The Officer and the Secret (11 page)

***

Disaster. That was the only word that really fit the entire situation. Veronica sighed to herself, then did her best to turn the sigh into a sort of cough.

David drove on, heading home after their movie. The movie—which was awful, thanks to way too much violence and too little plot—that followed a stilted and yawn-inducing dinner. They’d barely spoken, each picking at their food and every so often making a random comment about how delicious it really was.

It tasted like sawdust. But that was more likely because of how uncomfortable she’d been. She never should have agreed to go out for a second time. Madison was right. It was a waste of everyone’s time, including poor David’s.

But she felt so wrong just saying no after only one afternoon coffee. He was so sweet. So she’d said yes when he called for a real date.

And now they were alone, in the car, with no dinner to talk about and no movie to focus on. Why was this just so different from her time with Dwayne?

This
isn’t Dwayne. So get over that. Move on. He surely has, since he doesn’t want you.

After another few moments, she realized they’d passed the exit for her home. “David, you missed it. We were two exits back.”

“I know. I have one more thing to show you before we head home.”

Oh, boy. Was there any polite way to say she’d rather eat her GED studies book than spend another minute of forced silence or uncomfortable conversation with David? Probably not. Best to just play nice.

Another minute, he pulled off and swung into the parking lot of what looked like a playground.

“I played here as a kid,” he said as he got out of the car. Like that just explained everything. She waited for him to open her door, and she got out to survey the area.

It was nice, well-kept. The equipment looked new, the grass around was mowed. And she still didn’t understand why she was here at night.

“David, it’s getting late and—”

“I wanted something else for us to do while we talked. I figure conversation over dinner is tricky and nonexistent during a movie. But swinging,” he said, grinning as he walked toward the swing set. “Swinging and talking are pretty good ideas. I’ve had some of the best conversations of my life on a swing.”

“Really?” Okay, it was a little cute. She walked over and sat on the seat he held steady for her. With a push, she floated forward gently.

“Oh yeah.” David plopped onto the swing next to her and pushed off at a much faster pace. She pumped her legs a little to go faster.

“What kind?”

“Let’s see. When I was in kindergarten, I learned girls had cooties while swinging with my best friend.”

She laughed.

“In the fifth grade, I learned that maybe girls didn’t have cooties after all. Now in seventh grade, I took a girl for a walk to the neighborhood play area, and I stole my first kiss while she was asking for a push. What else…? Oh, I think one of my favorite moments of being an uncle is playing with my nephew on the swing set.”

“That’s sweet.” Adorable, really.

“How about you? Any favorite swing set memories? Or were you more of a monkey bars kinda girl?”

Playgrounds weren’t a part of her own childhood, but she knew the general concept. Her parents hadn’t really wanted her playing on one, given she always wore skirts and that was just unseemly. But the urge to fly, to feel the wind in her face, to reach for the stars overtook her and she pumped harder to go faster, ignoring his question.

He went faster as well, and she understood exactly what he meant. With the free feeling of being air bound, conversation really wasn’t so hard.

“Tell me about school. How are classes?”

He grunted. “Hard. But I’m pushing through. I should have gone for my masters right after I graduated, but I just wanted the break, you know?”

No, she didn’t.

“How about you? I seem to remember you at the restaurant mentioning a need to study or something.”

She smiled, remembering the excuse she’d given to avoid going to a party thrown by a fellow server. Though it was true—studying was important—she had been too intimidated to join in the social aspect, so she’d chickened out and given the first excuse she could come up with.

“What are you majoring in?”

“Right now I am mostly doing general studies.” The misleading comment slipped from her lips before she could catch herself. The response to avoid the truth was so automatic in this area, it didn’t even occur to her to try the truth.

David nodded and kept swinging. “Keeping it general. Yeah, I’ve had lots of friends do that while they’re figuring out the right major.”

It was a good conclusion, and one most people came to on their own. But the truth that she wasn’t even in college, that she was studying for her GED rather than any college courses, was one she wasn’t ready to share with anyone. The embarrassment of being a twenty-six-year-old without even a high school diploma to her name was overwhelming. Just one more thing that separated her from the average. One more thing that made her too different.

