Chapter 3 #3
Chris may have been a former Navy SEAL, and still gallivanting around the world for his security company, but she didn’t want to endanger him because of the risks she’d taken. It wouldn’t be fair.
“You okay?” he asked as he removed his Red Sox hat and clutched it to his outer leg.
Her back pressed to the hall wall alongside the sideboard, and she did her best not to focus on his eyes. Eyes she was fairly confident could reach inside of her and touch her soul. Light her on fire.
She’d been with passionate lovers in her life, mostly foreign men, but there was something different about this man. Something she couldn’t quite understand or place her finger on.
Meaningless, no-strings-attached sex was all she’d be able to offer and—what am I thinking?
A smirk cut across his full lips like he’d heard her thoughts. His beard was trimmed close to his face but still thick. His hair a light brown, borderline dirty blond, and shorter on the sides. Not quite spiky but like he’d pulled at the strands to make some stand up on the top.
His nose was straight. Distinguished. Those blue, with a touch of green, eyes were set perfectly apart on an angular face. Strong jaw with a mouth that would look brilliant placed on the arch of her throat. Kissing her.
Okay, it’s been waaaayyyy too long since I’ve had sex. That is what is wrong with me.
And yet, the strange mix of nerves and a euphoric state had her imagination continuing to run wild as he stood a few inches before her, observing her with an amused smile and those gorgeous, confident eyes.
The immediate attraction she’d felt the first time they met was present. Sharp. Fierce. And it felt far too good.
“I need your help.” His eyes lowered to her mouth as if he were cataloging her looks the same as she had his, but then he turned away.
It was the reprieve she needed to find her breath. To pull herself together.
The fabric of his tee cinched in the middle as he drew a hand to the top of his head for a brief moment.
“You need my help?”
He lowered his hand, but she’d stepped too close so that when he turned back around, their bodies collided.
He quickly snatched her arm as if worried she might lose her balance.
But no.
Feet planted to the ground.
That was the plan, right?
No going anywhere.
No temptation. No thrill-chasing.
But wouldn’t this man be a thrill? An adventure? She felt that deep in her bones, among other places.
“I want you to take me on as a client. A.J. said you’re going to start a business training animals, and well, we got a Belgian Malinois for the company, and we could use your help.
” His eyes journeyed to his hand secured around her bicep, then suddenly widened with the realization he’d been holding on to her and let go.
He set his ball cap back on, this time the bill facing her way.
“A rescue?”
“Yeah, sort of.” He scratched his jaw, unease in his expressive blue eyes.
“What do you mean?” What was he hiding from her?
He slapped his palms together in prayer position between them as if prepared to plead his case. One eye closed, head slightly tilted. She’d seen that look on her brother. “What?” she asked, dragging the word out.
“He was going to be a Team dog, but well, he wasn’t exactly motivated to train, so he got the boot. Dubbed untrainable, but I just love a challenge, don’t you?” His innocent smile stretched, and it had an immediate effect on her.
“I do love a challenge.” She hadn’t even been able to hide that bit of truth, even though she knew working with this man after only just returning Stateside was a bad idea.
“So, you’ll do it?” His brows lifted with excitement.
“No,” she quickly responded and started for the kitchen.
She was still hungry for some crazy reason, but there was a sink that needed fixing, and maybe she ought to tap into her brother’s avoidance tactics by tinkering with the thing herself.
Maybe the gorgeous former Teamguy would disappear if she did.
His blue eyes wouldn’t be there when she looked back.
The spine-tingling sensation would be a distant memory, too.
“Why not?” he asked.
Rory crouched in front of the sink and stared into the open cabinet, then snatched the wrench, one of the only tools she recognized, and dipped under to do . . . something with the pipes.
She twisted the wrench, but with every twist, her stomach turned, too.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked, a husky tone in his voice as if he were hiding a laugh.
“Fixing the sink. What does it look like?” she asked, leaning back just as the connection loosened and water sprayed her in the face. Of course.
She smacked her head on the cupboard ceiling as she quickly sat up, then shifted around to her knees and backed up. Water shot every which way.
Chris was at her side in a second, and his hand brushed over her forearm as he took control and twisted the pipe with his bare hand and effectively stopped what was looking like a wet T-shirt contest.
