Hero by Night (6 page)

“More,” she pleaded, too far lost in her orgasm to know what she was begging for. She just did not want this to end. The vibrator moved in her, pulling back, then pushing forward, so deep she felt his hand against her skin. She opened her eyes, the orgasm spiraling higher and higher, propelled by his touch.

Lifting her head, gasping for breath, she clung to the sheets. Chad stared back at her as if he wanted to stay kneeling between her legs, driving her wild. Hunger, need—­it was all there in his brown eyes.

The orgasm ended and her heartbeat raced. But it wasn't anxiety rearing its ugly head. Not this time. She'd reached the finish line. Maybe, just maybe, she was one step closer to the woman she'd been before her journey halfway around the world.

Lena closed her eyes, resting her head back on the bed. The swell of nerves that had bubbled up as she'd read the blatant need written in his expression . . . that wasn't fear. Her world had been bookended by anxiety for months now, and it didn't feel like this.

She felt him move away. The buzzing stopped. He'd turned off the toy. Opening her eyes, she stared at the ceiling wondering what to say to her pretend boyfriend, the man who'd delivered her first orgasm in mixed company in many, many months.

“Lena?” His voice was soft and gentle, devoid of the naughty edge that slipped in when he issued commands.

“Hmm?” she murmured.

“You're not thinking about your gun, are you?”

She laughed, propping herself up her elbows. He'd set the toy aside and stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her with his trademark charming smile in place. “No. I'm still too shaky to handle firearms.”

He nodded, his smile fading. “You would tell me if it was too much, right?”

“It wasn't.” She sat up, smoothing her skirts down over her legs. “It was different, but lovely.”

“We need to work on your vocabulary.”

Lena pressed her lips together, searching for the right word. She glanced at the vibrator on the nightstand. “It was perfect,” she said. “For me.”

“So I get a gold star for creativity?”

“Yes.” She smiled, suppressing a giggle. What was it about this man? She'd laughed more with him in two days than she had in so long. Most ­people tiptoed around her, their expressions grim and their actions wary. Maybe she'd needed that for a while. But Chad brushed past her barriers, delivering sweet-­talking charm and humor. And the words he used when he set aside the sweet . . .

Tonight. Right now. This is for you. But know that I want you, Lena. Looking at you, the thought of giving you pleasure, hearing you cry out, it all makes me hard.

Oh yes, this man deserved a gold star.

“We'll start a sticker chart for you after dinner.” She moved the chair and opened the bathroom door, freeing her disgruntled dog. “Good boy, Hero,” she murmured to the retriever.

“If you two are ready, let's get something to eat and show this town you're mine,” Chad said. “Because Lena, right now, with your I-­just-­got-­out-­of-­bed glow, you look like you belong with me.”

 

Chapter 7

L
ENA STUDIED
C
HAD'S
fluid, easy movements as he steered his pickup down into Independence Falls. Hero sat between them on the front bench, but Chad didn't seem to mind. He had to be uncomfortable, and not just because there was a golden retriever breathing in his ear.

She wasn't the only one turned on by his experiment with the pink toy. But she'd left the room satisfied, her body still tingling. She'd been trained to pay attention to details and she'd seen the way he adjusted himself when he thought she wasn't looking.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Do you want to turn back, take a little break before dinner? I know you're probably eager to get your part of our deal in motion, but if you need a few minutes, I understand.”

He cast a sideways glance at her before turning his attention back to the road. “Lena, did you just ask me if I need to jerk off?”

“Yes.”

He flashed a devilish grin, his eyes lit with amusement. “Would you like to watch?”

Yes. No.
“Maybe?”

Chad laughed. “If you'd said yes, I might have turned the truck around. But I think I can keep it together long enough to get you fed. I appreciate the thought.”

“You're welcome.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And I think I might like to watch one day. I think there are a lot of things I might want to try.”

“Stop teasing the man with the hard-­on who wants to buy you dinner.”

She smiled at the playful note in his voice. “I'll do my best. Where are we going?”

“What do you like to eat?” He slowed the truck as they approached Main Street. The strip was lined with storefronts, a church on each corner, and a few restaurants. On one side of the street, the buildings touched, but across the pavement the lots had green spaces in between. And many of the restaurants used the grassy areas to set up outdoor seating.

“I'm not picky,” she said.
About food.
Cramped indoor seating might ruin his plan. It would be hard to date a woman who refused to enter the restaurant—­or worse, caused a scene when she bolted two minutes after entering, a full-­blown panic attack nipping at her heels along with her dog.

“Pizza? A Slice of Independence has picnic tables outside.”

“Outdoors would be nice.” Lena exhaled, feeling as if she'd been holding her breath, waiting to take a shot at a target. One orgasm courtesy of a pink penis did not mean she was ready for a crowded restaurant on a Saturday night. “And I like pizza. Is it good?”

