A chance of a lifetime, p.15
A Chance of a Lifetime, page 15
Chapter 10
The stiffness was gone at least temporarily from Lucy’s joints by the time they got home. Automatically they headed around the house to the back door. It was fully dark now, and the porch light shone its yellowish-white light on them as she dug her keys from her pocket. “You want to come in and have a sandwich?” she asked as she slid the key into the lock. The question was only a formality; unless one of them had other plans, they always had dinner together after Sunday evening walks.
She had opened the door an inch or two, allowing pitiful meows to escape, when Joe said, “No. Thanks. I have…stuff to do.”
She looked at him, surprised. He always had stuff to do, but eating ranked high on the list. Maybe he had to review video of Friday night’s game, or study video of their opponents for next Friday’s game. Maybe he had to do laundry…though he could sprawl on her couch, watching TV, and somehow sense the exact moment he needed to run back home and add fabric softener or take clothes from the dryer.
Maybe he had a date.
He’d been awfully quiet since they’d left the fire station. The few words he’d said had been directed at Norton, maybe because he’d been thinking about showering, getting dressed, sitting down to a meal, having a drink, with someone else. Lucy had heard the new advanced math teacher was gorgeous and single, and several of his players had sisters who were college-age or older and would appeal to any guy with functioning eyes in his head.
“Oh,” she said. “Okay. I’ll take Norton—” She reached for the dog’s leash and bumped hands with Joe when he held it out. Her fingers fumbled and dropped it, and Sebastian chose that moment to slip his skinny body through the opening between door and jamb. He shot off across the patio, and with a commanding bark, Norton spun around, knocking first into Lucy, then into Joe, and raced after him.
Lucy’s knees buckled, and she fell against the door frame. Joe lost his balance, too, and fell against her, his body barely making contact with hers before he thrust out his hand to brace himself. Still, it was a lovely place to be in, sending warm tingles through her, tightening her lungs until only tiny breaths could get through.
His hand still resting on the wood frame above her head, Joe huffed. “Odd how a dog can knock down people two and three times his size.” His voice was soft and sounded kind of funny, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
“Yeah.” She sounded even funnier, maybe because her internal temperature was steadily climbing, using all the oxygen inside her body to feed the flames. Her position was awkward, but she was afraid to straighten, afraid any movement on her part would startle him back into his usual pesky-brother mode. She didn’t know exactly what she was hoping for—Lucy liar, pants on fire—but pesky brother wasn’t it.
You’re hoping he’ll kiss you, a voice whispered in her head. It sounded like Jessy. And Marti. There were some definite high pitches belonging to Ilena and a bit of Patricia’s husky maternal tones.
And finally her own wistful little voice spoke up. Yep, you definitely want a kiss. A curl-your-hair-and-straighten-your-toes kiss. A take-your-breath-away-and-make-you-soar kiss.
It’s been a long time since we’ve had a curl-our-hair kiss, Marti and Fia and Leah sighed together.
His face shadowed from the way the light shone down on him, Joe gazed at her a moment, and then he sort of, maybe, oh, yes, definitely leaned toward her. Her breath froze, her cells went on alert, her fingers curled into tight fists to keep from grabbing him and yanking him to her, and just as his lips touched hers, a little ball of fur ran between her legs and a bigger bundle hit the door with a splat, knocking it open so hard that it bounced off the wall. She looked to make sure Norton was all right…
And Joe’s kiss landed on her ear.
Her ear.
Heat flooded her face, and her first impulse was to babble: My fault, sorry, I shouldn’t have looked away, can we try that again, because even for a kiss on my ear, it felt pretty damn good. But Joe didn’t give her the chance. His mouth pursed like he didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl, and he put breathing distance between them. “Six o’clock in the morning, Luce. Be ready.”
Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he stepped out of the light and headed to his own back door. She watched until he’d gone inside, then slowly went into the kitchen. After shutting the door, she flipped on the lights and found Norton and Sebastian sitting in identical positions in the middle of the floor, the mutt too close to a hundred pounds and the cat who would probably never see ten pounds, both looking as innocent as the day they were born.
