That Summer Night (Callaways #6) (17 page)

Tapping her fingers lightly on the keys, she debated her next move. On impulse she typed Reid's name into the search engine. He didn't come up on Facebook and Twitter. Apparently, he wasn't on social media. But he was named in several news articles, the most recent from eight months ago. She clicked on the link and was shocked to see a photograph of the President of the United States placing a medal around Reid's neck.

She read through the article with amazement.

On behalf of congress, Army Specialist Reid Becker is awarded the Medal of Honor for distinguishing himself by acts of gallantry and bravery at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty during combat operations against an armed enemy in Nuristan Province, Afghanistan. While under attack from an estimated two hundred enemy fighters employing concentrated fire from rifles, rocket propelled grenades, anti-aircraft machine guns, and small arms fire, Specialist Becker ran twice through a gauntlet of enemy fire to rescue two members of his unit and defend an isolated position, singlehandedly beating back an assault force for over two hours, even after being hit twice in the leg and suffering massive blood loss.

"Holy crap." She'd already realized that her first impression of Reid had been wrong, but she'd never imagined it was
this
wrong. The Medal of Honor was awarded by the President and only given to the best of the best.

No wonder Reid didn't know what to do now. He'd been at the top of his game, saving lives, making a difference, and now he was living on a houseboat and getting drunk at the Cadillac Lounge every night.

She turned her head as Reid came back into the room, whistling under his breath. His whistle ended abruptly when his gaze met hers.

"What's happened? What's wrong?" he asked.

"I want to see it."

"See what?" he asked warily.

She turned the computer around so he could see the screen. "The Medal of Honor."

His lips tightened. "So it's not enough to ask me a million questions, you have to go on the Internet and dig into my life?"

She felt a twinge of guilt at his words, but she quickly dismissed it, knowing he was just trying to change the subject. "Where's the medal?"

"It's in a safety deposit box."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not planning on wearing it, and I didn't feel like having it around."

"But you also didn't feel like throwing it away."

"You don't throw away the Medal of Honor."

"I read about what you did."

"I did what I was trained to do," he said sharply. "I did what any man in my unit would have done if they'd been in my position."

"Weren't they in your position?"

"I had the most experience. I was in charge. It was up to me to protect the team, and I did. We were lucky. We didn't lose anyone that day."

"It doesn't sound like it was luck. It was you."

"No, there's always an element of luck. Some days it's in your favor and other days it's not. You can't control life, no matter how much you want to, no matter how smart you are, no matter how far in advance you plan. There's always that moment when things can go wrong. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."

She frowned, having the feeling he'd somehow turned the tables on her. "You're talking about Colombia now aren't you?"

"I'm talking about life. We all want to control what happens to us, but we can't. The sooner you realize that the better." He paused. "What else do you want to know about me? Maybe I can save you some Internet research."

"I'm not sorry for snooping. You wouldn't have told me about the medal if I hadn't seen the article."

"It's not that big of a deal."

"You met the President, Reid. That's a pretty big deal." She thought for a moment. "Your family wasn’t there, were they?"

"I didn't tell them about it."

"So you were alone at the ceremony?"

"No, Jared and Matt went with me, and a couple of other buddies showed up afterwards. We had a party."

She smiled. "I'm glad they were there for you."

"They've always been there for me. The Army has been my family since I was eighteen years old."

And it all made perfect sense. "So you didn't just lose your job, you lost your family."

He frowned. "I guess it feels a little like that, but I know they're still around, Shayla."

"They are around. One of them wants you to work for him. The bonds you made in the service are going to last a lifetime no matter what you do."

He stared back at her. "It's not just the idea of family; I liked who I was in the Army. It was the first time in my life I felt like I had found my place."

She got up and walked over to him, taking his hands in hers. "I like who you are now."

Desire sparked in his eyes. "You are playing with fire."

"Are you going to put it out?"

He drew in a long, shaky breath. "Yes."

