Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) (2 page)

And okay, she’d just watched one of her best friends, Shay, marry Dax’s older brother Jonah in an incredibly romantic ceremony overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, and all the talk of forever and partnership and a kissy-boo future had gotten to her. Not that she wanted a kissy-boo future, but sometimes she thought about what it would be like to not have to fight every battle alone.

Then she’d seen Dax at the bar looking bigger than life in his dress blues—as out of place in all of that happiness as she was—and before she knew what was happening they were . . . bonding. Over Jack and Johnnie Walker.

In a momentary lapse in judgment, she’d found herself in his room, her bridesmaid dress around her waist like a Hula Hoop, staring down her one secret fantasy, who had offered her something she’d desperately needed.

Escape.

One night to forget about everything, be selfish, and lose herself without the fear of
losing
herself, because she wasn’t looking for forever. Good thing, since Dax was not a forever kind of guy.

“If I give you a lei, will you go away?” she asked.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to talk about the wedding?”

“First rule about one-night stands,” she said as though she were a foremost expert on the subject. “What happens between the wedding party, stays between the wedding party. No postexpectations, no postconversations, and no ties.”

“Actually, first rule of one-night stands, Emi, is that they last all night. You cut out before dawn.” He lowered his voice. “And to be clear, you liked my tie.”

She had. A whole lot. Almost as much as she’d liked him. Which was why she’d cut out. Somehow, if she was the one to walk, it felt like she was still in control of her emotions—in control of her life.

“I had things to do.”

“At three in the morning?”

“What did you expect?” She laughed. “To cuddle and hold hands while swapping embarrassing childhood secrets and life goals? And it isn’t like you called me the next day anyway.”

He grinned. Big and wide, and he slipped something out of his pocket. A phone.

He gave a few confident swipes of his finger, and a second later, hers rang. She leveled him with her most lethal glare. When it kept ringing, she crossed her arms,
so
not going to play this game.

Dax stood there, patient and unfazed, as though he was confident she’d answer as it rang and rang until it went to voice mail. Emerson could hear the muffled message she’d recorded and threw her hands in the air. “Oh for God’s sake, hang up the—”

He held up a silencing finger.
Beep.

Emerson had a finger of her own to hold up, but since she was working, she refrained.

“Hey, Emi,” he said into the phone, charm and swagger dialed to full. “Wanted to let you know that I had an amazing time the other night—”

“Five months and nine days ago.”

He flashed her a
do you mind, I’m busy here
look. “I’m in town for a bit and I’d love to see you. Say grab a drink, maybe after you get off work? I know the perfect place, coconut shells welcomed.”

Then he ended the call, slid the phone into his back pocket, and smiled. “You were saying?”

“You’re infuriating.”

He shrugged as though he’d been called worse, then slipped a twenty into the cash box and took a lei, a pink one, and held it out for her. She rolled her eyes.

“Now slip this flower necklace around my neck so I can go get us a drink.”

“There is no
us
.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” But she didn’t sound all that convinced. Maybe it was because as she said it she swayed closer. “And I’m not going on a date with you.”

Dax held out the lei and wiggled it at Emerson. When she crossed her arms and shook her head, he slid the lei over his head and winked. “Who said anything about a date?”

Normally, Dax wasn’t all that big on actively engaging the unexpected. They were called unidentified threats for a reason in his line of work—
former
line of work, he had to keep reminding himself, now that his career as an army Ranger was unexpectedly over. But after a month of bed rest and three weeks of dragging his sorry ass out of bed, working out until he passed out, working out some more, then crashing only to start all over again the next day, the unexpected was looking pretty tempting.

Especially since Emerson’s coconut shells and wisps of dyed straw
did little to camouflage the lethal bod beneath. And that mouth.
Man
,
that mouth was sharp and smart and, if memory served correctly,
so
talented it should be registered as the eighth wonder of the world.

And his memory about her mouth and that night was photographic. Sparring with Emerson was like walking into hostile territory. It put him on edge, pumped him full of adrenaline, and had him jonesing to gear up for some hand-to-hand combat.

Full-body combat with Emerson, yeah, he remembered that too. Every second. The way her skin tasted, how she gave that breathy little sigh when he got it right, which made him want to get it right over and over. And over again. He especially remembered how, for such a small thing, she liked to talk a big game during sex—often and dirty. His personal favorite was when she ordered him around.

Fifteen years in the army had taught Dax how to take an order and, in more recent years as squad leader of a highly trained and elite team of soldiers, how to issue them. But never in his life had he been turned on by a direct command.

Move those hands any slower, Ranger, and I’ll make you drop to your knees and give me twenty. And I’m not talking about pushups.

Dax found his gaze dropping to Emerson’s hands and felt his lips curl up again into what he was pretty sure was a smile. It felt odd because he hadn’t used those muscles much since being back stateside—awkward and a little rusty, but damn good.

“Oh no,” she said, pointing to his mouth, her voice taking on that feisty edge he loved. He hadn’t known her all that well growing up—she was a few years behind him in school—but he’d heard enough to know she had bite. “Aim that somewhere else. As I said, there will be no date, no repeat of that night, and absolutely no talking about it.”

“But I love it when you talk.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and when he gave those feisty lips all of his undivided attention, she closed it. Then pulled out her cell, her fingers swiping furiously across the screen. With a satisfied huff she stuck it back between her coconuts, and a second later his phone buzzed.

Not Interested in what you’re selling.

He did a little swiping of his own. Hit Send, making her dig between those pretty shells.

Your coconuts say differently.

