Along the Broken Road (5 page)

Behind her, standing at the long stainless steel counter, King Edward continued fixing his spaghetti and tuna. “What do you think of the soldier?” she asked as she turned to face him.

He pursed his mouth and shrugged.

The smell filling the kitchen was slightly nauseating. Charlee chewed her cheek and thought about her new hire. “Seems kind of sad to me.” He’d proven himself on the water heater, no question. If she was honest with herself—which she’d already decided not to be—she enjoyed his company. He reminded her of her brothers, only Carlisle was not as stiff and seemed less neurotic. Easy to talk to. In fact, she’d almost told him about Richard. At the thought of his name, the nausea increased. Richard, her epic mistake. He’d sailed into Charlee’s life and swept her off her feet. He’d acted interested in her artwork, the retreat, every detail of her life. It all seemed to fascinate Richard. For once, Charlee had felt like the center of someone’s attention. Until she found him at the Neon Moon with a redhead. That night, she learned his real intentions where Charlee was concerned. It wrecked her. And she wasn’t one to recover quickly.

“I’m not certain the soldier isn’t an ax murder.”

Charlee chuckled, letting the tension of Richard’s betrayal go. She had more immediate things to ponder. Like Carlisle. “Well, we don’t know for sure. I tried to call Jeremiah about him, but never got through.”

“Jeremiah is in North Carolina, right?”

“Yes. He’s on a hunting trip for another week, then he’ll be back at base.” It helped knowing at least one of her brothers was on American soil. Now, if she could just get the other three home. “As far as your thoughts, I’m pretty sure Ian isn’t an ax murderer.”

“We’ll all end up dead like those kids in the horror flicks.”

Charlee spun and leaned her weight against the sink. “Don’t be so dramatic. Ian’s my hire. My responsibility. You’re not going to die a Hollywood death and as far as who I put to work on my property, it’s none of my brother’s business. I don’t have to call him. Get his approval.”

“Hate to tell you, but you had already decided that when you first met Ian.” King Edward grunted as he came toward her. “Char Char Baby. Can you hold the strainer since you’re hogging the sink?”

“Got it.” Steam rose from the hot noodles as they flopped into the colander. All that lovely spaghetti getting ready to die a horrible death smothered in red tuna sauce.

She shook the noodles and dropped them back into the pot. “I’ll follow you.”

King Edward took the lead. They were greeted with applause when they stepped outside and Charlee couldn’t help her eyes from flittering over the gathering of people in search of a certain dark-headed handyman. Then, across the lawn, she spotted him. He’d changed his work jeans for a fresh pair that were faded and looked soft as velvet hugging his strong thighs and narrow waist. There were holes in the knees and for some reason that made him distinctively sexy as he moved toward her. A tight black tank stretched across his chest and Charlee hadn’t realized she’d come to a screeching halt until she heard King Edward’s voice in her ear. “Oh honey. You
do
look hungry.”

Charlee blinked several times, feeling the heat rise to her face. Across the lawn, Ian reached down and captured a dandelion. He looked so comfortable, one hand sinking into those snug jeans, the other with the dandelion between his finger and thumb. He looked so
at home
crossing her property like he owned it. “Well, if our little soldier can stroll a little faster, we might get to eat before it’s cold.”

King Edward clucked his teeth. “I’m sensing some sexual frustration coming from you, Char Char.”

She speared him with her eyes.

King Edward continued to talk, taking no notice of her disapproval. “I wouldn’t call that a stroll. I’d call it a saunter.”

Suddenly, Charlee was aware of the other inhabitants in a semicircle around her. All eyes in the direction of Ian Carlisle. Wilma placed a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, definitely a saunter. Oh or maybe a swagger.”

Wynona agreed. “Swagger. Absolutely. And look how effortless he makes it. My my my, if I’d had a dance partner that smooth, I could have conquered the world.”

Charlee’s heart was a hammer in her chest. But she found it difficult to move from the spot.

“Conquer the world, my darling,” Wynona said again and pointed at Ian. “That’s what a man like that can make you feel like.”

A fresh wave of emotions washed over Charlee. The world spun back into focus. She knew that feeling. Powerful and bulletproof. “Yes. A man like that can. Right before he runs you down like yesterday’s roadkill.”