“It's the only pizza joint in town, so I'd say it's the best there is.” He turned into the half-­filled parking lot, cut the engine, and hopped out. He was at her door opening it before she'd released her seat belt. “Why don't you grab a table and I'll go inside and place the order? Any requests, or are you willing to take a gamble on the special pie of the day?”

“The special. Unless it has mushrooms.”

Lena selected an empty red picnic table on the outskirts of the grassy seat-­yourself area. A family with two young kids, one barely walking and another that looked to be about the same age as Nate, Eric's nephew, sat close to the door. Nearby, a young ­couple, probably still in high school, were splitting a pie. The seating area was visible from the street and cars occasionally slowed down to wave.

Lena had to give him credit. Chad had picked the perfect spot. No crowds or noisy interior, plenty of space for her dog to lounge in the grass, yet still in full view of Independence Falls on a Saturday night.

About ten minutes later, the screen door attached to the side of the brick building swung open and Chad walked out carrying a pizza, a stand, and a ­couple of plates. He smiled and called out a greeting to the family as he made his way to the table.

“Trish is the only server working tonight and she's slammed with customers inside, so I offered to play waiter.” Chad set up the stand on one side of the table and placed the pizza on it. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“I don't mind.” She reached for a plate. “What are we having?”

“The special had mushrooms, so I went traditional. Plain cheese on half and pepperoni on the other side,” he said. “Dig in. I'm going to run inside for our waters. Unless you want something stronger. A soda maybe? Or a lemonade?”

“Water is fine.” She selected a slice of plain cheese and let it cool on her plate.

Returning with the waters, Chad sat on the bench across from her. The young ­couple and the family stared at her, as if trying to figure out who she was. On the street, a car slowed, the raven-­haired twenty-­something driver nearly swerving off the road.

“I feel like I'm eating in front of an audience,” she said, her voice low.

“It's been a long time since I've brought a date here,” he said.

“How long?”

“Freshman year of high school.”

She froze the pizza at her lips. “You gave up on dating that early?”

“I'm kidding, Lena. It hasn't been that long. A ­couple of years maybe.” He nodded to her dog. “Does Hero need a slice?”

She shook her head, getting the hint. He didn't want to talk about it. And she didn't want to push. Her fake boyfriend's dating history was none of her concern, especially when she had a mouth full of the best pizza she'd had in years. “No. He's fine with dog food.”

Her dog dropped his yellow duck toy and let out a bark as if he understood the words “dog” and “food” pertained to him. But she ignored him.

“I would hate to waste this on an animal that mistakes a chair leg for dinner,” she said. “The crust is perfect. Not too thin. Not too thick. I haven't had a pizza like this since I lived in New York.”

“In the city?” He selected a slice of the pepperoni.

“No. Upstate. I went to West Point.”

“You always knew you wanted to be in the army?”

“My father always knew he wanted me to follow in his footsteps and be in the army,” she corrected.

“Your dad served?”

She nodded, sliding a second slice onto her plate. “And my brother. He fought in Iraq.”

“That must have been hard for your parents,” Chad said, leaning back. “To watch both their kids go to war.”

No, it was what they'd wanted for their children, Lena thought, biting into the oh-­so-­perfect crust. Maybe not the war in the Middle East. But wearing the uniform? That had been their dream from day one.

“My brother was home by the time I graduated and deployed,” she said. There was so much more to the story, but she wasn't ready to share the details yet.

“Your family must be proud of you.” She could feel Chad watching her carefully. “For receiving a Silver Star.”

“I'm sure they are. My dad grew up very poor. His parents moved to Texas from Mexico when he was about ten. They became citizens, my dad went to school, and my grandfather's business thrived. They love this country. As soon as my dad was old enough, he enlisted, determined to serve. He dreamed about sending his kids to military schools, but my brother followed in his footsteps, enlisting when he turned eighteen. The day I graduated from West Point, my father cried. He was so proud of me.”

Chad set his half-­eaten slice on his plate. “Lena, you can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but why aren't they helping you now?”

“They don't understand,” she said. “There's nothing wrong with me. Physically. But I refuse to go back and serve another tour. I'm done. I don't think they could accept that. They didn't understand.

“Maybe if there was one event that I could point to and say this why I can't move forward with my life. But it's not isolated to the images in my nightmares. Waking up every day not knowing if someone will attack your unit. Wondering about IEDs every time you get into a truck or go out on patrol . . . it builds and builds until your normal is fear.”

She selected another slice of piece. “
My
normal is fear right now. It wasn't like that for my brother or father. Their injuries healed, to the extent they ever will, following the timeline set out by their doctors. My family expected the same would be true for me.”

“So they gave up on you,” he said. “Like your ex?”

“You're awfully nosy for a fake boyfriend.”

