Falling for Her Soldier (15 page)

Ellie suddenly grabbed him around the waist and pulled him forward, away from the tree, spinning them in a slow one-eighty turn, her mouth still pressed to his. Charlie had no idea where she was taking him; he simply held on and allowed himself to be led.

“Bublé,” she whispered as explanation.

Charlie stumbled backward, his feet sliding down a dip in the grass. He realized he was standing in the sand trap, Ellie balanced on the edge, a few inches taller than him. His heart pounded almost painfully hard as he gazed at her, unworldly in her beauty under the moonlight.

She leaned down, touched her forehead to his and whispered, “Hunter.”

He tried to ignore the word and the way it tore at his chest. He wanted to stop her, stop them, but knew he didn’t have the strength. All he could do was not move, not think, not feel her soft hands take his face and tilt it, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered. “What just happened?”

He could have used the excuse that he didn’t want her to “slip up” again, but that wasn’t the issue. He shut his eyes and swallowed, clueless about how to form the words. “I don’t…” He knew his voice was shaking. “I don’t…feel worthy,” he finally admitted, being as honest as he could.

When he tried to back away, she sucked in a breath. “Hey.” Her hands were on his cheeks, holding him in place. “Look at me.”

It took a moment before he inhaled long and steady, and did as she asked.

She was gazing at him, her lips parted, a broken, loving expression on her face. “You are,” she whispered. Then she took his head in her arms and cradled him against her chest.

Charlie could hardly breathe. Never in his life had he felt so taken care of. He felt cherished when he was with her, and loved—the same feelings he wanted to give to her.

Helplessly, he surrendered, and wrapped his arms all the way around her hips, never wanting to let go. Ellie shifted forward, leaning her full body weight against him. Charlie tightened his grip and pulled her off her feet, stumbling farther back into the hazard.

Still cradling his head, she wrapped her legs around his back, and Charlie slowly knelt, lowering them onto the sand, Ellie on his lap. She shifted again, guiding him until he was lying on the sand. He pulled her onto his chest and kissed her, running his hands through her hair, feeling lost in the rhythm of their breathing, the sounds of her soft, welcoming moans every time he moved to her neck.

“Roll me over,” she whispered, her mouth touching his ear.

“You’ll get sand in your hair.”

She didn’t move for a moment, then she bit his earlobe, shooting a jolt up Charlie’s body. “You think a little sand will keep me away from you?” she said as she pulled back. Fiery tendrils fell like a curtain over one eye. Just as Charlie reached up to sweep the hair back, she hugged him tightly around the middle and rolled them so he was on top, hovering over her.

She breathed hard and giggled, seemingly proud of the accomplishment. Her hair was splayed across the sand, and her big, wide, beautiful eyes gazed up at him as he balanced on his elbows. She reached up and ran a hand across his cheek, his mouth, down his shoulder. She stopped just above his bicep, gliding her fingers in a circle over his Army tattoo. For a moment, she pressed her whole hand over it.

“What?” he asked.

She was quiet at first, then sank her teeth into her full bottom lip. “I…I love that you’re a soldier,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.” He noted the catch in her voice, like it had been a difficult thing for her to say.

Charlie didn’t know how to respond to that. It must’ve had something to do with Sam. He didn’t want to think about Sam at a moment like this—not while he was hovering over Ellie, feeling her long, firm body beneath him, needing to kiss her like he needed oxygen in his brain.

But he did think about Sam. He thought about some other things, too.

“We suck at this,” he said.

Ellie ran a finger across his mouth. “I beg to differ.”

He dipped his chin and laughed, then rolled off her and lay on his back, their shoulders touching.

“Sorry,” she said, breathing hard. “I take full responsibility for that slip-up.”

Charlie laughed again, louder this time. “I should think so.” He glanced at her, then up at the starry sky. “That one was all you.”

“No more slip-ups,” she said while running her foot up his leg. “I promise.”

Charlie groaned and draped an arm over his eyes. “That’s not helping, Eleanor,” he said. “Look, I want to give you these twenty-two days. Well, I don’t
want
to, but I need to, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, sitting up.

Charlie’s impulse was to reach out and touch her hair, but he wasn’t sure he was fit to move yet.

“We still have to dance,” she said.

“That might be a problem.”

Ellie gazed down at him. “Need a little help?” she asked, giving him the flirty eyes.

