Ring of Fire (22 page)

She rephrased what she'd been about to say. “Thinks you'll help her.”

“You mean she thinks I'm a soft touch.”

She didn't deny it. “You and your dad, each in your own way, try to protect the women in your family. Of course it's good to look after your loved ones, but I think Quinn's stronger than you give her credit for. Maybe your mom is, too.”

“Huh.” He said it neutrally.

Hoofbeats pounded on the trail behind them. Eric gestured Lark to move ahead of him, and then they both pulled their horses over to stand at the side of the trail. Holding Song's reins firmly, Lark looked back to see a couple of teenaged riders round a bend in the path and slow their horses from a trot to a walk. They, too, had been riding side by side, but went single file as they passed. Everyone exchanged cheerful “Heys” and “Good afternoons.”

It was only another five minutes' ride to the lake. When Lark and Eric arrived, the teens were there, too. They'd picked a choice spot, spread a rug, and started to lay out a picnic.

“Their parents would be glad we're here to chaperone,” Lark said with a grin.

“I'm not so happy they're here to chaperone us,” he groused.

Her eyebrows rose. “Why, Major, I do believe you had an ulterior motive when you agreed to go riding with me.”

“Damn right I did. And I hate having my mission thwarted.”

Unsure if he was serious, she asked, “You'd really have sex outside?”

“If we had privacy. How about you?”

“I never have.” As she imagined it, she admitted, “But I like the idea. We could ride somewhere else, but I think it could be hard to find privacy anywhere on such a beautiful Saturday afternoon.”

“Sadly, I think you're right. What time do you have to be home?”

“Not until dinner. So we could have our picnic, finish our ride, and still be back to town with a couple of hours to spare.” After all, there was nothing wrong with sex in a bed, either. Especially when her partner was Eric.

“I like that plan.”

They chose the opposite end of the lake from the teens. While Eric shook out the rug and spread it on a patch of rough turf, Lark took a closer look at their surroundings. The lake was a deep bluish green, its surface decorated with water lily leaves. A few chewed-off logs stuck up here and there, the work of the beavers that had built a dam at one side. A pair of ducks paddled serenely, and a red-breasted robin sang from a tree branch. It was a spot to soothe the soul.

Or, more prosaically, a nice place for a picnic. She unpacked the hearty roast beef sandwiches she'd made, and a bundle of carrot and celery sticks. “Hope you like root beer.” She handed Eric a can and took one for herself.

“Sure do.” He opened the can, took a swallow, and then picked up half a sandwich.

“There's nothing like eating outside,” she said happily as she dug in.

“You haven't tried sex outside,” he reminded her.

She laughed. Then, reflecting, she said, “You remind me that I'm a woman.”

He eyed her with an appreciative male gleam in his eyes. “Seems to me that fact would be hard to forget.”

“That's exactly what I mean. It's there in the way you look at me.”

“I'm not sure I get it.”

“Just looking at me like that, you remind me that I'm more than a mom, a daughter, a fire chief, an upstanding citizen of Caribou Crossing. We all have these roles we fill, right? Jayden asks me something, and immediately I'm in the mom role. So much of each day is taken up with all the roles.”

“Are you saying that I put you in a lover role, and that makes you remember that you're a sexy woman?”

“Kind of, but it feels like more than that. More than just the sexy part. Which—don't get me wrong—is a very good thing. No, you remind me that I'm a woman who enjoys a man's company. Or maybe you're teaching me that. With Jayden's father, we never were very good friends. It was only about lust. And the relationships I've had since then . . . well, they don't even merit the term
relationship
. They were quickie flings, usually only a night or two. Yeah, the men were good guys and we talked some, but then we moved on.”

They'd finished the sandwiches, so she reached into her pack for a couple of apples.

Eric bit into one, and then said, “The relationships I had were a bit different, for the most part. More than a night or two. We got to know each other better, I guess. But there was always a mutual understanding that we were just sharing this one little space in time, and then we'd go our own ways, like you said. Hell, some of my relationships took place in war zones where even tomorrow was uncertain.”