“Just hard to imagine walking away from you, Lena. You're beautiful and fascinating. And you must have done some pretty amazing stuff over there to receive a medal from the vice president.” Chad offered her another slice of pepperoni pizza, but she shook her head. “Plus your ex drove all the way down here to give you that envelope.”

“Malcolm isn't a bad guy,” she said quietly.

“Look, Lena,” Chad said slowly, humor fading from his brown eyes. “If there's a chance you can fix things with him, I don't want to be in the way.”

“No,” she said flatly. “There's no chance. Even if there were, I don't want to go back. Malcolm had an imaginary line of how much he could take before he gave up. We blew past his idea of when my recovery should've ended months ago.”

“Chad!” A shrill female voice burst the bubble around her, Chad, and their too-­serious conversation.

Lena turned her head, spotting a slim, tall woman with black hair styled into a spiked pixie cut. Ms. Pixie approached the picnic bench and stopped beside Chad.

“We missed you at the bar last night,” the woman said. “It didn't feel like a Friday night without you.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I had something.”

“Forgiven.” Ms. Pixie rested her hand on Chad's arm.

“Delilah, this is Lena,” Chad said, carefully withdrawing his arm from the other woman's hold. He reached for his water, nodding in her direction. “She just moved to Independence Falls. Lena, meet Delilah Travis.”

Ms. Pixie's eyes narrowed as she studied Lena. Could the other woman see her “glow”? The thought sent a tingling reminder of what they'd done on her borrowed bed before heading to dinner. And how she'd felt doing it . . .

Amazing. Orgasmic. Glowing.

“Welcome to Independence Falls,” Ms. Pixie said, turning back to Chad. “I stopped in to see Josh today at the end of my shift.”

“How was he?” Chad said, glancing across the table to add: “Delilah's a nurse at the hospital.”

“He was giving one of his nurses a hard time about the food. Something about too many vegetables and not enough meat.”

Chad grinned. “Sounds like my brother.”

“The nurse tried to explain that he placed the order yesterday. It's too bad about his memory,” Delilah said, shaking her head.

“I'm just glad he's here with us,” Chad said. “Maybe he can't remember marking those silly hospital menu cards, but he still knows he'd rather have a bacon double cheeseburger than anything they offer.”

“Everyone in Independence Falls is praying for Josh and hoping he makes a full recovery,” Delilah said. “I heard Eric threw a little party for you and your brothers. Awfully sweet of him what with all the wedding planning on his plate right now.”

“I don't think he's handling much of the planning,” Chad said. “I would bet that is all on Georgia.”

“I heard,” Delilah said, dropping her voice low, “that Georgia moved up the date.”

“I wouldn't know. Eric and I don't spend much time talking flowers and I-­dos, you know? But Lena might. She's a friend of Georgia's. And from what I understand, she's had a hand in the planning.”

Lena debated kicking him under the table.

Ms. Pixie turned to her, head cocked to one side. “Is it true? I'd heard spring, but now it might be a winter wedding?”

“I don't think Georgia has made a decision,” Lena said.

The other woman pursed her lips as if debating whether Lena was hiding the truth.

“I'm sure it will depend on Eric's schedule,” Lena added, though she suspected that in this case, the groom would gladly hand over the running of his multimillion-­dollar timber operation if his fiancée decided they should wed today.

“If you need a date,” Ms. Pixie said, her hand returning to Chad's arm as she gave him a squeeze, “you have my number.”

“I'm sure Georgia will want to keep it small. I probably won't make the invitation list. But if they do, I think I'm covered.” Chad winked at her, before turning back to the woman holding his arm. “Delilah, you might want to place your order for the special before they run out.”

The other woman nodded, releasing Chad as she stepped away. “I'll see you around.”

Lena watched Ms. Pixie walk away. “Wow, she is . . .”

“Forward?” Chad supplied.

She touched you like she'd seen you naked and wanted you to remember the moment
, Lena thought. “At least she didn't pour a beer over your head.”

“Hey now, most ­people like me,” Chad said.

“Here there, stranger!”

Lena looked up and spotted a blonde approaching their picnic table, a second woman following behind her. Both women were focused on Chad, their smiles wide and welcoming.

She glanced back at her “date.” The man was good-­looking, but he wasn't a god. And from what she'd seen, this town was littered with ripped, muscular men. They could make a “Bad Boys of Logging” calendar and easily fill every month.

Or maybe not. Eric and Liam had pristine reputations as far as she knew. Sure, they were off the market now. But based on what she'd learned from Georgia, Eric had been devoted to his nephew before falling in love, and still treated the child who'd lost both parents as his own. Lena has a feeling no one in Independence Falls would label him a “bad boy.”

But Chad? He had bad boy written all over him.

Lena waited until the last member of the Chad Summers Fan Club moved out of earshot. “I can see why you don't take women out,” she teased. “You probably have longer conversations in bed.”