Disappointment ran through her. "Why?"

"Because you told me this morning you didn't want me."

"That was this morning."

"And tomorrow you might feel differently again. I don't take advantage of women who don't know what they want. So tonight you're going to take the bedroom, and I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"What if I said I know what I want?" she asked.

"I'd say you were lying. You don't know what you want, Shayla. And you don't know who I am. You think because I got some medal that I'm some white knight come to save the day for you and Robert, but that's not who I am."

Anger ran through her. "I don't think I'm the one who's confused about who you are, Reid. That would be you. And don't try to tell me what I know or don't know. I make my own decisions."

"Then decide to take the bedroom now," he said tersely.

She stared back at him, the tension sizzling between them. She wanted to be with him, but she didn’t want it like this. "All right." She grabbed her bag and her computer and moved toward the bedroom. "Good night."

"Sweet dreams, Doc."

She closed the door on his sarcastic words and sat down on the bed that took up most of the space in the bedroom. The mattress was comfortable, and it was such a warm night she doubted she'd need the blankets.

As she stretched out on the bed and pressed her face into the pillow, she could smell Reid's musky scent. He was so close and yet so far away. A part of her wanted to breach the distance and the other part of her knew that would not be the smart thing to do. She'd always been the smart girl, so why was she considering doing something so dumb?

Because it was Reid
.

Because the man made her heart race and her palms sweat, and she had the insane feeling that they could really be something together.

But he didn't want to be anything with her, she reminded herself, at least not anything serious.

With a frustrated groan, she closed her eyes knowing it was going to be another long night.

Chapter Thirteen

Reid tossed and turned for hours. Every time he closed his eyes, images of Shayla flashed through his head. He could see her curled up in his head, her beautiful blonde hair trailing across his pillows, her soft skin warmed by his blankets. He could see her slender legs kicking off the covers when it got too hot. And he could imagine himself covering her body with his, kissing her mouth, her breasts…

He'd been crazy to send her off to bed alone.

But he knew deep down it had been the right thing to do.

Sweating and frustrated, he finally gave up on trying to sleep and made his way onto the deck as the sun was beginning to rise. He'd always liked dawn. The air was still, and the day was filled with potential. There was only beauty surrounding him, no drama, no war, no pain. He could make anything of this day. He had a clean slate.

Unfortunately, today's slate already included two events: a meeting with Lisa and a Callaway wedding. He didn't know which one he disliked more.

Seeing Lisa, probably. Although weddings were not at the top of his list either. Which brought him back to Lisa.

It seemed unbelievable to him now that he had almost gotten married. What the hell had he been thinking? That was the problem; he hadn't been thinking. He'd been caught up in passion, the sex, and the idea of having someone waiting for him to come home.

If he hadn't seen Lisa and his brother together that night, would she have married him? And if she had, what would his life have been like now? He couldn't even imagine. Although, he doubted that he and Lisa would still be together. They probably wouldn't have made it through the first year. If Lisa hadn't hooked up with Robert, she would have found someone else.

He wondered how long this new guy would last. From everything he'd heard, it sounded like Lisa had traded up to a man with more money. The same man who seemed to now want to cut Robert's research grants. Was that just out of spite? Or was there another reason? If anyone should be pissed, it should be Robert. In this latest chapter of the Lisa show, Robert had been the innocent party, the one left behind, kicked to the curb. There was a bit of poetic justice to that.

So why would Hal want to make Robert's life more difficult? Unless, Hal wanted Robert out of the company so that he wouldn't have to work with him, see him at the company party, wonder if Lisa had any lingering feelings for her ex-husband.

Frowning, he realized he didn't have enough information to come up with a good theory. Which was why he needed to talk to Lisa. It went against the grain. But he couldn't ignore the fact that she was probably the one who knew Robert the best of anyone. And she knew the situation at Abbott Pharmaceuticals. Hopefully, she could tell him something he didn't already know.

