Her Survivor: A Black Eagle Ops Novel (8 page)

Smart-ass.

“I…I…ah…thought you were one of my regular customers.”

The line went deathly quiet for a few beats. “What kind of customers are we talking about here, Kelcee?”

Her backbone jerked straight and some of the material sifted downward, making breathing easier. Did he just imply he thought she was a hooker? Her temper jumped several degrees into the “oh, hell no” category. “If you must know, some of my lady customers like to read a spicier form of romance. One just called a few minutes ago to see if her shipment would be in today. I thought it was her calling me back.”

“I see. Maybe we should think about changing the name of your shop to Bookstore for the Fallen. Besides, don’t you have caller ID?”

“Yes, I’ve got it!” She waved her lacy lingerie as she all but shrieked into the phone. God, this man could make her fifty shades of crazy in thirty seconds. “Look, if I hadn’t been busy reaching for my garter belt with my zipper yanking my hair out by the roots…” She slapped the black lace against her lips.
Holy hell! Me and my big mouth.

“Don’t! Don’t say another word, except for yes or no. God, woman, you can stir me up quicker than anyone I’ve ever met. All I called for was to make sure our having dinner tonight was still okay with you. I…ah…understand a certain SEAL kept you awake late last night, talking nonsense, just so he could hear your voice over the phone. I wanted to be sure you got enough sleep for an evening out.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her face still burning with embarrassment.

“Good.” He paused again. “Are you blushing?”

“Hell, yes, I’m blushing! I don’t like making a fool of myself. Or being made fun of.” She’d taken enough teasing in her teen years about being chubby. Although she’d lost some weight, the curves remained; and she’d come to accept them.

“Then we won’t mention it again.” The tone of his voice had gentled to an intimate purr and her nipples peaked. “See you later, Kelcee.” He ended the call.

She flopped across the bed. Men! They were all dangerous—just in different ways. Her phone dinged with an incoming text.

“Put me out of my misery. What color is it?”
The sneak had the nerve to add a smiley face.

“U said we wouldn’t mention it again.”
She shoved her phone under one of her pillow shams and worked the zipper back and forth, pulling out strands of hair, a little at a time, until she’d gotten it all freed. The cushion did little to muffle the ding. Oh crap, this man would drive her batshit crazy. The war must have scrambled his common sense.
What an awful thing for me to think. That’s a terrible reaction toward a hero.
She dove for the phone.

“A text is not a mention.”
He’d had the nerve to add puckered lips.

She shook her cell as if it were a rag doll.
Can’t he see I’ve got my garter belt around my ankles? He’s like a mosquito buzzing around my head.
Good Lord, I’d like to spray his tight ass with Raid.

“
Pervert!
” she texted and then added someone sticking out their tongue. Then before he had a chance to text back, she sent him another one.
“It matches my skirt. Now lev me alone. Got 2 work.”

Five minutes before ten, Fran Silver breezed through the door and stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze swept up and down Kelcee. “Holy cow, don’t you look mighty fine?” Fran glanced down each row of books, as if she were checking for other customers. She strutted in her yellow-and-aqua plaid capri set to where Kelcee was arranging old books into a sale bin and squeezed Kelcee’s hand. “Do you have a date for tonight? Who is he? Do tell!” Fran’s many charm bracelets and silver chains jangled as she brushed some moist platinum curls from her cheeks. She billowed her top and grumbled, “Hot flashes.”

“It’s not a date. More like a pain in the ass for tonight.” She was still fuming over Dustin’s earlier call and her big mouth mingled with his racy texts and her temper. She’d been pissed before she’d unlocked the door to the store for the day.

Dustin had texted her two more times since their earlier text-a-thon. Then, just a few minutes ago, Junebug had stuck her head in the door to give a neighborly hello and pulled out her phone to text someone. Kelcee would bet the next shipment of books, Dustin was on the receiving end of it—the nosy mass of muscles and sensual kisses.

“A pain in the ass?” A quizzical look tweaked Fran’s features before a grin slit her face. “Land sakes, are you into anal play, darlin’?”

“No! I wasn’t talking about that kind of pain.” She sighed and folded her arms. “Can you keep a secret?” Fran and both of her chins nodded. Even though the elderly woman had a reputation as a talker, Kelcee enjoyed her company and valued her counsel. She knew if she ever needed help, Fran would be there for her in a heartbeat—and after all she’d been through, that meant something very special.

