Rhonda+Nelson+-+The+Soldier (2 page)

At ten o’clock.

It would not do.

Winnie smiled determinedly. “Mrs. McPherson, do you mind if I go try to rouse Adam?”

Seemingly pleased, she opened the door wider. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Winnie.”

Winnie nodded once, lifted her chin and started toward Adam’s room. The nerve of the man, she

thought, fuming. Here she was trying to be noble and self-sacrificing—by helping Adam reclaim

his dream she was essentially giving up hers—and he had the nerve to throw her efforts back in

her face? Didn’t the moron realize she was trying to be helpful?

To love him enough to let him

go, instead of rejoicing in the fact that he was finally home in Bethel Bay?

Rather than knock, Winnie simply opened the door and stepped inside. The sight of Adam’s

prone form nestled partly under the covers, his scarred thigh and what remained of his leg on top,

momentarily shook her resolve. She’d seen it, of course, and couldn’t begin to imagine the pain,

the agony of the injury. Emotion clogged her throat and her heart rate kicked up a notch.

“Mom, I told you to tell her—”

“I’m not your mother. And if you’re going to be rude, then you can damn well do it in person.”

Adam jerked upright and immediately pulled his injured leg under the sheet. Her chest ached.

As if she cared, Winnie thought. How could she look at him and not be grateful for the sacrifice

he’d made? Did she mourn his leg? Regret that he’d lost it? Yes.

But she was too thankful for his

service, for his sacrifice to ever be anything other than humbled.

Why couldn’t he see that? Did

he honestly think so little of her?

“Winnie?”

Ignoring his startled frown, she sidled forward and plopped lightly onto the side of his bed,

forcing him to move over. His bare chest gleamed in the dim light, wreaking havoc with her

senses and she caught a whiff of his cologne, something musky and warm. She swallowed a

groan. This would be so much easier if she didn’t ache for him so badly. If she hadn’t dreamed

of being in bed with Adam for more years than she was afraid to count.

It took every bit of strength Winnie possessed to ignore the fact that he was nearly naked and

focus on the reason she was here. Adam had spiraled into a miserable funk since Natalie and

Levi left two weeks ago.

It was time for him to snap out of it. And she had the difficult task of making that happen.

“Have I personally offended you?” she asked. “Done something to make you angry? Kicked

your dog?”

He scowled at her, his wary eyes still heavy with sleep. “I don’t have a dog.”

“I didn’t think so. So why are you avoiding me?”

Adam sighed and sank back against the headboard. A muscle worked in his angular jaw—the

man had the most amazing bone structure she’d ever seen. It was criminally unfair. “I’m not

avoiding you, Winnie.”

Even his sideburns—bronze and a little longer than what was currently fashionable—were

incredibly sexy. He was art personified. Living beauty. Simply perfect. Or at least to her,

anyway. He always had been, damn him.

“You’re not? Let’s review the evidence, shall we? I’ve been by four times since Levi and

Natalie left, at varying times of the day, and you’re always sleeping. Either you’re suffering from

an undiagnosed case of narcolepsy, or you’re avoiding me. I want to know why. We’ve been

friends for years. Not as close as you and Natalie, I’ll admit—”

Though it wasn’t easy. She’d

always envied her friend that relationship. “—but close enough that you shouldn’t be hiding

behind your mother, cowering in your bedroom like I’m some sort of stalker.”

His lips twisted into a shadow of his former grin, making her heart jump into an irregular

rhythm. “And yet you’re in my room.”

“Because you won’t come out of it. Since when are you such a coward?” she asked, purposely

using the word because she knew it would needle him.

Predictably, his expression blackened. “If

you’re angry with me, just say so. If you want me to stop trying to see you, then tell me why. It’s

not hard.”

A dark chuckle rumbled up his throat, some inside joke apparently because she didn’t see what

was remotely funny. Winnie quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation.

He shifted and adjusted the comforter over his lap. “I’m not angry with you, Winnie,” he said.

Hearing her name come from his lips in that smooth southern baritone never failed to make her

glow from the inside out. “I’m just trying to work through some things and it’s easier—”

“—in bed?” she interjected. She was inclined to agree.

He laughed and that husky chuckle made her belly turn to goo.

“No.” His gaze tangled with

hers, then dropped to her mouth. “Although that is an intriguing idea.” He rubbed a line from

between his brows. “What I was going to say is ‘to do it alone.’”

She swallowed, resisting the urge to fan herself. The innuendo in his words had her thighs

tingling. An intriguing idea indeed.

Still, having anticipated the crack-brained reasoning behind his self-imposed seclusion, Winnie

was prepared with a defense.

Adam was hurt—suffering in a way she couldn’t even begin to fathom. And, rather than inflict

his pain on everyone around him, he preferred to withdraw into his cave and endure alone. No

doubt he thought he was being noble and unselfish. She understood all of that. But his approach

wasn’t working—for him or anyone else. In fact, it was having the opposite effect. And every

day he stayed holed up in his room was one more day that put him closer to giving up on the one

thing she knew he couldn’t bear to lose.

His career.

Unlike most of the boys she’d known in high school, Adam—and Levi, as well—had always

been certain about what they’d wanted to do with their lives. With a father who’d been career

military, a man who’d spoon-fed a love of country and a sense of duty into them from the time

they were born, the brothers had always known that a life in the service would be for them, as

well.

When asked where he wanted to go to college, Adam only had one answer: The Citadel. When

questioned about which branch of the service he aspired to, he was just as brief: Army, Special

Forces. He’d never wavered, had always been so certain of his course, of the path his life would

take. She doubted that Adam had ever considered a contingency plan because there’d never been

any other option. He set a goal, developed tunnel vision and saw it through.