“Thanks, guys,” she said dryly. “Heaven forbid you give me two minutes…well, maybe five…for a curl-my-hair kiss. I should interrupt your dinner every couple seconds as payback.”
Their only response was to continue staring at her, Sebastian adding a slow blink.
She gave them clean water and dished their food, then pulled her cell from her pocket, dialed Marti’s number, and prepared for the biggest, shrillest shriek ever. When her bestie said hello, she responded with four breathless words. “Joe just kissed me.”
Marti didn’t disappoint. Her scream could have curdled milk, forcing Lucy to hold the phone away from her ear until it faded. “Lucy Lu! Oh, my God! Was it wonderful? Was it everything you’d hoped for?” Her voice turned sly. “Did it curl your hair?”
Pulling out the band that held her hair, Lucy examined a strand of it. “Nope. It’s still straight, plain, and mousy brown.”
Despite her earlier excitement, Marti said primly, “This does not surprise me in the least. Him kissing you, I mean. Avi nailed it when she was here. She said he was sweet on you.”
Lucy’s brows rose. “Avi said that?”
“To Patricia and her parents. She warned Ben that he was going to have to make nice with Joe when the two of you got together.”
“This is the first I’m hearing about it.” But the information pleased Lucy. All the margarita girls asked her, both teasingly and not so teasingly, how she could live next door to Joe without falling for him. No one had wondered aloud about how he could live next door to her without falling for her. Not even Lucy.
But Avi thought he had. Bless you, Avi.
“Give me details,” Marti demanded, and Lucy complied. After her friend finished laughing, she asked, “What happened afterward?”
Sliding into a chair at the kitchen table, Lucy unlaced one shoe, toed it off, then removed the other. “He reminded me to be ready at six a.m. for our walk, and then he went home.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean? You think he regretted it? He was disappointed?”
“Regret, no. Disappointment, hell, yeah. He’s kissing a beautiful woman for the first time ever, and instead of the luscious, kissable lips he’s dreamed about, he gets a mouthful of ear?” Marti snorted. “Maybe he was embarrassed.”
There was so much to respond to in that comment that Lucy didn’t know where to start. A beautiful woman? Her? Beautiful wasn’t the first word that came to anyone’s mind when they thought of Lucy. Well, except for her parents. And her margarita sisters. And Mike. He’d thought she was beautiful, and she’d believed it when he told her so.
And luscious, kissable lips? Joe dreaming about her? She settled for the one least sensitive to her. “Joe doesn’t get embarrassed. He’s cocky and confident and smug, and he knows everyone adores him, and it doesn’t matter how he behaves or what he does, they still adore him, and he knows that, too. He’s just a big, charming, lovable, overgrown kid.”
Marti’s sigh was long-suffering. Lucy could so easily picture her, her size four body curled up on the couch, her grungy hanging-at-home clothes classier and prettier than Lucy’s dress-up. Scented candles perfumed the air, the soft lighting flattered her, and her makeup was as perfect as when she’d put it on that morning. She’d had dinner delivered and picked at it like a bird, and she’d been serenely reading something literary or watching a classic movie before Lucy called.
They were so different for best friends.
“Joe is big and charming and lovable,” Marti said patiently, “but he’s not a kid, Lucy. He’s a grown man who’s passionate about a lot of things, and one of them is you. But he’s flying blind here, Luce. You haven’t sent him any signals that you’re interested in anything other than friendship. So he got up the nerve to take the risk and finally kiss you, and—”
“He got a mouthful of ear.” Lucy’s cheeks heated again, but she couldn’t deny the grin that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. If it had happened to any of their friends, she would have found it worthy of a full-body laugh. Maybe one day, she and Joe would look back on this night and laugh.
Really? Maybe? Or would they both try their best to forget it?
“He’s a good guy, Lucy. And you gotta admit, he cleans up better than Prince Charming.”
