Double Threat, page 6
The paintball opponents exploded out of nowhere and tried to flank him. Smooth move but no deal. This paintball range outside town wasn’t such a big deal according to Patrick, who knew more about paintball than Rick did—hell more than any of his brothers did. They’d offered to take Patrick to a strip club for the bachelor party but decided the day would take enough out of them. Rick couldn’t say he was disappointed. He hadn’t been to a strip club in what seemed a million years and couldn’t think of the last time he’d wanted to see a bunch of women gyrating half-naked around a pole.
Lena naked and undulating around a pole. Hell yeah. He lost complete track of what he was doing and barely dodged another paintball as it sailed by. Seconds later Rick and his brothers nailed the remaining opponents. Game over. They made nice with the other men, shook hands and that was that.
After stripping out of their paint-splattered gear and clothes they returned their equipment to Patrick and decided they’d head their separate ways. As they stood outside the range by their cars, Rick’s brothers looked at him as if he’d grown a second head when he suggested dinner out that night.
“You aren’t going to see Lena tonight?” Matt asked.
“Nah.” Rick shrugged and opened his truck door. “You going to see Melanie?”
Matt shrugged. “She’s working late at the library. I want to make sure she gets home all right.”
“Seriously, dude?” Rick threw a disbelieving look at Matt. “She’s a grown woman. I’m sure she’s worked late before without having you as an escort.”
Matt threw him a slightly pissed look. “Fuck you, little brother.”
Rick shook his head. His brothers were in sheep dip when it came to Melanie and Kathleen and they had been from the moment they returned to Constitution. But then so was he, damn it, when it came to Lena.
Jake grunted. “Well, you jokers can do what you want. I’m going to see Kathleen if I get the chance. As soon as we get done with this.”
Patrick smiled, his grin wide and conspiratorial. “You guys are in a world of hurt.”
“That’s what I was just thinking,” Rick said.
“And you’re not?” Patrick asked Rick.
Rick swallowed hard. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t get involved with Lena on a long-term basis.”
He didn’t let them razz him any longer—he left the area and headed straight for the hotel. His brothers would do the same and they all had their own hotel rooms so they wouldn’t disturb one another.
Rick crashed in the hotel suite and woke up three hours later feeling achy and empty and craving Lena’s companionship. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Screw this, he wanted to see her and understand why she’d had sex with him and then pushed him away. It couldn’t only be the reasons she’d mentioned. Yeah, they had an age difference. Yeah, they lived in two different states. Living so far apart was the bigger deal in his mind. Despite this, he’d never been a man to back down.
“Yeah, right, sport.” He’d backed down once before when he shouldn’t have. “Screw this.”
He reached for his cell phone and recalled he didn’t have her number. He dialed her office after remembering she’d mentioned where her therapy practice was located. The office told her they couldn’t give him information or her phone number.
“I understand,” he said to the receptionist. “Could you tell her Rick Frasier called and give her this number?” He provided the phone number and signed off.
He glanced at the clock and wondered what to do with the rest of his day. Too late for lunch and he wasn’t hungry now. His brothers obviously had better things to do—like hook up with Melanie and Kathleen. Maybe they were all idiots for going this far.
He showered and when he glanced at his cell phone he’d missed Lena’s call. Eagerness made his heart pick up speed and he returned her call. She picked up.
“Hey, Rick. How are you?”
“Hey. I…uh…” Shit. He was fumbling like a teenager. “Yeah, I’m great.”
“The receptionist called me at home and said you’d called?”
“You’re not working today?”
“The psychiatrist who runs the practice told me to take the week off to recover from what happened at the mall. I wanted to work but she insisted. I called Kathleen and had lunch with her.”
“How is she?”
“Like the rest of us, I think. A little shell-shocked.”
“We all need the break. I’m glad you stayed home. I was worried,” he said.
She cleared her throat, as if she might feel uncomfortable with what he’d said. “I’m good. You don’t need to worry.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“How was the paintball?” Her voice turned cheerful. “Did you kick ass?”
“It was okay. I’d never played so it was a learning experience. My brothers and I kicked the other team’s after they almost beat us.”
Her laugh sounded so damn soft, sweet and genuine. She was fresh air he needed to breathe. His heart did a thump and stumble.
“You didn’t like paintball, I take it?” she asked.
He sat on the bed. “It was different. I think Matt and Jake liked it more than I did.” He jumped into the deep end of the pool. “I was distracted.”
“By?”
Jump right in there, sport. “Thoughts of you.”
Silence.
He swallowed hard. He more than half expected another total rejection.
“That’s so… I’m flattered.”
Damn the torpedoes. “I know I said I’d see you on Thanksgiving Day but I can’t wait that long. Have dinner with me.”
“Okay.”
Her quick response took him off guard but he recovered quickly. Relief filled him at the same time as nerves. “Pick you up at six?”
