SmokingHot (5 page)

She didn’t know. She really, really didn’t. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Letter writing, emails, even running a marathon… none of that would get Kade home any faster. All it meant was that she didn’t forget him and she had a funny feeling that was important.

She shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’m not stopping. Somehow, I’m bringing him home and, until then, I’m going to work my way through his damn bucket list.”

They hit the two-mile marker. Thank God. He’d keep on running.

She’d stay put.

It was the story of her life.

Katie had crying and breathing all mixed up.
Jesus.
Tye needed to fix this, fix her, but what did he know about relationships? He was definitely a relationship virgin, having spent his adult life avoiding emotional commitments. Being a Navy SEAL meant shipping out for months at a time—and staying mum about what had happened during the deployment when he was home. Girlfriends and wives didn’t like the intel blackout and he couldn’t blame them.
That’s need-to-know
wasn’t the desired response to
How was your trip, honey?

“I’m done,” she announced, coming to a halt. She’d done two miles, which was one and a half miles further than he’d expected. He should have known better than to underestimate her, however. She’d get it done if she’d made up her mind. If there were any way to bring back the dead, Katie would find it. Kade had been a lucky bastard to have her in his life and Tye was pretty sure his friend had known that too.

She dropped onto the bench attached to the picnic table. The spot was less park and more gravel pullout from the highway cutting through the mountains with a few bonus picnic tables. The view, however, was something else again. From the air, freefalling towards the ground, the California mountains were spectacular, all steep peaks and rugged slopes. Plenty of summer color, too, and the sky was a bright pop of blue that could have come from one of those paint tubes she’d passed out in class. He usually preferred to be airborne or at least moving fast and hard, but the view here wasn’t bad either.

The mountains were different from those in Afghanistan. Those slopes were hard and unforgiving, all rock and no plant life but sporting plenty of snow and thin air. Beautiful in their own way, but harder and starker. Plus, the locals there weren’t exactly friendly. More than one had tried to kill him. Sharing space with Katie was far better, even if his reasons for being here weren’t so great. He owed her. It was his fault Kade wasn’t coming home and he should front with her about that fuck-up of his, but... he liked spending time with her and she didn’t seem to mind his company. He didn’t want to lose that.

But she was crying and damned if he knew what his next move should be. He eyed her carefully, like she was a grenade with a hairpin trigger, and she stared back at him, face flushed, eyes damp. She looked wiped and not from the run, either.

She dropped her gaze to his shirt. “I should wash this.”

“I’ve got a spare in my truck. No worries.”

“Okay.” She chewed on her lower lip like she had plenty more to say but no idea how to get started. A bead of sweat trickled down the vee of her T-shirt and he pretended he wasn’t following the trail with heated interest. God was definitely getting even with him.

Deflect.

“You need to stretch.”
Jesus.
His voice sounded gruff, like he was some kind of scratchy-voiced late-night DJ.

Taking the shirt from her—his shirt had seen worse than a few tears—he tossed it on the table. “Come on.”

He held out his hand and waggled his fingers. She hesitated, then slapped her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet. If she’d been a new recruit, he’d have barked for her to drop and give him twenty. He was all too clear, however, that she wasn’t one of his men.

“I thought exercise was supposed to make me feel better,” she grumbled. “Or at least shrink my ass.”

She looked down at said ass and, like clockwork, his eyes followed. Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen, but her black cotton shorts hugged every curve and, when she twisted, she flashed him a hot pink thong with little flowers. He kept his mouth shut and someone owed him another medal for that.

“Stretch,” he repeated, his mouth dry.

“You were a drill sergeant, weren’t you?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m telling, not asking.” He pointed to the ground. “So get busy.”

“I’m pretty certain no one died and made you God.” Then she looked horrified because, yeah, she’d just alluded to the elephant in the proverbial room. Kade being dead was on the
do not discuss
list. Please God don’t let her cry, he mentally begged whatever higher power might be listening. He didn’t deserve the intervention, but she definitely didn’t deserve the pain.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said gruffly.

“How do you know?”

He didn’t and that was the problem, wasn’t it? “Whatever I can do, it’s yours.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. Interpreting the look on her face was impossible, so he gave up trying.

