Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) (23 page)

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.

She walked over to him, not stopping until her arms were wrapped around his middle and her head pressed against his chest. “Long enough to know you make me smile just the way you are too.”

As Dax drew Emerson in close, he decided that he’d do just about anything to make her smile. When he’d first agreed to be a Lovely co-leader, he’d done it to get into Emerson’s pants. Now, after a few weeks of working with the girls and his co-leader, he decided he’d rather be right here, with her. Standing beneath a canopy of oaks and pines, miles from town, her looking up at him as if she liked what she saw.

Not that he didn’t want to see if she went camo or commando under those PTA pants, but he was also interested in seeing more of what lay beneath that Kevlar exterior.

“Are you admitting that you like me, Emi?” he asked.

She pulled back and gifted him the most amazing smile. “Ask me after we win.”

A faint chanting in the distance caught his attention. He looked past Emerson’s shoulder at the trail ahead. “Looks like you’re going to have to answer that question sooner than you thought.”

Emerson turned around right as a cluster of three-foot-talls tore down the trail toward them. Violet was leading the pack, a big red Loveliest Survivalist flag flapping as she ran.

“Loveliest Loveliness! Six-Six-Two!” they chanted.

“We won?” Emerson asked, bouncing up on her toes. And the sheer amount of joy radiating off her was enough to bring a man to his knees.

“Looks that way.”

“Oh my God. We won.” She kissed his cheek, then spun around and started jumping up and down, chanting along, “Loveliest Loveliness! Six-Six-Two!”

Dax took a step back as the chanting and flag got closer, know
ing that they would want to wave it all the way to the campsite. But instead, they bypassed their tents and kept going—straight at him.

Four sets of ear-piercing giggles and sparkly boots surrounded him, and before he could brace himself, they were all jumping up and down, their dainty arms latching on to him in a group hug that was pretty incredible.

And Dax felt like he’d won too.

Dax’s heart pounded hard exactly once.

Coming completely alert, he forced his heart rate to slow, kept his eyes closed and his body stock-still so he could hear everything. Process the threat.

The night air, thick with the scent of damp soil and fresh pine, stirred the trees outside his tent. But something was stirring the air inside.
More like someone
, he thought, relaxing his body, as he caught the aroma of milk chocolate and sneaky woman.

Releasing a calming breath, Dax cracked open one eye to see Emerson waving a hand in front of his face. She was wearing a giant Bed Bug T-shirt that hung to her knees, her mascara was slightly smudged, and her hair was a disaster, falling down her back in bed-rumpled corkscrews.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

He was now. That was the thing with Rangers, they were trained to grab sleep when they could. Dax could reach REM mode in seconds, and be in full combat mode even quicker.

Not giving her time to process, he moved fast, hooking an arm around her waist and, before she could release the scream he felt building, he pulled her down, rolling her under his body. She was curvy and soft and all things warm woman. “You tell me.”

She blinked up at him. “Jesus, Dax. You scared the crap out of me.”

“
Crap
is a bad word,” he said, then ran a hand down her leg to find nothing but body-hugging leggings. “And this is the boys’ tent.”

She slid her fingers into his hair. “I know.”

“Girlie parts in the boys’ tent.” He nuzzled her throat, pressing little kisses to her exposed skin and making her gasp. “My twelve-year-old self would be jealous.”

“You seem so surprised,” she said, wrapping those elegant hands behind his neck and skimming them under his shirt. “You invited me to the boys’ tent to give you a proper thank-you. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” He kissed her neck, her breathing going erratic when he reached the little hollow area in the curve she loved. “Full disclosure. I invited you to the boys’ tent to get you in my sleeping bag.”

“I know,” she said, all kinds of sexy lacing her words.

He lifted his head. “Why, Emerson Blake, are you breaking one of those rules you’re so fond of?”

“You like it when I break the rules.” She wrapped those lush legs around his, turning him inside out—and breaking more than a few Lady Bug official chaperone rules. “The question is, what rule do you want to break tonight?”

All of the erotic possibilities that came to mind set him on fire: two lone survivors stranded in the wild with only their body heat to keep them warm. No, sexy bombshell from the neighboring campsite jumps into his tent, naked and terrified of passing bears. Or, better yet, Lady Bug Lovely leader is so hot for her co-leader she sneaks into his tent to seduce him under the stars.

“Why are you smiling?”

How could he not, with her looking at him like that? All warm and open, her edges softer than usual. Happier too.