She nodded, hating to think what that must be like. She also, for some silly reason, kind of hated that for Eric she was one in a long string of “mutual understanding” sex-and-talk relationships. Whereas for her, she felt closer to Eric than to any other man she'd ever known. Even her ex-husband.

And that felt good, yet also scary. She couldn't let herself get too attached to him.

There weren't many problems that couldn't be helped by chocolate. Fortunately, she'd brought some. She offered Eric the plastic container of cookies studded with chocolate chips and walnuts. After he took one, she bit into one herself and they munched in silence.

They'd both polished off those cookies and were reaching for seconds when she noticed that the teens were packing up. Eric crammed the cookie in his mouth and began neatly stowing their own picnic stuff.

She nibbled her own cookie as she watched the teens mount up and ride off. Quirking an eyebrow in Eric's direction, she asked, “In a hurry, soldier?”

“Yeah, while we have a moment of privacy.” The rug was clear now, her backpack sitting on the grass beside it. Eric caught her shoulders and tumbled her down onto their picnic rug. “This is the benefit of being an adult,” he told her.

She smiled up at him. “What's that?”

“Having the patience to wait out our young friends.”

Her eyes widened. “We're not really going to have sex here, are we?” The notion excited her, but also made her anxious. Anyone could come along and it would be embarrassing to get caught. As if to punctuate her concern, laughter sounded in the distance and a horse whinnied. Celebration answered.

“Not sex,” Eric said.

She felt a twinge of regret, but mostly relief. After all, they could have sex at his place.

He didn't pull away, though. Instead, he leaned over her and kissed her. A kiss tasting of chocolate and walnut, so delicious. He pressed his body against hers for a long, tantalizing moment as she kissed him back. Arousal sparked through her. “Mmm, Eric, I could handle a little more of that.”

He thrust his erection against her belly. “When we get home, you're going to get more than a little. That sweet pussy of yours is going to get every inch of me.”

That naughty talk really turned her on. “I can't wait.”

But she was going to have to. The sound of approaching riders grew louder, and Eric sat up again, tugging the bottom of his sweater down over the front of his jeans. Lark sat, too, running a hand through her hair.

Three riders, all gray-haired, appeared on the trail. They waved and called greetings. Lark and Eric waved back, and then he rolled up their rug. “We have a date back home,” he told her.

“I'm looking forward to every inch of it.”

* * *

Drained and content, Eric lay in bed late that afternoon with his arm around Lark. What a terrific lover she was. Teasing, inventive, passionate. Generous.

He hadn't asked if she wanted to leave the room while he removed his prosthesis. Taking it off was becoming part of their foreplay and it didn't feel awkward at all. Nor did he feel weird about lying here with her lovely, whole leg draped over his ugly residual one.

He caressed her upper arm. “You know what you said at the lake, about how I make you feel like a woman? Well, you make me feel like a man.”

Her hand snuck down to gently squeeze his junk. “I don't think that was ever in doubt.”

Even after two marathon rounds of sex, his body stirred at her touch. “It was, though. Maybe it's crazy, but after the amputation I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to be like this.”

She released him and shifted, propping her head up on his chest so she could look him in the eyes. “Like this? How d'you mean, Eric?”

“Confident about being naked with a woman. Comfortable with my one-legged body. Not feeling . . . emasculated. Or at least less sexy.”

Her eyes were tender. “I'm glad you got over that hurdle.”

“You made it easy.”

She smiled and rested her head on his chest again.

He stroked her hair, the curve of her ear. The next time he was with a woman, he wouldn't feel so anxious, though he'd still be self-conscious. Just like he was when he ran, choosing even on the warmest days of summer to wear sweatpants rather than shorts. Would the self-consciousness ever go away? Would he ever accept his body as just another variation of the human form, not particularly better or worse than any other?

