A Ranger's Love: A Military Erotic Romance (4 page)

I plop the sandwich on my plate. “I don’t want to pry, but you don’t want to tell me anything about you. I don’t know how to take that and I worry that you are brushing me off. I know you can’t talk about your job, but you don’t want to talk about your family or anything else.” I frown in frustration. “I would really like to get to know you better, but if I’m bothering you…”

“Danielle,” Mike says, using my real name, “there is nothing wrong. I’m not trying to brush you off, okay? I like you and would like to spend as much time with you as I can, but right now it’s hard. I think we are going to get a break Saturday and Sunday. I would like to see you, if you are willing. We can talk then, okay?”

I feel like a heel now. Mike is obviously tired, but he called me and is having dinner with me. He could have just as easily ignored me and I wouldn’t have known the difference. “I’m sorry, Mike. I just…” I stop and pout, feeling guilty.

Mike reaches across the table. He holds his hands open until I place mine in his. “It’s okay. Don’t sweat it, okay? Part of it is I’m just so damn tired. But another part of it is…well…I have made some mistakes. I’m not very proud of what I have done.”

That gives me pause. Mike seems like such a great guy. I try to imagine what mistakes he could have made. I have been very careful to stay away from even a hint of trouble since Mom and Dad died. I’m very aware of my lack of a support network, so I hope I’m not getting involved in something that I will later regret. I can feel myself pull back from Mike just a bit emotionally. “Okay. I would like that,” I say.

Mike smiles, as he grips my hands gently. "Don't worry, Daisy," Mike says softly. "Everything is okay."

"I'm sorry," I say, feeling like some insecure little girl.

"Don't be," Mike says gently. "It'll get better. You'll see."

CHAPTER THREE

The conversation goes a little better after that, but we don't dally before I return Mike to his barracks. Despite our initial awkwardness, his goodbye kiss in the car is warm and tender. His soft brush of my breast, as we kiss, causes me to murmur in surprise and delight.

I hear nothing from Mike for the next four days. I try to not let the lack of communication bother me, as I go about my life. I still fear that he got what he wanted from me, so I won't hear from him again.

I'm sitting at my desk, preparing to leave for the weekend when my phone rings. It’s nearly five o’clock on a Friday. "Daisy Fuller," I say crisply.

"Ms. Fuller. I would like to make an appointment to meet with you," the voice on the other end of the line says.

"Certainly, sir. When would you like to meet?"

"I can meet you in about twenty minutes."

I roll my eyes in exasperation. "I'm sorry, sir, but we close at five o’clock. Perhaps one day next week?"

"I can't wait until next week! I need to see you as soon as possible!"

I'm just about to tell him to kiss my ass, politely of course, when it clicks. "Mike? Is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I burst into giggles. "You had me going there for a minute. I was about to tell you to kiss my ass."

"That works for me. For a start anyway."

I feel a flash of heat at the thought of having Mike’s lips on me again. "Should I come pick you up?"

"I need to shower, but I’ll be ready by the time you get here."

"I'll head there straight after work."

"Hurry."

It's amazing how such a simple little word can turn me on.

***

I sneak out a couple of minutes early and hustle over to Mike’s barracks. He said to hurry, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m almost giddy at the chance to see him again. I’m not entirely certain why I’m so excited to see Mike. This is just a summertime fling before he goes back to North Carolina and nothing more. It couldn’t possibly be that he nearly turned me inside out with pleasure the last time we spent some time alone, could it? I feel a stupid grin break out on my face. Nah. Couldn’t be that.

I roll to a stop, just as Mike steps out of the barracks. He’s got a small satchel that I hope contains a couple changes of clothes. When he slides into the car, I lean over and he kisses me. His hand goes to the back of my head to hold my lips gently to his.

“That’s nice,” I say, as I pull back.

“Very,” Mike agrees. “Where do you want to go to dinner?”

“I thought I would cook for you.” If I have my way, we’ll never leave the apartment this weekend.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Wow. A home cooked meal. I’ll have to be extra nice to you this weekend.”

“Not too nice, I hope,” I say with a grin.

As we drive back to my apartment, Mike places his hand on my thigh and caresses it softly. He’s totally different today than Monday and I wonder at the change.

“I was in class. The sergeants, they didn't try to kill me today,” Mike explains when I comment on his energy.

Mike doesn’t seem to be able to keep his hands off me as I prepare dinner. He is constantly caressing my ass or standing behind me nuzzling my neck, as he pulls me into him. I ignore him, but it’s hard, damn hard.

“Sit,” I order, as I place the potatoes and fried chicken on the table. I wish I had some steaks, but I don’t eat beef often because it costs so much. The chicken will have to do.

Mike takes the first tentative bite of the chicken. I can see his eyes open wide in surprise. “This is really, really good!” he gushes.

I smile, warming with his praise. “Nobody could fry chicken like my mama,” I say. I get ready to clamp down on the pain, but I find it doesn’t hurt so much to think of her tonight. “Dad was always bitching, saying she was trying to make him fat.”

“You learned to cook from your mother?”

“Yeah. I knew I was going to be leaving soon, so I started helping out in the kitchen. Mom was a nurse, so we didn’t cook much except on the weekends. I find that I enjoy it. Cooking I mean.”

“You’re good at it, too,” Mike says, looking at the plate of chicken in longing.

