Rescue Me: A Bad Boy Military Romance (6 page)

"Hey there, Ella," says the slithery voice I always tried to avoid after he copped a feel when I was tutoring him at chemistry after school one day. Michael Evans looks exactly the same, down to the creepy grin.

"Ugh," I reply, moving out of the clinic.

I stand on the porch, trying to collect my breath. I suddenly wish I had a cigarette to smoke, even though I've never so much as taken a puff of one in my entire life. I realize everyone inside is waiting for orders but I feel like I've crawled inside one of my med school nightmares. I'd always woken up screaming in those, where all of my Buxwell classmates knocked on the door of my Los Angeles dorm room and declared that they were all permanently transferring to UCLA.

I smell Alexa's perfume and feel her arm on mine. "Sorry," she whispers. "I tried to call you and warn you, but you didn't pick up your phone."

I reach into my pocket and realize that the battery is dead. I groan. "Oh, God," I say, trying to catch my breath. Alexa leads me off the porch toward my cottage, and I hear Luke's voice call out inside the clinic.

"Alright, y'all. I need football players and anyone with yard equipment to trim the trees and cut the grass. Bonus if you can apply some weed killer. I need someone to run to the nursery and grab some flowers or something, along with some soil for the flower beds..."

His voice trails away as Alexa walks me to my house. I've never been so happy to hear him doling out orders in my entire life.

A few minutes later, Alexa hands me a glass bottle of Big Red from my fridge. "You alright, Ella?" she asks me, worried.

I sip the sweet, cold, fizzy nectar and feel like I'm five years old again. But today, this feeling is comforting. "Yeah, thanks." She sits in the rocking chair next to mine and the noise of half a dozen weed whackers and a riding lawnmower rides across the humid spring air. "It's weird seeing Luke be in charge of something."

She laughs. "I guess eight years of military service will do that to a person," she says.

"Is he not in it anymore?" I ask her.

She grimaces. "Medical discharge. He was wounded in the line of duty."

"Oh, God," I say softly. "I didn't know."

"He doesn't talk about it much. I heard it through the grapevine. Not entirely sure what happened, actually."

I finish my Big Red quickly. "It's so weird being back here," I say to her.

She laughs. "I guess it is a bit of a nightmare to have everyone show up here like this, isn't it?" She pushes her dark, shiny hair back from her face. "I bet it's hard for you to be here. You know, I visit your mom's grave every month. Clean it up. Leave flowers."

I feel tears threatening me again and I clear my throat, standing up. "I need to go place some orders," I say. "I'll be out in a little bit."

"Ella," she says, but I'm already back in my cottage, fumbling for my phone charger so I can actually order medical supplies.

I need anything, anything at all to distract me.

CHAPTER TEN

LUKE

She looks better than the day I left her standing at that bus stop. She's curvier. She's older. Tired, but still sexy as hell. I chase everyone off the clinic property and load up my pickup truck. I stare back at the cottage in the rapidly-approaching sunset and think about knocking on her door.

Then I realize something's missing from the scene in front of me, and I have an idea.

***

Knock knock knock.
The sun has fully set now, and the thing I wanted is back in my pickup truck. I grin to myself, shoving my hands in my jeans. I've even gone home to shower and change my clothes, disgusting from sweating all day in the dirty clinic.

"Just a second!"

I hear Ella's voice and my heart speeds up. She rips open the door wearing only a long t-shirt. I can see all the way to the top of her legs before she tugs hard at the hem, dragging it down to her knees in embarrassment. "I thought you were Alexa," she says, slamming the door in my face.

I laugh and lean against the door frame, knocking again. "Ella, open the damn door."

"Hang on a second!" she yells, and I can hear her feet upstairs, scurrying around. She takes her time. She's making me wait.

I don't mind. I'm good at a lot of things: fucking women, framing buildings, repairing mechanical shit, and waiting. Oh boy, am I good at waiting.

Ten minutes later, she finally opens the door. I feel a jolt of pleasure that she's let her hair down and changed into a nice outfit. "What?" she asks, jutting out her bottom lip indignantly. "What could it
possibly
be that you've made me change out of my pajamas to let you into my house?"