“Just thinking.”

She snuggled closer. “About?”

“You.”

Then he kissed her. Slow and steady, taking his time to explore every inch of her mouth, to coax out those breathy little moans that he’d become addicted to. He wasn’t in a hurry—not tonight. Not with her holding on to him as though she was content to stay right there, in his arms, and do just this until the sun came up.

“You taste amazing,” he said.

“I taste like brownie contraband,” she admitted. “I brought a bag with me but lost them in the scuffle. I’m pretty sure they’re all mushed by now.”

“Let me see,” he said as if that was the excuse he needed to get his hands on her. The truth was he’d been waiting to get his hands on her since that hug in the forest. Hell, since San Francisco. It was all he could think about at times. But tonight, surrounded by a bunch of girls, he’d have to settle for an old-fashioned make-out session—pj’s required.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his fill, which he did, making her giggle, then slid his hands down her bottom. When he could see her eyes heavy with need, he said, “Can’t find them.”

With one hand in her hair, the other on her delectable ass, he slanted his head and covered her mouth completely. She turned up the heat and everything seemed to shift to perfect, so damn perfect and right, he wanted more. More of this. More time. More Emerson.

So much more that he heard warning sirens blaring for him to slow down. Take a step back and assess the situation like a trained soldier should. Unfortunately, the only situation that mattered right then was what was going on beneath the T-shirt, and it seemed that road was dead ahead.

Silencing those sirens, he slid his hands down to the bottom of the worn cotton shirt and gripped the hem. His fingers dipped beneath to play with the strip of silky skin above her waistband.

“They’re not under there,” she whispered but lifted her hands above her head in surrender and gave a wicked smile.

“Then I guess I’ll just have you for dessert.” He tugged the hem past her belly button and pressed a kiss there. Her flat stomach rippled under his touch, the moonlight reflecting off of her very bare, very silky skin. “Much better than brownies.”

“Did he say
brownies
?” a tiny voice whispered.

Dax froze. His lips a scant inch from heaven.

“I like brownies.” Hushed agreements, and a few not-so-hushed agreements, followed. “Especially ones that don’t got nuts.”

Emerson smothered a laugh and Dax closed his eyes. Outside a flashlight clicked on, illuminating four shadows on the other side of the tent flap. They were small, with braided hair, and carrying stuffed animals of some kind—and pillows.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” he whispered.

Or at least he thought he whispered.

“That’s a bad word, Lovely Co-leader Mister.”

Lovely Co-leader Mister dropped his head to his Lovely co-leader’s stomach and closed his eyes and wished for them to go away. Her hands came up to thread through his hair, gently running her nails down his neck, and Dax had a hard time focusing. “They won’t leave now that they know you’re awake.”

On cue, there was a loud tap at the tent as though they were being polite and checking to see if it was okay to disturb the family of the house. “Can we come in?”

With a small tear for all that was lost, Dax lifted his head and said good-bye to dessert, then sadly lowered the shirt.

“Lovely Co-leader Mist—”

“Yup,” he said, sitting up. “Come on in.”

A flurry of whispers echoed off the hills behind them and the tent flap opened. Four heads peeked in. Flashlight beams went in every direction, forcing Dax to squint against the blinding glare. A short scuffle, a few giggles, and lots of slippers on sleeping bags later, they were all sitting crisscross applesauce in his tent.

Even Emerson, who was looking way too amused for his liking.

He ran a hand down his face and sighed. He heard a small gasp, located Freckles, who was sitting right next to him, and forced a grin. And damn if the girl didn’t grin back. Bright white teeth cutting though the dark quarters.

“Why are you in here, Lovely Co-leader Emerson?” Shirley Temple asked, and Dax raised a brow.
Yeah, explain that one, Lovely
.

“She was talking to him about going in the castle,” Violet said and,
huh
, Dax had never heard it called
that
before.

“Yup, I sure was,” Emerson said, sending him a reprimanding glance when he chuckled.

“So are you going to take us?” Glasses asked. She was vibrating with so much excitement she looked like one of those jumping beans. “Are you going to take us to see the castle?”

“If I say yes, will you all go back to bed?” So that he could get back to Emerson’s castle.

After several head movements that he took to mean affirmative, he agreed. Only the girls didn’t leave. In fact, they all scooted closer, grabbed hands, and started squealing.

“Shhh,” Emerson said, placing a finger to her lips, but she was smiling too. “We’re supposed to be asleep.” Then she looked at Dax. “Are you serious, you want to go?”

