Читать книгу The Re-Enlisted Groom - Amy Fetzer J. - Страница 11

Two

In the rescue station, Kyle stared at the men and women relaxing in the worn leather sofas and chairs arranged around a couple of coffee tables.

“Okay, so what are you guys not telling me?” he said after another crew member refused to trade sleeping arrangements with him. He was willing to sleep anywhere if it meant he didn’t have to look at Maxie before coffee. Unfortunately no one was cooperating.

“Parrish is a lousy cook,” a man finally admitted, sinking back into the body-molding leather chair.

“You know this for a fact?” The idea that half of these men knew Maxie’s cooking soured his mood even further.

A few exchanged knowing glances. “Reputations have a way of escalating.”

“So don’t eat at her place.”

“I could say the same to you, Hayden,” his temporary boss, Jackson Temple, said on a laugh as he passed the cluster of personnel.

Kyle made a frustrated sound. “Look, I’ll make switching worth it.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

Hoots and whistles sounded seconds later. Kyle didn’t have the sense to be embarrassed. Seeing Maxie on a regular basis was too unpleasant to even consider.

“Watch out, folks, he’s desperate,” someone said.

A black-haired man frowned curiously. “How much we talking here, Hayden?”

“A hundred?” Good Lord, he sounded pathetic, Kyle thought.

“Food mean that much to you, flyboy?” came from another team member.

“No,” he muttered, fisting cash. His sanity did.

“Then why?”

Jackson Temple cleared his throat, then nodded slightly at the doors.

The conversation died a quick, painful death as Kyle looked up, his gaze colliding with a pair of green eyes so aloof he couldn’t begin to speculate on what she was thinking. He only knew that she’d heard. Everything.

Then she crossed to the office and murmured smugly, “Bet the back seat of that chopper’s looking real good right now,” as she passed him.

Kyle closed his eyes briefly, feeling like a heel. He didn’t know if it was the smirk on her face she tried to pass off as a smile or the way she brushed aside the discussion he was a jackass for even starting with people he’d just met, but these were her friends. He didn’t want to embarrass her. What went on between them had nothing to do with the life she’d made for herself here.

Kyle jammed his cash into his pocket and waved off a crewman who looked guilty enough to concede. He looked up as she shut the office door, closing Jackson in with her. Through the glass, she met his gaze, her expression unreadable. It was hard to believe she was the same woman who’d turned to liquid heat in his arms a couple hours ago, and just the memory, the taste of her still on his lips, made his body tighten. Then she closed the blinds, shutting him out. Nothing new there, he thought, moving to a soda machine and dropping change into the slot, nearly knocking the thing over when he punched his selection. He had to get out of this somehow, he thought, pulling the tab and tipping it to his lips. He drained the soda, trying not to look at the office door, to the room where she was hiding from him. Again.

Inside the office, Maxie paced, not even bothering to take off her parka. On the way over, she’d radioed Jackson and without revealing why, she’d told him she didn’t want Kyle at her place. Jackson wasn’t cooperating.

“I thought you were my friend, Jackson. Move him to a hotel.”

The team chief chuckled, his chair creaking as he leaned back and watched her eat the carpet with her strides. “You’ve had boarders before, Parrish, what’s the deal?” She paused and leveled him a dark look, and the older man cringed dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Okay, okay, I won’t pry. Not that you’d ever give details.”

“You made the assignment.” She slapped her hands down on the desk and loomed. “Change it.”

“I can’t. There was no other choice.” He waved to the charts.

“There has to be.” Maxie already recognized the danger of being in the same state with Kyle, let alone seeing him every day, all day until his contract with the rescue team was finished.

“Not for a chopper. Fuel is too expensive to have him land anywhere else. Your ranch is the best place to set one down. Close. Low wind, lots of unobstructed area. You know that.” Her expression pleaded for a little understanding, and Jackson frowned. “I’ve never seen you like this, Maxine. He’s got you scared.”

