Rescue Me

The Casa Bella Apartment Complex was new and was made of terracotta-colored stucco and Spanish tile roof. There looked to be around twenty units, and Vince pulled the truck beneath a covered parking spot. He led her to an apartment on the second story. It was a basic eight-hundred-square-foot, two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath unit. The carpet was clean and it smelled of new paint, perfect for a guy who didn’t know how long he’d be living in the small town. “If I’d known,” she said as she moved into the kitchen and looked around at the mid-priced appliances, “I’d have brought you a housewarming plant.” She opened the refrigerator and set her Diet Coke next to a case of Lone Star and a six-pack of bottled water.

“I don’t want a plant.” He grabbed her hat and tossed it on top of a box sitting on the counter. Then he slid his hands to her waist. He pulled her back against his chest and kissed the side of her neck. “I didn’t work much at the Gas and Go today. So I shouldn’t stink.”

She smiled and tilted her head to one side to give him better access. “Does that line work for you?”

“Does it work for you?”

“Apparently.”

He unzipped the back of her dress and slipped it from her shoulders. “Your bra’s black.”

“It matches my panties.”

“I noticed.” The crepe dress fell to the floor, and he said against her bare shoulder, “I wanta fuck you with your boots on.” His fingers moved to the back of her bra. “Does that work for you?”

Oh yeah. She turned, and her bra joined her dress. “Yes, Vince.” She pulled his shirt over his head and ran her hands up and down his hard muscles. She kissed the side of his throat and her hand dived down the front of his pants. “You work for me,” she said, and wrapped her hand around his thick, corded erection. “You’re on time, on target, and never quit.” He sucked in a breath and she smiled against the warm skin of his neck. “I believe you called it your ‘full-circle readiness.’ I like a guy who is fully ready with a really nice, big, hard”—she slid her hand up and down his shaft and over the plump head—“body.” She bit the lobe of his ear and whispered, “Fuck me with my boots on, Vince.”

And he did. Right there against the refrigerator with her legs wrapped around his waist. It was fast and furious and so hot their skin slid and stuck and she felt burned up from the inside out.

“You’re good. So good,” he groaned as internal combustion raged through her and she gasped, unable to catch her breath. Her heart pounded and her whole world blew apart. When it was over, when every cell in her body reassembled, she felt different. Not in love different. More like not so alone different. She’d been surrounded by a crowd of people all day. Hardly alone, but with Vince she felt alive.

“Are you okay?” he asked against the side of her throat, his warm breath tickling her still sensitive skin.

“I am. Are you? You did all the work.”

“I like this kind of work.” He sucked in a breath and let it out. “Especially with you.”

For how much longer? she wondered for the first time since that first night he’d come to her house. She’d known he would fill her nights. She just hadn’t counted on him to fill up her life so completely. And it was scary as hell. And letting her mind wander down that scary path meant she cared. Caring wasn’t necessarily bad, but caring too much would really be bad. Something that at the moment she probably shouldn’t think about. She’d think about it later when she had to think about every other screwed-up thing in her life.

Afterward, she sat cross-legged on his back patio, drinking Lone Star. The hard concrete chilled her backside as she watched the setting sun.

“I booked a flight Monday afternoon for Seattle.”

Sadie wore her panties and his brown shirt that hit her just above the knees. “Why?”

“Now that I know I’m going to be here for a while yet, I need to get some of my stuff out of storage.” He sat beside her with his back against the wall. His bare feet rested on the bottom rung of the wrought-iron railing. He wore his cargo pants and nothing else. “I’m renting a van and driving back.” He took a drink. “I’ll stick around for a few days and see my sister and hang out with Conner.”

“Your nephew?”

“Yeah. And I’m sure I’ll have to see the son of a bitch.”

“Sam Leclaire?”

“Yep. God, I hate that guy. Especially now, since the rules of engagement have changed.”

She took a drink and squinted her gaze at the orange sun sliding below the trees. “Since he’s engaged to your sister, you mean?”

“No. Since the SOB bailed me out, I can’t hit him now.”

Sadie choked. “Out?” she sputtered. “Out of what?”

“Jail.” He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. “I got into it with some guys at a bar last December.”

“Some? How many guys?”

“Probably ten.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “They thought they were big bad-ass bikers.”

“You fought ten bad-ass bikers?”

“They thought they were bad-ass.” He shook his head. “They weren’t.”

Still . . . “Ten?”

“Started with only two or three. The others just piled on until it was a full-on brawl and everyone was swinging at anything that moved.”

“What started the brawl?”

“A few guys wanted to run their mouths off and I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”

“What?” Her mouth fell open then snapped shut. “You got into a fight with bikers because they said something you didn’t like?” That was crazy. It didn’t even make sense. “Couldn’t you have just left?”

He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes like she was the crazy one. “I’m all for freedom of speech and shit. But with that freedom comes the responsibility to know what you’re talking about. And if you’re going to accuse the military of being uneducated rapists, then I have the freedom to shut you the fuck up. No. The obligation.”

“A biker said that?” She would have thought bikers would defend military guys.

“It was Seattle,” he said as if that explained it. “Washington is filled with some crazy liberals.”

Now might not be a good time to tell him she’d voted for Obama.

He reached into the side pocket of his pants and pulled out his cell phone. “You drained my energy and I’m starving. Chee-tos aren’t going to cut it.” He ordered a pizza, then helped Sadie to her feet. “If I keep eating junk and hanging out with you instead of working, I’m gonna get fat.”

She stood in front of him and put her hand on his flat belly. “I don’t think you have to worry about it.”

“I’m out of shape.”

“Compared to who?”

He moved into the apartment and she followed him to the kitchen. “Compared to when I trained every day.” He tossed her hat from the top of a box on the kitchen counter. “My sister sent me old photos and crap when she sent me my tax information for the past five years.” He reached inside the box and pulled out a handful of photos. He tossed several onto the counter, then handed her one.

She looked at the young man with the clearly defined chest muscles and wet shorts. “Goodness.” She hadn’t thought the guy could get any more buff. She looked from his wet pecs in the photo to his face. “You look so young.”

“I was twenty. That was taken the day I passed drown proofing.”

She was afraid to ask what that meant and picked up a photo of Vince on one knee in front of a bullet-ridden wall, a machine gun by his side and decked out in full camo and black scruffy beard. In another he was clean-shaven and doing push-ups with two scuba tanks on his back. “How much do those weigh?”

He turned his head and glanced at the pictures. “About eighty pounds. I didn’t mind pushing out reps. I hated ‘get wet and sandy.’ ”

They’d already established that he loved the water but hated the sand. She reached for a different photo of the