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Authors: Mary Calmes

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BOOK: Tied Up in Knots
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Getting out, I grabbed the umbrella behind the seat and went to dart around the side to cover Ian, but he threw open the door, yanked his now soggy duffel from the bed of the truck, and started charging down the sidewalk toward home.

Locking the vehicle with the remote, I jogged after him, but when I tried to cover his head, he batted the umbrella away.

“Why’re you being an ass now?” I shouted over the sound of the driving rain.

He rounded on me. “If it’s not worth it, we should just call it quits already,” he barked.

I was stunned… for a second. And then I felt the anger wash through me, over me, spread to my tightening gut and up into my throat I could barely get sound out of.

“If you want out, be out,” he said flippantly. “But the bitching about me serving my country is killing me.”

The serving his country part was a nice dig.

“Did you hear me?” he asked curtly.

“I did,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “And yeah, I’m out.”

His eyes went wide as I pivoted and stalked down the street.

Chickie met me at the front door, but instead of petting him, I wrenched him outside by his collar and pointed him down the street.

“Look, it’s Daddy,” I choked out and watched as the werewolf flew down the stoop, heading for Ian.

Slamming the door shut behind me, I turned on the lights, hurled the umbrella into the stand, kicked off my sneakers, and headed upstairs. I had my coat hung up and everything that was wet off my body when I heard the front door bang shut.

“The fuck are you doing?” he roared up at me.

Standing beside the railing on the loft, staring down into the living room at him, I realized he was shaking. Hard to tell if he was cold or mad, but I was guessing a little of both.

“You—” I started but stopped, unable, even in the midst of a crisis, not to smile.

“The hell are… you… oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Chickie.

He was so happy to see Ian, he was jumping up and down beside him. He wasn’t touching Ian, but he was obviously so excited, so over the moon, that he could barely stand it, and as a result, he was doing a really good kangaroo impersonation. The height he was reaching was impressive.

Up and down, over and over, the epitome of joyful delight.

Stupid dog.

Ian did a slow turn, and Chickie whimpered and whined, stopped hopping for a second and made a circle, singing to his master in a sweet low howl he normally saved for serenading Sajani before he put his front paws on Ian’s shoulders and licked his face all over.

The chuckle that came out of me was involuntary, but watching Chickie bounce around, there was no way to keep a straight face.

“Get down,” Ian grumbled as he petted his wet dog and tried to wipe rain and dog slobber off his face with his own dripping sleeve.

“You should take a shower,” I told him. “I’ll come down and dry off Chick.”

His head snapped up. “How could you just say—”

“How could you,” I fired back, leaning over the railing. “That was bullshit and you know it, but you said it anyway because you’re mad at the situation and taking that crap out on me.”

His glare was dark.

“I’ve never once said I didn’t want you, not ever. Do I get the whole putting yourself in danger all the time? No, I don’t. Do I get you signing up to be away from me? No, I don’t get that either,” I growled. “What I
do
get is that you feel like you have to because you’re the only one who can. And even though I think that’s a helluva lot of ego there—because I’m betting there are others just as trained up as you—I get that if something ever were to happen and you weren’t there, you’d feel guilty for the rest of your life.”

“Ego?”

I made a noise in the back of my throat and turned to go to the bathroom. “Fine, if that’s your only takeaway, I—”

“Don’t you dare move!”

“Then listen to me, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled at him as I turned.

He threw up his hands in reply.

“Where the combat is concerned, yeah, I think that’s your ego at work,” I retorted, not backing down. “Because the only place you’re not replaceable, where no one else will do, is right here with me. Here, at home—you’re it, and if you’re too stupid to—”

“Shut up,” he rasped, his jaw clenching as he inhaled a breath through his nose.

I crossed my arms and waited.

“I’m a soldier.”

I was going to tell him I knew that already, but he lifted a hand to keep me quiet.

“First before anything, that’s what I am,” he ground out, flicking his gaze up to meet mine. “It’s not going to change.”

“But that doesn’t mean that’s all you are because you yourself have told me it’s not.”