She blinked, straightening. Scared? Of Kyle? She peeled off her jacket and tossed it aside before she plopped onto the sofa. Bracing her boots on the scarred table, she folded her arms over her middle and stared at nothing. She was not afraid of him. Just of him touching her. Her mind went blank when he did. And she couldn’t afford a single incoherent thought, for her daughter’s sake. Mimi depended on her mom keeping it together.

For the ride over here, for the time it took to feed and water the horses and mules on loan here, she’d done nothing but brood and stomp around, having herself a real nice pity party. She was glad Mimi was at her grandma’s for the next couple of days or she would be deflecting questions instead of old feelings. Mimi had a talent for seeing to the center of a problem and pestering till she had the entire truth. Or telling Maxie what she believed to be the truth, whether her mother wanted to hear it or not. It was one of the things Maxie liked best about her daughter, her candidness.

“I like him,” Jackson said.

Only her gaze shifted. “You would.”

“Apparently you did, too, at one time.”

She looked away. Yes, she’d loved him, or thought she had. Her timing was lousy when she’d wised up and realized it was mostly lust. Good lust, but not enough to base a lifetime on. Yet it was the immature way she’d left him that still haunted her.

Jackson’s words came back to her. Kyle had her running scared. She wouldn’t, not this time. She’d vanished on her wedding day, only to discover three weeks later that she’d jilted the father of her child. By then he was in Saudi with a broken heart and didn’t need to hear from her; he needed to think about staying alive. She had refused to run to him just because she was pregnant, yet knew he had a right to know about Mimi. As soon as his unit had returned, she’d called, left a message and got a terse reply via his big brother: “Don’t call back, he doesn’t want to see you again.”

She’d written him anyway, the hardest letter she’d ever had to pen. And it came back to her, unopened. The message was painfully clear.

But now he was here, and her daughter’s happiness was in jeopardy. Mimi was her first and only concern. She’d suffered the “almost my dad” attachment once too often, and Maxie would endure anything, even Kyle’s cruel remarks and glares, before she would allow her daughter to be hurt by her mistakes again. Suddenly she lurched off the couch and grabbed her jacket, donning it as she headed to the door.

“Maxine?”

“You need him to move the chopper, right?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, eyeing her warily.

Maxie looked at him. “Then tell him to do it. I’ll be out at my place, waiting.”

“Are you saying he’s stuck with you?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I? I agreed in writing to let the rescue service use my land for their choppers. Besides—” she shrugged “—it’s a big place. A big house.” She could go an entire day without running into him if she tried hard enough. And she would.

Maxie threw the door open and smacked into Kyle’s chest. It was like hitting a brick wall, and he caught her shoulders, steadying her, yet keeping her close. Her gaze jerked to his, her hands flattened on his chest. For a long moment neither moved—Maxie lost in the familiar feel of his body molding to hers and the memories that came with it, Kyle wanting to touch more than her shoulders.

Someone cleared his throat. Kyle’s lips curved ever so slightly. But it was the self-satisfied twist to them that sent Maxie backpedaling...right into Jackson. From behind, Jackson settled his hands on her shoulders, and Kyle’s features tightened.

Even if Temple were in peak physical shape, he was a good dozen years older than Maxine, Kyle thought, then was angry with himself for the need to justify another man touching her.

“Fire up that bird, flyboy,” Jackson said. “Time to move it.”

Kyle lowered his gaze to Maxie’s and he found only resignation in her expression.

“It appears you’re staying at my place.”

So she could stick pins in a festering wound? “I’ll pass.”

The old rebellion he remembered in her rose to the surface.

“I think we can be adults about this.”

His eyes darkened and he scoffed. “That’s a first,”

She smirked, folding her arms. “Being your usual witty self, I see.”

Kyle knew she was referring to the ugly remarks he’d made this morning. He regretted that his emotions got the best of him and was determined not to let it happen again. He just wished she still didn’t turn him on like a light switch.

