Broken Soldier: A Novel (8 page)

“Is that enough?” She had a hopeful smile.

“For now.”

She desperately wanted him to have a good weekend, that much was obvious. He’d thought it would be fun, right up until he’d started down the slope and realized that he wasn’t going to be able to plant his right leg without losing his ski.

Emily put the brandy back in the cupboard and stood beside him. He slipped his right arm around her waist, pulling her closer and savoring her touch. If they just spent the next two days inside the cabin, that wouldn’t exactly break his heart. He leaned forward, kissed her blonde head.

“Did Christa and Paul seem weird to you?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t see them together much.”

“Well, they hardly said a word to each other.”

They had been a little “off” when they’d gotten out of the car. Christa had jerked a bag from the backseat and gone straight inside, not waiting for Paul. And after Paul had followed her into the guest room, they’d closed the door.

Rafa took a sip of his coffee. “I thought maybe they were breaking in the bed.”

Muted footsteps thumped across the hardwood, and Paul rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Nothing quite so fun.”

Emily flushed, like she was embarrassed about Paul overhearing their speculation. Rafa just grinned at his friend. “You pick a fight with the lady?”

“I didn’t pick it. It just sort of happened.”

“Well, don’t let us keep you from the make-up sex.”

“Rafa!” Emily swatted his arm.

Paul chuckled. “I gotta make up with her first. When we got married my old man told me that I could either be right or I could be happy, but I couldn’t be both.”

“And you’re taking the moral high ground?” Emily asked.

“That’s why you’re the shrink.” Paul stopped beside the coffee pot, then sniffed. “You two sneak a little something extra into your drinks?”

Emily slipped out of Rafa’s embrace and went to the cabinet. “A little brandy. Care for some?”

Paul went to a different cupboard and came up with a proper snifter. “I’ll pass on the coffee.”

Emily gave his glass a healthy splash.

“I think Christa will be out in a few minutes,” Paul said. “You two up for a soak in the hot tub?”

“The one in the master bath?” Rafa asked.

“No way, bro. The one outside.”

Rafa looked at him, confused.

“I take it you haven’t seen it. This way, my man.” Paul beckoned for Rafa and Em to follow him.

A door past the master bedroom opened out onto an open air deck. A dusting of snow covered everything, but Rafa could see the outline of a hot tub. “Do we need a broom?”

“I’ll get it.” Emily ducked back inside, leaving Rafa alone with Paul.

“Are you and Christa having trouble?” Rafa asked once Emily was out of earshot.

“We got into it on the drive up here. Nothing major.”

“If you need some time to take care of it, we can make ourselves scarce,” Rafa offered. Skipping out on the rest of the skiing wasn’t going to break his heart.

“Nah, she’ll get over it.” Paul’s eyes darted toward the door.

Emily came out, a wide-headed push broom in hand. Rafa tried to intercept her to take the broom, but she shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

He wanted to argue, but at the same time, he knew it would be much harder for him to manage a broom that size than it would for her.

Emily made quick work of the snow. Paul got the hot tub cover off and the water flowing. Rafa just stood around and watched.

He caught Emily by the elbow as she passed him, heading back into the house with the broom. “Em, I don’t have a swimsuit.”

She grinned, pulling him into the house after her. “Me, either.”

He thought about that a minute, blushing when he realized that she simply wasn’t planning to wear a swimsuit. “Are Christa and Paul going to be okay with that?”

“Okay with what?” Christa asked, coming down the hall the other direction.

“Skinny dipping in the hot tub,” Emily said.

“I don’t mind,” Christa said, “As long as you promise to look Paul straight in the crotch and start laughing.”

“I’ve been doing that since we were both eight years old,” Rafa said.

“Then it’s a deal.” Christa breezed past, heading outside.

Rafa followed Emily across the house, watching the bounce in her step. An embarrassing fear took him. There was no way he was going to be able to hide his very amorous interest in her if they were both naked. If it were just her, he didn’t think it would be a problem, but with Christa and Paul?

He hoped the hot tub had some serious bubbles.

#

Steam clouded the air over the hot tub. In the water the temperature was a muscle relaxing hundred and two degrees, melting the flurries that came near.

