From the Start Page 4

  “Oh, my God.” She closed her eyes and cradled her head in her hands. “It’s still too early for this.”

  By the third cup of coffee, the fog in her brain had lifted a little more. And yet, she still couldn’t put all the pieces of the previous night together.

  With her stomach having reached maximum capacity, Kacie pushed the remaining pancake to the edge of her plate with a fork, trying to find the right words. She glanced around the diner to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to ask the question before she lost her nerve.

  “I realize it’s a little late to ask but . . . did you use something last night?”

  She wasn’t looking at him when she spoke. As a matter of fact, she only glanced up when he began to cough and sputter, having choked on his last bite of pancake.

  He took a long sip of water before replying. “You don’t remember?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  His eyebrows lifted and he shook his head in disbelief. “If that isn’t a shot to my ego, I don’t know what is.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  Yes, I used something,” he said, keeping his words low so no one would hear. “All three times, as a matter of fact.”

  Now it was her turn to choke, only she didn’t have the luxury of something to eat or drink as an excuse.

  “Three times?”

  “Yes, dammit.” His words were stern and the muscles and tendons in his neck and forearms tensed and flexed. “And to be quite honest, I’m offended. Last night was probably the best single night performance of my entire life.” He leaned on his forearms, bringing himself closer. “You really don’t remember any of it?”

  Well, this was certainly awkward. She couldn’t do much more than stare at the inside of her coffee cup now.

  Three times.

  She’d had sex with the man across the table from her three times yet couldn’t recall more than a few flashes of laughter and nudity.

  Damn tequila.

  She spun her coffee cup between her hands. “I remember coming back to my place. I remember standing naked in the middle of my living room. I remember you watching me. And then . . .” She stilled her motions, and finally met his gaze. “I’m sorry, but that’s it. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  His expression softened and one corner of his mouth twitched. “You don’t remember because nothing happened. You passed out.”

  She felt her jaw drop as she tried to reconcile his words in her head. “Nothing happened?”

  “I promise you,” he said, raising his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  Kacie narrowed her eyes at him. “Something tells me you weren’t a Boy Scout.”

  He laughed then and she was struck by his fantastic smile, one of the few things she recalled from the night before. “Okay. You’ve got me there. But really, I swear, we didn’t have sex.”

  “But my clothes—”

  “For the record,” he said, pointing directly at her, “you did that yourself. I just carried you to bed. That’s it.”

  She studied those deep blue eyes as she tried to decide if he was telling the truth.

  He took a deep breath, then let it go as he shook his head, as if even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “Sunshine, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not twenty anymore. I promise you nothing happened. Even if you hadn’t passed out, I had even more to drink than you did. So while my mind was oh-so-very-willing, well, let’s just say the flesh couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain anyway.”

  Small lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he held her gaze and took another drink from his coffee cup. He was obviously hiding a smile behind that cup. And for some reason unbeknownst to her, she couldn’t help but smile back.

  He cocked his head to one side, his smile no longer hidden. “There’s the woman I remember from last night.”

  Damn, this guy was charming.

  The waitress returned with their check and he paid the bill and generous tip before they walked the two blocks back to her place.

  “I should probably let you get some rest,” he said, stopping at the end of the driveway.

  “Do you want a ride home?” she offered.

  He shook his head. “Nah. My brother lives not far from here, but thank you. I would, however—”

  Her phone chimed in her hand, and then two more times.

  He gestured to her phone. “Do you need to get that?”

  Kacie looked at the screen to see a message from her sister. She quickly typed her reply before shoving it into the back pocket of her shorts.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, a little crease appearing between his brows.

  “Everything’s fine. Just my sister checking up on me. Wondering if I’m going to meet them at the day spa.”

  “Day spa, huh?” His face relaxed into a smile. “Like manicures and massages and stuff?”

  “Yeah. But I told her I was too tired.”

  “You said no?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Seems to me that wouldn’t be a bad way to suffer through a hangover.”

  For a moment she was entranced by his forearms and the strong, sculpted muscles and tendons. Nothing overworked like a bodybuilder, just . . . nice. Finally, she looked back into his eyes if only to stop ogling him. “I’m not really a fan of strangers touching me.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement and she struggled to not fidget beneath his gaze. Then, taking her by surprise, he closed the space between them, reaching out for her hand. His fingers loosely held her wrist, his thumb stroking the soft skin on the underside.

  “You didn’t seem to mind me touching you last night. The little bit I did get to touch you, that is.”

  With each brush of his skin across hers, everything inside her awakened. If she were smart, she’d pull her hand away before he realized how much he affected her. Or worse, before she did something stupid.

  “Not the same thing,” she said, pulling free and putting a little distance between them.

  “It’s not? Well, that’s lucky for me, then, because I’d love nothing more than a second opportunity to have my hands all over you.”

