Fully Engaged (14 page)

Chapter 13

K
eeping his emotional distance from Nola proved tougher and tougher when she looked so damn hot. Rick lounged against the dock outside of Beachcombers Bar and Grill and watched her throw back her head and laugh with her flyer pals.

The Saturday-night noise swelled with the engagement party for the Squadron Commander, Carson Hunt, and his fiancée Nikki Price. Her friends made him feel welcome, but he could only take so much of this world before he needed to pull his head together.

He could take a free moment for himself, knowing his daughter was safe with Nola and all her crew dog buddies at the party. Nola had kept his daughter glued to her side regardless of where she went and musical Lauren would enjoy the band pulsing away beach tunes.

Meanwhile, the water called to his soul, moonlight stretching a silvery channel for him to swim, to slice his arms through for hours on end. The ocean, the place where he’d felt most in control since he was a teenager diving into the surf to drown out the sound of his arguing parents. His ability to swim had stayed with him, even after the accident. In rehab he’d been able to outswim his therapists. The discovery had been a bright spot during months of hell.

Memories rained down on him like the gentle mist falling from the sky. Of dropping out of a helicopter into a stormy ocean to rescue an unconscious fighter pilot who’d ejected. Icy water, waves engulfing him.

He’d lost count of how many he’d lifted free over the years.

A thud, thud, thud on the dock interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder and saw one of Nola’s crew members walking toward him, the in-flight mechanic…Rick searched for the guy’s name and could only come up with his call sign.
Mako.

Mako called, “Hope you don’t mind if I join you.”

More like Nola must have sent the guy to look out for him and make sure he felt included.

“Just checking out this peaceful place.” It was all he could do not to dive off the dock right now. With any luck the storm clouds overhead would open and churn up the ocean for a wilder ride. “Great spot for fishing.”

“Peace is in short supply these days for us folks in uniform.” The easygoing guy pulled up alongside him and leaned against the dock, drinking his beer.

“Not for me. I’m out of the field for good.” When would that get easier to say?

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir anymore. These legs won’t be holding me up out in the field.” But in the water he could hold his own. Except his job called for more than the water.

“Whatever,
sir
.”

They shared a laugh, then clanked drinks together—his soda, Mako’s beer. Rick sure could have used one but couldn’t afford to dull his senses so he settled for a plain Coke tonight.

“For an easygoing guy, you’re surprisingly stubborn, Sergeant.”

“That’s what my mama says.” Mako rolled his beer bottle between his hands. “You earned the sir for life. No bum leg’s gonna take that away.”

Rick grunted, flicking a shell from the dock railing into the murky water below.
Plop
.

“Sir, no disrespect meant, but I was in a barracks bombing over there. My best friend left behind a widow and two little girls who don’t have a father to walk them down the aisle some day.”

Rick stayed quiet, winging a prayer for that family. Too easily it could have been Lauren without a father. He’d worked his butt off to get back on his feet again so he could walk her down the aisle.

“I met your daughter up there. She’s a great kid.”

Unspoken message received. He would get to walk his daughter down the aisle. “I’m guessing your call sign was never ‘Subtle.’”

“Nope. And I apologize if I’m overstepping. It’s been a helluva year for all of us.” Mako scratched a thin scar just beside his ear. “I’ve learned time is too precious to waste even valuable minutes being
subtle
.” He elbowed Rick in the side. “Besides, it’s not like you’re in any shape to whup my ass.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Rick stared him down with his best whup-ass glare while ever-so-slowly bringing his glass to his mouth.

About ten seconds later Mako fidgeted. “Damn, you’re good with that psychological ops crap.”

“No PSYOPS about it. I may not be much on land, but I’m betting on even odds if I knock you into the water.”

“Well, damn. I actually believe you.”

“Smart man.” Rick couldn’t help but look at the scar that man carried. They all had burdens to work through. “About a lot of things.”

Mako’s shoulders relaxed as he went off attention mode and took a swig of his beer. “I take it to mean we’re not going swimming.”

