Читать книгу Lucy and The Lieutenant - Helen Lacey - Страница 9
ОглавлениеLucy Monero was a walking, talking temptation. And Brant wanted her. It took all of his willpower to not take her in his arms and kiss her like crazy.
But he stayed where he was, watching her, noticing how her hair shone from the light beaming from above. Her dazzling green eyes were vivid and suggestive, but also filled with a kind of uncertainty that quickly captivated him. Lucy had a way of stopping him in his tracks with only a look. So he didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t dare kiss her. Didn’t dare talk to her, even though there were times when he thought he’d like nothing else than to listen to her voice or to hear her breathless laughter.
When they were kids she’d hung around the ranch, often watching him and his brother break and train the horses from the sidelines, her head always tucked into a book. She’d been quiet and reserved back then, not trying to grow up before her time by wearing makeup or trendy clothes. When her dad died, her mom had sold the small ranch and they’d moved into town, so he hadn’t seen her as much. His own dad had died around that time, too, and with twenty-year-old Grady taking over the reins at their family ranch and Brant deciding on a military career midway through senior year, there wasn’t any time to spend thinking about the shy, studious girl who never seemed to be able to meet his gaze.
Not so now, he thought. She’d grown up and gained a kind of mesmerizing poise along the way. Oh, she’d always been pretty—but now she was beautiful and tempting and had firmly set her sights on what she wanted.
Which appeared to be him.
Brant wasn’t egotistical. But he recognized the look in her eyes every time they met. And he wasn’t about to get drawn into anything with Lucy Monero. She was pure hometown. A nice girl who wanted romance, a wedding and a white picket fence. He’d heard enough about it and her virtues from his mom and Brooke. Well, it wasn’t for him. He didn’t do romance. And he wasn’t about to get involved with a woman who had marriage on her mind.
“You’re staring at me.”
Her words got his thoughts on track and Brant felt heat quickly creep up his back and neck. His jaw clenched and he straightened his shoulders. “So, I’ll just get my jacket and take you home.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly.
“What?”
She tilted her head a little and regarded him with her usual intensity. “You seem...tense.”
It irritated him to no end that she could see through him like that. “I’m fine,” he lied.
Her brows came up. “I’m pretty sure you’re not.”
“Is there a point you’re trying to make?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You know, most times we meet, you barely acknowledge me. At first I thought it was because you were just settling back in to civilian life and that small talk was really not your thing. But then I’ve seen you with your family and you seem relaxed and friendly enough around them. And you were with Liam O’Sullivan earlier and didn’t end up punching him in the face, so that interaction must have turned out okay. So maybe it’s just me.”
Brant ignored the way his heart thundered behind his ribs. It is you. He wasn’t about to get drawn into her little world. Not now. Not ever. He had too much going on. Too much baggage banging around in his head. Too many memories that could unglue him if he let someone in.
“Like I said, you talk too much.”
She laughed, the sound wispy and sort of throaty and so damned sexy it sucked the air from his lungs. He was tempted to take the three steps he needed to be beside her. Maybe kissing her would get her out of his system. Maybe it was exactly the thing he needed to keep her out of his thoughts. But he stayed where he was, both irritated and fascinated by the relentless effect she had on him without even trying. And he knew the only way around it was to stay out of her way. To avoid her. To ignore her. To keep himself separate, as he had for the past eight months, and not get drawn into the land of the living where he would be forced to take part. Instead he’d stay on the sidelines, pretending everything was fine. Pretending he was fine. So his mom and brother didn’t work out that he was now a shadow of the man he’d once been.
“So, I’m right. It is just me?” she asked, stepping a little closer. “Why? Are you worried that I might work out that underneath all your brooding indifference there’s actually a decent sort of man?”
“Not at all,” he replied quietly. “Dr. Monero, the truth is I don’t think about you from one moment to the next.”
It was a mean thing to say. He knew. She knew it. And he hated the way the words tasted in his mouth. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t good at it. He felt clumsy even saying the words. But he had to try to keep her at a distance.
“I see.” Her eyes shadowed over for a second. She looked...hurt. Wounded. And the notion cut through him like a knife. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to have any feelings when it came to Lucy Monero. “Okay. Fine. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. Now, I think I’ll find my own way home.”
