The Long Road Home (11 page)

She shot him a teasing smile, then hurried to the passenger side, grabbed a suitcase, and stood waiting. He did the same, taking the remaining items in hand, then followed her to the front door.

Stepping inside, his eyes adjusted quickly. He found a typical living room with a couch, a couple of recliners, and one wooden rocking chair. Together, they comprised a square shape directly in front of the unlit fireplace. Thick beige carpet covered the floor as far as he could see, leading from the main room, down a hallway, and presumably into the side rooms as well. To the right, he found the entryway to the kitchen, allowing a peek at a dining table and four chairs waiting on hungry people to take a load off.

Gwen shut the door behind him and secured the lock. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you the spare bedroom."

Easily shouldering his duffel bag and the one suitcase, he trailed along, unable to keep his eyes off her swaying rear as she led the way. Damn fine ass. The curves, the solid mounds. He licked his lips and nearly plowed into her when she suddenly stopped.

She looked at him askance before shaking her head. "I hope this is okay."

Stepping around her, he entered the bedroom, noting the queen-sized bed commanding the majority of the room. An oak dresser sat to one side, the closet door to the other. Bright sunlight streamed in from a large window opposite the bed's headboard. If he slept too long, the morning light would cover him like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer.

"The bathroom is right here." Gwen set his remaining suitcase on the floor and pointed to the corner of the room.

He glanced inside and found sparkling white tile and a shower with doors, both encouraging him to shuck off his clothes, step inside, and let the hot spray warm his bones. Definitely later. After he unpacked.

Taking a moment to survey the room, his gaze automatically found his host with a nervous, concerned expression her face. Logan smiled gently. "I think it's perfect."

She sighed in relief and smiled widely. "Great."

Their gazes held for the longest time, neither one willing to break the momentary spell. "I guess you want to unpack."

"Probably should."

"Need some help?"

The image of her fondling his boxers came to mind, sending a cascade of desire over him. "Nah. I've got it."

"Sure?"

"Yep."

With a wave of her hand, Gwen started backing toward the door. "If you need help, just holler."

"Okay."

She thunked into the doorjamb with a thud.

Logan's lips twitched.

"I'll go… check the food." She turned and hurried out.

He shook his head, chuckled, and tossed a suitcase on the wedding ring quilt covering the bed. One thing was for certain. He'd never be bored with Gwen around. Without further ado, he unzipped the bag and began unpacking.

By the time he finished the chore, a delicious aroma led him directly to the kitchen. "Homemade bread."

Gwen grinned at him, a metal pan with a golden brown loaf in her hot-pad clad hands. "I did promise."

"That you did." His mouth watered at the tantalizing scent, combined with the beauty that appeared quite at home in the kitchen. Walking to the fridge, he pulled the door open, found the butter, and plucked the small tub from the shelf. Setting his find on the small dining table, he went in search of utensils, guided by Gwen's gesture as she dumped the hot bread onto a waiting platter. No sooner had she cut several slices than he spread margarine over each one. Snatching the first piece, he took a large bite, closed his eyes, and groaned with pleasure. "Fantastic. Store-bought bread will always pale in comparison."

She followed suit, taking a smaller nibble. "I agree." Swallowing, she sank her teeth in once more. "How did it go with your parents? You sounded a bit tense before."

He shrugged and finished chewing. "Strained, I guess. They love and support me, but they're having problems adjusting to my disability."

"I'm sure it's hard for them. Parents will always worry about their kids. At least that's what my mother tells me."

He nodded. Presently, he had enough issues of his own adapting to the new normal, he wasn't about to try to shoulder more with his parents' concerns.

"Maybe they just need some time?" She sliced the rest of the loaf and dug through the cabinet until she stood up, a plastic storage bag in hand.

Finishing the first slice, he picked up another and slathered on the butter. Why did everyone always want to discuss his leg? "Probably." He caught the slight crease of her eyebrows and the pinching of her lips. So he came across a bit curt. His own feelings were still a little raw. Belaboring the topic wasn't helping.

"Do you want to go out or stay in tonight?" She flashed him a small smile and proceeded to stuff the remainder of the bread into the bag, leaving the end open most likely to allow for cooling.

Relieved with the change of topic, he placed the butter knife in the sink and slipped the lid back on the tub. "It's Sunday night. Probably not much to do out on the town."

"True. Good thing there's a gazillion college football bowl games on TV." She stared at him a long moment before returning the butter to the fridge. "I recall you just happen to like college football."

He smiled wide. "Oh, yeah." How long had it been since he'd spent an evening doing nothing but watching football? Too damned long. "Wonder who's playing?"

"No clue. However, I purchased the whole ESPN package two days ago. So there should be plenty of games to keep you occupied."

He blinked, then wrapped her up in a tight embrace, chuckling when she squealed at his fast action. Meeting her gaze, he nuzzled his nose against hers before gently meshing their lips. Slowly and lazily, he kissed her for the longest time, asking no more than she share this special moment. She met him with enthusiasm, following eagerly as he schooled her in the fine art of kissing. Licking her bottom lip, he took advantage of her sudden gasp, inserting his tongue between her lips. Searching and exploring, he tasted butter and sweetness, a heady combination that had him deepening the show of affection. He tapped her tongue, entreated her to a quick wrestling match, and sought the recesses of her mouth, eager to explore every nook and cranny.

Gwen's eyes sparkled as she tried to catch her breath. Pink stained her cheeks. Never had he seen a more beautiful sight.

"Thank you."