“Not tonight.” He clinked drinks again as the rain picked up pace. “We’d better head back inside.”

Mako nodded and Rick turned his back on the open water with no little regret.

He got the message that he needed to be there for his daughter now, no more waiting for perfect legs. He would never be the perfect man, perfect father. But where did he fit into her world? Hell, where did he fit into Nola’s world, for that matter? Just being here tonight made him burn for things he could never have again. The water made him think he could do more.

Except until he could figure out how to fit into her world, he needed to stick to his original thoughts going into this night. He couldn’t afford to take things further with her.

And for some reason, that stabbed at him more than it had at the beginning of the evening.

Nola picked at the plate of chili-cheese fries in front of her as she sat with Lauren. The whole engagement party had been a blast—heavy finger food, live music and dancing. Noisy and fun, just the sort of squadron party they all enjoyed. She could see Lauren’s foot tapping under the table even though the teen kept her standard “life sucks” expression plastered on her face.

And gauging by Rick’s wandering off down the dock now that the rain muted the stars, apparently Lauren inherited her moodiness from her dad. Thank heavens for good old Mako, who’d enticed him to head back once the storm kicked up. The two were now ambling back along the pier toward the party.

Nola shifted her attention to Lauren again. “Sweetie, can I get you something else to drink?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“He doesn’t even want me here,” she blurted.

Nola struggled for the right thing to say, but she didn’t have any experience with teens. And why did teens layer three spaghetti strap tops that still showed their bra straps? “How can you say that?”

Lauren simply stared at her with that same “duh” look her father got. “I show up and the first thing he does is book me a flight home.”

Nola leaned forward and pointed with a French fry. “Be reasonable, kiddo. I’ve got a stalker gunning for me and because of me, your dad’s in the cross-hairs, too. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. You can’t fault him for that.”

“He barely even hugged me.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

The kid had a point there and Nola wanted to kick Rick. “Okay, his reception wasn’t the warmest, but you have to admit you caught him off guard—and you scared the bejesus out of him.”

“Bejesus?”

“I’m an old, out-of-style lady. What can I say? But you get my point. Think about it.” Nola popped the fry into her mouth.

Lauren’s arms relaxed along with her practiced expression. “You aren’t even going to try and fake me out?” She actually reached for a fry, shaking her head. “Wow, you just won cool points on that alone. Okay. Yeah. My dad ignores me and it hurts.”

The teen stuffed a fry oozing cheese in her mouth, then another, taking her time chewing. Nola stayed quiet, giving her time to think and gather her words rather than pushing.

Finally Lauren swallowed and reached for her fork to stab up some of the chili…or rather just stab at the pile and not lift anything. “But I’m like him. If something hurts, I just get right up in that hurt’s face and stand it down. I’m not quitting. I want my dad in my life and not that lame-butt stepdad my mother has picked out for me. So here I am.”

“You
are
a lot like Rick.”

“Tough luck for me, huh?” Lauren dropped her fork with a clank.

“No, Lauren.” Nola reached across to take her hand before the kid could wrap her arms around herself defensively again. “It’s the luckiest break you ever got. You’re a fighter and a winner.”

“You met me, like, two days ago.” She didn’t hold hands back but she didn’t pull away, the long-fingered hand with nails painted alternating colors of pink and green to match the teen’s shirts—two of the three tank tops, anyway.

“I’m a quick people reader.” She squeezed Lauren’s hand with a reassurance she hoped the girl would accept and believe. “And your father has told me a lot about you.”

Her eager look just about tore Nola’s heart in two. Then Lauren went all blasé teen again. “So, like, what did he say?”

She started to share the things she knew Lauren wanted to hear, things that would make the girl like her as the bearer of good news… Then she stopped. This wasn’t her place. As much as she wanted to bond with Rick’s daughter, it would have to be done another way. She knew the right words to say now.