It took him a moment before he gave me a nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“And I know you’re not going to change being a soldier.” That hurt. It did. I felt in my heart that he wouldn’t stop doing it for me on the chance his commitment could mean his death. I was certainly taking a backseat to his military career, if I chose to think of it that way. But the other way to see Ian’s choice was through his eyes. Being a Green Beret was part of who he was, long before he met me. It was what made Ian, Ian. His promise to his country meant the world to him, and who was I to make him give that up? And if he didn’t do it, would he still be the man I loved?

“Miro?”

I refocused on him.

“Do you still want me if this is your life?”

I scowled at him and I saw him swallow, watched his throat work, from where I was.

“Yes, Ian,” I replied soberly, feeling the tightening in my jaw, the burn behind my eyes. “I want you, and that’s never gonna change.”

He stood below me, not moving, simply giving me his patented blank stare.

“But let’s not pretend I don’t care and that I’m happy about it. You’re the one who’s gotta think, is this going to be too hard for me to know that; yes, he supports me, but he hates it when I’m gone?”

“I—”

“No, you have to really think about it.”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

I shivered because I was in underwear and a T-shirt and nothing else.

“You being upset ’cause I’m leaving you and missing me and waiting for me to come back—I’m thinking there are worse things.”

I grunted and then gestured at the dog. “You get to dry him now; I’ma take a shower and then I’ll make some dinner.”

He nodded and left for the laundry room where Chickie’s towel was hanging from a peg by the back door.

I was freezing, so instead of putting on clothes, I took a really hot, really fast shower. I was drying off when the bathroom door opened and Ian came through.

“It’s all yours,” I said, stepping aside.

He barred my path.

I stopped towel drying my hair and looked at him.

Ian had beautiful eyes that were this clear, vivid blue, creased in the corners by the greatest laugh lines anyone had ever seen. At the moment, though, they were marked with worry and pain. I felt like crap knowing I was some of the reason.

“I hate that you’re a reservist,” I blurted.

“I know.”

“But don’t ever confuse that with how I feel about you.”

He nodded.

“Are we clear?”

Second nod.

I went to move around him, but again, he stepped into my path. When I smiled, I heard his sigh of relief. “I wanna feed you so you’ll still think it’s a good thing to have me pick you up at the airport.”

He closed the slight distance between us and put his hands on my hips. “It’ll always be a good idea. I’m sorry I didn’t do it before.”

The silky rasp of his voice made my pulse jump, and I moved that quickly from how sweet the man was, to how sexy, to how long it had been since he was in my bed.

When he touched me, the groan that came out of me was needy and desperate. The dirty grin I got from Ian, all heat and lust, sent blood rushing to my cock.

“Oh yeah, I had different plans,” he husked, leaning in and taking my mouth in a hungry kiss that left no question of what those were.

But my brain was playing the conversation over and over and my heart was hurting, so just because he got what he wanted didn’t mean I was ready to go all warm and willing on him.

Easing him off me, I tried to smile and left the bathroom, promising him food as I went.

“What was that?” he asked, stalking around in front of me as I reached our closet. An armoire that held underwear, briefs, and T-shirts, as well as socks, stood inside of it because we’d needed more space. Well, I had. Ian’s wardrobe was minimalist to say the least.

“What was what?”

He studied me a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. “What’re you gonna make?”

I sighed, thankful that he wasn’t pushing. “Aruna made roasted jerk chicken with carrots and potatoes for us. All I have to do is warm it up.”

“When did she bring that over?”

“Yesterday,” I said, shucking the towel and pulling on a pair of briefs. “And oh, I gotta tell you something.”

He listened as I told him about Janet being pregnant and then smiled as I gently patted his cheek before ducking out of the room.

I darted back into the bathroom just to use the requisite items so I didn’t smell and my hair didn’t stick straight up. Down in the kitchen a few minutes later, I was going to open a bottle of wine, but thought better of it because Ian wasn’t a fan.

“Hey.”

I walked into the living room so I could look up at him in the loft. I was surprised he was standing there naked, and it hurt to see so many new bruises. There were also stiches beneath his collarbone on the right side.