Wynona sighed.

King Edward placed the sauce on the table. “All I know is it’s going to be one hot summer.”

Charlee hoped not. She was tired and frazzled and the last thing she needed was her already-unsteady equilibrium being shifted further. Too many things were going wrong in her world, and if not wrong, too many things were changing. One of the biggest, the way she felt about the retreat. Every morning she had to drag herself out of bed to face the day. And that wasn’t like her. Love was turning to chore. And across the lawn she saw both an answer and a problem in Ian Carlisle. But of all the things she didn’t know, one thing was clear. Ian needed a little time to adjust to life in the real world. And one thing she could offer was a retreat, a safe place for those who didn’t quite fit into society. Where Charlee was concerned, Ian was just a different type of artist who needed a place to land.

No problem. She was good at that. But she’d guard her heart also. She had a soft spot for soldiers. Charlee needed him to be like her brothers. Like her father, because those were the kinds of men who could never approve of her life’s work and who could never understand it. They were warriors, leaders, fighters. But they weren’t alive inside the way she’d need a man to be. They weren’t artists or passionate or even spontaneous. They were ordered and disciplined. And soon enough, Ian would be driving her crazy with his type A attitude. Of course, he would. And that kept her safe. In some ways he already was.

“Evening.” Ian had a dangerous smile. Slightly crooked, curling up at one edge and exposing a line of white teeth beneath succulent lips.

Charlee mumbled a greeting. When she moved to sit down, she was surprised to find a lap rather than a wooden seat. “Oh, sorry Wilma.” Embarrassment caused her to laugh. She hadn’t even seen Wilma there. Keeping her eyes on Ian as he sat at the table across from her, she moved to take the seat next to Wilma. The scraping sound drew her attention. Charlee looked back to find Wynona stealing her chair.

After Wilma tossed an empty cup at King Edward, understanding dawned. Wilma gave Edward a sharp look. He shrugged; her eyes widened and shot to one of the empty seats at her table. Wynona had already taken Mr. Gruber by the hand and was leading him to the fourth and final seat at the table Charlee had tried to claim as her own. This of course left Ian alone. Sitting under the butterfly lights with the flame from the tiki torches reflecting in his dark eyes.

She would have expected him to laugh at the scene. At her. But he didn’t. Ian Carlisle drew a deep breath and let his head fall back to gaze up at a star-studded sky. And Charlee’s heart melted by a tiny increment.

Above them a sky filled with diamond specks glistened. It was beautiful and under the right circumstances could be wildly romantic. But this wasn’t the right circumstances because what she imagined that sky represented to Ian was a place he could—for possibly the first time in a long time—close his eyes and rest without the fear of waking to mortar shells, combat. War.

Ian was finding home. She knew this because her brother Isaiah had told her about it when he first returned from Iraq. He’d been there a year and she’d been so happy to have him stateside until he was sent to Afghanistan. The joy had been short-lived. And might have done more harm to her than good. She understood the struggle soldiers go through, at least to some small degree.

When Ian’s eyes opened, even though she’d moved from her previous spot, his gaze fell straight to her. And there he sat while she stood, and for the briefest of moments something passed between them. What it was to really come home. And what it was to know someone understood.

Charlee pointed to the seat across from him. “May I?”

Light danced across his features. “I’d be crushed if you didn’t.”

His humor lightened the mood. Charlee cocked a hip. “I highly doubt that.”

Ian’s face split into a wicked grin. “I’m beginning to think you’re going to doubt everything I say.”

“Until I get to know you, yes.” She lowered herself onto the seat and pretended not to notice Ian’s careful scrutiny as she did. “I’ve learned men aren’t the most trustworthy of beings.” Why had she said that? Charlee pulled her hands through her hair, shaking off the past and all the memories with it.

“Learned from?”

Richard
, she wanted to say, which really was strange because she never wanted to talk about him to anyone. “I learned from my brothers.”

“Ah.”

“The ones who fed me a spoonful of celery salt and told me it was cinnamon sugar, the ones who duct-taped me to an oak tree. The ones who swung me by my arms and legs and dropped me into the river. I could go on, but I think you get the point.”