Emily slid her hand up Rafa’s thigh, stroking along his quad. He had his arm around her shoulders, and his hand clenched as she brushed his manhood. If she’d had any doubt about his physical interest in her, it was utterly dispelled.

Paul and Christa sat across the tub. Whatever Paul had done to upset her, Christa was well and truly upset. Emily knew she’d be hearing all about it sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“So the summer after our freshman year of college Rafa and I went to Madrid together to spend a few weeks with his mom’s family.” Paul had a very lawyer-ish tone, the kind that meant he was about to tell some Very Important story. “We were what, about nineteen?”

“About,” Rafa said.

“So old enough to drink in Spain, but still young enough that we had an excuse to be really foolish.”

Christa snorted. “Never really grew up then, did you?”

“Anyway,” Paul rolled his eyes at his wife, “We went out to a downtown disco with this girl that Rafa was seeing, what was her name?”

Rafa’s breathing paused, just for a second. “Just a girl.”

If Emily hadn’t been actually touching him, she never would have caught it, but whoever the girl was, she must have meant something to him once.

“Right, so just this girl,” Paul continued. “We get to the club and it’s all eardrum-shattering music and cute Spanish girls. Rafa and... whatever her name was go off dancing. I find my way over to a couple girls and start trying to chat with them, but it’s so loud and I’m not sure they even spoke English. Well, I don’t really even have a chance to extricate myself before their boyfriends show up. Big, tough dudes, right? And I was maybe a hundred fifty pounds back then. So they start jawing at me in Spanish, and I’m an idiot and yelling at them in English, so the next thing I know, I’ve got four dudes dragging me outside.

“They get me out to the alley behind the building, and one of them comes up with a knife. I figure I’m about to either die or go to the hospital or both. And then here comes Rafa, flying out the back door. He sized them on the run and took the guy with the knife out before any of them even had time to turn. One guy got a good gut shot in on me, but Rafa punched him right in the kidney--”

“Liver,” Rafa said.

“So right in the liver. Dude’s down howling in pain. At that point it’s two on two and I’m useless, but the other two guys just back up. Whatever they saw in Rafa, they didn’t want any more of it. Saved my life, probably.”

“What’s your point, Paul?” Christa was very much not enjoying his story.

“My point is that Rafael Carpenter is as cool under pressure as they come, and he always has been. And he still is.” He looked across the hot tub, meeting Rafa’s eye. “That kind of stuff, it doesn’t have anything to do with how big or tough you are. Or whether both your legs are flesh or metal. It’s all about attitude.” He tapped his forehead. “About what’s up here.”

It was a nice story, but it made Emily wonder who the girl was. She made a mental note to ask about her later.

Rafa scooped his glass off the edge of the tub behind Emily and raised it. “Cheers.”

Emily toasted him, and took a sip of the brandy. Her other hand slid from Rafa’s thigh to his extremely erect manhood and squeezed.

He nearly dropped his glass.

“Hey, Em, do you want to help me get the food started?” Christa asked.

Emily gave Rafa another squeeze, smiling sweetly as his eyes bulged. “Sure.”

Paul looked at her knowingly, his lips curling up with a hint of a smile.

Emily grabbed her towel off the back of the tub and climbed out. The second her skin hit the air, she felt the cold. It was like every pore in her body closed up all at once and the towel she wrapped around herself didn’t do anything to help. “See you inside,” she told Rafa, then ran for the house.

“Sorry for being such a wet blanket,” Christa said once they were dressed and in the kitchen. “Paul and I got into it on the way up here and he really twisted the screws on me.”

“You guys going to be alright?” Emily took out the vegetables she’d brought earlier, and started chopping.

“We’ll be fine. It’s not always easy living with a lawyer.” Christa sliced some chicken quarters and dropped them into a wide pan. They sizzled and popped when they hit the hot oil. “He can’t ever admit he’s wrong.”

“I don’t think that’s a trait unique to lawyers,” Emily said.

Christa added rice to a paella pan, sprinkling in a few strands of saffron. “Maybe it’s just husbands. But to answer your question, we’ll be fine. Eventually.”

“That’s good.” Emily passed her the cutting board full of vegetables. “You feel like talking about it?”