Instead, he slapped a hand on the edge of the table and concentrated on pulling his right knee up behind him, stretching out his quad. Before he did something stupid like, say, yank her into his arms and hold onto her.

With a sigh, she hopped up onto the table and did some complicated bendy thing with her right leg bent in front of her and her left leg stretched behind her, sinking into the pose with a groan.
Jesus.
That sound should be illegal. Instead of taking pity on him, though, she arched her back, pressing down on her hands until her breasts pointed sky-high, taking his gaze with them.

She caught him looking, which wasn’t hard since her tabletop deal put her right on eye level with him. “Not SEAL standard?”

He shook his head, not sure he’d get the words out.

“One word.
Yoga
.”

He’d heard of it. He’d just never
seen
it up close and personal. Yoga was as foreign to his world as MREs and mortar rounds were to hers. But, Jesus Christ, Katie was flexible. His mind immediately headed down all sorts of dirty pathways.

“You should try it,” she said.

He didn’t know what he would have said—probably a
hell, no
—but a truck backfired and his day went to shit. Not a gun. Not ordnance. Just a truck that was somewhere too close—the parking lot, the last rational bit of his mind supplied—and a short, sharp bark of sound echoed off the mountainsides and punched through his head. A truck backfiring. Logically, he knew that.

His heart didn’t get the memo though.

Nor did his pulse.

Or his lungs.

Nope, his body kicked into full overdrive, hurtling him towards memory lane and Khost’s too narrow, too familiar city streets. God. Damn. It. Heart pounding overtime, lungs seizing, he dropped to the ground, knowing there was no way he could avert the panic attack.

Tye had dreamed about Afghanistan last night, and those dreams refused to go away like the doctor had ordered now the sun was up. Nope, the Technicolor dreams haunted him, filled with plenty of blood, screaming and random body parts he was almost certain didn’t belong to him. It was hard to tell sometimes when he was asleep and when he was awake. He’d led plenty of missions as a SEAL, and he didn’t relive any of those ops when his head hit the pillow.

Fuck. He was fucked up. Broken. And none of that was acceptable. He was supposed to be strong. How the hell could he take care of Katie when he couldn’t even take care of himself?

Kade wouldn’t have broken down like this.

“Tye?” Katie’s voice reached him from somewhere nearby. “Are you okay?”

Nope. Not by a long shot, but he’d rather cut off an arm—and possibly both legs—before he admitted as much.
He
was supposed to take care of
her
.

Which made her the last person he wanted seeing his sorry self right now.

“Fine,” he gritted out.

He gave in to the weakness and buried his face in the crook of his arm for one second. Memories shifted, overlaying each other until he didn’t know what was real and what his head had embellished. All he knew was that he hated it, hated the helpless feeling. Usually, running helped. Run enough miles and he sometimes outran the demons. Now, since Katie clearly wasn’t ready for a ten-mile run, his only option was endless reps of push-ups. Up, then down. Faster and faster, because maybe the burn of his muscles could drive away these memories.

From somewhere close by, the sound of bare feet reached him. When he turned his head, he could see her toes out of the corner of his eyes. She’d kicked off her sneakers, revealing pretty green polish.

Get it together
.

“You’re not okay,” Katie stated from overhead.

Yeah. Newsflash. Something had broken in him on that last tour, and he had no idea how to fix it. He grunted and started a muscle-searing set of reps. Maybe she’d take the hint and leave. No one in his unit stuck around when he got in one of his moods. He wanted Katie gone. Now. Especially since he had a bad feeling she recognized exactly what was happening to him.

He dropped onto the grass, sweat dripping off his forehead, and set his mental clock for ten seconds.

“I’m busy here,” he ground out.

“Exercising?” She didn’t sound like she believed him. Her voice rose. “Some more? What happened to stretching and cool down?”

“Yeah. Change of plans.” He shoved up and started the next set of reps. “So go away.”

She considered his words for a moment. “I’m not interested in going away.”

Warmth and amusement filled her voice. Sympathy was missing, though, for which he was pathetically grateful.

“Definitely exercise,” he ground out. “Highly recommended.”