  Kacie may have gasped in shock. One of them made a sound and she wasn’t all that certain it was her.

  Immediately realizing what he said, he scrubbed both hands over his face. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to. What I meant to say was that I’d really like to see you again.”

  Her first instinct was to say yes. To throw caution to the wind and just have some fun for once. But then her brain took over, listing all the reasons she should say no. Like the fact she wasn’t the kind of woman to have casual flings, last night being the exception, of course. Or the fact she was moving in a matter of weeks and had a ton of stuff to do in the meantime.

  “That’s probably not a good idea.”

  He stepped closer but kept his hands to himself. “Is it because of the whiskey dick?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “Because I assure you it can happen to any guy no matter the age.”

  She chuckled at his honesty. “No. It’s because I’m moving at the end of July and I don’t really want to jump into a relationship knowing it has an expiration date.”

  His face brightened. “Okay, then. No relationship. Doesn’t mean we can’t still go out.”

  She shook her head.

  “Friends with benefits?” he suggested.

  “I don’t even know your last name so we can’t possibly be friends with benefits.”

  He held out his hand. “It’s MacGregor.”

  She laughed and shook her head a second time. “Nice try, but no.”

  He took his hand back and shoved it into his pocket. “I have to say I’m greatly disappointed. Can I give you my number in the event you change your mind?”

  She hesitated—only for a moment, but long enough that he noticed and raised one eyebrow in anticipation.

  “I
won’t change my mind.”

  “Okay, then, sunshine. Best of luck wherever it is you’re headed.”

  He gave a little half wave before he headed down the sidewalk, then crossed the street, finally disappearing as he reached the end of the block and rounded the corner.

  And Kacie couldn’t help but wonder if she just let a good thing walk away.

  Chapter Five

  Come Monday, Michael found himself back in his normal stateside routine as battalion surgeon for the 1st/75th. After morning PT was sick call, where he spent several hours treating everything from upper respiratory infections to ankle sprains.

  There was a lot to like about the job, but despite what many people thought, it wasn’t always as exciting as it sounded. He enjoyed taking care of the men of the 75th. He liked working alongside the physician assistants and special ops medics and making sure they were well trained in battlefield medicine. He especially loved the unique challenges that overseas deployments presented.

  Since many of their missions took place in remote areas far from the military hospitals or even forward operating bases, it was his responsibility to assign casualty collection points and establish temporary battalion aid stations for each operation. As battalion surgeon, he alone oversaw the medical treatment for the Rangers, a situation that forced him to react quickly and often fly by the seat of his pants.

  But when 1st Batt wasn’t deployed or training overseas, the majority of his time was spent completing administrative paperwork. Accounting for all the personnel currently receiving medical care. Noting any change in duty restrictions. Projecting estimated return dates for those on extended medical leave. And he was getting tired of it. Spending his day shuffling bureaucratic forms wasn’t the reason he attended medical school or specialized in emergency medicine.

  Later that day, Michael made his way to the office of Lieutenant Colonel Raymond Griffin, battalion commander of the 1st/75th. They’d served together at Hunter Army Airfield since Griffin took command nearly two years earlier. But come July, he’d be moving on to the next step of his military career and a new battalion commander would take his place.

  With a shared weakness for Griffin’s secretary’s homemade snickerdoodles—and her willingness to indulge them—their meetings were fairly casual, at least when other administrative staff weren’t involved.

  Griffin kicked back in his desk chair, his booted feet propped up on the corner of his massive oak desk.

  “Clayton has compound fractures of both the tibia and fibula,” Michael said while retrieving a cookie from the small tin situated on the desk. “He’ll make a full recovery, but it’ll take six to ten months. He’s got four left and doesn’t want to reenlist.”

  “Another one and done.” Griffin made a notation on the legal pad in front of him. “It’s a shame not everyone’s like your brother.”

  Unfortunately, where Danny was concerned, Michael and the commander did not see eye to eye.

  Danny had been severely wounded while on a mission in Mali the year before, and Michael had ended up operating on him. His younger brother. His only brother. In the process Danny lost a kidney, a spleen, and a section of his small intestine, all things that Michael believed should have disqualified him from serving in regiment. In his medical opinion, his brother should have been issued his walking papers then and there. But somehow, some way, Danny convinced the top brass to give him one shot to prove he was still physically capable of doing his job.

  “How is Danny doing by the way? I assume there weren’t any issues during this last deployment?”

  “No, aside from making sure we had additional meds for him.”

  Ray took a second snickerdoodle from the metal tin and dunked it in his fresh cup of coffee. How the hell the man could stand to drink hot coffee in the middle of a muggy, Savannah summer day was beyond him. But far be it from Michael to tell a man how to enjoy his afternoon snack.