“I mean it, Fran. This is for your ears only.”

“I need a woman’s advice. There’s this new guy out on Eagle Ridge Ranch that’s got me going in circles.” Kelcee pulled a stool over for Fran while she told the older woman the whole story. The stool might not have been the best place to perch the older lady because she nearly fell off several times as she laughed and slapped the counter next to her.

“My aunt Delia had a teacup behind, too,” Fran commented. “The men chased her like crazy. And you say he called you the night of the day he met you just to tell you he liked your teacup ass?” More laughter erupted.

Kelcee looked at her pink fingernail polish she’d applied earlier. “More or less.”

“Then he called you again later? Twice in the same day?”

She nodded.

“Uh-huh, and he made you a lunch just so he could see for himself that horny Jim Dobbins wasn’t still hanging around here, bothering you? Oh, I like him already.”

Kelcee smiled. “Yes, he can be nice at times. Most of the time, actually.” He worried over her and made her laugh and melt. Oh yeah, the man could definitely make her melt.

“You know I’ve seen him already. Junebug and I were walking down the street to sit on your porch and he swaggered out of the store. Mercy”—her hand went to her bosom—“he’s handsome enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat. If he called you this morning to make sure tonight was still okay, it means he’s looking forward to seeing you. Now that he knows you’re wearing a garter belt and thigh-highs, land sakes, he’ll have a chub-on for the rest of the day.” Her face went from humored to concerned.

“You said he was scarred. That must be the young gentleman Clint saw storm out of here a couple weeks ago. ZQ said he needed to get him to the ranch so he could take some pain medicine. Do you know how badly he was injured?”

Kelcee told her what she’d seen and Dustin had told her.

“Oh, sweetie, his male ego must be shattered. You’ll have to be careful. Obviously he likes to rattle your cage. I’m not so sure he could take your banging his, though. I suggest you read up on men who’ve been in battle. My Clint served in the Army as a Ranger for twenty years. Part of that time was in Vietnam.”

Fran sighed and shook her head. “Clint came back a different man. Couldn’t handle crowds, which is why we moved here from San Antonio where my family’s from. He had horrible nightmares.” She swiped a tear. “He still can’t take the fireworks. We go to our cabin farther in the wooded hills where he can’t hear or see them. I don’t inquire about what happened over there. What I’ve learned from his shrieks during his terrible dreams has been enough to tell me the horrors of what he went through. I curb my curiosity and don’t ask.”

She blew her nose and wiggled off the stool to toss the tissue away. “I did question his decision to become a U.S. Marshal, but that was only because I love him so. He wasn’t happy I’d brought up all I’d learned from his screaming night terrors. What a day of arguing we had.” Fran shook her head. “In the end, when I could see how much becoming a marshal meant to him, I told Silver Stud he had my blessing. And I have to admit, Clint seems happy with the job. He rarely speaks of what he does, but he seems content. That’s all that matters to me. Plus, he’s coming up on retirement age. Neither one of us are spring chickens anymore.”

Kelcee’s mind rolled back to the night Clint had handled his end of her transfer in the Atlanta airport from the U.S. Marshal who’d escorted her from Baltimore. The three of them met at a vacant seating area Clint had already scoped out and texted her guard as to its location. She had trembled the entire flight, just as she’d shaken from fear the week of the trial. During the flight she read and reread the details of her new life and past history. So many things to remember about her new persona—big and minuscule.

Clint hugged her as if they were relatives or something and whispered in her ear, “Kelcee, darlin’, you’ll be safe now. Our flight to San Antonio leaves in an hour. If I seem stressed in crowded areas, I’m on alert. Baby girl, don’t tremble so. I’ve got you.”

He’d struck her as a competent man who didn’t take guff from anyone. Even so, there was a gentleness about him. He was a man to be trusted. Now, she understood his aversion to crowded areas. Yet, he’d displayed no fear. She guessed Clint could sense hers and was determined to ease her panic. Dear God, the more she learned about him, the more she loved the older gentleman.

The UPS truck rumbled to a stop in front of the bookstore. The driver pushed in a cart holding two boxes of books, scanned them, and bid both ladies a good day before he hurried out. Fran snatched a box opener from her capri pocket and opened both boxes herself. Kelcee just shook her head at the woman’s exuberance.