“He was just talking about Rafael’s opportunities away from Colorado, and when I reminded him that Rafa would be leaving you here, Paul didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Emily pursed her lips. Her best friend and her husband were fighting about her? “Chrissy, don’t get upset with Paul. He’s Rafa’s best friend. He
should
take his side.”

“But--”

“No, really. I’m glad Rafa has a friend. And if he does need to go, he and I can work that out. You and Paul don’t need to let it come between you.”

“So have you and Rafael talked about his job situation?”

“Not yet. Did Paul say anything else about it?”

Christa shook her head. “He talked to Paul about it earlier in the week. Sounded like he was really torn up on what to do.”

Emily took comfort from hearing it, though she felt guilty at the same time. It wasn’t like he was going back to Afghanistan, but regardless of what she told Christa, she wasn’t sure how their relationship would survive if he was halfway across the country.

“I need another drink,” Emily announced.

“Me, too. Give me a second.” Christa arranged the vegetables atop the rice, and put a cover over the pan. “This way.”

“I brought beverages,” Emily said.

Christa raised an eyebrow. “Mom keeps the bar stocked. We can raid her stash.” She led the way to the living room.

Emily hadn’t even realized there was a bar, but it was manifestly obvious when Christa opened the doors. What had looked like an entertainment center was actually shelf after shelf of bottles. A slide-out counter-top had a sink above and a small fridge below.

“I need something strong,” Christa said, pouring a generous measure of tequila into a shaker. “How about you?”

“Just wine,” Emily said. She wanted to keep her head about her. Just in case the evening took a turn for the amorous.

Christa made it through her margarita and halfway through another before the boys came back inside. Emily set her wine glass aside half finished.

“Uh, hon,” Paul said, sniffing. “Are you intentionally burning something?”

Christa slapped her glass down on the bar, nearly knocking it over, and leaped to her feet. “Oh, crap.”

Emily chased her into the kitchen, Paul’s laughter following behind. A cloud of smoke was rising from the chicken. The rice hissed angrily when Emily took the cover off.

Christa killed the flames, but Emily could see that the damage was done. The chicken was burned on one side, and the rice was a tar-black glob of stickiness in the paella pan. Even the vegetables were blackening on the edges.

“I forgot about it,” Emily said.

“Me, too.”

Paul and Rafa filtered into the kitchen, standing well back from the mess. “Paella?” Rafa asked.

“It was supposed to be,” Emily said. It was supposed to be a surprise, and Christa assured her that she’d made it before and that Rafa would love it.

Rafa came closer, looking at the ruined meat. “It looks okay to me. Just a little overdone on the bottom.”

That drew a snort of laughter from Christa. “Your sweet lies might work on Em, but I know better. How about we go back into Boulder and get dinner somewhere? I think Paul and I would rather stay in the city, anyway, and not ruin your weekend.”

It wasn’t a great option, but the fridge wasn’t stocked with perishable food and Emily didn’t have anything else to cook. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Christa said. “I’ll even call ahead and get us a table. Where do you want to go?”

“How about Japanese?” Paul asked.

Emily loved sushi, but she wasn’t sure about Rafa.

“I eat everything,” Rafa said without her even having to ask.

Christa clapped her hands together. “Alright, let’s get dressed and do this.”

Rafa and Emily went to the master bedroom to change. “Sorry about her,” Emily said. “She’s both flighty and a little dictator sometimes.”

“She’s fine. She introduced us, so she can’t be all bad, right?”

Emily wanted to throw him on the bed right then and right there. Instead, she draped her arms around his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “Maybe you’re right.”

#

Something about the way Emily kept picking at her food was starting to bother Rafa. She barely ate enough to feed a bird, and he’d seen how much she exercised. She’d nearly run him off the trail last weekend and he had a feeling she wasn’t likely to take it any easier when they went skiing again in the morning. Two pieces of sushi weren’t enough calories for her.

The worst part was that he knew exactly why she was starving herself. Lorena had done the same thing. Probably still did. If her body wasn’t exactly the shape that she thought it was supposed to be, she simply didn’t eat.

It was weird that Paul had brought up Lorena, and weirder yet that he’d done it in front of Emily. Those were memories Rafa had thought buried, and bringing them up to the surface reminded him of a pain he’d rather have left forgotten.