Fiery (8 page)

Carmen slipped her fingers up the back of his head, threading them through his hair. His knees shook with a force he hadn’t experienced in any military fight, and he’d experienced a lot of reactions in the last sixteen years.

She feathered kisses along his neck, teasing his head with her fingers, and snuggled close. He quickened his pace, eager to reach the bedroom. When he crossed the threshold and looked up, expecting to see the two twin beds with the matching, pink and green checked bedspreads, he stumbled. The two beds were gone, replaced by a giant king that almost filled the room.

“Woman, I think you’re going to be my undoing.”

He’d dreamed up a few things to do with those twin beds, but the new one meant he’d be able to spread out and move. He saw no downside.

“Sounds fun.” Her words slurred and her touches barely made contact.

And she grew heavier, not from holding her too long, but from the completeness of relaxation that was overtaking her. He tilted his body a little to the side. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Her eyes were almost completely closed.

“Carmen.”

“Mmmm. We gonna have sex?” She slurred so bad the
x
sounded like a long
th
muttered with a lisp.

Despite the hard-on pressing against his zipper, he laughed. “Not tonight.”

“Awww.”

He leaned over and pulled back the covers as much as he could while holding her securely against him. After laying her down and getting her covered, he sat beside her and smoothed her hair back from her face.

She snuggled her face against the pillow, rubbing her cheek and sighing. “You’re a really nice guy, Ryan.”

“If nice guys finish last I think that puts me behind.”

She smiled a goofy smile as she slipped off to sleep. He couldn’t help but smile at her, though he was already planning for the day he would follow through on the intentions they took into her bedroom.

Chapter Eight

Carmen woke up the morning after spraining her ankle with the headache and regret of a woman who’d gone on a bender. The pain pill had killed the pain, but it was as powerless as time against the memory of falling asleep in Ryan’s arms after asking him to make love with her.

He hadn’t made a move again, and had actually done a great job of dodging hers. Two days of sitting in her apartment had been more than she could handle, despite Ryan’s attempts to keep her entertained. Constant company and DVDs while he was working at the site hadn’t been enough. Even his attentions in the evenings, until he tucked her in each night with a goodnight kiss, weren’t enough.

The man’s picture could have been the cover of
Mannerly Gentlemen
, if there was such a magazine. The headline would be something like “SuperGunny 911” and they could have written a four-page feature on all the wonderful things he did for her. Cooking dinner, making sure she didn’t miss a round of icing her ankle, taking out the trash, doing the dishes, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, and every other chore she could possibly need done was covered.

He held her hand while they watched TV. He kissed her with tenderness and passion, but never with pressure. He tucked her in and waited for her to fall asleep, but he was back every morning before she woke up so he could cook her breakfast.

He’d brought the rocks she needed for the faces of the grandpas so she could work on them at home, but he’d refused to let her go to the site. Finally she’d nagged enough that he agreed to take her there, though he’d had a list of conditions.

Some of the demands bordered on the edge of over-protective, but when he’d asked her to promise there would be no dancing around the gazebo she’d had to laugh. He’d still made her promise, of course he hadn’t realized she’d have agreed to most anything if it meant getting out of her apartment.

The sun on her face was all the reason she’d needed to agree to his terms. She’d needed the fresh air so badly and the sounds of life outside that she’d even allowed him to carry her to and from his truck, though she was perfectly capable of using her crutches.

She was sitting with her injured leg stretched out and working on the rock picture of a black-capped chickadee when Ryan joined her.

“How you doing?”

It had been five minutes since he’d last asked. His sweetness was beginning to wear thin. “Ryan.”

“Carmen.”

“My ankle is fine, though I am getting a little hungry.”

“I’ll take you for something.” He was up and reaching for her hands. “You could use a break anyway.”

“Yes. Sitting on my ass and placing little rocks and pebbles into a chiseled groove is highly taxing on my ankle.”

“You should elevate it.”