Okay, obviously this was another example of just how little he understood women. Even Freckles was on the same page and the kid didn’t speak. “Go where?”

“Disneyland, silly,” Violet said.

Emerson rested a hand on his knee, but it didn’t help his heart—which was racing so hard he thought he was going to pass out. “Disneyland?”

With four kiddos, a flag, and built-in troop mom?

“Since our team won the Loveliest Survivalist we get to represent our region at the state level. This year it’s at Big Bear, which is only a few hours from Disneyland,” Emerson explained, and the excitement in her eyes had something pinching tight in his chest. “I told the girls I’d look into maybe staying an extra day or two and taking them to Disneyland. We’d love it if you could make it.”

All this talk of
we
and
our
had his head pounding and his chest itching.

Dax twisted his neck to the side to relieve the growing pressure. It didn’t help. Neither did the anticipation and expectation staring up at him. He looked at Emerson, and it only made it worse. “When is it?”

“Next month.”

Next month he’d be in San Jose, playing hired gun to some bank account in a suit. And Emerson would be here, with her family, in St. Helena, moving on with her life and making a go at her new career. That was the deal. Because once he went back to work, he wasn’t sure how to keep up this life.

No matter which way he looked at it, or how many different scenarios he ran through his head, their two directives didn’t align.

And that was the core issue. He didn’t want to be Ranger Dax anymore, but he didn’t seem to know how to stop. Or understand who he was and what he offered without his rank and Ranger tab.

Except for when he was with Emerson. His gaze met her warm one and he took a breath. A deep breath, because with her none of that seemed to matter. He could just be whatever he needed to be in that moment. No strategies or hard decisions or thoughts about the future.

Until now. Now there was Disneyland, with
we
and
our
and a readymade family—as if an extension had suddenly been applied to their expiration date.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Dax had been extending their expiration date since day one. In fact, at times, when he allowed himself, in the quiet moments when they were together, he could almost see a future. Maybe even a home base.

It was small, like looking at it through the scope, but it was there, which made zero sense.

Dax knew everything about life on a base and jack shit about building a home. He’d made a career out of jumping from one theater of operations to another, always playing the role of team leader.

Problem was, Emerson was looking for a partner. And he was leaving.

M
onday morning Emerson dropped Violet off at school, then ran by the market to grab some turkey bacon and eggs. She was going to teach Dax how to make a healthy breakfast burrito.

She wanted to thank him for an incredible and successful weekend, and what guy didn’t love bacon. He didn’t need to know it was fake-n-bacon. And if he figured it out, she was hoping to distract him with her cupcakes—which were frosted with a new flag-inspired bra from the Boulder Holder.

Parking her car, she grabbed the bag off the passenger seat and stepped out into the pouring rain. Another storm had blown in, bringing with it two inches of water and the fresh smell of wet grass and winter.

Grinning, something that she hadn’t been able to stop since she’d dropped him off at his house yesterday, after a weekend to end all weekends, she knocked on Dax’s door. It was funny that the best weekend she’d had in years took place with a bunch of Bugs and the town’s bad boy. Only Dax wasn’t bad and he sure wasn’t a boy. He was strong and gentle, reliable without being smothering, and so incredibly perfect.

For her.

And she was perfect for him. He hadn’t said as much, but she could feel it in the way he held her, watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and how he came through. In every single way.

Her heart warmed at the memory of him and the girls in the tent. How he listened patiently as each one told him what ride she wanted to go on first, what princess she wanted a picture with, and how, with him on their team, they could be the best survivalists in the whole state.

Rain splattered her shoes and the outside of the paper bag, so she knocked again. When no one answered, she let herself inside. After putting the groceries in the fridge, she headed toward the back of the house where she found Dax—bent over the bed looking sexy and delicious in nothing but a low-slung towel.

“I should have set my alarm earlier,” she said, stepping farther into
the room. “Looks like I’m two minutes too late to wash your back.” She let her fingers glide up his back, to rub his shoulder. He felt tense, so she peeked around him and her hands froze. So did her heart.

His bed was covered with clothes, all of his clothes. Clean and folded into perfect squares, and being placed into a duffel bag that sat in front of him.

He was leaving.

“Or maybe I got here two minutes too early,” she joked, but something inside of her went cold.

“I talked to Fallon last night,” he said to the suitcase, not even turning to look at her. “I can finish up PT in San Jose while I get brought up to speed on my new job.”