She pumped her legs harder, wanting more freedom, however fleeting it was. Wanting to simply escape the past. But you could never run fast enough for that. She’d always be the weird one who grew up in jungles. The one people thought was either a weird native or a religious freak.

“You might wanna slow down,” David called at her. She ignored it.

What would it feel like to just let go? Go flying, not care about holding on so tight to the chains? Why not try? She took one more swing back, then launched herself from the seat.

The feel of weightlessness, the moment of no fear, of going where the wind literally blew was incredible. The wind blew against her face and she closed her eyes for a second, reveling in the flight.

Until she landed on her feet and her ankle rolled into the dent in the sand. She crumpled and bit back a moan.

Okay. That hurt.

“Veronica! Hey, what happened?” David was by her side in a moment. Of course, he dismounted the right way, and still had the use of both legs.

“I think I landed in a little hole on one side. I’m all right, really. No big deal.” But she gratefully accepted his arm for support and stood, brushing sand off as she straightened. Trying to put weight on the leg made her gasp in pain. “Maybe it’s a little deal. Just a tiny one.”

“Let’s just take it easy then.” He helped her hobble to the car and worked to ease her down onto the seat carefully. He bent down between her and the open car door and lifted her leg on his knee. “Can I check?”

She nodded.

He rolled up her pant leg and took a look, hissing through his teeth a little. “It’s starting to swell. Probably just sprained, but it’s not going to feel great. Do you want me to take you to the doctor?”

“No. I feel dumb enough already.”

“Not dumb. Just… impulsive.” He looked up at her, smiling. The street lamp caught his hair, the little crooked smile he gave her, and she wanted her heart to melt.

Instead, nothing. Nothing at all. No reaction. No silent feminine sigh of happiness. No clenching of the heart. But he raised up and pressed a kiss to her lips, and she responded. Because it was a nice kiss, and he was a nice guy.

Just not the guy for her.

It was finally time to accept that. She gave this a shot, and it didn’t work out.

Before she could pull away, he broke contact. “This isn’t working, is it?”

Startled, she stared at him. When he gave her a small smile, she responded, “No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

He sighed and sat back on his haunches. “Nothing to be sorry for. If the spark isn’t there, then that’s just a fact. No sense in pushing, right?” He waited for her to shift in her seat, swinging her legs in, and then closed the door and walked around to the other side to climb in.

She wanted to scream. Or maybe cry. Not from anger, but frustration. David was exactly what she thought she needed. And instead of feeling safe, confident, ready… she just felt more trapped. He was perfect on paper.

Maybe perfection was the problem.

As he started the engine, she said softly, “For what it’s worth, I wish it was there.”

“Yup. Me too.”

***

Wedding rehearsals sucked, plain and simple. This was the seventh wedding Dwayne had been in in the past four years. Most of the time, he was just a generic sword bearer, doing his stoic duty when the couple came out of the chapel. Of course, he never could deny the fun it was when he was on the end and got to swat the bride in the ass with the broad side of his sword.

Just a little
Welcome
to
the
Corps
gift. Hey, it was tradition. You don’t mess with tradition.

But there’d be no ass-swatting for this ceremony, since the groomsmen weren’t even in uniform. And nobody was asked to wear theirs as a guest or attendant. Dwayne was all for it, since their dress blues choked him to no end. Someone his size with a neck as thick as his wasn’t meant to wear a collar that tight.

Of course, the choice to go sans uniform had, apparently, horrified Tim’s parents. But they were cool enough, they’d get over it… eventually. They were just a little more traditional. Skye would break them in.

The minister, a short, completely bald man who had to be at least ninety-five, started talking about the service. Tim’s parents had brought him from their hometown. Apparently he was the guy who married them forty years ago. It was actually kind of cool, the more Dwayne thought about it. That familial connection that would span generations. His mom never even got married, thanks to the jackass of a sperm donor that was his biological father leaving as soon as the stick turned blue. His sister’s sperm donor was a repeat performance. So he envied that generational connection Tim’s family shared.

Except the minister seemed a little confused. He rambled on about something involving unity and what the sanctity of marriage meant, and how they were
about
to
enter into the most holy of all contracts. His voice was creaky with age, pausing in interesting places.

“They did tell the guy they were already married, right?” he muttered to Jeremy from the side of his mouth.