Jackson squeezed her shoulders, silencing another dig, and Maxie patted Jackson’s fingers, then glanced back at him. “See ya.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed as she pushed past, walking briskly to the doors. He watched her go, then brought his gaze back to Jackson. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. If Maxie could appear casual about the arrangements, then so could he.

“Not a room available anywhere, flyboy, so what will it be? Maxine’s—” Jackson’s lips curved “—or the back seat of your chopper?”

Still Kyle fought the inevitable. “I could sleep here.” He’d seen four cots in a small room at the back of the station. And it was a tremendous waste of fuel to head home each night and get here when, and if, they needed him.

Jackson shook his head. “For the team on call, sorry.”

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck and muttered a curse. “Not much of a selection left, then, huh?”

Jackson fought a grin and ever the diplomat, gestured inside the office. “Let’s get you some gear.”

Kyle followed. Jackson Temple was his boss for the next week or two, and although they’d only met earlier this morning, before seeing Maxie, Kyle liked him.

Kyle stood back as Jackson went to the cabinet and threw open the doors, withdrawing coils of nylon rope, extra rigs for mountain climbing, medical kits, a hand radio, a booklet of rules and regulations, authorization passes and stickers and the standard flame orange jacket the crew wore, fur lined and heavy. He stacked the gear on the sofa. “Check the radio—we’ve had a couple of duds lately.”

Kyle did, then started arranging the equipment in a spare duffel bag while Jackson wrote “Hayden” on a plastic tag and slipped it into the clear window above the chest pocket of the orange jacket.

“Thanks for showing up, Hayden,” he said, offering the jacket. Kyle looked up, accepting it, frowning. Jackson shrugged, then moved to the coffeemaker and poured a cup. “We’re badly shorthanded, with the flu going around. I appreciate your loan of the chopper.” He handed the steaming mug to Kyle. “I know this cuts into your paying business.”

“Just so you know, no one flies her but me.”

Jackson grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Possessive, huh?”

Kyle sipped. “Yeah, me and the bank are that way about things that aren’t paid for.” He set the cup aside to load gear.

Jackson chuckled, dropping into the seat behind the desk. He propped his boots on the edge. “So...how long have you known Maxine?”

Kyle stilled, frowning, then jammed ropes into the corner of the duffel. Maxine. He hadn’t heard anyone call her that since her father was yelling at her to come home, and she was ignoring him, riding away on the back of Kyle’s motorcycle.

“Years.”

Jackson frowned. “How many exactly?”

“Eight or so.” Kyle shrugged, zipping the bag closed. He met Jackson’s gaze. “You?”

“‘Bout three, ever since she an—ah...moved up here. And no, we’re just friends.” He sent Kyle a look that said dating Maxie was robbing the cradle in his eyes. “’Sides. No one gets near Maxine unless she wants it.”

Kyle knew that The woman he’d met today was a shadow of the Maxie he had loved. He insisted he didn’t care if she was cold. He just wanted to fulfill his obligation and get out of here. And avoiding her was his preference.

Kyle took up his mug and sank into the sofa, sipping, his gaze on the window. Maxie was climbing behind the wheel of her Range Rover and driving away.

“You two got a serious history, huh?”

Kyle’s lips tightened. He wasn’t about to let his personal life become the rescue-watch joke of the day. “Just a history. There’s got to be a room available somewhere else...?” He was a backup chopper pilot, nothing more. And if he didn’t have to be here, he for damn sure wouldn’t He looked to Jackson.

“Sorry, no.” Kyle didn’t care for the twinkle in Jackson’s eyes just then. “Now, get your chopper off my triage pad, Hayden. It stays at the Wind Dancer until you’re needed.”

Kyle didn’t like this, yet stood and hefted the duffel full of gear.

“Have fun.”