The next time he was with a woman, would she be as accepting as Lark? As sensual and smart and strong? Lark really was the full package. He liked that she could be easy, undemanding company. But he also liked her when she was being intense, and respected how she didn't pull her punches. He liked that she was interested in him, maybe cared about him a little. On top of all that, he'd never been with such a sexy woman.

Why would he want to be with any woman other than Lark?

Easy answer: because he couldn't have her. He would leave Caribou Crossing soon; she didn't want a man in her life long-term; he wouldn't inflict a soldier's life on a woman he cared about. And he did care about Lark Cantrell. A lot.

More than any other woman he'd ever been with. It was a feeling that grew each time they were together. And that was unsettling.

Was she really that special? Or was it because this was a weird time in his life, when for once he wasn't busy with his career but instead was striving to get back to it? He had more time for a relationship and, though he'd never admit it to a soul, maybe he was a little emotionally needy. And then there was the way he'd allowed himself to be drawn into Lark's family life, which had never happened with another lover.

Whatever the reason for his feelings, he had to be careful. Letting himself care too much would be purely stupid. He wasn't going to be like the guy in that ring of fire song, and let some incendiary, overwhelming force make him lose control.

Lark sighed, her breath warm against his skin. “I need to shower soon, and head home. Mom'll be picking Jayden up from the birthday party in half an hour. I bet he'll be on a sugar high. She'll need help with him. Besides, on Saturdays I'm responsible for making dinner.”

Eric's first impulse was to volunteer to take Jayden off both the women's hands, and deal with the boy's sugar high. But Lark didn't extend the invitation and, given what he'd just been reflecting on, he figured it was better not to offer. Still, he couldn't stop himself from asking, “I'll see you guys tomorrow at the riding lesson?”

“Of course. And dinner tomorrow night. It's a tradition now.”

Maybe he should pull back from those dinners? But for God's sake, it wasn't a big deal to spend two nights a week with her family. He'd hold it to that, though, so no one—himself included—started to think he was becoming part of that family. “It's a nice tradition. Thanks.”

“Ribs sound okay? Mom's recipe for barbecue sauce is amazing.”

“Sure. I'll pick some up.”

And that reminded him of something that had occurred to him earlier that afternoon. “You know, when we were talking about my mom using avoidance as a way of coping, it hit me that I've been doing that, too.” It was hard to admit, but he was coming to think that he could talk to Lark about anything. She was an excellent sounding-board.

She raised her head again to look at him. “Avoiding coping with what?”

“The PTSD triggers. I've avoided smoke, fire, loud noises. I've started doing some systematic desensitization, like with burning candles.” Tomorrow night, he'd let some of that barbecue sauce drip onto the grill and catch fire, and hope he could handle it.

“That sounds good.”

“A lot of the things Karim, my psychologist, suggested were smart,” he admitted. “I was too judgmental about him.” He'd scoffed at Karim's “touchy-feely” ideas just like his dad would have. “But Karim was right that talking to you, Quinn, and Ellie has helped. More than repeating the story over and over to him, and I guess it's because those are personal relationships, whereas he's paid to listen. Riding has helped, too. I'm, uh, calmer in my mind.” If he said that to his father, he could imagine the scornful response.

But Lark smiled warmly. “You're making great progress.”

He stroked her shoulder, the skin so soft over the strength below. “Maybe I'm ready to try something else.” He didn't have to tell her, but saying it aloud was a commitment of sorts. Besides, he valued her opinion. “Karim recommended that I attend a support group.”

“I remember.” She gazed into his eyes. “You said the idea made you shudder.”

“Yeah. It still does, but maybe I need to do it. I have a couple of options. One's a peer support program run by the Armed Forces and Veterans Affairs. The other, the one Karim suggested, is a local group that meets every week. He says there are a few veterans in it, but also a number of other people who've survived various kinds of traumas. He says they're a great group of people.” He paused. “What do you think?”