“Sweetie, you and your father have spoken through intermediaries and telephones far too often, in my opinion. If you want to know what he said, you should go right to him and ask him. Not call him. Talk to him face to face. Because he doesn’t use a lot of words, but those eyes of his speak darn near soliloquies.”

“Soliloquies? My old man? Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? Rick DeMassi, big fella. Weight lifter, military dude who thinks conversation involves ‘pass the potatoes, please.’”

“That would be him. My guess would be if you looked at him when he said that, you would see those big brown eyes saying he was sorry for all the meals he missed.”

And that was as much as she would reveal. Hopefully enough to nudge the girl into a real, face-to-face conversation with her father.

She’d tried her best to help them both rebuild their family. But would they have a place for her?

Rick thunked himself down in a chair beside Nola, not a hundred percent comfortable with the fact that his teenage daughter was dancing with the lieutenants. But they weren’t putting hands on her. Their dancing seemed appropriate.

And they seemed very aware of his glaring.

Scowl on.

He wanted to blame his daughter’s dancing for the itchy sensation along his neck, but his instincts blared something more was going on here.

They were being watched.

Not something concrete he could call the cops and report. He searched the crowd, the perimeter, the trees, and could see nothing amiss. He could only sit and go quietly nuts.

“Rick?” Nola nudged his elbow. “Hello? Are you in there?”

He forced a smile. No need worrying her about something neither of them could change. He would just keep Nola and Lauren under close watch at all times. “Just reminiscing. Here we are, back in a bar again. I wish I could take you dancing.”

Her hand closed over his, her eyes so full of caring his neck crinked up. “I don’t need to dance. I have crummy rhythm and look pretty much like a gangly duck.”

“Bull. I’ve seen you dance before, if you recall, and you’re graceful and sexy as all get-out, lady.”

“Thank you.” She met his eyes straight on and let him see the unveiled emotion in her eyes. “I would rather sit here with you than dance, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

He grinned, wanting things lighthearted the way they’d been that first night. Just for now. “Must be the chili-cheese fries.”

“You’ve found me out.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “We’ve already said all the wrong things. What does that leave for us to say this go-round?”

She wasn’t going to let him off that easy. But then that was one of the things he’d always liked about this woman, her grit.

“Hell if I know.” He flipped his hand to link fingers with hers. “More of that honesty I guess.”

Even under the cover of the bar porch, the mist clung to her skin, giving her a glow he wanted to taste. She shivered—from his watchful eyes or the chill, he didn’t know, but he shucked his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She burrowed deep into the denim coat. “Well, we both are certain you won’t leave me unsatisfied in bed.”

Memories of making love snapped between them, along with the fact that they couldn’t be together that way again as long as Lauren shared a room with them.

He squeezed her hand. “I like your bluntness.”

“Thank God somebody does.”

“Your ex didn’t?” He wanted to find the bastard, tie him to a tree and leave him there to be afraid for a good long time. Some things were worse than punches.

“I don’t want to talk about him. Even thinking about him makes me ill.”

She looked pale in the moonlight.

“Fair enough.” This whole ordeal with the stalker had to be wearing on her. “We should probably wrap this up and take Lauren home anyway.”

Nola rubbed her thumb over his knuckles in a teasing caress. “You don’t care for how the lieutenants are checking out your daughter.”

She had that right.

He tried to make light. “I refuse to acknowledge it’s even happening.”

At least she would be back at her mother’s tomorrow, which would take a huge burden of worry off his shoulders.

Nola jabbed her fork into the cheese and chili congealed on top of the leftover fries. “Have you considered letting Lauren live with you at the start of second semester? Once things have settled out here and you’ve got a place of your own?”

“I’m not equipped to be her father full-time,” he answered with his standard response.

“You keep saying that, but what if you don’t have a choice?” Nola set aside her fork. “You
are
her father and she needs you. Maybe you could settle close to her mother in…?”

“New Hampshire.”

“If you lived there, it would be easier with her mother close by.” She leaned on an elbow, closer to him, peering into his eyes. “Hey wait, you big fraud.”