  “Look, I know you’re still pissed about my agreeing to give Danny a chance to prove himself. But he’d earned that right. And your brother didn’t ask for multiple chances, he asked for one.” Griffin held up a single finger to emphasize the point. “And he met Ranger standards. As a matter of fact, his PT numbers were still far better than most of his counterparts.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Griffin pulled his feet off the desktop, his boots thumping on the floor as he sat up straight in his chair. “Cut the bullshit, Mike. We’ve been friends for far too long.” He leaned his forearms where his feet had been. “No one ever thought there’d be a conflict with you and your brother serving in the same battalion. After all, he doesn’t report to you in any manner. It’s unfortunate that you had no choice but to perform surgery on him. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. There’s a reason that shit isn’t allowed in the civilian world.”

  Since there wasn’t a question at the end of his statement, Michael knew the appropriate response was to keep his mouth shut.

  The commander’s posture softened along with his expression. “Have you spoken to anyone about that?”

  Michael shook his head. “That’s unnecessary.”

  More than once during the last year Ray had suggested he speak to an army psychiatrist and each time Michael politely declined. After all, they had their hands full treating hundreds of soldiers who suffered not only physical wounds but emotional ones. He sure as hell wasn’t going to waste someone else’s time whining about the higher-ups overriding his decision.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes, sir. Completely unnecessary.”

  Griffin laced his fingers together. This wasn’t the first time Michael had been scrutinized by the commander and he sincerely doubted it would be the last.

  “You were too close to the situation. If it had been anyone else, you know you would have been fine with giving them an opportunity to prove themselves. I mean, we’ve got several amputees serving in the Rangers. One even qualified for direct combat operations. Now I’m no doctor, but it would seem to me it’s far easier to deploy overseas missing a kidney over missing a leg.”

  Again, Michael held his tongue. After all, any opinion he had regarding the matter was moot. Danny had proven himself to be physically capable of performing the duties his job required. End of story.

  “Fine. If that’s how you want things to be.” Griffin grabbed a sheet of paper from his inbox. “It was brought to my attention that you will have fulfilled your commitment come November.” He motioned to the paper.

  “That’s correct.”

  “Any plans on what you’re going to do?”

  “I’d planned on staying right here.”

  From the expression on Ray’s face, that clearly wasn’t what he expected to hear. “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes,” Michael answered. “Were you hoping to hear something different?”

  “Just never would’ve figured you for the career military type. I was fully expecting you to say you were already looking at civilian jobs.”

  “You don’t think I should stay twenty and collect retirement?”

  “You could do that. But I’ve seen plenty of guys reach fifteen years and decide they’ve had enough. It’s not like you don’t have options. I’m sure you’d be paid pretty well in the civilian world.”

  For the first time in his military career, Michael felt a sense of panic.

  “Does HQ want me to leave?”

  “Haven’t heard anything of the sort. But come on, Mike,” Griffin said with a shrug, “you told me yourself you never planned to be career military.”

  “I didn’t realize I couldn’t change my mind.” Michael took a deep breath and tried his damnedest to sound convincing. Maybe he’d convince himself somewhere along the way. “I can say with absolute certainty, the 1st/75th is exactly where I need to be.”

  Michael dropped into his desk chair, spinning it around to look out the window. Bright sunlight flooded the glass, the young trees planted outside no competition for
the summer sun. All he could think about since leaving Griffin’s office was the similar afternoon he’d spent with his mother, when he was ten.

  His father had taken Danny shopping for new school shoes and for the first time in weeks Michael had his mother all to himself. No home health nurses or ladies from church around. No neighbors in the kitchen cooking dinner. For that one short afternoon, she was all his.

  Despite the summer heat, she rested on a wicker chaise on the screened-in back porch so she could look out onto the backyard and admire her blooming garden. Michael placed the glass of lemonade and plate of cookies he’d brought her on a small side table, and she smiled and patted the cushion next to her.

  Her head was wrapped in a bright colored scarf—as it had been for months since she lost her long brown hair to chemotherapy. Her skin was grayed and dull. Clear tubes pumping oxygen into her nose stretched across her face and tucked behind her ears. She was thin and frail and buried beneath heavy blankets; no matter the temperature outside, she was always cold.

  A trickle of sweat ran down his spine as she hugged him close and he rested his head against her shoulder. His friends would make fun of him if they saw him now, especially since they were always stopping by, ringing the doorbell, and waking his mother, asking him to go to the beach or the pool or the park for a pickup game of baseball. But none of that interested him. He just wanted to stay with his mom.

  “Are you ready for school to start?” she asked while her fingertips combed through his hair. “Fourth grade. I can hardly believe it. You’re not a little boy anymore.”

  “I guess so.” He shifted a bit, trying not to lean so much of his weight on her since she was having a hard time breathing, but she wouldn’t allow him to move too far away. Proof she was still strong willed, although her body was weak.