Emerson’s heart slowed down until everything felt painfully surreal. “That’s great,” she managed to get out, but found herself looking to the right. She dropped her hands and took a step back. “Did, uh, Kyle give you the okay?”

“Yup.”

One word, cut-and-dry, and that grin of hers didn’t just fade. It died. And she had no idea what was up with her stomach and her chest and all that pinching. “Did you call Fallon or did he call you?”

Dax stopped packing and turned to finally face her. “He called me.”

“Oh.” Emerson let loose the breath that she’d been holding, felt some
of the pressure release at his answer.

“They wanted to see if I was open to starting early.” He looked at her and his face went carefully blank. “I told them I could start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” The pressure was back and she was certain it would kill her, because this wasn’t a requirement of the job. It was a voluntary enlistment. “But what about helping Jonah next weekend with the weapons training? What about Street Eats? And the other night . . .”

You asked me to stay.

“The other night was amazing,” he said gently, taking her hand. “All of it has been. And I won’t leave you hanging, I made a promise to help and I always live up to my promises. So I’ll just drive back for the day.”

Not the words she’d been hoping to hear. In fact, it was the opposite of what she needed right then. Emerson knew what it felt like to do something out of duty and obligation, and she didn’t want to be that kind of burden. Not for Dax.

She wanted to be the one who made him laugh and feel good. Lighter. Freer. Special. Because that was what he’d done for her.

“Was it just sex?” she asked, remembering that the key to survival was to stay calm. “For you, was it just amazing sex?”

“No, Emi, it wasn’t.”

“But,” she said, knowing that there was an exception to his statement. A condition to his feelings. “It wasn’t enough to stick around, right?”

Dax blew out a breath and looked at the ceiling. “You knew I was going to leave, knew
that it would come to an end. You were the one who said no ties.”

“I know,” she whispered, feeling like an idiot with all those
you
s being thrown at her. “I did, but something changed.”

Everything had changed. Emerson had started thinking past the job, past the distance, past the problems, and toward the future.

With him.

And she’d thought that maybe he’d been thinking the same. That regardless of what he decided, what job he took, they could make it work. Or at least give it a real chance. It was only two hours to San Jose and his family lived here and—
Oh. My. God.

No.

No no no no no!

Emerson covered her face. She was stupid, and a fool, and so incredibly and completely in love it hurt.

“Are you crying?” Dax said, tipping her face up. There was so much guilt and sheer terror over the fact that he’d made the tough girl cry that she willed her tears back and dropped her hands.

“I’m not a crier, Dax,” she argued through the tears.

“Then why do you have water—”

He paused, his face going pale. He knew. Of course he knew. Dax could uncover a single terrorist hiding inside of a mountain in the middle of the desert by sticking a fork in the air. Here she was, the worst poker player in history, her eyes darting right, right, right to the truth. And he knew.

“I never wanted to make things harder on you,” he said gently, brushing away a stray drop of rainwater from her cheek with his thumb.

“Then don’t,” Emerson argued. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to pack up, give me a peck on the cheek, and then never think about thi
s again. Because I won’t ever stop thinking what if, and I don’t think you will either.”

“This was supposed to be simple,” he whispered with so much terrifying finality, her stomach sank. She had one last shot to get him to listen, to get him to hear her, gather all the facts before he made his decision.

“Love is never simple, Dax,” she said, confident in that truth.

He stood there staring at her as if she’d handed him a death sentence. A small sob rose in her chest because saying that word aloud, finally admitting the truth for what it was, she felt as if she was giving them a new chance at a real life.

“And since we’re two of the most complicated and stubborn people I know, I imagine it will be crazier for us to get it right. But I am willing to try, willing to put my heart out there and see if you’re man enough to pick it up. And I hope to God you are, because I might not know how to date or handle no-strings affairs, but I know how to love. I have been doing it my whole life, and it is terrifying and intense, but it can also be safe and freeing if you allow it to be.” She took his hand in hers and looked up at him with all of the fear and nerves and love she had to give. “I don’t want the crumbs with you, Dax, I want the entire tray.”

“Emi.” He opened his mouth to say more, then he hesitated. It was subtle, but she saw it, felt it ricochet around her soul.