She was past him and by the door in seconds. As she rattled the doorknob, Brant took a few strides and reached her, placing a hand on either side of the jamb. She turned and gasped, looking up, so close he could feel her breath on his chin.
“Lucy...”
The sound of her name on his lips reverberated through him, sending his heart hammering and his blood surging through his veins. She was trapped, but didn’t move, didn’t do anything but hold his gaze steady. And this, he thought as he stared down into her face, was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. There was heat between them...heat generated by a sizzling attraction that had the power to knock him off his feet.
“Don’t...please...” she said shakily, her bottom lip trembling fractionally.
Brant stepped back and dropped his arms instantly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She nodded. “I know that. I didn’t mean I thought you would. It’s just that...being around you...it’s confusing.”
She was right about that!
“It’s like you ignore me as though I don’t exist,” she went on to say. “But sometimes you look at me as if...as if...”
“As if what?” he shot back.
“As if you do...like me.”
“Of course I do,” he admitted raggedly, taking a breath, hoping she couldn’t see how messed up he was. “But I’m not in the market for anything serious. Not with you.”
There...it was out in the open. Now she could move on and stop looking at him as though he could give her all she wanted. Because he couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. Not now. He’d been through too much. Seen too much. He wasn’t good company. He wasn’t boyfriend or husband material. He was better off alone.
“Why not?” she asked.
Nothing...
Brant sighed heavily. “I’d prefer not to get into it.”
“Oh, no,” she said and crossed her arms, pushing her chest up, which instantly grabbed his attention.
God, her curves were mesmerizing. He looked to the floor for a moment to regather his good sense and hoped she’d stop talking. But no such luck.
“You don’t get to make a bold statement like that and then think you’re off the hook. What’s wrong with me?” Her brows rose again. “I’m honest, intelligent, loyal and respectable, and have good manners. I even have all my own teeth.”
Brant laughed loudly. God, it felt good to laugh. There was something so earnest about Lucy it was impossible to remain unaffected by her. During the past few weeks he’d often heard her soft laughter through the corridors of the veterans home and wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such a sweet, sincere sound. And he wanted to hear it again.
“Well, I guess if I was buying a pony, all bases would be covered.”
Her chuckle started out soft and then morphed into a full-on, loud guffaw. By the time she was done there were tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away and thrust out her chin.
“Wow...you do have a sense of humor.” Her eyes shimmered. “Your cousin was right, you’re not always a complete killjoy.”
“No,” he said easily. “Not always.”
“So, this being a jerk thing...that’s something you save especially for me?”
Brant’s mouth twitched. “I have to get my keys,” he said, ignoring the question. “Wait here.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Aren’t you going to invite me upstairs?”
To his apartment? His bedroom? “Not a chance,” he said and strode off without looking back.
* * *
Lucy wrapped her arms around herself and wandered through the tavern. Every sense she possessed was on red alert. By the door he’d been so close...close enough that she could have taken a tiny step and been pressed against him. The heat from his skin had scorched hers. The warmth of his breath had made her lips tingle with anticipation. It was desire unlike any she’d known before. And she wanted it. She wanted him. She wanted his kiss, his touch. She wanted every part of him to cover every part of her.
And she shook all over, thinking about her false bravado. She’d never spoken to man in such a blatantly flirtatious tone before. But being around Brant was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. As inexperienced as she was, flirting and verbally sparring with him seemed to have a will and a power all of its own.
“Ready?”
He was back, standing by the steps that led upstairs. Lucy swallowed hard and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
He shrugged loosely. “My truck’s out back.”
“No motorbike?”
He raised a brow and began to walk toward the rear of the building. “Not in this weather.”
He was right, but the idea of being behind him on his motorbike, holding on to him, being so close she’d be able to feel his heartbeat, made her pulse race.
“So you’re only reckless with yourself. That’s good to know.”
Brant stopped midstride and turned. “What?”
Lucy held out three fingers. “That’s how many times you’ve been in hospital in the past seven months. Twice off your bike because you were speeding and once when you thought it was a good idea to climb Kegg’s Mountain—alone—and without the proper gear, I might add.”
