Chapter Five
Church was used to waking before the sun cleared the ridge.
He was fine with answering to his internal alarm, but this morning he didn’t need it because he’d never really fallen asleep.
The blanket was twisted around his legs, and he kicked it aside to sit on the edge of the couch. Ten feet away, Zee was asleep. In his bed.
He dropped to the floor, his palms hitting the wood. He lowered himself down, breathing steady as his muscles remembered the drill. They should, since this wasn’t his first set of pushups this morning.
Actually, he’d woken more than once and every time, he ended up on the floor working through another set just to burn off some of the tension in his body that had been there since the middle of the night.
And he knew exactly when it started.
Zee had come out of the bedroom sometime after midnight, probably thinking he was asleep on the couch. She’d padded into the kitchenette for a drink of water, wearing a thin tank top and loose sleep shorts.
The strap of the tank top had started it all. It slipped down her shoulder when she reached into the mini fridge for a bottle of water.
He’d lain there frozen, every cell in his body focused on that delicate strap.
He’d seen a lot of things in life. Combat zones. Violence. The worst humanity could do to itself.
But he’d never seen anything quite as distracting as the soft curve of Zee’s bare shoulder with that thin strap drooping against her skin.
In a moment of blind insanity, he’d almost crossed the room to her.
He dipped into another pushup, muscles locked.
Hell. He could still feel the phantom urge in his hand to hook a finger under that strap and draw it back up where it belonged.
Or maybe down.
She was half his age. Or almost.
She was the widow of a man who never should have lost his life. Not in that fight.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
He pushed himself off the floor and rolled into sit-ups instead, his core tightening as he drove through each motion. The exercise should have helped burn off the restless energy surging through him.
It didn’t.
To make things worse, his body had already decided exactly where the tension wanted to go.
His cock was hard, and nothing could save him from thinking about the tormenting little tank top strap again. Just then, he heard the creak of bedsprings, signaling Zee was officially up.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the bedroom door opened. He refused to look up at Zee as she crossed the small hall to the bathroom. The door clicked shut.
He braced himself for what would come next. He still wasn’t prepared.
A second later the pipes rattled softly and the sound of water filled the small suite.
“Jesus,” he pushed out on a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he moved through the sit-ups.
It didn’t help a thing, because it wasn’t fucking easy to do sit-ups with a raging erection.
To make things worse, his very helpful brain supplied new images.
Zee standing naked under the spray.
Water sliding down her shoulders.
What the hell was wrong with him? Shoulders weren’t even considered sexy body parts. The men he knew were tit guys or ass guys. Nobody was a shoulders guy.
Except him, apparently.
“Christ,” he bit off.
He dropped back onto the floor and stared up at the ceiling for several excruciating throbs of his cock before shoving to his feet.
He grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the cap, taking a long slug before he moved to the window.
The suite was built over the barn, but it wasn’t hay and rafters—it was airy and light, and when the Malones offered it to him, he accepted with gratitude.
The view from the window included fences along the pasture and the mountains slicing the sky behind them.
He didn’t quite know what it was about the mountains that provided so much peace to so many—the Malone family who owned the property, the veterans and all the workers in the therapy lodge. Now Zee.
The suite was only made up of a small bedroom, bathroom, a short counter with a mini fridge underneath it and a microwave for heating up late-night snacks, and enough room for a couch and a coffee table.
The space didn’t feel small, though, because the view made the person looking at it feel like they were part of the scenery.
The bathroom door opened behind him, and he felt his muscles slowly harden—and one muscle in particular was already rock-hard.
He took another swig from the bottle and turned slightly.
Silhouetted by a puff of shower steam, Zee stepped out, running a towel through her hair.
His fingers tightened on the bottle, making a crinkling noise.
Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders, the chestnut strands darker with the wetness. And her lips…
Hell, they were pinker from the heat of the shower.
Church immediately looked away.
If he stared at those lips any longer he was going to lose what little control he had left.
“Sleep okay?” His voice sounded like he’d just drank a bottle of ground glass.
“Yeah. You?” She smiled faintly as she crossed the room to where he stood at the window. His body clutched at the scent of her shampoo.
He paused with the bottle halfway to his mouth. “Yeah.”