“If you say so.” To his surprise, she dropped down next to him. “Maybe I should give it a shot.” She did, although her form was wrong. She had her ass in the air, and she’d be sorer than shit tomorrow.

“Suit yourself.” He wondered how long she’d last. For the next two minutes, they did push-ups together. He outpaced her five to one, but her company was strangely comforting.

“Jesus,” she ground out, and the name sure sounded like a prayer to him. Her arms trembled. “How do you do this?”

The smile tugging at his lips surprised even him. “Practice. Whereas you, clearly, have been slacking.”

She shot him a sideways glare. “I work out. You ran with me today.”

Yeah. He had. He shot her a look and waited.

She flopped onto her stomach, cradling her forehead on her arms. “Do you do this every day?”

“Pretty much.” Especially when the memories came back with a vengeance. Two more reps was his usual prescription. Then it would be safe to stop. Her presence next to him was different, but he liked it. There were better ways to get her all hot and bothered—much better ways, certain parts of his anatomy reminded him—but this was unexpectedly fun. He certainly couldn’t remember any time his PTSD had ended with laughter.

“That’s brutal,” she complained, but the smile was still on her face.

At least he could show her how to do a proper push-up.

“Get up,” he said and switched to a one-handed push-up, using his free hand to swat her ass. She had a great ass.

“Hey.” She turned her head and eyed him. “Keep the kinky stuff to yourself.”

He grinned, unable to stop himself. “You’d like it. Remember, you’ve got a bucket list to check off.”

“Yeah. Promises.” She flopped her head back down on her arms.

“Up,” he ordered. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

Yeah. That was definitely feminine outrage sparkling in her eyes when she turned her head to mock glare at him. Good. She’d pushed his buttons, so getting a little of his own back seemed only fair. And fun.

“We are still talking about push-ups, right?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. Squatting beside her, he rearranged her arms and legs into the proper push-up form. He was pretty sure that was a muttered curse he heard.

“I’m an expert at push-ups.” It felt good to tease her. “Five and a half days of training in BUD/S Hell Week alone,” he continued. “We did push-ups holding a damn log over our heads. This is nothing. Drop and give me five.”

“Or?” She turned her head and grinned at him, braced on her arms. He swept an arm down her back and legs. Just to check her form, he assured himself. And because he’d really enjoyed swatting her ass.

“You need motivation?” He leaned forward, arms on his thighs. His mouth brushed the sensitive skin near her ear.

“Yes.” She sounded breathless. He didn’t know if that was because of the push-ups—or him. He’d rather it was him, though, so he leaned in closer still. Nipped her ear as he tapped her ass again. Not hard. Just enough, though, that she sucked in her breath.

“I think you’d like my kink just fine,” he said. “Drop and give me five.”

He was half-surprised when she did. His hand guided her up and down, keeping her ass in place and her line straight.

“Okay,” she gasped out. “I believe you.”

“About the kink?”

“About the exercise,” she said firmly. “Although if you require this level of effort from all your partners, I’m making a mental note not to interrupt any exercising you do in the future.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Grinning, he got to his feet and held out a hand. She took it, curling her fingers around his. That felt right too, as did the way she shot up off the ground and into his arms.

***

“I’ll make you a deal.” Katie tilted her back and eyed her companion. Tye hadn’t changed in the last ten minutes. Nope, he was still a big, bad-ass SEAL. Any other time she wouldn’t have complained. Hell, she would have been all over him. But he was hurting, even if it apparently would kill him to admit the truth. Kade would have done the same.

She didn’t want to leave him like this. Didn’t want to pretend that everything was fine—
normal
—when
it so very clearly was not. Tye needed fixing. She wasn’t entirely sure what she could do, but someone needed to do something.

And she was here.

And she
wanted
to do something…

Him, if she was being honest. Which she could be to herself. That was okay. The words never had to cross her lips. Plus, she was fairly certain Tye was in no condition to be starting any kind of a relationship. She’d read up on PTSD as soon as Kade had shipped out because unfortunately too many of the military’s finest came home and had to face their demons. Over and over. The fierce look on Tye’s face as he drove his body up and down in a vicious set of gut-wrenching pushups? Yeah. She wasn’t a doctor, but she knew a problem when she saw him.

And she still wanted him.