They talked as they emptied the boxes and put the books away. Kelcee asked her how Clint could hunt after all he’d been through. Fran told her the story behind his growing up in this area, hunting with Frank and his dad. How he and Frank were so close, he didn’t seem to mind the noise of gunfire with him. Sometimes they’d travel on a hunting trip, and at others, they’d go to the cabin Fran mentioned.

Kelcee shared how Dustin had reacted to the action movie they’d gone to the other evening.

“Poor soul. He’ll start thinking he’s not good enough for you. Where is your young man taking you for dinner?”

“Since there are only two restaurants, one pizza place, and a Dairy Queen in town, our choices will be limited.”

“Well, he won’t take you to Tony’s dressed like that. So, it’ll be the Red Hen or Sandoval’s Tex-Mex. Now, tally my book purchases and I’ll pay my bill. I think I’ll start out with the first book in the BDSM series.”

“Does Clint have any idea what you read?” Kelcee pulled out a brown bag with twine handles and began filling it.

Fran’s hand and rows of chains and charms went to her ample chest. “Land sakes, no. But Silver Stud does seem to enjoy the benefits.” She winked and chuckled. “Oh, and you need to face the fact. You’ve got yourself a serious beau if he can get over the effects the war’s had on him. Don’t be such a chicken about letting people get close to you.”

Kelcee handed her the bag. “I don’t know how I feel about allowing myself to get so emotionally involved with him. Oh, not because of his war injuries and traumas, but because I don’t know how long he’ll be staying at Eagle Ridge Ranch. About the time I give him my heart, he’ll decide to go back to his hometown. I’m trying to keep things light between us.” She glanced away and sighed. Hell, did the sentiments she’d just voiced sound as weak to Fran as they did to her?

The old woman hummed all the way to the door, opened it, and tossed a torment over her shoulder in a singsong voice, “You do care, chicken. I’ll be in tomorrow for a full report.”

Working with Gina was different than doing physical therapy with Rebecca at the hospital. Gina was a hard taskmaster, which was a good thing. Dustin had to keep pushing himself to get his strength and balance back. It was working. He relied on the cane less and less.

Today, she questioned his trigger points with his PTSD. After he told her about the lost time in the kitchen after staring at the hole in the ceiling and then the other night at the movie, he accused her of trying to get inside his head. She gave him some coping tricks that she’d learned from a psychologist friend of hers. Then she ordered him to drop and give her fifty push-ups.

Initially, he did them on his knuckles, before adding a clap between every push in the upward position. “If I ever catch Junebug on the floor doing these for you, I will beat your ass.”

“I only make her do ten.”

“You are one sick bitch,” he growled to the toes of her lime green sneakers.

“I am one sadistic former Marine bitch, I’ll have you know. You don’t enjoy martial arts, do you? I get bored sparring with JJ. I’ve learned all the tells to his moves.”

Dustin stood, an awkward movement for him. “I don’t think I’m ready to have you beat my ass just yet.” Gina suggested a smoother way to stand from a prone or sitting-on-the-floor position. They repeated it several times before he sensed his getting up was more fluid. He’d have to work on these exercises on his own, anything to help him move in a more natural way.

He walked Gina to her car without his cane, and as she drove off, his phone dinged. A text had come in from Junebug.
“Black and you better bring flowers.”
ZQ’s mother was good on reconnaissance.

Nance ran toward him with a Frisbee clamped in her jaws. He tossed it and she ran, jumping to catch it mid-air. After about ten minutes of play, she sat in front of him, her tongue hanging out, and her gaze expectant.

“What do you want? Water?”

Nance barked.

“I suppose you expect me to put ice cubes in the bowl first the way Junebug does.”

The dog whined and her tail wagged as she walked beside him to the house.

“I don’t know where the treats are kept, though.”

Nance bared her teeth and growled.

“Okay, okay. Can’t you tell when a fella’s joking? Guess I need to brush up on my communication skills.” He slipped the cell from the pocket of his sweatpants. “Which reminds me, I’d better text JJ. Tell him you’re with me. You need to report in.”

They walked toward the back porch. “My lack of communication skills are not why I’m divorced, though. Hailey couldn’t deal with my war injuries. Hell, some days, I can barely handle them. The person I’m worried about the most is Kelcee. She’s a very special person. I suppose it’ll take time for both of us to adjust, huh, pretty girl?” Nance licked his hand. “I knew you’d understand, being a wounded vet yourself.”