Kyle glared at Jackson. The man grinned back.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Probably more if I knew what it was all about—” he shrugged “—but yeah. I haven’t seen any excitement in months. You know, people being cautious. Obeying the rules. Puts me out of a job.”

Kyle couldn’t fight the smile working out from beneath his scowl. “Call if you need me,” he said, holding out his hand. Jackson shook it, and the two men parted.

Kyle took his time and walked outside, shrugging deeper into his jacket and donning his gloves against the cold. The wind whistled softly, but the temperature was dropping. Not any more than when he was near Maxie, he thought, tossing the emergency gear next to his seabag in the chopper, then climbing inside. He stared at the control panel, delaying the inevitable and disgusted with the fates that were screwing with his perfectly ordered life. Checking the dials and his watch, he refitted his sunglasses for the third time before turning over the engine, the blades swiping the air, gaining speed with each turn. Adjusting his radio headset, Kyle waited until he had the ground crewman’s signal, then lifted off, tipping the chopper to the right and heading toward Maxie’s place. He was anxious and if he had to admit it, fearful. It was too much like Iraq, flying into a hot landing zone. But Kyle had an idea that living under the same roof with the only woman he’d ever wanted to marry would be like living under enemy gunfire. With him unarmed.

A half hour later, Maxie watched his approach from the steps of her front porch. His helicopter was black with a sunrise painted on the side in bright red, orange and metallic gold. His name was stenciled below the pilot’s window. Before he was close enough to set the chopper down, she stepped off the porch, walking toward the flattened ground several hundred yards beyond the main buildings. Dread moved through her with every step, and she tipped her cowboy hat low on her forehead and tried to appear as relaxed as possible. But her insides were twisting in tight knots, nauseating her.

This is for Mimi, she reminded herself. If Maxie avoided Kyle, he would just get curious and ask questions, which would inevitably lead to ones concerning Mimi. For the briefest moment, when she’d first seen Kyle after so long, she’d considered stashing Mimi’s things, closing off her room and letting her daughter stay longer at her grandmother’s to avoid any contact with him. But the thought had died as quickly as it had formed. She couldn’t do it. Mimi was everything to her, and she was proud of her little girl. She had had no reason to hide her six years ago and she wouldn’t do it now. Besides, Kyle had made it clear by not answering her letters that he’d no interest in what happened to her after their breakup, and if his present attitude was any indication, he still didn’t Nothing had changed.

Suddenly the image of her daughter—dark red hair in braided pigtails and bright, expressive green eyes-burst in her mind, like Mimi always burst into the house. No, she corrected, everything had changed from the moment she’d met her daughter. I miss her, she thought, then stiffened her spine, determined to get through the next couple weeks without any more emotional scratches.

Dust and dirt kicked up as the chopper neared, and she admitted she was impressed at how he lowered the craft gracefully to the ground. The noise immediately lessened, the blades beating the air in a slow drone. Maxie stopped, shoving her gloved hands into her jacket pockets, and didn’t approach as he flipped switches, then removed the radio headset and a baseball cap. Even from here, she could tell the cap had the Marine Corps emblem on it. He pushed open the door and climbed out, opened the rear hatch and removed his seabag. That faded piece of military luggage was a constant reminder of their last night together. She wanted to burn it, but he hitched it over his shoulder, then reached for a black cowboy hat, donning it as he walked toward her. Her heart jumped in her chest, her gaze moving over him. Even hidden behind sunglasses and beneath the hat, he still had the rugged good looks that made women sigh. She couldn’t fight the riot suddenly skipping through her as his thigh muscles flexed with each stride. She remembered what his skin felt like beneath her palms, his body wrapped around hers and what an unselfish lover he’d been. A warm coil of heat curled through her, tightening her breasts, tingling up the back of her thighs. Her knees felt papery, and Maxie jerked her gaze away, staring anywhere except at him. It would not help to think this way, she reminded herself, shoving her sunglasses back up her nose. Kyle was the last person she wanted in her life, not to mention in her bed.