“Sure. I’ll be ready.”
“Thank about where you’d like to eat.”
“You got a deal,” she said softly.
After they hung up, Rick couldn’t believe his good fortune when he’d more than half expected her to tell him to take a hike.
* * * * *
Lena opened the door to Rick and her heart pounded a little as she thought of what could happen, of what might happen. When he’d called—and that had surprised her a little—she’d given thought to not returning his call. Then she’d chastised herself for even thinking like that. They’d part ways soon and she’d have a romantic memory of making love with him. It didn’t mean she would diss him.
As Rick smiled and entered her house, his gaze held wariness. She wondered if he did have anything up his sleeve. He wore his coat, a black sock hat, jeans and his black boots. His jawline held a days worth of stubble and it gave him an edgy look she appreciated. No denying it. She wanted to muss him up and the urge to forget food and have her way with him grabbed Lena by the throat.
He shut the door and she reached for her coat hanging on the rack.
“Let me help.” He went behind her and helped her shrug into the winter coat.
Even his big hands on her shoulders gave her tingles in places she didn’t want to tingle. It meant he could influence how she felt, damn it.
They left the house, got into his truck and started discussing where to eat. They decided on an Italian restaurant on the south side of town in a quiet area. Once inside, they settled into a large booth with no one else nearby. Lena didn’t expect Rick to sit close but he did—leaving little space between them. He smiled delicious, a combination of man, soap and musk. A spruce-green sweater molded over his well-developed chest and arms. He pushed up the sleeves and revealed dark hair sprinkled on strong forearms. She almost reached out and touched all that muscle just to remember what it felt like. Soon he’d leave and she wouldn’t have the chance to feel it again. Ever. A pang of hurt, akin to anger and disappointment, touched her. Damn it. If she hadn’t made love with him in the first place—
Right. No, she would be sitting here with a man she called friend but she’d be wondering if his mouth would be warm and soft or hard and ravenous.
Of course she’d seen every inch of him naked but Rick made her crazy. Her mind and body wouldn’t cooperate, giving her signals that screamed desire and need. She drew in a deep breath and savored the erotic moment, certain it would never come again. The dimly-lit room and the wraparound high-back booth gave the illusion of intimacy. On the other hand, the quiet classical music in the background promised gentle conversation.
Before she could say a word a waiter stopped by and took their drink orders—merlot for her, a diet cola for him.
Lena took a deep breath and decided she didn’t want to wait for answers. “Why did you call me, Rick?”
His gaze sank to the white tablecloth. But a moment later he trapped her with his glorious eyes. “I couldn’t leave it like it was.”
What could she say to that? “We parted on good terms.”
“Good terms. Yeah, that’s right. But we didn’t say everything we needed to say.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Such as?”
“I’d like to hear more of what you’re learning about the vets you work with. I want to understand what you see inside them.”
“You’re not going into a war situation like your brothers.” The words came out because she didn’t want to talk about what she saw in the men and women who came into her office. “And I don’t see any sign of problems in you.”
He shoved aside his soft drink and laid his arms on the table. “Doesn’t matter. There are men and some women who’ve had situations in the Coast Guard that are traumatic. And we deal with civilians with PTSD on occasion. I want to understand more.”
Admiration filled her but she said, “You’ve probably read some about it. I think everyone has by this point.”
He leaned closer to her and his warm scent almost undid her inch by inch. “I haven’t heard it from you. I admire your opinion.”
She leaned back against the booth back, half to gain some distance and half to relax.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “Not everyone reacts the same. Some people recover from PTSD faster than others. Some research suggests if an individual has experienced PTSD earlier in life it’s possible for a new trauma to create a bigger problem.”
“One bout of PTSD piggybacks on another,” he said.
“Unfortunately, yes. A lot of people think either that everyone comes back from war with PTSD or that not many do. Not everyone gets it but about one in eight do. Many of the untreated…well, they come back home and often don’t do anything about it. Sometimes they don’t even understand that what they’re experiencing is PTSD-related. Even if they guess that’s the problem it doesn’t mean they’ll seek help for it. A lot of suicides happen that way.”
Rick kept his attention trained on her. “I’ve heard a lot of this but I’m interested in an example. Tell me about a client you’ve treated.”
A little puzzled by the request, she frowned. “There’re quite a few. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Pick a case where you treated someone and the treatment failed.”
Lena thought she hadn’t heard him right. Seriously? She reached deep for the bravery, her ego taking a tiny beating. Here she’d thought, perhaps, that Rick was still interested in her romantically. That maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to continue their physical relationship through the weekend. Disappointment wended upward inside her. First, because she gave a damn and had hoped for it and second because she cared.
Defensive, she crumpled her linen napkin in her lap. “Why would you want to hear about that?”