She looked down at her shells, perfectly in place, and scowled. He slid her another wink designed to rile her, and mission accomplished. Her eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared a little, and she got an intense expression that looked really similar to the expression she wore just before she exploded.

She leaned in, providing him an inspiring view of her coconuts, and with a quiet steel to her voice, said, “You, me, Johnnie, and Jack in San Francisco. It was a fun escape.” He’d call it a hell of a lot more than fun but decided now was not the time to argue. “You and me here in St. Helena? Surrounded by the gossip mill, our crazy families, and, well, life? That sounds . . .” She shivered—and not in a good way. “Suffocating.”

“More complicated maybe, but I wouldn’t say suffocating.” Although thinking about sex with Emerson had his chest acting strangely.

“Complicated defeats the purpose,” she said. “So let’s agree that it was epic—”

“Epic, huh?”

“—and go back to being two people who happened to grow up in the same town.”

“Two people who grew up in the same town.” He tried that out, then looked at her mouth and shook his head. “Won’t work. I’ve seen that cute tattoo on your a—”

She pressed her hand to his mouth and looked around. “Well, make it work, because no one in town knows what my tattoo looks like, and I like it that way. So as long as you are here, and gossip is still the town’s leading commodity, this”—she dropped her hand to flap it between them—“is never going to happen.”

When put that way, Dax saw her point. No strings only worked when there was nothing tying them to more than a casual, fun, and fuck-yeah kind of party—a hard thing to accomplish when surrounded by a shared past.

And Dax treated ties the same way he treated unidentified threats: avoid if at all possible, but if forced to engage, proceed with caution, use the appropriate level of force, get crafty when things get sketchy, and if all else fails, pop smoke.

Hands down, this was a pop-smoke kind of situation. But he’d always had a hard time walking away from a challenge—especially one with a smart mouth. So he closed the rest of the distance, pressed his lips to her ear, and whispered, “Never is a long time, Emi.”

Satisfied when he heard her breath catch, he gave her a parting wink and headed toward the bar on the other side of the room, a thousand and one WTF questions going through his head. He’d only agreed to recuperate at home because, one, St. Helena Hospital had one of the top orthopedic specialists in the state, and, two, if he hadn’t come home, his family would have come to him. Sharing the occasional meal on his terms seemed a hell of a lot easier than sharing bunk space with his two brothers.

He’d also agreed because he had a plan. A good one. Get in, get better, and get out—avoiding as many firefights as possible. The plan was working. His blown-out knee was still tender but healing, and he had a potential job lined up that would take him far enough away so that he could process the last few years without one of his eight hundred relatives asking what was wrong. Or one more little old lady dropping off another casserole. He wouldn’t be working special ops in the military anymore, but he’d be engaging bad guys nonetheless. As long as his doctor signed off, which he’d make sure
would
happen, he was pretty sure the position was his. So a distraction right then probably wasn’t smart, seeing as last time he’d been stupid enough to get distracted he’d ended up with a hunk of shrapnel in his leg.

Sure, the shattered kneecap still hurt like a bitch and the images were tattooed on the insides of his eyelids, but at least he’d come home. Others weren’t as lucky. So in honor of buddies who’d never get that chance, guys who deserved it more than he did, he’d set up post in St. Helena. Not forever.
Jesus
, he couldn’t take forever in a town that spewed sunshine and rainbows, but long enough to get back on his feet, so to speak, stuck for the next month in a house he’d sublet—spitting distance from one brother and hollering distance from the other. Not to mention the myriad of other relatives who also called St. Helena home.

Dax spotted his brother Adam over by the bar. Being an elite smoke jumper for the Napa County Fire Department, Adam was a hero in his own right, but not a soldier—past or present. Didn’t stop him from holding up the bar like he owned the place, though.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Dax said.

“Wasn’t. Then I heard you were coming.” Adam was usually the most laid-back of the brothers, but tonight he looked like a force of nature in his SHFD T-shirt and his ball cap pulled low. “On your bike.”

On an expired license
went unsaid, because they both knew Dax hadn’t been stateside long enough to renew it. “It was just a few blocks.”

“Explain that to Jonah. Because last he knew I was your ride today, then he gets a call that you were spotted driving your motorcycle with a jacked-up knee down Main Street.”

Two minutes and he already had a headache. “How did he know?”

“Nora Kincaid posted it on the town’s Facebook page. It’s under her Damn Fine Vintage album if you want to check it out.”

Dax blew out a breath. He shouldn’t have asked. Nosy Nora had been perched outside his stoop since he got home, trying to catch a picture of the missing Baudouin brother. Keeping a secret from leaking in St. Helena was like trying to stop Niagara Falls with a tampon.

“Is he pissed?” Dax asked.

Jonah was the biggest tight-ass of the group. Loved every letter of the law. All that black-and-white text really revved his engine. Not a surprise since he was also the oldest and acted like he carried the entire universe on his shoulders. Yup, the local sheriff was big, badass, and when packing that brother-knows-best attitude, could be intimidating. And irritating as hell.

He was also one of the best men Dax knew. Honest, tough, loyal, and a man who got things done. Jonah could find gold in a shitstorm, herd feral cats, and swim through land. He was that good.

“Called me nine times. When I didn’t answer he came over waving his phone, acting like I’m your keeper. Interrupted the best nap I’ve
had in weeks.” The way his brother’s hair was tucked messily under
his cap and the relaxed, just-been-laid stance he had going on told Dax
that his nap was done in tandem. “Said he’d arrest you next time.”