She’d seen it time and time again, with everything he set his mind to, whether it was obtaining

high marks in school or killing the competition on the playing field. His focus was unshakable.

She’d often longed to have some of that formidable attention directed at her. A shuddering breath

leaked out of her lungs as she imagined just what it would be like to be on the receiving end of

Adam McPherson’s unwavering attention. Having that heavy-lidded blue-green gaze locked onto

hers, the merest touch of his fingertips beneath her jaw…

At the moment she just wished he wasn’t so equally determined to avoid her.

She could help him, if he’d only let her. Though she hadn’t wanted to revert to goading him into

competition with her—her typical mode of operation in the past—

Winnie didn’t see any other

way. The direct approach wasn’t working. Thankfully, rather than being intimidated by her

athleticism, Adam had always seemed to admire that trait, a fact that warmed her to no end. He

appreciated a little friendly competition and didn’t complain—or claim to have let her won—

when she occasionally bested him at something.

Occasional was actually a stretch. She’d only beaten him once, at pool, so she wasn’t even sure

that counted.

Interestingly, where her tomboyish tendencies had turned off other guys, Adam seemed to

appreciate her capabilities. She imagined that little quirk was what had made her fall in love with

him to start with.

That…and so much more.

Though Winnie couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she’d lost her heart to Adam, the fact that

he’d owned it for the majority of the past decade couldn’t be denied. While she didn’t strictly

believe in love at first sight, she could distinctly remember the first time she’d seen Adam. And

her reaction had been even more memorable.

She’d literally frozen in her homeroom desk, a violent full-body blush staining her from one end

to the other. He’d greeted that flush of pleasurable heat with a small wondering smile and she’d

known in that single, life-changing instant that he was going to be special to her.

But if her physical reaction to Adam had been strong, then the emotional one had been almost

inhumanly persuasive. It had rendered every guy who she’d ever dated—or would date in the

future—pointless. It had fueled her dreams and shaped her fantasies. It had made her ecstatic and

miserable, lifted her up and knocked her down.

It had defined her existence.

Identifying what made Adam the perfect man for her was impossible to put into words. His

laughter made her want to sing. His character made her chest feel tight. Loyalty, integrity and

honor were all inherent in his make up. He was the kind of guy who stopped to help little old

ladies cross the street. He fought with the strong to defend the weak. He commanded respect in

other men and inspired confidence—and awe—in women.

He was categorically good to the core. That’s why she loved him, even though she knew he’d

probably never love her back, never want the home and family she longed for. That’s why she

had to help him find his way back to his dream.

A lump rose in her throat as her gaze slid over him once more.

Lines of fatigue were etched

around those unusual blue-green eyes—the shade of a clear sea—

and his perpetually smiling

mouth seemed weary of the forced grin. Rather than keep the high and tight military hair style,

Adam had let his messy bronze curls grow out over the past few months so that he more

resembled the boy she’d known.

He’d always been particularly vain when it came to his hair—and with good reason. It was truly

his crowning glory. He’d once told her that getting a military cut almost made him think twice

about joining the Army. She doubted that, but she’d shed a few tears for those gorgeous curls all

the same. Ridiculous, she thought now, to have cried over his hair when he’d sacrificed

something so much more permanent.

“So…was there a reason you dropped by? Into my bedroom?” he asked, his lips sliding into a

significant smile. A hum of electricity thrummed between them and she momentarily lost her

breath. Funny, Winnie thought. She almost imagined that he could feel it, too. The way his gaze

lingered along her throat…

Nah, she told herself. Wishful thinking. Just like the night he’d left last year when she could

have sworn that she’d felt a change in the way his arms tightened around her. It was just a

product of her ridiculous one-sided attraction. Besides, this was her opportunity.

Winnie blinked and tried to focus. “Actually, I was going to see if you could help me out. But

don’t worry about it.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I can see that you’re not up for it.” She

stood. “Maybe Mark Holbrook can—”

Adam grabbed her hand, jerked her back down onto the bed with a speed that startled her. His

eyebrows formed a hard line. “Shouldn’t you ask me first before you get a replacement?”

His fingers twined unexpectedly through hers and the sensation was so bittersweet she struggled

to focus. His hand was big and warm, calloused and curiously soft. It utterly engulfed hers and

the sensation left her feeling protected. Safe.

She frowned, determined to play her role correctly as his thumb distractingly rubbed the inside

of her wrist. “But you just said you’d rather be alone. I don’t want to interfere—”

He sighed wearily. “What do you need, Winnie?”

You, she thought, her breasts tingling. Just you. Now. Here.

She swallowed the insane urge to laugh. “I’m coaching a girl’s softball team—eleven and

twelve year-olds. Unfortunately, my assistant coach pulled a muscle in her back during batting

practice. There are three games left in the season and I could really use another pair of hands.”

Because he was frighteningly intelligent—a brilliant strategist, from what she’d heard—he

merely stared at her. “And there isn’t a parent available?”

Winnie conjured a tragic sigh. “Clearly you’ve never navigated the political environment of

girl’s softball. If I ask a parent, then I’m going to be accused of playing favorites. It’s just easier

to get outside help.” She shrugged, feigning unconcern, and started to stand again. “Seriously,

it’s not a big deal. I can ask someone else. Mark has been quite keen to—”

He pulled her down again, this time with a little more force, which sent her tumbling back onto

him. Winnie landed against his chest, her lips a mere inch from the intriguing hollow of his

collarbone. She was suddenly hit with the almost uncontrollable urge to lick that indentation, to

taste his smooth, hot skin. Desire bolted through her, making her breath come too fast, her belly

quiver. She gasped and her gaze slowly traveled along his neck, past the sharp angle of his

masculine jaw. God, how she longed—literally ached—to trace his face with her fingers, to feel

the rasp of stubble abrade her hands.