Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (8 page)

Callie had hoped she’d grow out of such a teenage response, but she never had. To her relief, her mother was the same way. Dara was more like their surgeon father in other ways. Choosing a soft pink lipstick that went with the color of her sweater, Callie stood back, critically assessing herself.

What would Beau think? He’d always seen her, with the exception of the night of the belly dancing, without any makeup. Her hair had never been down; it was always in a ponytail, like Dara’s. This was definitely a different Callie he’d be squiring around tonight!

*

Beau knocked at
the front door of the B-hut right at 1900. As Callie locked the door to her room and turned, she could see him through the small window. He was dressed in his chinos and a cream-colored sweater with his black leather jacket over his powerful upper body. His hair looked recently washed, and she smiled to herself, placing her black leather bag over her right shoulder and opening the door.

Beau whistled. “You clean up mighty purty, Ms. McKinley.”

Callie felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “Thanks, Beau. So do you.”

“I managed to grab a shower, too,” he said, opening his hand toward her. Would she take it?

Wanting to touch this man, Callie slid her smaller hand into his. She felt the calluses on his fingers, the dry warmth of his skin against hers. “Thanks for the compliment. It’s kind of nice to clean up, put on some nice clothes, and feel pretty every once in a while.”

Beau was drinking her in as if he were seeing her for the first time, and he was obviously impressed by the changes in her appearance. Callie couldn’t help but preen a bit. On her part, she observed a man who could no longer disguise his desire for her.

Beau felt the soft warmth of her hand in his and felt those small calluses she’d collected working hard around the orphanage. His nostrils flared, catching her female scent along with the subtle fragrance of jasmine. He closed the B-hut door and it automatically locked. It was dark and windy. When Callie drew her wool hood over that mass of beautiful red hair, he grimaced. His fingers practically itched to thread through those strong, shining strands. “Ready?” he asked.

Curving her fingers around his, she said, “Ready.”

“I feel like I’m the pumpkin in some fairy tale,” he teased, cutting his stride for her sake. “You’re the beautiful princess, and I’m the country bumpkin.”

“You’re hardly a bumpkin—maybe more like a wolf in sheep’s clothing?” Callie liked the way they seemed to casually sway against one another as he led her to the Humvee parked along the curb. She could hear the jets taking off and some helicopters at the other terminal coming in to land.

The air was always filled with the smell of kerosene used by the choppers. And sometimes, when the wind would change direction, she’d get to inhale the dry desert scents instead. Tonight, the sky was dark and forbidding; it would probably rain soon.

Beau chortled as he opened the door for her to step inside. “You’re a woman with intelligence, no question. I’m probably closer to that wolf you’re talking about than a bumpkin.”

At least he was being honest with her. She settled into the seat of their cold vehicle, and once Beau climbed in and shut the door, she was aware of a shift between them. This was their first real “date.” They had both gotten dressed up in this part of the world, and they both knew they were curious to discover what the possibilities were for a relationship.

She looked at him and reflected on his rugged profile. She could certainly see the warrior within him. She just had to make sure her heart didn’t betray her by falling all over itself whenever he looked at her.

Her pulse ratcheted up when he gazed down at her thoughtfully, almost as if he were looking through her. Could he actually reach into her heart to see how she felt about him?

Beau drove onto the two-lane street. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Starving, to tell you the truth.”

“Good, so am I.”
Hungry for you
, he thought, but Beau kept the words trapped in his mouth. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks,” Callie whispered, a catch in her voice, clasping her hands over her black leather purse in her lap.

“I notice you’re wearing different shoes. How are your feet feeling now?”

“These are my ‘good’ shoes,” she said, “and they have a nice arch in them. My feet are still smiling from the massage you gave me today.”

“Good,” Beau murmured. He drove down another street, stopped, and made a left. Restaurant row was always the busiest place on this base, and tonight was no exception. He’d phoned ahead and gotten a reservation and a very private booth for them.

“They’ve got sweet potato fries here, and they’re a personal favorite of mine. My ma makes the best sweet potato pie you’ve ever eaten. She puts thick marshmallow cream on it and sprinkles pecans through it.”

“That sounds delicious. My mother taught us how to cook and bake. Dara was actually a lot better at it than I was, though.”

“So,” he said as he parked in the lot, turning off the engine, “what are you especially good at?”

“I make a pretty mean apple pie. And I’m really good with piecrusts. The secret is not to knead it too much. Otherwise, it gets tough and won’t melt in your mouth.”

“Remind me to invite myself over to your house for dessert some time.” He grinned, climbing out of the vehicle.

Before Callie could open the door, he’d come around and opened it for her. The night was blustery, the wind cutting, but there was no rain. Just heavy humidity in the air. She appreciated Beau’s sheltering her with his body as they walked up to the busy restaurant. Once inside, Beau found the hostess, who guided them to the rear of the establishment.

They were given the last booth, which was very intimate compared to the others. She looked over at him as she slid into the booth. “Okay, how did you score this booth?” she asked, grinning.

Beau handed her the menu and said, “I got lucky when I called over for a reservation.” His eyes sparkled. “What? You think I paid someone off to get this booth because it’s private?”

She had to smile as she looked over the menu. “The thought crossed my mind.” She shook her head wonderingly. “You’re always planning, aren’t you? I guess that’s the mark of a good military man.”

“Hoping is more like it,” Beau admitted, losing his smile. “I think we have something good between us, Callie. I’m hoping you’ll want to keep exploring like I do.”

She saw that need deep in his shadowed eyes, heard the sincerity in his low voice as he folded his hands on the table. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship, Beau.”

“Neither was I.”

“How can this go anywhere?” she demanded. “You’re black ops. I know how you guys appear and disappear. And women never know where their men are, what’s happening, or if they’ll ever return alive.”