Kyle stopped directly in front of her, and she looked at him as he nudged his hat back. He wanted to see what was going on behind those sunglasses and knew she wore them to shield more than just the sun. He tipped his down, peering, and liked that she tensed. His gaze lowered to her lips, and the intensity of their kiss in the barn ripped through him. He was aching for another taste when the husky sound of her voice made his heart skip.

“Welcome to Wind Dancer, Kyle.”

His lips quirked. “Am I welcome, Max? Or tolerated?”

“A little of both,” she said honestly, not moving a muscle, even when she could feel the heat of his body, see every sinfully long lash surrounding his dark eyes. A brave front, she thought.

Kyle glanced briefly at the ranch house beyond her and imagined what it would be like, living with her. Did she still go nuts over chocolate and hate asparagus? he wondered, looking down at her. Did she still have a wild collection of lingerie that had always made him hot just to look at her and wonder what feminine scrap was beneath her clothes? Even as the enticing thought materialized, he knew he was in for torment. With himself. Don’t let her get to you. Don’t. This is one woman you cannot trust.

The sudden surge of anger made his voice harsh. “Where should I stow my gear?”

She stepped back. “That’s all you have?” She nodded to the seabag.

“I travel light.”

His tone was clipped and Maxie sighed. Clearly he didn’t want to play this beyond the edge of civility. Fine. At least she was making an effort. She spun around, and he followed her to the house, both silent.

But Kyle’s gaze was on her back, more so—her backside. And the way it filled those tight jeans enough to fill his mind with nothing but what was beneath and seeing her again without them. Man, oh man, this was tough already, and he forced himself to remember every detail of their wedding day. She was a selfish coward, plain and simple, he thought as he mounted the porch steps behind her. She opened the door, walking briskly inside.

Crossing the threshold, Kyle regained his determination as he removed his sunglasses and hat. His gaze quickly scanned the Southwest decor of beige walls, terra-cotta-hued furniture, the room dotted with blue-and-coral trimmings. The warmth of the decor settled into him instantly, calming the tension he’d felt since he landed on her property. He spotted baskets filled with odd collections of croquet balls, oversize wooden spools of thread and even branding irons. Antique oil cans were tucked here and there, some hidden by plants, others in plain sight like the grouping near a sixfoot-wide fireplace dominating the living room. Kyle liked it and thought it suited her. At least this new Maxie.

“Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“To hide,” he added.

Over the rim of her sunglasses, she slid him a frosty glance as she stripped off her jacket. “I wasn’t hiding, Kyle,” she defended, removing her shades. “I’ve been right here.”

“But who knew?”

“Anyone who was interested did,” she snapped, and was about to add to her defense, then closed her mouth and hung her hat and parka on a peg near the door. She didn’t need to provoke questions, she thought, reminding herself to stop responding to his remarks. He had no right to be curious about her life. Crossing the foyer, she turned down a hall. After passing four doors, she stopped near the last on the right, throwing it open.

“In here,” she said, leaning back against the frame and folding her arms like a warden outside a jail cell

Kyle moved past her, his big body brushing hers, and he felt a subtle heat stroke up his body. He stilled, searching her gaze and wondering if she felt it. Wondering if he’d imagined those moments in the barn.

“The bath is next door. Dinner is in—” she checked her watch “—about a half an hour.” She turned away.

Summarily dismissed, he thought, but then something made her pause, her hand on the door frame. She looked back, meeting his gaze across the wide brass bed. Kyle felt the world, the room, tighten down on him, focusing on her eyes, green and clear. Wavy dark red hair fell over one eye, partially shielding her face. Her stare was confident, even when he let his meander over her wind-chapped cheeks, her tightly tucked shirt molding to her breasts, defining their fullness. Her nipples tightened, pushing against the fabric, and his gaze flew to her face. Her expression didn’t alter a fraction. Lord, she was still so beautiful, he thought, ageless, and for a moment he was twenty-three and so hungry for her he couldn’t think straight. So in love with her his arms ached.