“You’re still talking too much,” he muttered and then kept walking.
Lucy followed him down the long hallway, past the kitchen and restrooms, and then through the rear door. He waited for her to walk outside and locked the door. It was still snowing lightly and she took quick steps toward the beat-up, blue Ford pickup parked outside. He opened the passenger door, ushered her inside, strode around the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat.
“What’s your address?” he asked.
Lucy gave him directions and dropped her bag into her lap.
She expected him to immediately start the truck and drive off. But he didn’t. He put the key in the ignition but placed both hands on the steering wheel. And then he spoke.
“I wasn’t speeding. My bike blew a tire the first time and the second time I swerved to avoid hitting a dog that was on the road.”
It was meant to put her in her place. To shut her up. To end the conversation.
But Lucy wasn’t one to be silenced. “And the mountain?”
“I was unprepared. Not a mistake I would make again.” He started the engine and thrust the gear into Reverse. “Satisfied?”
Lucy’s skin tingled. The idea of being satisfied by Brant Parker had her insides doing flip-flops. Of course, he wasn’t being suggestive, but Lucy couldn’t help thinking how good a lover he would be. Not that she would have anything to make a comparison with. But she had a vivid imagination and she had certainly fantasized about being between the sheets with the man beside her.
She smiled sweetly. “I guess I didn’t hear the whole story because I didn’t attend to you the night you were brought into the ER.”
He shifted gears again and turned into the street. “I thought my mother would have kept you updated. You and she seem to have become quite the twosome.”
“I like your mom,” Lucy replied. “She’s a good friend.”
“Yeah, my mom is a good person.” He turned left. “She also likes to play matchmaker.”
Lucy’s mouth twitched. She knew that. Colleen had been gently pushing her in Brant’s direction for months. “Does that make you nervous?” she asked, turning her gaze. “I mean, now she’s got Grady settled and engaged to Marissa, do you think you’re next?”
She watched his profile. Impassive. Unmoving. Like a rock. But he was trying too hard. The pulse in his cheek was beating madly. He wasn’t so unmoved. He was simply reining his feelings in...as usual.
“She’s wasting her time.”
Lucy tried not to be offended and managed a brittle laugh. “Considering how happy your brother is now, you can’t blame your mom for wanting the same for you.”
“I’m not my brother.”
No, he wasn’t. She knew Grady Parker. Oh, he still had the Parker pride and was a teeny bit arrogant, but he was a good-natured, hardworking family man with three little girls to raise and had recently found love again with Marissa Ellis. The wedding was only a couple of weeks away and Lucy knew Brant was standing as his brother’s best man. She’d been invited, more to please Colleen Parker than anything else, she was sure. And since Brooke and Ash were both going and she liked Marissa and Grady, she was delighted to be part of their special day.
“Have you got a speech prepared?” Lucy asked, shifting the subject. “For the wedding, I mean. I hear you’re the best man. That should be a fun gig...even for you.”
He pulled the truck up outside her house, set the vehicle into Park and switched off the ignition. Then he turned in his seat and looked at her, his jaw set rigid. Boy, he was tense. And the intensity of it crackled the air between them. Lucy met his gaze and held it. Felt the heat of his stare as though he was touching her, stroking her, caressing her. She shuddered and she knew he was aware of the effect he had over her. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though he knew he shouldn’t react but couldn’t resist.
If he moved, if he so much as lowered his defenses in any way, Lucy would have planted herself against him and begged for his kiss. She wanted it. Longed for it. But he continued to look at her, into her, making her achingly aware of the intimacy of the small space they shared.
“Even for me?” he intoned, his deep voice as intense as a caress. “I do know how to have a good time, despite what you think.”
Lucy’s bravado spiked. “Really?”
He inhaled heavily. “What is it you want, Dr. Monero?”
The million-dollar question. Bravado was fine when it wasn’t challenged. But under scrutiny, Lucy quickly became unsettled. “I’m not... I don’t...”
“You want something. Is it me?” he asked bluntly. “Is that what you want?”