"For what?" she whispered.

"For remembering how I love football and doing something about it. For inviting me to stay with you. For caring."

A ghost of a smile covered her lips. "And I thank you."

He tilted his head in question.

She met his gaze steadily. "For inviting me to stay with you during the ice storm. For your service and for your dedication to be the best you can be. For adding spice to my boring, vanilla life."

Her words buoyed his heart, strengthened his resolve, and lit a tiny flame of hope through him. With one more chaste kiss, he linked his fingers with hers and led her from the room.

"You've done enough work for today. Let's go see what games we can catch."

"What if we're rooting for opposing teams?"

He grinned like a Cheshire cat and pulled her down next to him on the couch, grabbed the remote, and turned the television on. "When the team you dislike scores, I'll give you a commiserative kiss."

Her eyebrow shot up. "And if my team scores?"

"I hope you'll do the same."

"I like it." She seemed to ponder the arrangement for a few seconds. "What does the winner of the game get?"

"A trip to second base?" He waggled his eyebrows.

She giggled and leaned against his side. "You're on."

Reclining against the back of the couch, he pulled Gwen close and counted his lucky stars. No one knew what the future would bring. He could only live in the present, but tonight looked pretty damn good.

* * * *

"Faster! Run faster! Catch him!" Gwen fisted her hands and hollered at the television.

"Go. Go. Go." Logan sat beside her, cheering his team on. "Yes!" He grinned brightly as his man crossed the goal line, scoring the winning touchdown as time ran out.

Gwen shook her head. "No fair. Your guys were faster than mine." Her smile matched his as she soaked up his excited and enthusiastic mood. Throughout the game, each time a team had scored, they'd kissed. What began as chaste pecks, soon turned to deeper, more intimate explorations, the last one leaving her breathless.

He snorted. "Your offensive line outweighed mine by an average of fifty pounds."

"Size isn't everything, you know," she answered, tongue in cheek.

He barked with laughter. "Do tell."

Her face heated. She couldn't resist teasing Logan, anything to keep the amusement painted on his face, the twinkling in his eyes, and the wide grin on his face. After everything he'd been through, she wanted to make up for some of the sadness with an abundance of happiness.

"Well…"

Leaning closer, he rubbed his nose against hers. "Well?"

Squirming with the risqué topic, she decided a distraction was in order. "I don't think you have anything to worry about in the size department." Glancing down at his crotch, she raised an eyebrow. "You know. Big hands and big feet mean…" Taking his hand in hers, she compared the size of their palms. His easily covered hers and then some.

"He's a strange-looking dude?" Logan grinned.

She shook her head and giggled. "Not quite what I was going for." Sealing her lips over his, she softly initiated a gentle kiss. He quickly took control, licked her bottom lip, then surged in when she mewed in encouragement. His tongue greeted hers, then delved deep, as if needing to taste her farthest reaches once more. In turn, she followed his lead, giving back with gusto and fiery passion. The television forgotten, her world narrowed down to Logan and his skillful touches.

A need of oxygen forced them apart. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes to read his face. Half-lidded eyes met hers, full of sensual delight, carefully banked fire, and a hot desire for more of the same. She was happy to comply.

"It means you're one hunk of a man that I'd like to taste again."

He groaned, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her down for another glorious merging of their mouths. "Happy to oblige a beautiful woman any day."

She nipped at his lips. "Just any woman?"

The corners of his mouth curled up. "Just you, Gwen. You and only you."

"Good. 'Cause I want only you, too." Without another word, she returned to the ever wonderful task of kissing him senseless.

Chapter 20

Nine the next morning, he followed a medical assistant from the physician's exam room, down a long hallway, and through a set of double doors marked "Physical Therapy."

"This is the main physical therapy gym. Let's see. Tyler should be around here somewhere," the short brunette in scrubs rattled on.

"Tyler?"

She nodded and waved across the vast room filled with weight machines, treadmills, and a large array of other work out equipment. Probably nearly two dozen men were scattered across the area, some resting, others working. Workers wearing bright yellow oxfords with the red letters "STAFF" and name badges moved from person to person.

"Tyler is the head physical therapist. He sees everyone on their first visit, checks the doctor's recommendations, assesses your needs and abilities, and then constructs a physical therapy regimen designed just for you."

The man in question stepped from behind a treadmill and started their way. While a few inches shorter, Tyler carried his strength in leanness, resembling a long distance runner. Short, dark hair topped his head, matching dark brown eyes.

Logan blinked. Tyler's loose shorts did little to cover his above the knee amputation and resulting prosthesis. Despite the artificial leg, the man moved with ease and very little limp.

Damn impressive.

"Tyler, this is Logan. It's his first day."

Tyler held out his hand, which Logan immediately shook, noticing the tight grip and friendly grin on the man's face. "Good to meet you." The cute assistant handed over a pile of papers to the physical therapist, spun on her heel, and showed herself out.

Logan nodded and absently watched her go before turning his attention back to Tyler. "You too." He gestured toward the other man's prosthesis. "If you don't mind my asking…"

"Roadside bomb in Afghanistan nearly six years ago."

"Which unit?"

"Fifteenth Marine Expeditionary Unit."

Logan whistled low. "First ones in."

"Yep." Tyler raked Logan with a professional interest. "How about you?"

"Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment." He glanced away. "Until about three months ago, that is."

Tyler shook his head. "First lesson. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger."

"I wish I could believe that." The truthful words poured from his broken spirit. He felt a small jolt as the therapist slapped him on the shoulder.