I smile at her. "Don't lie to me. You wanted to change. Nobody's forcing you into a fancy-ass dress against your will." I tip my hat toward the inside of the cottage. "Can I come inside?" But I don't wait for her to answer before I swoop the hat off my head and step into her house. "You like the red door?"

She gapes at me. "You - you're the one who painted it?"

I laugh. "Yeah, I thought you might remember that conversation we had."

She crosses her arms. "I don't."

But she says it too quickly to be believable. My boots click across the worn floorboards. I see the AC unit and it reminds me. "I need to order a part for the AC in the clinic. Should be here in a few days."

"Well, then you can come back in a few days," Ella huffs.

"Nah, I'll be back tomorrow," I say confidently, throwing myself onto the sofa that I found on Craigslist. "You like the sofa?"

Ella's tapping her bare foot impatiently, her arms still crossed. "It's fine," she says. "Wait, did you pick it out?"

I nod. "Drove all the way to Ft. Worth to get it."

Her face softens. "You did that? For me?"

I laugh. "You've undoubtedly been told that I'm the only handyman here, woman. You think Tanya did all this? The town?" I hold out my hands to survey my work. "This was all me."

Ella goes quiet. "Thank you," she says. Then she points at the door. "Out. Unless you want to finally spill why in the hell you're in my living room at nine o'clock at night."

I laugh and stand up. "I brought you something."

"Not the part for my air conditioner, though," she spits at me.

I walk past her, making sure to brush my arm against hers as I walk out the door. "Put some shoes on. We cut the grass so the snakes should be gone but you never know when a scorpion might make its way across the ground and under your foot."

"You're treating me like I didn't live here for eighteen years," Ella yells at my back. I hear her pull on a pair of shoes and pad after me.

I stroll to my truck and lift the bicycle off the back with one hand. I turn to see Ella's face. "What is this?" she asks me.

"A basketball signed by the Mavericks," I say sarcastically. "It's a damn bicycle, Ella, and it's for you." I feel my blood pressure rising. Damn if this woman can't get me going with her stubbornness.

"For me?"

"For. You. Yes. I brought you a bicycle. For you to ride into town. Since you don't have a car that I can see and I seem to remember you're not much of a fan of horses." She wants to smile. I can tell. "It has a bell, and a basket. I cleaned it up for you; it's been in my garage for the last decade, but I've done some work to it. It just needed a dusting."

Ella crouches down and runs her pale fingers across the shiny red paint. Her eyes light up in recognition. "Is this the Schwinn bicycle we found that day on the side of the road?"

I nod. "I fixed it up. I thought one day you might find your way back here."

"I can't take this as a gift. It's too nice," she says. "I'll pay you. This bike, fixed up like this, it's a prize. I mean, someone would pay a lot of money for it. I can't take this."

I roll my eyes. "Stop being so damn stubborn and take the fucking bike, Ella. She's yours. She's always been yours. Finders keepers, and you're the one who found her rusted up in the bushes that day."

“
You’re
the one who found it in the bushes.” Ella stands up and grabs onto the handles. "It's been a long time since I've ridden a bicycle."

"I think that's something you don't really forget. Sort of like...other things," I say, my meaning in my metaphor blatantly clear. I reach my hands out to her waist. She jumps back.

"I remember a lot of things," she says. "But that's not one of them."

I smile at her. "One day I'm getting you back, Ella. You don't know it, but I am."

She flips me a middle finger and I slide back into my truck, starting the engine and heading off into the night.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LUKE

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

“Stop eating my fries,” Ella says to me, scrunching up her nose from the seat next to me.

I reach across and grab another spicy curly fry anyway, despite her protests. “Finders keepers,” I reply.

“You have your own food. I don’t understand why you’re eating mine,” she retorts. But she’s smiling.

I’m having a hard time keeping my mind on food with her sitting there in the passenger seat of my truck. She’s only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but she looks different. She might be wearing makeup. Or maybe it’s just being out in natural light instead of under the fluorescent bulbs of Buxwell Prep.

“Yours are better,” I reply. She has a dab of ketchup on her mouth and I reach out to wipe it off with my thumb.