Color smacked her cheeks. “I just want—”
“Why?” he asked, cutting her off. “Why me? You could have anyone you—”
“Chemistry,” she said quickly, dying inside. “Attraction.”
“Sex?”
Lucy stilled. She didn’t want to think her reaction to him was merely physical. But since she did find him more attractive than she’d ever found any other man, perhaps she was blinded by those feelings? Maybe her daydreams about getting to know him, being around him and spending time with him were exactly that. Dreams. And foolish remnants of an old teenaged infatuation. She’d spent college and medical school wrapped in a bubble—wary of involvement with anyone because of what had happened to her roommate. But once she was back in Cedar River—more confident and older and able to meet his gaze head-on—Lucy had believed she would somehow be able to capture his attention.
But that hadn’t happened. He’d ignored her. Despite her smiles and friendly attention.
And the more he ignored her, the more she wanted him. His indifference became fuel for her teenaged fantasies and starved libido. So maybe it was just sex and she was simply too inexperienced to recognize it for what it was.
“What’s wrong with that, anyway?” she shot back as heat climbed over her skin.
His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with sex? Nothing...if that’s all you’re after.” He reached out and touched her hair, trapped a few strands between his fingertips. It was the first time he’d touched her and it was electric. “But you don’t strike me as the casual-sex kind of girl, Doc Monero. In fact, I’d bet my boots you are the white-picket-fence, happy-ever-after kind.”
God, if he only knew, he’d probably run a mile.
“That’s quite a judgment. And what are you? Only casual, no happy-ever-after?”
“Close enough,” he said and returned his hands to the wheel.
“Back at the tavern you said you...liked me...so which is it?”
“Neither. Both. You’re wasting your time with me. I’m not marriage material. So, good night.”
Humiliation coursed through her veins and Lucy grabbed her bag and placed it in her lap. She got the message loud and clear. He was awful. Just awful. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you going to walk me to my door?”
“This isn’t a date,” he said quietly.
He was such a jerk, and he was right about one thing: she was seriously wasting her time being attracted to him. Lucy set her teeth together and opened the door. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll get my car towed in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night...Lucy.”
She got out, shut the door and stomped up the path and to the front door. While she was opening the door she realized he was still parked by the curb. So maybe he did have some chivalry in him. Ha—but not enough. As she got inside and peeked through the lace curtains to watch him finally drive away, Lucy decided she was going to forget all about him and spend her nights dreaming of someone else. Anyone else.
And the sooner she started the better.
* * *
Brant had been visiting his mother’s home for lunch nearly every Saturday since he’d returned from his last tour. Colleen insisted they have a family catch-up and he didn’t mind. He loved his mom, even though she drove him nuts with her attempts to interfere in his personal life. He knew there were only good intentions in her meddling, so he usually laughed it off and ignored her. But today—the morning after the whole Lucy-Monero-and-her-broken-down-car thing—Colleen was onto him the moment he stepped foot into her kitchen.
“I went into town early to get eggs and milk and saw Lucy’s car outside the tavern,” she said, her wide-eyed gaze all speculation and curiosity.
Brant walked around the timber countertop, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee. “Her car broke down. I gave her a lift home.”
And acted like a total horse’s ass.
“She didn’t spend the night?”
Color crept up his neck. His mother looked disappointed. Boy, sometimes he wished he had one of those parents who didn’t want to talk about every single thing. “No, Mom, she didn’t.”
Colleen smiled. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to encourage her a little. She’s a nice girl. Smart. Pretty. Sweet. And she has a kind spirit. I think she’d be a good match for you.”
Brant sighed. “Are we really going to do this every Saturday?”
She grinned. “Every Saturday? I don’t think I mentioned it last weekend.”
“Oh, yeah, you did.” Brant sugared his coffee and sat at the table. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I need time to—”
“I know that’s what you think,” she said gently, cutting him off. “But I’m concerned about you.”
“I know you’re worried about me, Mom, but I’m okay,” he assured her.
“You went through a lot over there,” she said, her eyes glittering. “More than any of us will probably ever know. You’re my son and I’m always going to be looking out for you, regardless of how old you are. When you have a child of your own you will understand what I mean.”
“She’s right, you know.”