He was being sweet, taking care of her, and she appreciated it. He was also smothering her in tenderness and it wasn’t like him. She missed arguing with him. Missed that he lost his temper and called her
Woman
with an edge of anger or frustration.

“If you’re looking for something fragile maybe you should visit Sky’s shop. When you do, Gunny—” she put a little more force on his rank and let it linger before continuing, “—notice I’m not on display.”

“You’re not indestructible either, Woman.”

Gah.
He’d called her Woman, but not with any edge. She needed him to stop coddling her or she would never have any chance of getting him into bed. And she’d tried every trick she knew, not that any of them worked. Sadly, the last couple nights she’d pretended to be asleep and then had relieved herself after he left. A self-induced orgasm was better than nothing, but it didn’t satisfy the starvation that kept building.

“Ryan.” She leaned away when he would have taken her hands to help her stand. “I’m going to stay here and work. We’re running out of time and still have a few squares to go.”

“If someone hadn’t insisted on staying away for a week…”

“If someone wouldn’t insist on taking me away right now…”

“Are you suggesting I’m part of the delay to this work?” He dropped his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “I don’t think you realize just how much I’ve been doing all month.”

She glared up at him, refusing to be bullied by his height while she was sitting. “On this, or on my last nerve?”

“So I’m irritating you?”

“You’re more smothering than chloroform.”

“Fine. You want some space, I’ll go. I’ll have someone bring you lunch. Don’t go home without me, though.”

She saluted. “Yes, sir.”

He was muttering something about ungrateful, pain-in-the-ass women when he stalked away. Thrilled to be alone, and to have riled him up some, she got back to work. She was whistling a short time later when the gate opened with a creak.

“I have a delivery for Carmen Smith.”

She smiled as she turned to see Hauk heading her way with a bag. “Fish and chips?”

“It’s one of your favorites.” Hauk, her sister’s former boss and pub owner, closed the distance in a few long strides. “You wanna sit in the gazebo or on the ground to eat?”

“That depends.” She narrowed her gaze. “Do you have orders to carry me?”

“If I’d wanted to buy into the military habit of following orders I’d have enlisted. Gazebo or ground?”

“Gazebo,” she said while reaching for her crutches. He skipped the two steps and set the bag on a bench. “Are you also supposed to check my vitals and make sure I don’t run away without supervision?”

Hauk laughed. “I know what he’s doing, you know?”

“Hovering?”

“Adjusting.”

“To what?” Carmen plopped onto the bench with a sigh of satisfaction. She’d barely put any weight on the crutches and there had only been the slightest twinge in her ankle. Feeling victorious, she reached into the bag and pulled out the to-go container.

Hauk smiled. “To the same thing we all have to adjust to when we find ourselves involved with a strong-minded and strong-willed woman.”

“We’re working together on this project. We aren’t involved.” Not that she hadn’t tried each night. The man had a monk’s powers of resistance.

“You won a contest established by Byron, Harold and Errol.”

“Where’d you hear that?” And she knew exactly what was coming next.

“Vic hears things. And you know you’ve been set up, right?”

She wanted to argue, mostly because she was tired of being nice. She’d been nice to everyone for days, but it didn’t make sense to argue the truth. Especially with Hauk, who had fallen victim to Byron’s schemes too. “Byron’s not as subtle as he thinks.”

He laughed. “You say that like it’s a death sentence.”

“Hauk.” She rested a hand on her friend’s wrist. “You say Ryan’s adjusting. I say he’s smothering. I’m on the verge of forgetting what it’s like to be alone for five minutes.”

“He can’t be that bad.”

“He carries me to the bathroom instead of letting me use my crutches.”

Hauk raised a Nordic blond brow, lending a wicked gleam to his smile. “And you haven’t put him on crutches yet?”

“I’m trying to be nice.”

“Oh, honey. You’re sunk.”

“What?”
Sunk? As in love?
“No way.”

“You’re only nice to children and animals. With everyone else you call it as you see it.”

“I’m plenty nice,” she argued.

“You’re right. You are. You cheer people up when they need it. You help when you can. Through it all, everyone who knows you knows they’ll get the blunt truth if they ask for your opinion.”