Shaken, she dropped her hands and stepped way back. “Oh God. This is the condition.” She was so familiar with conditions she should have seen it the second she walked into his room and spotted the duffel bag. “This is where you say, ‘hey, I showed you a fun time, helped you out, and now can you be a champ and pull it together and go back to your regularly scheduled life?
’
”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said but she knew he was lying. “I don’t want to go back to how things were, but my life is in San Jose and yours is here.”

“Bullshit. Your life is here, Ranger.” He winced at the mention of his title. “You have family, friends, a whole lot of people who love you. Right here. Why would you want to leave all that behind to start over somewhere else?”

He let out a mirthless laugh.

“You know what, I don’t think you have a God complex, I think you’re a chicken,” she argued. “I don’t even think you want that job, I think you’re taking it because it’s easy.”

“Is it so bad that I want easy?”

Emerson stopped breathing. It was a direct hit. Nothing about her, or her life, was easy. She knew that, but there was nothing she could do to change it. “Sometimes the good things take a little extra work.”

“I’m tired of hard, so damn tired of trying . . .” He raised a palm up but didn’t finish, didn’t tell her why he was willing to walk away. Then an absolute determination overtook his expression. Emerson saw Regular Old Dax disappear and the stoic soldier take his place. “I took the job. End of story. The longer we drag this out, the harder it will be in the end. For both of us.”

If she thought she was in pain a second ago, it was nothing compared to the deep ache inside her chest, which burned so cold her body felt like it would shatter. One sob and she would break into a million pieces.

She knew how to embrace loss, even knew how to put the pieces back together. This time, though, there would be no way to repair her heart.

Reminding herself that the key to survival was to stay calm, Emerson straightened her shoulders, back to the carry-the-world place they’d been her whole life—only this time it felt heavier, as if she would crumple the second she walked through that front door.

“You’re right,” she said, proud that she was sticking with she wasn’t a crier. “This entire thing has been one long drawn-out ending. I just had the ending wrong. Again.”

“Emerson,” he said but she didn’t wait for him to finish.

She was tired of fighting for things she loved only to have them leave. For once she wanted someone to fight for her, to come to her side. To tell her she was worth the crazy.

But he wasn’t going to say any of those things, so she turned and headed for the door.

The pressure built in her chest and she knew it was about to rain hard in her soul. So she clutched her hands over her heart to make sure it stayed in one piece until she made it home. In a daze, she slid into her car and went on autopilot until she found herself pulling into her parents’ drive.

She raced through the pouring rain, up the lawn and to the front door, where she banged until it opened. Only instead of finding her mom on the other side waiting with baklava and a hug that could cure anything—except for ALS—she found her dad. Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and Birkenstocks.

“It’s raining,” she said, looking at his shoes.

“What’s wrong?” Concern laced his face as he stepped onto the porch and into a puddle, which sloshed into his sandals. Emerson watched the water flow in but it never came out, instead being absorbed into the sole. “Fairy Bug?”

At the sound of her childhood nickname, Emerson looked up right as the first sob rolled through her chest and broke free. Followed closely by another, and by the time the third one racked her body she was in her dad’s arms, pouring herself into him until they were both sitting on the wet brick.

“I need Mom,” she begged, and Roger’s face went into panic mode, as if trying to figure out how to gently remind his grown daughter that her mother was dead. She was gone and never coming back. “I need her so much right now and she’s not here.”

“I need her every second of every day,” her dad whispered and Emerson held on tighter. “I thought it would get easier. I thought that maybe someday she would be simply a happy memory.”

Emerson looked up to find that Roger was crying too. She’d never seen her dad cry. Not even at the funeral. “And?”

“And then something amazing happens with one of you girls, or a hummingbird lands on the feeder, and I remember that she’s gone.” He cupped her face. “But then I remember that you’re here and she is such a huge part of you. I know I’m not your mom, and I know that you outgrew needing me a long time ago, or maybe I made it so that you couldn’t count on me, but I’m here now.”

“I’ve been dating this mule-headed, stubborn, God-he’s-such-an-idiot man,” she admitted.

Roger smiled. “Sounds like true love.”

“It is, Dad,” she said miserably, burying her face in his chest. “And
I am pretty sure he loves me too, but he’s a chicken and took a job as a beefcake and doesn’t want a long drawn-out ending so he left.”

“Sounds like a certifiable asshat to me,” Roger said and Emerson
laughed. She laughed so hard water started dripping from her eyes.

His hand stroked her hair, just like her mom used to. “Oh, sweetie,
don’t cry.”

“I’m not a crier,” she sobbed into his Hawaiian shirt.