Charlie groaned. “No, thank you.”

She touched a finger to his cheek, then ran it to his ear. “What is it that men think of when they’re trying to not think about sex?”

Charlie closed his eyes and released a sharp exhale. “Baseball,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We think about baseball, baby. But in my case”—he cracked open one eye to glare at her—“I’ll think about Bublé.”

She took her hand off his face, folded her arms, and exhaled her own groan. “
Damn
that Bublé,” she muttered.

Chapter Fourteen

Ellie missed the turn into the parking lot twice. Her mind was so totally
not
focused on where it should be. She should be planning what to say to Rick Duffy, who she was about to meet at his newspaper office in downtown Franklin. But instead, she was thinking about Hunter, the way he’d kissed her last night, the way he’d held her and danced and laughed and was just so fun and sexy and amazing.

Neither of them had stopped smiling, even as they’d blasted Michael Bublé in Hunter’s car all the way from his apartment to the WS where Ellie’s car was. She could use a healthy dose of Bublé right now, to get her mind focused on meeting Rick and not on those glorious two seconds when she’d had her hands on Hunter’s ass.

“
Bublé
.” It felt more like a curse word now, which made Ellie smile again.

Rick had called her last night, left a voice mail while she’d been down on the golf course with Hunter. Mmm, the golf course…

After she pulled into a spot and parked, she ran a quick hand through her hair, hoping she looked professional and not like some starry-eyed teenager (which was how she was currently feeling), and pulled open the front door of the
Franklin Standard
.

The woman at reception buzzed Rick and he came out to the lobby a few minutes later. He was young and tall, with nice shoulders, and had messy blond hair. He was dressed in a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows and a blue button-up shirt. Both were a little rumpled, but in a charming, professorial sort of way. Cute. Of course, cute was one thing, but he didn’t have sexy blue eyes with golden rings, rippling arm muscles that made her melt, or a crooked smile every time he called her
Eleanor
.

“Thanks for coming in so early,” Rick said, ushering her into his office. She sat in a chair and he moved behind the desk.

“No problem. I’m just grateful you’re taking an interest in this. Hunter really came through.”

Rick’s eyebrows pulled together for an instant, but then his face cleared. “Hunter, right. Well, he’s a good friend. I owed him a favor.” He reached for a pen. “It’s a good story, actually. I mean, it’s a real tragedy what’s going on at the…” He consulted the notepad on his desk. “The Warrior Station.”

“The WS. Yeah,” Ellie agreed.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to head over there this afternoon, interview some of the patrons, and…” He checked his notes again. “Chick Taylor. You said he runs the place?”

“That’s right. He’s almost always there, but you can call first to make sure.” She passed him one of Chick’s business cards she’d been carrying around.

“Great,” Rick said, tucking the card into his pocket. “So, what else can you tell me? We’re running our first article about it today.” He looked at his watch. “Any minute now, actually. I wrote it, but I wanted a quote or two from you before we go to press.”

“Um, what kind of quote?”

Rick smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Sorry, I sometimes slip into reporter mode. I’ve been told it’s annoying.” He tapped his pen on the desk. “This isn’t an official interview, so you can relax. Why don’t you tell me about the WS? What you think it means to the community and the military personnel in the area.”

That seemed like a good place to start, so Ellie talked while Rick took notes and did a lot of nodding. She told him about the games and the camaraderie, then about the counseling and groups. She even talked a little about Sam, though Rick didn’t write any of that down. She was grateful for that.

“The event on Friday, what are you charging per head?”

“I was thinking seventy-five.”

Rick stopped writing. “That’s all?”

“Do you think it should be more?”

He rubbed his chin. “Well, I go to a lot of these shindigs. If I were you, I’d do it per table. A thousand.”

Ellie’s jaw went slack. “A thousand?”

“How many tables will there be?”

She looked down at her lap where her notes should have been, but they were in the passenger seat of her car. Darn Hunter and his sexy mouth…making her forget everything. “
Bublé
,” she muttered under her breath.

“Pardon?”

“Twenty,” she corrected smoothly, forcing herself to picture the size of the main room at the WS. “Twenty round tables. They’re being donated. All the linens, too.”

Rick jotted that down. “So if you sell every table for a thousand, that’ll give you the twenty grand for rent.”