She wasn’t sure what that said about her, but she admired his tenacity and his refusal to give into whatever horrific messages his brain was telegraphing him. He’d worked it out, although she’d never realized a body could do that literally.

“What kind of a deal?” He let go of her fingers like he suddenly realized he was hanging on. Reaching out, she snagged his hand.
She
wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“I’m an art therapist.”

Three, two, one and—yep—cue the look of frozen horror on Tye’s face.

“Wow,” he said. “I thought you painted. Murals and stuff. And taught those classes at the veterans’ center.”

“I do.” It wasn’t all that hard to interpret the new expression on his face. Now he was wondering if she’d correctly connected the dots and realized he was having some kind of flashback or PTSD attack. Followed by the realization that she absolutely had and now she wanted to
fix
him. In her experience with guys, none of them admitted to having problems or needing solutions. They preferred to pretend that everything was just fine.

He was precisely the same.

Okay. Scratch that. In this one instance, he was as pigheaded and stubborn as every other male of her acquaintance. In every other particular, he was stunningly, deliciously different. She groaned and he raised a brow.

“Problems in the art world?”

He had no idea.

“Art can be very therapeutic,” she tried again. “Painting’s a great way to exorcise demons or work through dreams.”

“I had no idea those were therapy bananas yesterday.” His shuttered expression still said he disagreed with her statement one hundred percent.

She decided not to elbow him.

“So I’ll trade you. I’ll give you art lessons in exchange for your help with my bucket list.”

“Right. The bucket list you won’t let me see. You need to stretch more,” he called after her. “Or you’re going to be sorer than shit tomorrow.”

She turned and marched back to her car. She’d never admit that the muscles of her ass were
already
sore from their run. She popped the door and eyed the devastation of her front passenger seat. She should probably excavate the car at some point.

“You should lock that.” Now he sounded faintly incredulous. Which was, she decided, better than closed down or defensive. Even if it was at her expense.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.” If she wasn’t safe here, where was she safe?

He moved closer, a big, heated body she could feel at her back. Her hormones jumped up and down with glee, since this was the closest they’d been to an attractive man in—she counted—two years.

“You have no idea who you could run into out here,” he pointed out. His mouth brushed her ear. She wished the accidental caress had lasted longer, because her arousal shouldn’t go zero to sixty from such a small thing.

“In Strong? Please.” Her voice didn’t shake. It really, really didn’t.

Much.

“How long is this bucket list?” he asked suspiciously. His fingers cupped her jaw, the touch so light that she could almost pretend it wasn’t happening.

He was thinking about it. Squashing a smile, she leaned in and grabbed her tote bag from beneath a stack of design notebooks.

“Jesus,” he groaned. “Please tell me your wallet isn’t in there.”

She shrugged. So she wouldn’t tell him.

“I’ll make you that deal,” she said instead. She turned around, back to the car door and grinned up at him.

***

No kissing Kade’s fiancée. That had to be rule number one.

But her smile warmed him up in places he hadn’t known were still numb after the bone-chilling cold of mountain nights in Afghanistan, something all the gear in the world couldn’t cure because the problem went so much deeper than the thermometer. Katie looked at him and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, had dimples digging into her cheeks. She’d have smile lines by the time she was forty, wearing all that happiness on her face. She’d be even more beautiful then than she was now.

“You have a deal for me.” Talking had to be safer than kissing.

“You help me. In exchange, I give you art lessons.”

He didn’t want to paint. Apparently, though, what he wanted didn’t matter here.

Which he knew already, because for no particular reason, he wanted Katie. Wanted her just because she was Katie.

“Well?” she prompted, when he didn’t jump on her offer.

He wondered if she usually had many takers for free art lessons. Probably too many, given the state of her Kia. She needed a job with a paycheck.

“You don’t need to pay me.” After all, he owed her, even if she didn’t know it.

She gave him what he was coming to think of as The Look. Kade hadn’t mentioned The Look when he’d talked about Katie, but the man had clearly omitted several key details. Like how stubborn and feisty and determined to do things her way Katie was. And—he glanced in the backseat of her car—the crazy shoe fetish. He’d bet she needed a closet just for her footwear. The backseat held a whole heap of heels in a rainbow of colors.