“That looks bad,” I said, pointing.

“That’s what you’re looking at?” he teased, the grin absolutely lethal.

I gave him a shrug.

“Tough room.”

“You could have been killed.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It needed a needle and thread.”

“A long time ago,” he informed me.

“Couldn’t have been that long.”

“Can you just drop it?”

I turned to go back in the kitchen.

“Hello.”

Stopping, I gave him my attention again.

“Are you going to lighten up?”

I remained silent.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come home at all.”

Any word out of my mouth I would instantly regret, so I swallowed down the attack and kept my eyes locked on him as I crossed my arms. It was a low blow, and childish, and I wanted to climb the stairs and both beat him and hug him as hard as I could.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, so that was a shitty thing to say.”

I lifted one eyebrow in complete agreement.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Really shitty.”

I felt like I was standing in the middle of a minefield. Any way I turned, there could be another explosion, so I kept quiet, jaw clenched, focusing on that, on being still, instead of blowing up and venting my frustration all over him.

“So, uhm, do we have anything to drink?”

It took a second for me to speak, and when I did, my voice sounded strained and filled with gravel. “I have all kinds of beer for you.”

“Do we have any of the KBS left?” he asked hopefully.

“We do.”

“That’s what I want,” he almost whimpered.

“You got it. Shower,” I commanded before returning to the kitchen.

Things felt odd, unbalanced, like we were off somehow, and I wanted to fix it but I wasn’t exactly sure how to do that. How did you restore normalcy after that talk?

 

 

I WAS
tossing a salad when the doorbell rang. It was Saturday night, a little after nine, so it was a strange to have someone there, but since Chickie got up and rambled to the door, taking his sweet time, not barking, I figured whoever it was, he knew.

Checking the peephole, I found Barrett Van Allen. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of what looked like Chinese food in the other.

“Aww shit,” I said as I opened the door. “Did we have plans that I spaced on?”

“Nice greeting,” he teased, smacking my abdomen as he chuckled and walked by me into the house. He didn’t wait for an invite. We’d already established on a number of occasions that he didn’t need one, and he petted Chickie as he passed. “And no, man, how could we? You just got back. But I saw your light on when I got home from work, figured there was nothing in your fridge, and thought I’d help you out.”

It was thoughtful of him and one of the many reasons I’d grown to like him since he’d moved in next door a little more than three months ago.

“But it smells great in here already,” he said, passing me the bottle of the Trimbach Gewurztraminer he knew I liked. “And since I don’t hear any jazz and you’re cooking—is your guy back?”

“Yeah, Ian’s home.”

“Oh, then I’ll go,” he said, trying to give me the bag of food as well. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

I shook my head, holding the bottle out to him. “Don’t worry about it, but take this with you so you—”

“Hello.”

We turned to see Ian in a white T-shirt and jeans, standing at the top of the stairs.

“Hey.” Barrett smiled at him. “Sorry to intrude. Just dropping off some alcohol and takeout.”

Ian smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he descended. He glanced at Chickie, who was standing beside Barrett, letting him scratch behind his ears, and then padded across the floor in his bare feet to join us.

He reached out, and he and Barrett shook hands.

“Ian, this is Barrett Van Allen. He bought the house on the left,” I explained. “And Barrett, this is Ian Doyle, who you’ve heard all about.”

“I have,” he replied affably. “It’s good to meet you, marshal.”

Ian nodded and withdrew his hand, taking the bottle of wine Barrett had brought over from me. “I heard what you said, and you’re right, there’s no jazz on. Miro thinks I don’t like it, but I just like my music better.”

Barrett chuckled. “Well, I have to tell you, Miro had the windows open the day I moved in, and the music was coming out of here along with the smell of—what was it?” he asked, turning to me, hand on my bicep.

“Pot roast,” I supplied, remembering.

“That’s right,” he sighed, and I heard the regard in his voice, the warmth and contentment. “And the mix of the two of them, and then Miro out back throwing the ball for your werewolf—I felt better than I had in months.”

BOOK: Tied Up in Knots
6.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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