He did. The rest of the time, he was an adorable blend of gorgeousness and scruffiness: the predictable ratty clothes, the beard stubble, the hair that always looked one day past time for a trim. The blond of that hair juxtaposed against the golden bronze of his skin, the blue eyes that saw even things he wasn’t supposed to see, the grin and the good nature that made everyone around him happy.
He made Lucy happy, and the idea made her tremble inside. Great friends could grow into great lovers, the way she and Mike had. Or their love could end and destroy the friendship with it. Did she have so many friends that she could risk losing one of the very best?
When she plaintively asked that question, Marti was quiet a long time before she asked her own plaintive question. “Do you have so many chances at love that you can risk turning your back on the very best one?”
Lucy picked up her shoes and padded down the hall to the bedroom. She’d thought Ben Noble might be that very best chance. Even though the odds against them were astronomical, she’d found the courage to go for it. Turned out, he hadn’t been, but the important thing was she’d tried. And they were still friends.
Could she find that courage again? Let Joe know that she wanted more? Face the fact that they could lose big, but they could also win big?
Tossing her shoes into her closet, she heaved a sigh. “Whoever said that things are easier the second time around was full of crap, you know?”
“I know, sweetie. I have it on the good authority of my mother that it doesn’t really get easy until the fourth or fifth time.” Marti’s voice turned very droll. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
* * *
“You know,” Calvin said as he climbed out of Justin’s car, “I could have driven tonight. I’ve got my car back.”
The younger soldier heaved himself out of the driver’s seat, holding on to the door until he got his crutches in place, then they started across the parking lot. “I’ve seen your car, Captain, and pardon me for saying so, but calling it a car is an insult to marvels of mechanical engineering everywhere. The only marvel about that thing is that it still runs.”
“Quit dissing my car. Everyone does that, but it gets me where I’m going.”
Justin gave him a sidelong look. “Come on, Captain. The thief who stole it brought it back. That’s a car worthy of being dissed.”
Calvin shook his head in mock dismay. “And don’t call me Captain. It’s just Calvin.” His time in the Army was limited. One day soon, he would be separated, no longer a captain or a sir, just a soldier whose Army had no place for him. A soldier who’d never intended to be a civilian again adapting to just that.
After spending two nights at his parents’ house, he’d taken his stuff back to his apartment today. Gran had taken him aside Monday night to tell him they would be all right without his sleeping over, that her instincts said Diez was a good kid, and even if her instincts were sometimes wrong, Maudene’s never were.
And the kid didn’t seem to be taking advantage of them. He’d kept Gran company while Elizabeth and Justice were at work yesterday, had walked the neighborhood with her and listened to her stories and lost a dozen hands of poker to her. He’d helped around the house, was polite and said yes, ma’am and no, sir, and washed Elizabeth’s cast-iron pans exactly the right way without being told.
And the kid was still fourteen. Still skinny and hungry. Still on his own in the world. Though Calvin had never wanted to lay eyes on him again, he couldn’t forget those facts.
They reached the restaurant door and a young woman coming out with her friends held the door for them. Her gaze slid over Justin’s crutches, his awkward movements, then reached his face, and a smile of definite woman-man interest spread slowly across hers.
God bless the women who could overlook a guy’s handicaps and still give him that I’d-like-to-get-to-know-you smile.
Justin gave her a similar smile, glancing at her over his shoulder as they crossed the vestibule and entered the restaurant proper. There he shook his head and murmured, “Damn,” with great feeling.
The Three Amigos was Tallgrass’s most popular Mexican restaurant. When Justin had knocked at Calvin’s door, suggesting dinner there, Calvin’s first impulse had been to turn him down. And do what instead? he’d wondered. Eat more of his mom’s food from the freezer in front of the television with a thousand channels and nothing on?
He could meet some of Justin’s friends, Justin had added. If he was staying in Tallgrass, he needed to meet some people.
