.”

“Oh, come on now,” he said, doubting her.

“Honest to God’s truth. It’s incredible.” Just like with everything, her words seemed genuine and caressed his heart. That happiness inside him welled again, and he leaned in, kissing her full mouth.

“Thank you for coming down tonight. You make me forget everything. I feel normal, like nothing’s changed,” he said without any probing on her part. He seemed to do that a lot with her—talk more than he ever had with anyone, even Cole, and that said a lot. Her response was to stare at him and continue to chew, taking the bite she had on her fork after she swallowed. Her blanket had fallen to her waist—apparently she was no longer cold—and she lifted a paper towel, wiping at her lips while looking very serious.

“You should know, I can’t cook at all. If this continues between us, you can’t hope that we’ll cook together because it just doesn’t work for me. I try. I swear I do, but simple instructions must be hard for me. I can mess up a recipe every single time.” She nodded for good measure as she reached over for another bite of the salad.

He nodded at her seriousness. “Noted.”

“But if this does continue, I’m going to be eating really well. Does this same skill apply outside of the grill?” she asked, adding another bite of salad to her mouth.