They both looked toward the doorway. His brother, Grady, stood on the threshold.
Brant frowned as his brother came into the room and sat. “You said you wouldn’t encourage her,” Brant reminded him.
Grady shrugged. “When she’s right, she’s right. I don’t think it would matter how old my girls are, I’ll always be on hand to make sure they’re all right.”
“See,” Colleen said and smiled. “At least one of my sons had the good sense to listen to me.”
Brant groaned. “Just because you meddled in his life and got him on the way to the altar, don’t think you are going to do that with me. I have no intention of getting married anytime soon.”
“You’re thirty years old,” his mom reminded him quietly. “And a civilian. You can have a normal life now, Brant.”
No, he couldn’t...
But he wasn’t about to go down that road with his mother and brother. They didn’t know much about what had happened before he’d left Afghanistan for good. He hardly dared think about it, let alone consider sharing it with his family. If they knew, they’d close ranks, smother him, give him sympathy and understanding when he deserved neither. In his mind, despite how hard he tried to get the thought out of his head, he was still a soldier. Still standing on the ridge. Still hearing the gunfire and the screams of the men in his unit who’d lost their lives that day.
“So where are the girls this morning?” he asked his brother, shifting the subject.
“With Marissa, getting their hair done.” Grady grinned. “It’s a practice run for their wedding-day hair.”
Brant admired his brother. He’d raised his three young daughters alone since his wife, Liz, had died a couple of years earlier. Brant admired Marissa, too. His soon-to-be sister-in-law adored his nieces and had effortlessly stepped into her role as stepmother to the girls since she’d accepted his brother’s proposal. Grady was a good man. The best he knew. And Brant was pleased his brother had found happiness again.
“O’Sullivan increased the offer,” Brant said and drank some coffee.
Grady tapped his fist on the table. “Son of a bitch!”
“I didn’t accept,” he said when he saw his brother’s swiftly gathering rage. “And I won’t.”
“Liam O’Sullivan believes he can have and do whatever he wants, just like his old man,” Grady said and scowled. “The whole bunch of them think they’re so damned entitled. No wonder Liz couldn’t wait to get away from them. He only wants the Loose Moose because he doesn’t want the competition. I heard he’s been sniffing around Rusty’s again, too. When Ted Graham finally does decide he wants to retire, O’Sullivan will be circling like a hyena.”
“I told Ted I’d be interested in Rusty’s if it comes on the market. He’s not foolish enough to let the O’Sullivans get hold of the place. He hates them as much as you do.”
Grady grunted. “You want two pubs? That’s ambitious.”
Brant shrugged. “Gotta make a living doing something.”
“I thought you might want to come back to the ranch where you belong.”
“I’m not much of a cowboy these days,” he said, grinning.
“You’re good with horses,” Grady said generously. “Would be a shame to waste that skill entirely.”
“You know I’ll always give you a hand if you need it. But not full-time.”
Grady nodded. “What about school?” his brother queried. “You said you were thinking of studying business at the community college.”
“I still might.”
“You could teach French at the night school, too,” Grady suggested.
“I could,” Brant replied, thinking about his options. “If I wasn’t so busy with the Loose Moose.”
“How are the renovations coming?”
“Slow,” he said. “But I knew it would take a while. Doing the majority of it myself saves dollars but takes more time.”
“If you need money to—”
“It’s fine.” Brant waved a hand. “I don’t need your money.”
“It’s family money,” Grady corrected. “The ranch is just as much yours as mine. And I would consider the tavern an investment. Dad and Uncle Joe and Granddad used to love the old place, remember?”
He did remember. It was one of the reasons why he’d been so keen to buy the tavern. “I’ll let you know,” he said, trying to fob his brother off as gently as he could.
Grady had a good heart but still acted as though he had to shoulder the brunt of all family issues. It was an “older brother thing,” he was certain. When Grady had taken over the ranch he’d made it into one of the most successful in the county. Brant admired Grady’s determination and commitment to the family, but he needed to do this alone. He needed to forge a life for himself that was of his own making.
“So, about this thing with Lucy Monero?” Grady asked.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” he assured his brother and looked toward their mother, who was cracking eggs into a bowl at the counter and pretending not to listen. “So, drop it. That means both of you.”