“Help yourself,” I say with a giggle. “It’s why I cooked it.”

“I can see why your dad would complain. If I had someone to cook like this for me, I would have the same problem.”

I get a little rush. I wonder if his comment means anything. Then, I decide it probably doesn’t. “You are welcome to eat here anytime you can get away,” I offer.

Mike smiles. “Thank you, Daisy. That’s nice of you to offer.”

“It’s nice to share a meal,” I say, pushing my potatoes around with my fork. “That’s one of the things I miss, eating with my family. We had dinner together every night. Dad said it was the one time of the day the world could just wait.”

“Sounds like you had a great family,” Mike says softly. “I would have liked to have met them.”

I smile. “Yeah. I think they would have liked you.” I’m amazed that I have been able to talk to Mike about my family this long without wanting to cry.

“Any brothers or sisters? Anyone like that?”

“No. Nobody. I have some grandparents, Dad’s mom and dad, but that’s all. Mom’s family is from Alabama, but they’re both dead. Died years ago when I was small.”

“Why didn’t you go live with your grandparents?” Mike asks.

“They’re retired and live in an RV. They didn’t say so, but I knew they wouldn’t want me around. That, and the fact that this is my home. I grew up here. I can’t leave.” I don’t add that this is my last connection to my parents and I can’t bear to sever it.

“So, you really are pretty much on your own,” Mike says.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

We finish eating, as we talk about my parents and growing up in the Army. I decide that it’s Mike’s presence that allows me to talk about Mom and Dad without falling to pieces. I still miss them, but the pain of my loss is tempered with the memories of the good times. Then, it doesn’t hurt so much.

When we’re done eating Mike helps me clean up. He shuttles the dishes from the table, as I load them in the dishwasher. “So tell me about your family,” I say without looking at him. “You said your parents are dead?”

Mike is quiet, but I don’t turn from the sink. Just when I think he is not going to answer or that he’ll change the subject, he responds, “Not dead. They’re just not my family anymore.”

I didn’t know what I expected to hear, but it isn’t that. “I don’t understand,” I say, as I shut off the water and turn to face Mike.

“They threw me out. Told me not to come back. Ever.”

I’m so shocked, I almost can’t speak. I can’t imagine my parents ever telling me that. “Why?” I ask, the surprise clear in my voice.

“I fucked up. I let my little brother get injured in an accident. Now, he’s a quadriplegic.”

I can see the deep guilt and pain written all over Mike’s face. My heart rends for him. “If it was an accident, how could it be your fault?” I ask softly.

“I should have been there. Watching. But…”

“But what, Mike?”

“We were at the lake. I was eighteen and Bobby was seventeen. There was beer there, but I left with my girlfriend in her car. Her parents were gone and I wanted to spend some time alone with her. Anyway, I left Bobby the keys to my truck, so he could get home. He crashed it. Ran off the road and rolled it before it hit a tree. Killed four of our friends that were riding in the back. Two guys and their girlfriends. Bobby’s girlfriend was in the cab with him. She was such a pretty girl. She lived, but she’s a vegetable. She just stares out the window at her parents’ home.”

“Oh my God, Mike! I’m so sorry.” Mike looks haunted by the memories.

“Mom and Dad, they couldn’t cope. They said I was the oldest, the adult. Two of those killed were just sixteen. The others were only seventeen. I should have known better than to leave them there, especially with alcohol. I did know, but all I could think about was getting away to be alone with Lisa.”

“Mike,” I say softly. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that was going to happen.”

“Yeah? My folks don’t see it that way.”

“When did you talk to them last?”

Mike smiles sadly. I can feel my tears well up in sympathy. “The day they threw me out.”

“Have you tried to call them?”

“Not in the last couple of years. I called them once every few month after I joined the Army. I wanted to tell them how sorry I was. I would leave messages, but they never called me back. Mom answered the phone once, but as soon as she knew it was me, she told me to never call again and hung up. I haven’t called since.”

“You joined after they threw you out?”

“Yeah. I had nowhere to go. I stayed with the family of a friend until I was accepted.”

I take Mike into my arms and just hold him. He’s had so much pain, so much suffering. “I’m so sorry, Mike. I’m so very sorry for you; but, you must know, it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know. I know better than to drink and drive. If I had been there, I would have been driving. Then, none of this would have happened.”

I feel so terribly sad for Mike. Suddenly, my loss pales in comparison. I miss my parents, but I’m not being eaten from inside with guilt. Just looking at Mike, I can see in his eyes that he carries the guilt for that day still. I silently damn his parents. Kids have been drinking beer at lakes during the summer forever. It’s not Mike’s fault this tragedy happened. It’s not fair that he should be held responsible for the actions of others who were old enough to know better.

Mike pushes me away gently. “I’m sorry. Some date, huh?”

“I’ve had worse,” I say with a small smile at our role reversal.

“Uh-huh,” Mike says. “I suppose you picked up this dude that was a chick?”

“What? Were you there?” I ask.

Mike looks at me a moment. Then, he chuckles, as he bends to kiss me.

“I’m sorry for dumping all that shit on you,” Mike says, as we pull apart.

“Thank you for sharing it,” I say. I mean it. I suddenly feel closer to Mike than any other man I have been with, even though I have known him for only a few days.