The lie slid out easily.
“That view…just wow.” She pressed her fingertips into the windowsill, making him think of how those little half-moons would feel on his skin.
“What the place lacks in space, the view makes up for.”
She pivoted, leaning against the sill now, and looked over the suite. “I think it’s great up here. You’d never know that horses sleep below us.”
He studied her for a beat, taking in the way the sunlight streaming through the window caught the colors in her eyes and brought each to stark clarity. Several shades of green circled the pupil, flaring out to amber specked with dark brown.
Hell. He shouldn’t be noticing Zee’s eyes.
“Breakfast?”
“Please.”
“Give me a minute.” He finished the water and dropped it in the trash. He’d showered the night before, so it didn’t take him long to get ready.
When he walked out, he grabbed his boots and jacket, aware of Zee watching him. But if he met her stare, he didn’t trust himself to leave the suite.
All day.
And night.
They walked out to the lodge together and were greeted by the smell of coffee and bacon. A few of the vets sat gathered around one of the tables, talking.
In the corner by a window, he saw one of the men who’d just arrived on the Black Heart. Thin. Withdrawn. A loner, from what Church could see. Rumors were he’d spent time as a hostage. Tortured.
He wasn’t eating but as Church looked on, he lifted his coffee to his lips without shifting his gaze from the window.
The air stirred around Church’s arm as Zee stepped up beside him. “Who is that?” she murmured low enough to not be overheard.
“Name’s Archer Carmichael. He joined the program a few weeks ago.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
He looked down at her, seeing the pain in the depths of her eyes. She too had suffered. Not in the same way, but it was still pain.
He considered her question, thinking over what he knew about Carmichael, which wasn’t much. But he’d spoken to him more than once, held a decent conversation too. The man might be trying to find his place in the world now, but his mind wasn’t broken.
“I think he will be,” he said at last.
Zee nodded and drifted to the buffet. He watched her pick up a plate and begin to fill it with food, but her movements were automatic, like she only went through the motions that had anything to do with eating.
She was too thin. Too pale. Too drawn inside herself. And that worried him.
They ate—she only picked at her plate while stealing glances at Carmichael.
Crew approached their table. He greeted Zee with a nod and smile, then looked to Church. “Hey, Church. Quick meeting with you in the security office.”
He nodded. As Crew walked away, Church turned his attention to Zee.
“I’ll be back in time to go to the movie set. You going to be okay?”
A quizzical expression creased her brow. “I always survive.”
His heart squeezed. Survival wasn’t living. And he didn’t like her answer either.
“Zee—”
She waved a hand, slapping a smile on her face. “I’m fine. I’ll wait for you here.”
The urge to lean over and brush his lips over the crinkle in her brow blazed through him, and it took all of his willpower to remain upright.
He brushed his hand over the back of hers. He heard her suck in a breath but he forced himself to walk away before he could see her face.
When he reached the security office, Gabe, Crew and Theo were waiting.
As soon as he entered, they got straight to it.
“How’s it going with Zee?” Theo asked.
Church dropped into a seat and rested his forearms on the table. “Fine.”
“She hasn’t been in the office much yet, but we already see she’s going to make everything run smoothly.” Gabe took a sip of coffee from a huge coffee mug that looked like it had been made by a preschooler.
“I agree,” he responded. “Nice mug.”
A sheepish look stole over his face. “Felicity made it in one of Honor’s art classes with the veterans.”
He lifted a brow at the lumpy pottery and gave the only compliment he could. “Looks nice and big. Holds a lot of coffee.”
“Yeah.” Gabe grinned at his significant other’s creation.
Theo relaxed in his seat. “We like Zee. She fits here.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Theo watched him closely. “You know a lot about her.”
“Not a lot.”
Not enough.
“We saw she hasn’t stayed any one place for any length of time since her husband’s death,” Theo fished for more.
“And she was planning to sleep in her car overnight,” Gabe added.
Crew’s mouth tightened in a way that Church knew. Every one of the men here were protectors. Seeing a woman in trouble didn’t sit well with them.
Seeing they were concerned for her too gave Church the freedom to voice his own worry. “She’s been moving around. Job to job. Town to town.”
Crew looked up. “What do you know about her?”