Dustin and Nance were snuggled on the hammock, both taking a snooze, when Junebug’s small SUV created a cloud of dust behind her as she drove in the lane. Dustin rolled out of the padded lounge, using the tricks Gina had taught him earlier. The pain was only slight, and he smiled. Progress.

Junebug parked near the back door, and the hatch popped open slightly.

“Don’t you dare carry in any of that stuff. That’s what you’ve got boys for.” He opened the back hatch all the way and grabbed two cloth bags. He’d get the cases of soda and beer on his next trip. “You look tired. Let me help you put the groceries away so you can take a nap.”

“I won’t argue with that idea. Hon, I spent almost all the money you gave me. Bought you an outfit for tonight and a couple plain T-shirts.” She glanced at him. “Where’s your cane?”

“I’m trying to go for short spells without it.” He set the bags on the kitchen counter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Is shopping for me what has you so worn out? I’m sorry I asked you to get me some things.”

She leaned her silver head against his shoulder. “You are a dear man, but I sense you don’t think so—not anymore. You need a woman to mellow your attitude.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a paper bag. “Here, these are from the drugstore. Rooster jackets.” She winked and handed him the bag.

“What are rooster jackets?” He opened the bag and peeked in. “Condoms? You…you bought me condoms?” The heat of a blush started at his collarbone and rose like smoke in a chimney. He stared at the older woman. “I…ah…don’t even want to think about you walking into a drugstore and…” He jiggled the bag.

She waved her open hand through the air. “Well, fudge and buttermilk, it’s not like I marched up to the counter and asked for them by what they are—cock covers.” She whispered the name as if it were something vile. “Like a proper lady, I used the more acceptable term, rooster jackets.”

Christ-a-mighty! This woman is one piece of work. No wonder ZQ is the way he is.

Dustin removed cans from one of the bags. “Is that why you told me to get flowers for Kelcee?” Holding a container of doggie treats, he put them away, and turned to gauge Junebug’s reaction to his question. She was smiling. “Are you a certified matchmaker or is this just a side business for you? Rooster jackets and all.”

“Hunh. If I was certified, my son would have a wife and I’d have grandchildren. I’m just using you as a guinea pig.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped.

She covered her mouth and giggled in her sweet, adorable way. “Kelcee’s awfully nice.”

“Yes.” He pointed at Junebug. “And that’s all I’m saying.” Damned if he’d tell her he couldn’t stop thinking about the spitfire with the strawberry blond hair. Kelcee was quickly becoming a mental obsession, and he was a little unsettled with it. What if she didn’t feel the same way once she saw all of him? Which, if he had his way, would be tonight.

Hours later, he strode into Bookstore by the Falls wearing the outfit Junebug had picked out—a pale blue golf shirt that could have been a size bigger, for it showcased every muscle and ripped abs, and black slacks. He carried a bouquet of vibrant pink foxgloves, pale pink daisies, and white roses. God, he hoped Kelcee wasn’t allergic to flowers.

Getting out of the ranch kitchen earlier hadn’t been easy. ZQ and JJ had whistled and made obscene remarks about his being all gussied up for a woman and didn’t he smell “purty.” He was almost out the door when Junebug asked, “How many rooster jackets do you have in your pocket?”

ZQ spewed the beer he was drinking and started laughing.

“Two.” What the hell, he might as well be honest. There seemed to be no secrets in this freakin’ house.

Junebug winked. “Atta-boy. Go on, now, and have a nice evening.” He couldn’t get off the ranch fast enough.

He closed the door to the bookstore and Kelcee appeared around the end of one of the bookshelves.
Holy Mother of God.
Her curly hair tumbled over her shoulders. The dress she wore hugged every curve he’d fantasized about holding and kissing. She usually wore long skirts, but this one was above the knee. Sexy ankle-strap stilettoes showcased come-to-Jesus legs.
I’ve lost my damn tongue. I don’t know if I can even say hello.

“No cane?”

“Nope. I might move slowly for a day or so, but I’ve decided I’ve leaned on it enough.” He slowly stalked toward her, taking in every beautiful inch, and held out the flowers. “For the prettiest woman in this bookstore.” His dating skills were rusty. Did he sound like a sap? Did he care? Yes. Something about her sassy mouth and spunky spirit doing its best to cover up her vulnerability appealed to him. Her compassionate nature drew him in like a blazing fire on a freezing, snowy night.