“Shit. Sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She went to stand, but they bumped heads when they both attempted to rise at the same time.
He clutched her elbows, helping her upright. “Sorry,” he said, his Adam’s apple noticeably moving as he swallowed. “You okay?”
“Oh, I’m used to getting wet.” Her cheeks heated, stained with embarrassment.
“Not like wet-wet. I mean, like ocean-wet. I dive.” She stumbled through her words.
Never a problem in the past for her. What is wrong with me today?
“Haven’t been wet in a while, though. Not wet from sex, I mean.
Well, actually, that’s been a long time, too. ”
Chris’s mouth pinched tight. An infectious smile crossed his lips.
“Wait, I didn’t . . .” She closed her eyes for a second. “This does not happen to me. I don’t yammer and flounder around when I talk.”
“Normally, it’s me doing that, so I don’t mind being the calm and collected one at the moment.” He angled his head and brushed a wet strand of her hair away from where it clung to her cheek.
“You were a treasure hunter, right? So, you used to dive a lot, I imagine.”
Their shirts were drenched, clinging to their bodies and leaving little to the imagination.
The front of his tee showed strong chest muscles and very defined abs.
His nipples poked through the fabric. God did not take any shortcuts with you, did He?
“I haven’t done the whole searching for sunken pirate ships or lost galleons thing—whatever you want to call it—in years.
” Okay, at least that part was true. But please don’t ask me what I have been doing for the last few years. I might tell you.
He reached for a dish towel and handed it to her. She patted her damp face and offered it to him, but he just shook his head and leaned his back against the counter.
The window looking out onto the backyard where Jesse had chopped wood earlier like a lumberjack caught her eye.
For a brief second, the image of Chris out there wielding the ax, his shirtless torso golden and glistening with sweat, flitted to mind.
“What is wrong with you?” she muttered, then turned while sucking in a deep breath. “That was supposed to be an internal question directed at myself, by the way.”
“Well, since you did ask it out loud, I’d love to answer.” His hand went over her shoulder, but she couldn’t turn around, afraid she’d spew more insanity.
She’d climbed Mount Washington.
Swam in the Temple of Doom in Mexico.
Crossed the Sahara.
Faced modern-day pirates and other criminals.
Survived a one-on-one with Carter Dominick.
And now she was acting like a nervous fool. What had coming back home to “settle down and start a new life” done to her?
Who was this person? She’d been just fine five minutes ago. Five minutes before Captain America came into her house looking all swoony and now dripping wet.
Seriously, though, even when he’d been in only his swim trunks the first time she met Chris, she’d managed to keep her cool.
“You’re always wet when I see you,” she mumbled.
In a gentle but quick movement, Chris reached for her wrist and pulled her closer. “Why ‘no’?”
Oh. That. “I just moved here, and I’m assuming you want me to go to—wait, where do you live?”
“Renting a house in Virginia. Not far from D.C., though. Most of the guys live in the area. And hey, Ana and A.J. have a place nearby since Ana’s teaching a course at Quantico in January. So, you won’t be alone with me.”
Now she was the one smiling. “Alone with you? Did you expect me to move in with you? Like a ‘full-on live with you while I help train your dog’ kind of thing?”
A touch of red colored his cheeks just above his beard. So, he got embarrassed, too. They were in the same boat. She just didn’t want to sink. Been there and done that in both the literal and metaphorical sense.
“I can’t move in with you.” She scanned the kitchen, searching for a reason for the strange state she was in. Her stomach churned as if she hadn’t eaten in years. Something wasn’t right. Am I going to be sick? That would be just great.
“You don’t need to move in with me, but it’d be better if you did, so you could keep me in line with the, uh, training.”
They were both still in wet shirts, and when his gaze dipped lower, she tried to recall what kind of bra she had on. Sheer? Thick? Any padding?
Yeah, this was not going to work. She’d fall for both dog and owner before she was through. Surely.
No, she and relationships were a bad mix under normal circumstances, but it could prove deadly in this case. And based on the way he was eying her, he wanted her. It’d been obvious in Alabama that night, and it was clear as day now.
“His name is Bear. He’s a little over a year old.” He let go of her, reached for his phone, and pulled up a photo of the dog. One look and Rory knew she’d never be able to refuse.