Until then…

Stretching his arms over his head, he let out a sigh and then settled into a deck chair with Robert's notebook.

An hour later, the sun was higher in the sky and the air was beginning to warm, another hot day in San Francisco.

He was no closer to deciphering the comic book pages, but he was closer to wanting breakfast. He went inside and started the coffee maker. Then he searched through the refrigerator for food. Along with early mornings, he liked big breakfasts.

He grabbed eggs, bacon, and as many vegetables as he could find. He'd scramble everything together—a Becker special, he thought with a smile. As he cooked, he tried to be quiet, not wanting to wake Shayla up. Although, he'd be really happy when she was out of his bed, then he could stop thinking about turning off the stove, going into the bedroom and leaving breakfast to later—a lot later.

As if on cue, the bedroom door opened. Shayla walked into the room, dressed in leggings and a tank top. Her golden hair was tangled, her eyes heavy with sleep, a beautiful rosy pink in her cheeks.

"I smell bacon," she said with a sniff.

"Breakfast is almost ready."

She blinked at him. "You cooked breakfast?"

"I did. Do you want some coffee? I have to warn you I make it strong."

"Just the way I like it. I've basically had a caffeine drip in my arm the last few years."

He smiled, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet and handing it to her. "Help yourself."

She poured the coffee, took a long sip, and sighed with so much pleasure he couldn't help but wonder how she'd sound after a really good night of sex. Surely he could make her happier than the coffee she was drinking.

"This is the best," she said.

"I am good," he replied with a grin. "And not just with coffee."

She made a face at him. "It's too early to talk about sex." She snagged a piece of bacon off the plate and held it up. "This looks different."

"It's turkey bacon. It doesn't get as crisp, but it's better for you."

"Turkey bacon?" She took a wary bite, chewed, and then nodded. "Not bad. I'm a little surprised though. You don't seem the type to be worried about cholesterol."

"I take care of all my weapons."

"And your body is a weapon?"

"It has been on occasion."

She stared back at him, a question in her eyes. "Have you…"

"What?" he asked, sure he already knew where she was going, but he'd see if she got there.

"Nothing."

"Have I ever killed someone?"

"I was going to ask you that, but I already know the answer."

"Let's eat," he said, taking a seat at the small table.

Shayla sat down across from him, and dug into her eggs with enthusiasm. "This is great. I've always liked breakfast. One of my favorite places to go in the world is Mabel's Pancake House down by the beach. It's where my family goes to celebrate something important. Mabel's blueberry pancakes are the best. And whoever is being honored gets extra whipped cream and blueberries on the top."

He smiled. "Sounds great. Sorry I didn't make you pancakes."

"No, this is good. Aside from special occasions at Mabel's, I don't usually eat a big breakfast. I often just grab a pastry at the coffee cart outside the hospital."

"Doctor heal thyself. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

She grinned. "Doctors rarely take their own advice. But if I had someone to whip up a meal like this every morning, I might reconsider." She paused. "I heard you moving around last night. I hope the couch wasn't too uncomfortable."

"I've slept in worse places. How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly well. No nightmares, which was great. I thought I wouldn't like the rocking, but it was very soothing. I'm not sure I'd want to make a boat my permanent address, but I can see some of the appeal. Do you know any of your neighbors?"

"They're a reclusive bunch."

"Go figure."

He smiled. "There's an older guy about four boats down that I've talked to a bit. He's a widower and a veteran. Good man. Likes to talk a lot about fish."

"Do you fish?"

"I haven't in a long time. I used to do it more when I was a kid. Robert and I spent summer vacations with my grandfather. He was an outdoors man. He taught us a lot about surviving in the wilderness."

She gave him a doubtful look. "I can't really see Robert camping out in the wild."

"He usually had a book with him," Reid admitted. "Or he was drawing pictures. It used to drive my grandfather crazy, but Robert was determined to do what he wanted to do."