“So.” Man, she was in a mood to argue. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Hauk leaned forward and took her chin between his fingers. “Honey, that’s one of my favorite things about my wife. It’s a great thing.”

“You’re not asking me to go easy on him?”

“Why should Ryan have it easy? None of the rest of us do.”

She wrapped her arms around Hauk’s neck and squeezed. “There’s a reason you’re one of my favorite people in this town.”

“Right back at you.” He hugged her back and spoke against her hair. “I’ll make one suggestion.”

“What’s that?” She pulled back and returned to her food.

“Take your time getting off those crutches, and when you do don’t get hurt again for a little bit. We men don’t handle it well when the women we care about are injured.”

The women we care about.
The words looped in her mind long after she’d finished eating, said good-bye to Hauk and returned to work on the pictures. They were still looping in her head as she finished the chickadee. They were still looping, along with the resulting questions about Ryan caring, when he returned to take her home.

Carmen was so caught up in the idea of him caring, like Hauk did for Vic, that she didn’t protest when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the truck. She’d called it from the first day on the beach that Byron had set them up, and if things worked out well, she’d owe the old meddler a thank you.

If his scheme was successful, he’d have given her everything she’d wanted when she came to town. Inclusion. Community. Friends. Family. Love.

The temporary wall circling the gazebo had been replaced with a curtain hanging from scaffolding. Only the slightest tug would reveal the people filling the square to watch the parade’s progression. When Carmen reached the square, she would exit the convertible and cross the lawn while Byron, Errol and Harold made a speech about the landscaping contest. On their cue, Carmen and several helpers stationed around the outside of the drape would tug on the cord that held the curtain in place.

With that tug, the entire thing would fall to the ground leaving only the scaffolding frame standing. People on all sides of the gazebo would be able to see the work they’d done immediately.

In his dress blues, Ryan stood at attention in the center of the gazebo. The cheers from the crowd beyond the curtain grew louder as each passing float was announced by the grandfathers. Every announcement brought the parade’s end closer. The closer that came, the more his knees and insides shook.

His heart raced. Sweat ran down his neck and along his spine. He’d been trained to ignore distractions and discomfort, like the too tight collar of his jacket, so he stood firm and counted the floats announced. Only three remained.

“You really ready for this?” Josh asked from Ryan’s left.

“One hundred percent.” Ryan didn’t nod or shift his gaze away from the spot where Carmen would be standing when she dropped the curtain.

“She’s going to cry,” Aimee said from where she stood to his right. Kendall was with Hauk and Vic, who would join them all soon enough. “If she doesn’t I will.”

“It’s what you women do,” Josh said with a smile at his wife.

The last actual float was announced. The high school band marched in, playing “The Maine Song”. The lyrics had never mattered much to Ryan, but suddenly they did. Like the song said, he’d sought far and wide, but his search had been in vain, because there was no place for him like Maine.

The band stopped playing, and Ryan could picture them lowering their instruments to stand at check until their next cue.

“And now,” Errol spoke energetically into his microphone. “Turning the corner in our customary 1955 convertible, donated for use each year by the Ruth family, is our mayor and the winner of the town square landscaping contest.”

“We had thirty entrants,” Harold said, taking over the speech, “and the decision was a tough one. In the end, Carmen Smith, one of Whispering Cove’s newer residents, submitted the winning design. You may have been keeping up with the updates in the paper and are curious about what this young lady and our head landscaper, Ryan Alden, have been working on.”

“Carmen’s heading this way,” Byron stated. “Where’s Ryan? Gunny,” he called to the crowd. “Where are you? Step forward.”

There was murmuring and shuffling, but Ryan didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t even let his lips curl with the knowledge that the only people on to his game were in the gazebo with him.

“I guess he couldn’t be here,” Harold said. “Carmen, grab that rope.”

The fabric moved as she brushed against it on the other side. Ryan’s heart sped another pace.

“One,” Harold spoke into the microphone.