And because he was right, because meeting people and making friends was something his counseling team recommended, here Calvin was, following Justin to a large round table at the back of the bar. Three men were already seated there, one with that familiar Army look about him and two who made Calvin do a double-take. He’d never really known many twins, especially big cowboy types who were damn near identical. One was heavier, the other wore the marks of a tough life, but no doubt, these two were halves of a whole.
Justin handled the introductions as he got settled on a tall stool and stowed his crutches in the corner behind him: Dane Clark, recently separated staff sergeant; Dalton Smith, the more muscular of the twins; and Dillon Smith, the weary-looking one. Justin gave them Calvin’s name, no mention of rank or the Warrior Transition Unit. Justin was forthright with everyone about his own injuries—they’re damn hard to hide with these crutches—but he’d mentioned as part of his invitation tonight that it wasn’t his place to share anyone else’s issues.
Calvin took the last stool, ordered a beer, and scanned the menu. It didn’t appear to have changed much, if at all, in the years he’d been gone. In fact, judging by the tears and the cracks in the laminate, this could actually be a menu he’d handled before, back when he and J’Myel—
Not tonight.
He ordered steak tacos, sipped the beer, and let his gaze slide around the place. Like the menu, it hadn’t changed: tiled fountain in the lobby, small rectangular tables in snug quarters, a fake adobe wall topped with an arch enclosing the bar. Mexican folk music played on the sound system, and the smells of onions, beef, and corn tortillas drifted on the air.
“Uncle Sam bring you here, Calvin?” Dane asked.
With his fingernail, Calvin scraped at the label on the beer bottle. It was a simple question with a simple answer, but simple questions could lead to not-so-simple ones. The next logical one would be, What unit are you with? Dane being former Army himself and the brothers, living in an Army town, would know that Warrior Transition Unit meant something was wrong with him. Having no obvious injuries, that left the assumption of PTSD.
It was nothing to be ashamed of, the shrinks kept telling him.
They didn’t have it. They hadn’t tried to kill themselves. They didn’t have to live in his head.
Realizing the silence had gone on too long, Calvin gave himself a mental shake. “Uh, yeah, they did. From Lewis-McChord. What about you?”
“From Walter Reed, to the WTU. I left my left leg behind in Afghanistan.”
“You from around here?” The Army tried to send troops to the WTU nearest their home of record or their family, though if Calvin had requested it, he probably could have gotten assigned elsewhere. He was glad he hadn’t, though the realization took some getting used to. It had been hard coming back here—was still hard—but it would have been impossible anywhere else.
“I’m from Dallas,” Dane replied, “but this was as close as I wanted to get. Then I met Carly and…” He finished with a shrug.
Again, Calvin thought of the woman flirting with Justin on the way in. Lucky men.
And then he thought of Bennie and how there was still stuff between them—J’Myel—but being around her still made him feel…better. More like the man he used to be. Made him think of the man he could become, of the future he could have and the woman who could, maybe, possibly share it with him.
She made him feel like he had another chance.
The waitress brought their food, and the conversation turned to sports. Calvin ate, listened, and even contributed a bit from time to time, although he’d found it hard to find much interest in people paid millions of dollars for throwing a ball while he was in the desert hoping to either go home whole and healthy or to die quickly, without any of the suffering he’d seen too much of.
He had his third taco in his mouth, biting into the crunchy shell, when the football talk came to a sudden halt, interrupted by a very Southern voice. “Hey, guys,” Jessy Lawrence said, resting one hand on Justin’s shoulder, one on Dalton’s. Her gaze slid around the group, then stopped on Calvin. “Why, Calvin, I didn’t know you know these guys.”
Bennie stepped up beside Jessy, her gaze shifting from her to him. “I didn’t know you know Calvin.”
His hand was unsteady, causing filling to fall from the taco before he slowly lowered it to the plate. Aw, man, what were the odds that Bennie would be friends with the one civilian he’d gotten to know since coming here?
Fairly good, reason forced him to admit. She’d lived here most of her life, and she was an outgoing woman. That girl of mine, Mama used to say with pride, she never met a stranger.
You mean she’ll talk to a post, Gran had always added before they both burst out laughing.
