AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Almost.
Her mouth was smiling, but there was a wariness in her stormy blue eyes that said he’d done more than sleep behind the VW last night. The thought twisted like a serpent in his guts. What had he done? What had she seen? Or, please, no…had he scared her?
His mouth worked up and down without making much noise until he finally ground out a word. “Hi.”
Because, really, what else was there to say? How did you start a conversation about why you left a beautiful, naked woman sleeping in your bed to go curl up behind a car part in your garage? How could he know if he’d done anything to make her feel afraid last night? He closed his eyes, summoning the courage to finally ask—
“Hi to you, sleepyhead,” she interrupted his thoughts.
His eyes flew open, and, as if she’d read his mind and understood his dilemma, she gave him a huge wink. Then, to his delight and confusion, she whipped her shirt up in one move, flashing her naked breasts to him and then quickly covered herself.
Her saucy grin appeared as she next spoke. “Quick quiz: what did you see? The PTSD website said to make sure you could accurately describe your surroundings to make sure you’re really awake.”
The words battered at him. PTSD website. She’d had to look up what to do—get some cautionary advice. He must’ve had a doozy last night. Yet…she was smiling. And she’d flashed him? Jesus. What did it all mean?
“Listen, Bryce, about last night—”
“Nope. We’re gonna listen to the experts and follow the rules. What did you see?”
Her expression told him that while she was being playful, she was serious as hell. Okay. Now which word to choose? Did he say boobs? Or was that too middle school? Maybe tits? Too crass? How about breasts…but that felt like Drake writing a love scene in a romance novel where the writer is tippy-toeing around anatomical names to avoid pissing off a reader.
“Your chest,” he finally blurted, heaving himself up to stand, one-legged. He felt naked without his prosthetic on, but this barely registered over the shame of being found hiding behind a metal shield all night long. “I saw your fucking gorgeous chest. And the front of those amazing lace panties that I’d like to see up close and damn personal again. But I also see your pretty blue eyes. The worry there. Please, tell me if you’re okay. Did I…did I hurt you?”
“No. As if. Now, come closer and tell me more about my fucking gorgeous chest. I need those big arms wrapped around me for a sec.”
Grabbing on to the top of the VW front end, he used it as leverage to move himself to stand in front of her.
“Don’t you want to talk about what happened?” he asked.
“It’s a hug emergency, damn it!” Her cheeks were flushed under a mop of unruly brown hair. “Hug me!”
He did as he was told. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her carefully, then more forcefully as she clutched at him, her hands a little cold on his bare skin. Bryce’s ribs expanded under his hands, and she burrowed her nose into his neck, breathing deeply and sighing. Her body was soft, molded to him. Her silky hair tickled the underside of his chin but he didn’t move a muscle, not wanting to break the spell.
Because once she started to talk, he knew things were going to go sideways.
Suddenly, the sound of beeping came from his tiny apartment. It wasn’t the high-pitched noise of his fire alarm, but more subdued, like a…
“That’s the microwave timer. Breakfast, such as it is, is ready.” She pulled away with what seemed like regret. Was this where she gave him the speech of why it was better if they were still friends?
He did the most chivalric thing he could think to do—say the hard part for her.
“You’ve probably got to go, huh? Don’t worry about breakfast—”
She pulled his head down to hers, planting a long, fierce kiss on his lips.
“There are three facts you should know. Fact one: I’m free until the girls are dropped off after church and their Easter brunch with their grandparents. Fact two: I’m hungry. I worked my ass off putting together a meal in that sad, sad area you call a kitchen, and I want to eat the fruits of my labors. Fact three: We need to talk about last night, and then I need a shower. So hustle up—you’ve got two minutes while I plate everything and bring it out here to eat since you have no table in your whole freaking apartment.”
She gave him one more kiss on his lips, which he returned with something between confusion and wonder, then disappeared into his apartment.
His arms and legs moved automatically. He grabbed his prosthetic, socket, and sleeve and, using the VW for stability, hopped to the nearby bistro table and chair. Sliding on the sleeve, he wondered what explanation he’d give Bryce…and what would be her reaction? Sure, she’d been cool. Remarkably so. But there was only so much crazy one person could take, and he’d been shoveling about ten pounds of it into a nine-pound bag if he was right about last night.
When was she going to tell him he wasn’t worth all this?
The prosthetic clicked home, and then it clicked once more as he put his weight on it. He gritted his teeth at the stab of pain. This morning it seemed more localized to the front of his residual limb, below the kneecap, but he didn’t have time to deal with this HO flare-up. He had to solve this PTSD thing first. Only one war-related crisis at a time.
Sooner begun, sooner done. But damn, he didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to see her kind face fold in on itself when she determined that the math of him plus her didn’t add up. Yet he’d done hard things before, he reminded himself. He would do this, then lick his wounds later.
Bryce approached with two plates balanced on one hand and holding two mugs of coffee by the handles with the other. He reached out to help her unload it all onto the table.