“Sure, it can be hard on a woman,” he agreed. “But don’t you think it’s tough on the guy involved, too? He’s out on an op, doesn’t have a clue as to what’s happening to the woman he loves, if she’s doing okay or not, or a thousand other things that life can throw at her while he’s away.”

“You’ve got a point, Beau, but I don’t want to live that way. I tried before, and my heart just can’t take another broken relationship again. It hurts too much.”

He felt the anguish beneath her words. “Did you lose someone who was in black ops, Callie? I feel a lot of pain around you. I see it in your eyes, and I hear it in your voice.”

The waitress came and Callie held back on her response, ordering a hamburger and french fries. Beau ordered the same thing, only with sweet potato fries instead. She wanted to distance herself from him, because every time she was near him, she felt her resolve crumbling. Sure, Beau was a great guy—honest, kind to children, respectful to women.

But he was black ops.

The waitress left their drinks and took their menus, leaving them alone.

Callie took a deep breath and then began, “In my first tour at Bagram, I fell in love with a Special Forces sergeant. I was pretty green, young and starry-eyed. Chet was black ops. He and his team were always going out with the Delta boys and disappearing for weeks, sometimes months at a time. He’d show up at my B-hut at all hours of the night, often after coming back to Bagram. I couldn’t handle it, Beau. The danger he was in, my imagination taking off and thinking the worst . . . And I knew he loved what he did. Finally, at the end of my six months here with the orphanage, we split up, and I went home with a broken heart. I honestly don’t think he ever loved me. I was someone to have sex with. I didn’t realize it at the time, but six months later, I’d figured it out.”

“I’m sorry, Callie. The guy should have come clean with you from the git-go. At least that way you’d have had a choice to make instead of being hoodwinked.”

Shrugging, she sipped her coffee. “He’s like most of the guys here, which I soon discovered the hard way.”

“Have you met anyone who really cared for you?”

His question made her wince. “‘Care’ as in a real relationship where it wasn’t only about sex?”

Nodding, Beau drank a sip of his beer. “Yes.”

“No, I haven’t.”

He sat back, spreading out his long legs beneath the table, bracketing her legs but not touching them. “What would it take to convince you that I do care about you? And that it’s more than just wanting to have sex with you?” Beau searched her face, her expression still dark and thoughtful. She’d been hurt often, and that was tough for an idealist like her. Unfortunately, the men she attracted were hard-core realists who wanted her body, not her heart.

In his case, he wanted everything from her, and was willing to give her back exactly what he got.

She looked at him, clearly concerned. “I don’t really know. I’m scared, Beau. Scared of myself, even more than I’m scared of you, at this point.”

He felt a bit of hope begin to grow. “Really? How so?”

“Look, I have to be honest with you,” Callie began, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “I like you, Beau. I’m sure you can feel that. I’m even beginning to trust again, which is no small tribute to you. But then I remember the guys who disappointed me, and my own stupidity in letting it happen again and again. And then I get scared and pull away from you.”

Nodding his head, Beau asked softly, “Callie, I need to know if you feel we have something special between us.” He slowly moved the cold, beaded beer between his spare hands, studying her.

Without hesitating, she said, “Yes, I do,” her mouth tugging toward a smile. “You’re different from other men, and you’re interested in what I think. That’s new for me. You ask me serious, deep questions, and no guy has ever done that before.”

“Because I want to know all of you, Callie. Sure, your dance dazzled me, but I was more taken by the fire in your eyes and the passion you were expressing in that dance. I don’t know how else to explain what I sensed and saw about you. You’re all heart, and that makes you different from the women I’ve known before. In a lot of ways, you remind me of my mother, because she’s a very passionate woman, and an idealist, like you.” He smiled ruefully. “Not that I see you as my mother. You share her passion for life and that touches my heart deeply.”

She sat there, aware that she was losing not only the battle but the war. Realizing this brought mixed emotions. “I don’t know what’s happening with us, Beau,” she muttered, “I really don’t.”

“Me either, gal.”

Her heart pulsed when he whispered that endearment in a roughened tone.

“What I’d like to do,” Beau proposed, “is just keep doing what we’re doing, and let the good experiences build up. I’ll make every effort to be with you at the orphanage in Kabul when I’m back on base. And I’d like to take you out, maybe for an ice-cream cone at your ice-cream parlor that hides the Rocky Road.”

She let a grin escape as he went on. He certainly had her pegged already, including her weakness for Rocky Road! He was the most perceptive man she’d ever met, that was for sure. And he certainly paid close attention to her desires.

“And don’t forget, we have some nice dinners ahead, and those future foot rubs you’ve already signed up for, yes?”

Callie sat there, feeling guilty as hell. This man was trying to navigate around all her bad experiences, and his sincerity was obvious as his gaze gently held hers.

She felt a tingle of excitement. This was real. It was really real!

“And you’ll keep on cleaning out the diaper pail and diapering the babies?” She watched that chiseled mouth of his draw into a boyish grin.

“Sure ’nuff.”

“I think,” she said falteringly, opening her hands, “that feels like a good plan, Beau. Let’s give it a try and see how things go.”

“I got it,” he promised her. “And for now, let’s enjoy our night together, okay? I have a lot of questions for you.”

All her guilt and worry fled beneath his coaxing smile and those gleaming gray eyes of his as he sat up. “What kinds of questions?”

“About your childhood. What kind of cute little girl were you in the first grade? What was your favorite thing to do in school? How many little boys’ hearts did you break?”

Her lips formed a faint smile. “I was a freckle-faced little girl with pigtails in the first grade. And I had a heck of a temper. One little boy pulled one of my braids, and I turned around and smacked him in the face with my fist. That earned me a trip to the principal’s office.”