Something flickered in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth lifted wistfully. “Make yourself at home, Kyle. The fridge is stocked with snacks...and beer.”

He breathed his first normal breath since walking through the door. “thanks, Max.” He dumped the seabag on the bed before he did something stupid like grab her against him.

“Think nothing of it,” she said, and by her tone, he knew she meant it. He was immediately on guard again. He was right. This was like waiting for enemy gunfire.

Maxie hastened down the hall, ignoring the heat jumping through her body, ignoring the fact that he could still just look at her and make her crave his arms around her, long for the throb of his kiss again...and force her to relive when she was young and innocent and Kyle was the dangerous man her father didn’t want near. And she ignored the fact that he was in the room directly across from hers.

She paused in the hallway, grabbing the edge of the secretary and closing her eyes against her image in the glass. She was a fool to believe she could handle being this close to him. Not when he could peel away her secrets with a look. Memories pelted her like an acid rain without relief, and she longed for Mimi’s little arms around her neck, the warmth of her little body snuggled close where she could protect her daughter from the world. From this kind of heartache.

Pushing away from the secretary, she walked to the living room and built a fire in the hearth, staring as the blaze roared to life. For a brief moment, her mind wandered, selecting a scene out of their past when they’d gone to Mexico and woken with one hell of a hangover in the back of a vegetable truck in Encinada. With no idea of how they’d got there. At the time, it was fun and funny, but on her wedding day, it had just sounded stupid. The ache of memory caught in her chest. She’d cried for weeks back then. For the decent, trusting man she’d hurt, for leading him to believe she would be there for him when she couldn’t and for the innocence she’d left behind.

The pop of burning wood startled her, and she blinked, expecting her eyes to be wet with tears. They weren’t, yet her heart felt sore. She stared at the ember just on the edge of the hearth, then quickly kicked it back and replaced the fireplace screen. It reminded her that memories were threatening and she couldn’t afford to be this melancholy. Not with her daughter’s contentment at stake. Moments later, she donned her jacket and hat, then left the house, slamming the door closed and wishing she could shut Kyle out of her life as easily.

Kyle flinched when he heard the door shut, the vibration rattling the walls. Closing the dresser drawer, he stared out the window, his gaze following her as she crossed the yard to the huge barn. Her steps were angry and quick. He could see her inside the barn, bundled up against the cold, her beige cowboy hat tipped low as she walked down the center aisle, lugging a bucket of feed, he assumed. Did she do everything around here alone? He watched her for a moment until she vanished into a stall, then turned away from the window.

Kyle looked around the room, the soft Southwestern decor carried over in here, too. It didn’t soothe him this time, and he shoved his fingers into his hair. A tension he hadn’t felt since Saudi radiated through him, and he tried to shake it. He couldn’t and sat down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He had to get a handle on his emotions. But part of him said to exercise it, get it out, just keep his hands off her and his desire locked away. But he kept remembering the moments in the barn, the hot feel of her skin in the cold air, her ferocious passion unleashing on him and his desperate need to absorb it. It was as if he’d come alive for the first time in seven years and every cell in his body wanted him to know it

But he made himself recall their past, and he was tucked deep inside it when he heard his name and looked up. His heart slammed against the wall of his chest

Maxie.

“You okay?” she said, frowning. “Dinner is almost ready, if you’re hungry.”

He looked away, nodding, anger simmering, the pain of his memories stronger and harder than he thought possible. She was a coward, damn her. She’d made the decision to walk away, alone, never giving him the courtesy of talking with him about what she was feeling. She’d stolen their prospect at happiness, his one chance. And as he turned his head to see her disappear from the doorway, he told himself he wasn’t falling for her charm again. He was not here to see if her cowardice was a mistake or a godsend.