“Beats me. I would think so.” Jeremy shrugged and kept staring straight ahead, not willing to break character.

“And so,” the minister went on, “I am so pleased to be here to witness this, Timmy, your wedding day, when you first join in holy matrimony with the woman you love.”

Skye fidgeted, and Dwayne bit his lip to hold back the smile. Skye wasn’t one to hold back.

“Have you already obtained the license?” he asked. “Don’t want to be forgetting to make this legal now.”

Skye leaned in and stage whispered, “Sir, we’re already married. This is just a commitment ceremony.”

The minister stared at her blankly, like she’d spoken another language.

Tim groaned.

Skye’s parents laughed in the front row.

Tim’s dad looked suspiciously like he was fighting to hold back a smile, while Tim’s mother, Suzie, hopped up to talk to the minister.

“Remember, Reverend Todd, how we talked about the ceremony?” she asked loudly, probably because the guy was deaf. “They’re already married; they just want to recommit themselves to each other.” She was all but shouting now.

The minister’s bushy eyebrows—quite a shock since he was a cue ball—drew together. “They’re not getting married?”

“No,” Suzie said, shaking her head for emphasis.

“Because they’re already married,” he clarified.

“Yes,” she, Skye, and Tim all said at once, nodding like a bunch of bobblehead dolls.

The minister looked down at his ceremony script, then back up at the couple. “Then why the hell am I here?”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Skye broke into peals of laughter. Bent over, she grabbed Tim’s arm for support as she dropped to the top step of the platform they were using as a makeshift altar. The long skirt of her pale blue dress draped around, tangling in her legs, and she sprawled in a rather unladylike pose. Her parents started in, laughing as hard as their daughter, and even Tim cracked a smile before the whole thing was over.

Dwayne chuckled quietly, watching the show. Then he glanced over Suzie’s head and caught sight of Veronica, and for the second time, his heart stuttered.

She was beautiful, no other word for it. The pale lavender cocktail dress showed more skin than he’d ever seen before. Strapless, to the knee, figure-hugging, it fit like something from his dreams. Even her hair was different, down around her shoulders in waves rather than the usual thick braid, looking soft and sweet.

And she was laughing so hard tears were coming out her eyes. He couldn’t not smile at the picture she made. Having fun, not stiff or unapproachable.

Tim finally managed to pull himself together enough to quiet everyone down, and they continued on with the rehearsal. But by the time rehearsals were over, she was back to her quiet self. A small smile for Madison, a little bigger one for Jeremy as he walked her back down the aisle. But past that, nothing.

“You can put your eyes back in your head, Romeo.”

He looked down to see Madison’s head tilted up at him, amusement written all over her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Madison snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me if you think I’ll take that at face value. You’ve been staring at Veronica most of the night. You know that, right?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

“Hell yeah, I would. I’ve been standing across from you the whole time, you idiot. And you practically stopped breathing when she walked in the door carrying her fake bouquet of ribbons.” She waved her own ribbon cluster in his face for emphasis. “Trust me, you’re not all that hard to read.” An impish expression took over. “She does look pretty hot, right?”

“Not answering that.” He tapped her nose with one finger. “Good try, though. This country boy’s not that stupid.” If he gave an inch, Madison would be all over him in a second. How she would react to his crush on her roomie, he had no clue. But her interference on the matter wasn’t required, regardless.

She shrugged, holding her pretend bouquet out for inspection. “Suit yourself. I mean, she’s always got David.”

“David.” David from the coffee shop? She couldn’t be serious.

“I don’t think he could make it to the wedding. I didn’t get all the details. But he’s pretty cute, if I do say so myself. They’ll make a nice couple.”

The involuntary urge to punch his fist into the wall was abated only by the fact that it was brick, and he’d break something for sure. “That’s great. Good for them.”

Madison laughed. “You’re going to break a tooth if you don’t relax your jaw there, sweetie. Look, I don’t think he’s the guy for her. But at the same time, maybe you’re not either. For all I know, you’re looking for a quick fuck.”

Shock drew his eyes to her. Had Madison ever actually used the f-word before?

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m a sailor. It’s a job requirement to have a potty mouth. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I don’t have an impressive dirty vocab. I’m a big girl. I can cuss if I want to.”

He glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, Mrs. O’Shay.”

Madison paled for a moment and she whipped around, staring at air. Her brows drew together as she tried to kick him in the shin. He laughed and scooted out of the way of her lethal high heels. “Not funny, D.”

“I thought so.” He laughed again, then calmed down. “I’m not out for a quick fu—screw. You know me better than that.”

“I do. But at the same time, I also know you just got back. I don’t have a clue if you’re ready for anything serious, and you probably don’t either. She’s a great person, but she’s a softie. So I can’t really endorse a relationship between you two if I have no idea what your intentions are to begin with.”

“None of your business, that’s what they are.” Why did everyone seem to think this was the worst possible idea? Even he’d first thought it. But now he wasn’t so sure. The more he saw of her, the more he liked being with her. And despite his current issues, maybe her calming presence in his life would be a help, not a distraction. Even the chaplain had suggested it wouldn’t be an automatic disaster.

Which was all well and good, except for the part where he basically told her he didn’t want her. Oh, and the part about her having a guy already.

Great timing. Couldn’t be better.

The rest of the crowd gathered in the lobby, chatter echoing off the high ceilings, waiting for everyone before carpooling over for dinner. Normally he’d be in the middle of the chatter. He wasn’t feeling too social at the moment.

Madison nudged him with her elbow. “Okay, I’m a bitch. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you.” He kept his eye on Veronica, across the lobby of the hall where they were having the ceremony and reception the next day. She was talking with Skye and Tim’s parents. And he wanted to walk up behind her, pull her back against him, and nuzzle into the soft pillow of hair at her shoulders. Except at this point, she’d likely step on his foot with her heel rather than let him touch her. Worse, he’d deserve it. And that sucked.

Okay. He could do this. They weren’t engaged or anything. He wasn’t breaking up a marriage. He still had a shot.

“Just be there. You don’t need anything elaborate, you know.”

Madison’s soft words jarred him from his thoughts. “Be there…”

“Just simple as that. I have my suspicions that this thing with David won’t work. And when it runs its course, then just be there. I think that would be the best option of all.”

Except that meant waiting around, sitting on his hands, and generally feeling helpless. Not his favorite situation. So maybe he might just move things along. Nothing so drastic as stealing her out her bedroom window at night or anything. But if she was mentally comparing David to, oh, say, someone who made her pulse race, and realized it wasn’t happening, then that wasn’t so bad, was it?

He’d just keep telling himself that.

***

Dwayne took his chance at the end of the rehearsal. Everyone broke up, and he quickly claimed Veronica as his passenger. Though she didn’t appear thrilled, she kept mum. Probably thinking that now wasn’t the time for a scene or a fight. Thank you, timing and manners.

“I promise I’m doing better. No dodge and weave on the highway,” he told her as she climbed up into the cab’s passenger seat. He’d offer a hand, but she’d likely bite it.

“I don’t have any concerns about your driving,” she said, words short and clipped. Before he could tell her that was good, she yanked the door closed on her own.

The moment he started up the engine, she turned the Dixie Chicks CD full blast and stared out her window. Not-so-subtle message received. There was no way she wanted to speak with him. He smiled at the little attitude she was putting out. With him, she didn’t play the quiet mouse. Oh, her tactics might involve the silent treatment. But she wasn’t afraid to let her displeasure be known. And he liked it.

After a few minutes of driving, he took the risk of turning the music down. She glared at him, then whipped her head back to stare once more into the night.

“I have to apologize. Again.”

She said nothing.

“For what I said before, about our kiss. That was wrong of me.”

“Yes, it was.” The dressing down was short and sweet, but potent.

“Agreed. So I’m hoping you’ll forgive me. Because the truth is, I’d like to do it again.”

“What, apologize?”

Damn, she was cute when she got feisty. “No. Kiss you. I liked it.”

Nothing.

“A lot,” he prodded.

Nope. Still nothing.

He sighed. “You can’t be upset at me forever. I’m just a simple country boy who doesn’t quite well understand matters of the heart.”

She snorted in laughter, then clamped a hand over her mouth.

Bingo.

“Fact is,” he continued, his Deputy Dawg accent in full force, “I just don’t right know what to do with womenfolk that I happen to take a shine to.”