She ended the call and tossed the phone into the bottom of her purse, ignoring the muted vibration that told her he was probably trying to call back. Then she slung the bag over her shoulder, stuffed her feet into a totally unseasonable pair of flip-flops and strode out to the Malibu.
The phone was still buzzing when she tossed her purse into the passenger seat.
“Can’t talk now, Daddy,” she’d informed it, putting the car into gear. “I’ve got a meeting to get to.”
And she couldn’t wait to tell Chance all about how it had gone. She hoisted the box higher on her hip and edged around the front door, beaming as the headlights flicked off on the Challenger. Except she’d barely stepped over the threshold when he shot out of his car and bolted toward her wearing an expression of such dire alarm that her stomach seemed to drop down into her toes.
Had his orders changed? Was he leaving for Afghanistan in the morning? Had he shot someone by accident during a training exercise? Were the police after him? Oh God, he’d failed to pull over and now the whole county sheriff’s department was coming for him, they had to get out of here, had to get over the state line…
“It’s okay, I can leave now,” she called nonsensically. “I’ll grab a couple of things and we’ll—”
“No, no, don’t do this,” he begged, wrenching the box from her grip and dropping it on the ground, then taking her hands in his. “I know six months seems like a long time, but I’ll make it up to you when I get back, I promise. And I promise I’ll be back. Did I tell you my nickname in my old platoon was Un-killable McKinley? Seriously, I always keep my head screwed on in combat, in fact it’s probably the only time anything I do makes any sense, but I can change that, I can do better if you just tell me what better looks like, I meant it when I said I’d keep you safe, and I swear—”
“Whoa, slow down. What’s wrong? What don’t you want me to do?”
“Don’t leave.” He squeezed her hands, his voice hushed and urgent. “Stay with me. Please.”
She gaped at him, at a loss for anything other than a characteristically flippant reply but gathering from the desperation in his eyes that was the opposite of what he needed. That wasn’t who she would be anymore—she could be real with him. She could show him how she really felt. She worked hard to keep her tone even and calm, without a hint of the mocking she knew tended to slip in without her even trying.
“I’m not going anywhere, Chance. What gave you that idea?”
“You’re all packed, loading up your car. I know you weren’t counting on us only having a month to get to know each other before—”
The pieces came together with an abrupt click. “I’m not leaving. This is for the food bank.”
“Food bank?” he echoed. She tugged him through the front door and watched his eyes widen as he took in the array of groceries and cardboard boxes in varying degrees of fullness spread across the floor.
“I went to that enlisted spouses’ group meeting this afternoon. Turns out today was the end of their food drive, so they all turned up with a pantry-load of groceries. I felt bad for not bringing anything, so I volunteered to sort it all and drive it down to the food bank tomorrow morning. I knew the second their eyes lit up it was a dumb offer, but it was too late.” She sighed. “It’s a lot of work, but maybe it’ll endear me to ’em.”
He stared at the clutter like he couldn’t quite reconcile its presence in his house. “Why do you want to endear yourself to them?”
“You know how it is, they’ve all been married ten years, have kids, go to church, know this army life inside out. It’s bad enough I’ve turned up out of the blue so soon before you deploy. If they ever found out—”
“But why?” He turned the full force of his gaze on her, and her heart thrilled at his attention. “Who cares what they think of you? This town ain’t that small you have to try to fit in where you don’t.”
She fidgeted under his scrutiny, fighting opposing compulsions to tell him everything and bare her ugly core or retreat to safe old habits, to lock up tight with a coy smile and rolled eyes. Then she remembered the worry in his face when he thought she was leaving, the pressure of his hands as he asked her to stay, and for the first time she processed the full meaning of his misapprehending plea.
Time to put all her cards on the table.
“I don’t know how to be a wife,” she confessed, flinging up her palms. “I don’t even know how to be a girlfriend. All I know how to do is cuss and drink and run men off. Now I found one I want to hang on to, I don’t even know where to start. But I’m going to do my level best. I’m going to be the wife you deserve.”
“You don’t need a bunch of middle-aged do-gooders to teach you how to do that, Tara. You’ve always been the woman I deserve, not to mention the one I want. My wife. And I never imagined I’d find someone so perfectly suited to the position.”
She smiled weakly, not quite daring to believe her ears. “You mean you never imagined you’d find someone willing to put up with your bony ass.”
“Who’re you calling bony, short stuff?” Before she could respond he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her up over his shoulder, one arm clamped across the backs of her thighs while the other was propped arrogantly on his hip. Slowly, steadily, he began to spin in a circle.
“Put me down, crazy man,” Tara squealed delightedly, grabbing at the waist of his ACU trousers to steady herself as he turned faster.
“Don’t think I will.”
“You’re going to drop me or I’m going to throw up. Neither option sounds like much fun.”
“Let’s see which happens first.”
His boots squeaked against the floorboards and she closed her eyes against her upside-down spinning dizziness, laughing and shrieking as she spun through the air. She felt a little bit sick, a little bit scared, but so sure that Chance wouldn’t let her go that she almost wanted him to go faster, to never stop, to let her always fly like this, defying physics and gravity and every stupid convention humans came up with to hamstring themselves into respectability, all the while knowing he was there with her, holding her, refusing to let her fall.
She heard the clank of aluminum and his muttered curse, opening her eyes just in time to see the world tilt and jolt as he stumbled. He twisted as they went down, and she landed hard against his chest as the sound of bone thunked hard against the floor as he rolled onto his side.
He sucked in a harsh breath, baring his teeth. “Holy mother of—”
“Please tell me that was your arm, not your skull.” She moved to scramble off him but his hand closed on her thigh, holding her in place.
“My elbow. It’s fine, but damn, that hurts.”
“Serves you right for trying to toss me like a javelin.”
“Javelins are the spear things. You’re thinking of a discus.”
She leaned over him, pushing him flat on his back and pinning his wrists to the floor. “I’m thinking of the fool who tried to hurl me across the room. Try that again and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” His grin was wolfish.
Suddenly she registered their proximity, her knees straddling either side of his torso, the inch and a half between his mouth and the tips of her breasts. She jerked backward, freeing his arms as she moved to stand up. “You didn’t even shut the front door.”
“Tara.” He gripped her thighs, but his firm tone stilled her more effectively than any touch. “We’ve got to start talking to each other, sugar. From now on we just say what we’re thinking, good, bad or half-cocked crazy. No more secrets. No more misunderstandings.”
She shifted uneasily. “Some of those women today said you shouldn’t stress your soldier out when he’s overseas. Like, don’t bother him with little household problems since he’s got enough to deal with.”