“Perfect,” Ellie agreed, ready to thank Rick again, then break every speed limit in town on the way to Hunter.

“What about the future?” Rick asked, turning to a new page of his notebook.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what about next year’s rent?”

Honestly, Ellie hadn’t thought about that. She’d been focused on the current problem. “I don’t know.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I guess I’m hoping for a miracle sometime in the next year.”

“You said the bulk of the lost funding was from an estate?”

“That’s right. A lot of other people and companies donate, but without the estate, the WS can’t afford to stay open.”

“I see.” Rick nodded and scratched his chin. “So, besides the charity donation, what’s going to draw people to the event? It’s a formal ball?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “A few of the airmen play in a wedding band when they’re all home. They’ve agreed to do the music for free. It’s not a sit-down dinner, but there’ll be heavy hors d’oeuvres and a cash bar.”

“Food’s being donated?”

She nodded. “So are the servers.”

Rick looked up from his notes. “Impressive.”

“No one wants this place to close. Everybody’s willing to donate their time and whatever means they have.”

“Must be a special place.”

“It is,” she said, feeling a little choked up. “I hope you can come. Bring a date?”

Rick smiled, his eyes drifting off to the side. “Mac would probably love that.”

Mac. That’s right. Rick was engaged to Hunter’s lifelong pal. Ellie sat forward, suddenly looking at Rick with new interest. “Hunter, um, told me you just got engaged?” She pulled at the ends of her hair, going for nonchalance. “Congratulations.”

Rick was still smiling when he glanced her way. This guy was in La-La Land. “Thank you,” he said. “As far as traditional engagements go, we’re off to an interesting start. We sort of had two proposals.”

“Two?”

Rick chuckled into his fist. “She proposed first, but I did it again the next day.”

Ellie lifted her eyebrows. “The first one didn’t take?”

“No, it took. I just wanted to do it, too.” He leaned his elbows on the desk. “She and I sometimes have a problem with competition.”

Ellie laughed. “Every couple has their quirks.”

“Quirks,” Rick repeated, still wearing the goofiest grin. “That’s Mackenzie, all right.” He stared off into space for a minute, then cleared his throat and looked back at her. “Anyway, sorry. So there’ll be a band and food and a bar. What about entertainment?”

“I work at a dance studio. Ballet. A few of the instructors are going to perform—something contemporary and light, nothing scary,” she added, noting Rick’s expression. “Then, ya know, Hunter and me.”

Rick tilted his head. “Hunter and you…?”

“We’re kind of the headliners. We’re doing a tango.”

Rick’s jaw dropped. “You and…and Hunter…
my
friend Hunter, the soldier. He volunteered to dance in front of two hundred people?”

“Well, yeah. We’ve been practicing. He’s not bad.”

Not bad. It was time for
her
eyes to stare off into space for a second, remembering the feel of Hunter’s muscular arms around her, whipping her across the studio floor while Elvis crooned…then remembering Hunter on top of her in the sand trap…

She swallowed. “Yeah, uh, we’ve got a couple more days. We’ll be ready by Friday night.”

Rick didn’t speak; he was still just staring at her. Finally he sat back and steepled his fingers. “Wow, I just… Again, I’m impressed. I’ve known the guy a while, and I know he’s not the most comfortable person in public, especially with what he does in the Army. This must mean a lot to him if he’s stepping into the spotlight like that.”

Ellie felt a happy flutter in her chest. “I guess it does mean a lot to him,” she answered, trying not to beam with pride too much.

“Put me down to sponsor a table,” Rick said. “Now I
have
to be there. And I’m sure his sister and brother-in-law will want to come, too.”

“I don’t want to make him more nervous,” Ellie said, feeling a twinge of worry. “If he’s really that public-shy, maybe we shouldn’t spook him.”

“Point taken. Still, I want a table. Now you’re down one, nineteen to go.”

They’d sold a few tickets already, but she was banking on Rick’s advertisements to bring in the bulk. There was a lot to do in three days. “Thank you,” she said, “that’s really generous.”

“Don’t mention it. If you and Chick aren’t camera-shy, I think I’d like to bring a crew out to the WS this afternoon, film some footage.”

“Film?” she asked. “I thought you were a newspaper.”

“I am, but we sometimes do crossovers with a local station. TV coverage will only help your cause.”

“Well, great then. That’s amazing.”