She ducks away from me. “Hey!”

I laugh. “I was only trying to help. You’ve got ketchup, right there.” I point.

She blushes and wipes it off with a napkin. “Thanks,” she says, finishing off the last of the fries before I can get to them. She wipes her hands. “So where are we going now?”

“You’re having enough fun that you want to continue the evening?” I ask, looking at the sun setting around us.

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I still have a few hours left until curfew. I didn’t think you’d just take me out for food and food only.”

I smirk at her. “No, I get it. You’ve come under the spell of Luke Davis and you can’t get enough of me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You keep talkin’ about yourself in the third person and you can drive me right home.”

“I like when your accent comes out,” I say honestly.

She claps a hand to her mouth. “I’m trying to lose it.”

“Really?” I ask her, throwing our trash into the can outside the window and putting the truck into reverse. “Why?”

“Because I’m gettin’ –
getting
the hell out of here right after graduation,” she retorts. I’m not used to her sounding so saucy and definitive when she speaks. Normally her words come out tentatively. Unless she’s blowing me off. Then she’s pretty damn certain.

“And where are you going?” I ask, trying not to feel disappointment at her telling me this.

“California,” she says. “I’m getting into UCLA. Pre-med.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” I reply.

“I’ve had a plan for a while now. Since I was a kid. And I’m sticking to it,” she replies, pulling her gorgeous, thick legs underneath her as I drive through streets that glow under the setting sun.

“You not gonna ask me what I’m doing after high school?” I ask, pouting at her dramatically.

“I already know,” she says, shrugging. “Everyone does. You’re joining the Marines.”

“I like the fact that you know so much about me,” I say, turning down one of the old roads toward the Miller Estate.

“It’s hard not to know about you, Luke Davis,” she says. The words almost seem regretful.

“Yeah, well. People think they know me, but they don’t. Not really,” I reply. The light twinkles through the green trees of this February day, the rich blue sky fading into orange and yellow above us. I slam the brakes on the truck.

Ella screams. “What the hell are you doing?”

I unbuckle my seat belt and open my door, turning to grin at her. “Looking for treasure.”

She scrambles to get out of the truck, chasing after me into the overgrown bushes on the side of the road. “What?”

I look for the flash of silver that I was sure I saw from the truck, lifting up branches. Then I find it. “There it is,” I say, turning around to face her.

“There’s
what?
A rusted old bicycle?” she asks skeptically.

“It’s a Schwinn,” I reply. “It’s not just a rusted old bicycle.” I heave it out of the overgrowth. “It’s rusty, but I think she’ll run again.” I inspect every inch of it. Peeks of cherry red paint smile up at me.

Ella laughs. “You fix bicycles?”

I haul the bike up over my shoulder. It’s heavy, high quality like nobody makes anymore. “My grandfather taught me.”

We get back to the truck and I gently place the bike in the bed.

“It’s a lost cause, I think,” Ella says.

“You have no faith, Ella,” I reply. I lean against the truck. She’s inches away from me. I stare into her green eyes and she has to look away. I think she’s embarrassed. “I’m gonna fix that bicycle. And I’m gonna give it to you one day.”

She laughs. “What am I going to do with a bike?”

I shrug and step closer to her. An orange-tinted sunbeam falls across her creamy, freckled skin. She smells like summertime. I put my finger under her chin and lean down, my lips close to hers. Then I kiss her, taking her thick lips against mine, tasting her skin. She melts under my touch as I run my hands down her sides.

She finally pulls away and puts her fingertips up to her lips.

“You might need it out in California,” I reply quietly. “You never know.”

She nods, gazing far away, still in a daze from me kissing her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ELLA

PRESENT DAY

"He bought you a bicycle?" Alexa asks me the next day. Teddy is having a sleepover with a friend and I'm cooking a spaghetti dinner for the two of us.

"He didn't
buy
it," I explain, tossing the noodles in olive oil, salt, and pepper. "We found it one night back in high school, and he held onto it. And he restored it." I glance over at the shiny red paint. I wheeled it into the living room after Luke pulled away last night. It seems too pristine to even ride it. But I know I will.