“Can’t,” Colleen said and grinned. “Not when one of my kids is troubled.”
Brant looked toward his brother for a little support, but Grady was nodding. Great. Suddenly, Saturday lunch had turned into some kind of intervention. Next, his mom would be suggesting he visit the shrink at the local veterans home.
“I was just talking to Dr. Allenby the other day about...”
Yep, right on schedule, he thought, and pushed his mother’s words out of his head as she rattled on. He didn’t need a shrink. He’d seen too many of them after Operation Oscar had gone down so badly. Three of his team had lost their lives. It had been two days of hell he wanted to forget. And he would, over time. If only his mom and brother would let up.
“I don’t need a shrink.”
His mother continued to whisk the eggs. “Then what about talking to someone else. Like me? Or your brother? Or even Lucy?” she suggested. “She’s a doctor...and a good one.”
Brant expelled an exasperated breath. “Mom, I’m fine. You gotta let this go, okay? I am happy,” he lied. “I have you guys and the Loose Moose... For the moment, that’s all I have room for. Working on restoring the tavern keeps my head clear, if that makes sense. And it’s all the therapy I need.”
That was the truth, at least. Sure, he was lonely, but better to be lonely than to bog someone else down with the train wreck his life had become. He probably just needed to get laid. It had been a while. He did the calculation in his head and inwardly grimaced. Man, he seriously needed to get out more. He still had friends in town, but going out with his old high school buddies, drinking beer, playing pool and talking smack didn’t really cut it anymore. He wasn’t twenty years old. He wasn’t blinded by youth or ignorance. He’d seen the world and life at its darkest and would never be able to escape who he had become. Finding someone to share that with seemed impossible. The occasional one-night stand was all he allowed himself. And since Lucy Monero was not a one-night-stand kind of woman, he knew he had to keep avoiding her.
By the time he left his mother’s it was nearly two. He headed to the hardware store to pick up a few things and spent the remainder of the afternoon working on the walls in the front part of the tavern. Turning in to bed around ten, he woke up at six on Sunday morning to get an early start, planning to spend the day sanding back the long cedar bar. But at one o’clock he got a call from Grady to say Uncle Joe had been taken to the hospital and was in the emergency room. It took him five minutes to change and head out and another fifteen to get to the hospital. He called Grady again once he was out of the truck and headed for the ER.
By the time he reached Reception he felt as though his chest might explode. The woman behind the counter said she’d inquire after his uncle and told him to wait.
Great. Exactly what he didn’t want to do.
He knew Grady was on his way to the hospital, so he paced the room for a few minutes and then finally sat. The hospital sounds reverberated in his eardrums. Phones, beepers, gurneys, heels clicking over tiles. Each sound seemed louder than the last.
He sat for five minutes, swamped by a building helplessness that was suffocating.
When he could stand it no more he got up and headed back to the counter. “Is there any news about my uncle?”
The fifty-something woman scowled a little and flicked through some charts on the desk. “No, nothing yet.”
“Then can you find someone who might know something?”
She scowled again and Brant’s impatience rose. He wasn’t usually a hothead. Most of the time he was calm and in complete control. Twelve years of military training had ingrained those traits into him. But he didn’t feel calm now. He felt as though he could barely stand to be in his own skin.
“Brant?”
He knew that voice.
Turning his head, he saw Lucy and relief flooded through him. In some part of his mind he wondered how she had the power to do that, to soothe his turbulent emotions. Just knowing she was there somehow made things easier. Better. He swiveled on his heels and watched as she walked toward him, wearing scrubs and a white coat. Brant met her gaze and swallowed hard.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here,” she said and smiled fractionally. “What do you know?”
“Not much,” he said and shook his head. “What happened?”
Her eyes gave it away. It was serious. “He had a heart attack.”
A heart attack? Fear coursed through his blood. “Is he...is he dead?”
The second it took for her to answer seemed like an hour. “No.”
Brant fought back the emotion clogging his throat. “Is he going to make it?”
She nodded slowly. “I think so.”
“Thank God,” Brant breathed and, without thinking, reached out and hauled her into his arms.