“Humor me. Like I said, it makes sense for me to understand everything I can about it.”
Okay, she could do this. She was the damn therapist, not him. She thumbed through the filing cabinet in her mind. As she thought about one particular client that fit the bill of “failure” in life and in Lena’s ability to assist, she came up with one person.
The waiter interrupted and took their meal orders. Not that Lena minded. Part of her really, really didn’t want to rehash the case that festered inside her to this day.
Damn. No way to avoid this discussion short of telling Rick to buzz off, and she wouldn’t do that. She had no good reason to be rude about it. “There was a young female soldier. Not your typical grunt. She was a trauma nurse. She wasn’t getting shot at much but she was still in Iraq. Still…in the thick of it. She’d been a nurse fresh out of college when the 9-11 attacks happened. She’d considered herself a pacifist up to that point.”
He snorted softly. “Yeah, a lot of people did. Changed their minds real quick.”
She nodded. “This person was always tenderhearted, according to her parents. That made it harder for her to do her work. Yes she loved to help people and yes she could stomach blood. But she couldn’t stand seeing men and women coming back in pieces and parts mentally and physically because of war. She became an atypical example of PTSD.”
“Atypical?”
“Not the average bear everyone thinks of when they say PTSD. Mostly because of what she saw. What other soldiers told her. Double that with her fiancé getting blow up in Afghanistan… She was expected to go back to work. She made a mistake on a patient, got called on it and started throwing things at the doctor.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” Lena’s neck started to ache and she realized her entire body had gone tense. She rubbed the back of her neck and relaxed. “She was evaluated and sent back to the US. She was put on drugs for anxiety.”
“That didn’t solve her problem?”
She stared into the distance and recalled the situation with Tina. “No. She came to see me even when she had access to her psychiatrist. She wanted to try the mindfulness techniques and meditation I offered. I thought I could help her. Maybe she could get off the drugs. Some people have gotten off anti-depressants after careful training in the meditation techniques. Her psychiatrist approved her trying…but not getting off the drugs right away.” Lena was on a roll and when she glanced Rick’s way she saw understanding in his eyes. “After a month she was improving. I didn’t know one thing, however. Something she didn’t tell me.” Lena’s stomach pitched and she drew in a deep breath to halt the sudden nausea. She shivered at the memory of what had happened to Tina and she leaned on the table as if it would brace her, sustain her despite the awful memory. “She was…”
“She what?”
Lena sat back, almost feeling fidgety as she explained. She dared meet his gaze. “The female soldier found out from a friend that her fiancé was having an affair with another woman before he was blown up. When the woman I was treating found out about the affair…she slit her wrists.”
Rick eased forward, his face marked with sympathy so warm and unexpected that her throat tightened and her eyes moistened. “Oh God.”
He ran a hand over his face, the news clearly affecting him, as if it was someone he personally knew who’d just committed suicide.
What else could she say? She rode a wave of remembrance. “She tried so hard, Rick. We all did but it wasn’t enough. Active duty and vets…there are just a lot of messed-up people right now.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that why you have an aversion to a relationship with a military man?”
Maybe if she admitted it up front he wouldn’t get the idea they could have more than this short, interesting fling while he was in town. “Yes.”
“Not all of us are damaged.”
She eyeballed him. “True. But don’t try to talk me out of my reluctance.”
“Because it’s easier to deal with a patient’s messy stuff and not your own life?”
“Yes.”
Their dinner came before they could discuss more. As they dug into delicious pasta, they went silent. They turned to mundane topics like the nightly news and the weather.
Feeling more vulnerable than she had in a long time, she said, “I’ve been very open with you.”
He tilted his head slightly to the side and gave her an assessing look before grabbing a dinner roll. “Physically, yeah. Mentally, not that much.”
Disagreement rose high inside her. “What am I doing right now?”
“Opening up a little more.”
“I rest my case.”
He laughed and wiped his hands on his linen napkin. “Do you think many counselors help people but don’t know how to fix themselves?”
Rather than taking his question in offense she answered honestly. “I totally believe that.” When he did nothing more than nod she continued, “You never told me how a counselor almost ruined your career two years ago.”
He glanced up as he twirled a length of angel hair in his fork. His mouth went grim and tight. “I thought you’d forget I said that.”
“You want me to forget it?”
He heaved a breath. “Yeah.” He chewed the pasta and swallowed before answering. “But I know you won’t.”
She smiled and sipped the last of her wine. “Get on with it then. You can’t hide from me.”
He returned her amusement with a grin. “Apparently not.”
“I spilled my guts. Your turn.”
“Okay. Two years ago I dated a therapist in Kodiak.”
Surprised, it took her a moment to absorb what he said. “That’s ironic. I mean, we haven’t dated really but we have been…”
A wicked smile brightened his face. “Intimate.”