“Jeremiah is the oldest, right?” Ian threaded his hands together on his flat stomach.

She tried not to notice, but her gaze dipped to the spot where his jeans met his shirt. “He’s thirty-one. Isaiah is twenty-nine. Gabriel, twenty-seven. And Caleb is the baby.”

“Younger than you?”

“By a year.” The breeze rose and carried the scent of honeysuckle to them. It grew wild along this side of the toolshed. “I suppose I shouldn’t call a man who carries an automatic weapon every day a baby, but he’s still my little brother.”

At the table behind them King Edward dished up plates of spaghetti; utensils clinked against china. A moment later he was hovering over their table.

Charlee swallowed as the nauseating scent of hot tuna and tomato sauce filled the space between them, obliterating the honeysuckle. Edward smiled. “An extra large helping for our soldier?”

Charlee’s eyes widened at Ian then she gave her head an almost imperceptible shake back and forth.

Ian watched her, unfolding his hands from his stomach. “I did work pretty hard today.”

When Edward’s grin spread into what Charlee could only call a sadistic smile, she cleared her throat, catching Ian’s eye. Again, the head shake, which she quickly quelled when Edward’s laser gaze moved to her.

The sound of Ian’s hands slapping together brought everyone’s attention to the table. “Give me a double helping, Edward.”

Poor Soldier Boy
, Charlee thought. She’d tried to warn him. Why did men always insist on learning things the hard way?

Evil. Pure evil reflected in King Edward’s eyes. He knows his food tastes like crap. He’s doing this on purpose.

Ian lifted the plate under his nose and inhaled deeply.

Charlee leaned back, ready to dive under the table lest he spew.

“Smells amazing.”

What? What?
Charlee blinked. Edward’s smile deflated.

“Put one more scoop on there, Eddie. I’m starved.”

The empty ladle hovered in the air for a few long moments while Edward’s curled top lip ticked. Finally, with a huff, he slapped another scoop on top and went back to his chair. “Dive in,” he mumbled.

And Ian did just that. The air stilled as Ian lifted the first bite. He took it in, eyes fitted tightly on Charlee as he chewed twice and swallowed.

She waited for the sound of gagging. But there was something more going on here.

Ian dropped his fork to the plate. “Wow. I mean, wow.”

Charlee’s gaze flittered from him to the other table, where four sets of round eyes watched Ian intently.

“King Edward, this is fantastic.”

Charlee sucked a horrified breath. As did the patrons at the other table. Ian, well, Ian spooned mouthful upon mouthful until his plate was nearly empty.

Food gone, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You gotta give me that recipe, Edward.”

Edward didn’t bother to turn around or reply so Ian’s gaze skittered to Charlee, eyes flashing with not just tiki illumination, but something else. Something more. His tongue darted out and moistened a mouth that was too perfectly shaped, too sexy to belong to a soldier who lived on her property. His brow dipped and that’s when she saw the smirk.

Without drawing attention, she pointed to the plate and mouthed, “Good?”

Ian looked around her at the other table then leaned closer. “Awful.”

Charlee slapped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut until she had her desire to laugh out loud under control. Behind them, the other table had finally engaged in a conversation about museums.

Charlee lifted a hand. “Why?”

Ian shot a glance left then right, then motioned for her to move closer. He too leaned in and Charlee refused to admit—even to herself—the intimacy caused emotions to stir inside her.

When she was right there, two breaths from his face, both their chests pressed against the table edge, Ian said, “My commanding officer always told us to never ever let the enemy know your fear. Fear is the only power he has over you. Don’t give him the match to light the cannon.”

Charlee felt her face spread into a slow smile. Ian smiled back and the two sat there, looking at one another and sharing the art of war. “Sounds like one smart commanding officer.”

Ian swallowed, the muscles in his throat tightening. “He was the best.”

Charlee stayed quiet and let him reminisce. The scars of war and remembrance colored Ian’s features.

Finally, he returned to the present and addressed the table behind him. “So, Edward, did you ever think of adding Vidalia onion? Maybe a little more basil?”

Edward turned and glared.

“I love tinkering around in the kitchen. If you’d like, I can swing by on your next meal shift and maybe we can concoct some more original dishes.”