“How about we plan to be there around four? Any later and it’ll be live. That’s a lot of pressure for anyone.”

“Perfect.”

“Actually, why don’t you…” Rick’s voice died out and his eyes darted to the doorway. He stood and moved to the other side of his desk, that same goofy smile from earlier creeping onto his face.

Ellie heard voices, then two women rounded the corner and stopped at the open doorway of his office. One was about Ellie’s height with long, dark hair and looked pretty darn pregnant. The other was short and blonde. And loud. Rick immediately stepped out into the hall and up to the petite blonde, who greeted him with a hug and kiss.

Mackenzie, I presume
… Ellie thought, dazzled by her own sleuthy skills.

“What are you doing here?” Rick asked. “Don’t you have class in twenty minutes?”

“Tess wanted to try pre-dawn prenatal yoga at the gym,” Mac answered.

So the other one is Tess, Hunter’s sister
. Ellie felt like a regular Sam Spade.

“But she didn’t want to go alone,” Mac added.

“It’s a bunch of
pregnant
people,” Tess explained. “It’s weird.”

“Hence the name ‘prenatal,’” Mac batted back. Then she stood on her toes and kissed Rick again.

“Too much PDA!” Tess complained. “Mac, seriously, let go of your fiancé, please. I really don’t want to barf today.”

The two peeled apart and all three entered the office. “Oh,” Mac said, noticing Ellie. “Hi. Hey there.” She ran a hand over her collar and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t know…”

“This is Ellie Bell,” Rick said. “She’s giving me information for the story we’re running about the event at the Warrior Station. The one we talked about.” Rick looked at Ellie kind of sheepishly, moving his hand to his throat like he wanted to straighten an invisible necktie. “This is my fiancée, Mackenzie Simms.”

“Hi,” Ellie said.

Mac smiled, still holding onto Rick’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Um, sorry, again, about…” When she was embarrassed like that, Mac looked about twelve years old.

“Don’t worry,” Ellie said. From the way Mac had been attached to Rick, Ellie knew she had nothing to worry about when it came to Hunter. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thanks.” Mac beamed. “He was a tough dog to drag onto the porch, but I finally landed him.”

“Right.” Rick chuckled sarcastically. “Like
I
was the one dragging my feet.”

Mac rolled her eyes. “Anyway. So you’re spearheading the fund-raiser for the WS? That’s really cool.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Oh, sure. Tess’s brother’s been hanging out there lately. Oh, sorry. You must think we’re heathens. This is Tess.” She stepped away from Rick and put an arm around the pregnant woman.

“Hi. Tess Marshall,” she said, extending a hand to Ellie. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Ellie said.

Tess kept her eyes on her, then smiled and folded her arms, drumming her fingers. “So, you’re Ellie. Hunter’s told us a lot about you.”

“Really?” Ellie felt a little glowy inside, knowing that Hunter had been talking about her to his family. She knew from dating her fair share of noncommittal bad boys that guys didn’t do that unless the relationship actually meant something.

“Hunter?” Mac said, frowning. “Who’s—” She broke off when Tess elbowed her. Both she and Rick were staring at her. “Oh. Oh,
Hunter
. Riiiight.” She laughed and waved a hand. “Hunter. Which makes you Ellie the ballerina.” She winked. “Got it.”

Ellie stared back, trying to follow along.

“It’s so cool you’re teaching my brother the American Tango,” Tess cut in.

“He told you about that?”

Tess nodded. “We talked on the phone for a while late last night. When he’s on leave, I call him a lot. He probably thinks I’m a pest.”

Ellie wanted to laugh, thinking about her own post-midnight phone conversation with Sam last night. “I doubt that,” she said. “He talks about you, too. You teach at a music school, you’re obsessed with the Backstreet Boys, and your husband, Jack, coaches football.” She gestured at Mac. “You teach speech at the high school and you once gave Hunter a black eye.”

“That’s right,” Tess said, peering at her with a bit more intensity. “Huh.”

“When did you give him a black eye, Mac?” Rick asked.

“Shh—” Mac elbowed him but her gaze was set on Ellie just as intensely as Tess’s. “Go on,” she said. “What else did he tell you?”

Ellie felt a little embarrassed and pinned in place by all three sets of eyes staring at her. “Um, sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Tess said, tilting her head. “I’m just surprised that he… So, you two must be spending a lot of time together.”