One Lucky Hero (17 page)

“Because if you really think you could love this girl—”

“Whoa, I never said love. Besides, she's been through a lot, and when I get new orders, I don't want to hurt her.”

“So be her friend. But if you just let her keep thinking that there is no place for you, then that's exactly what's going to happen. Fortune favors the brave,
mi amigo
.”

“I might also send her screaming to the cops for a restraining order if I push too hard,” Dean said.

“Well, I didn't tell you to stalk her, man. I just mean that you should show her that whatever qualms she might have mean nothing because you're a good guy. You're exactly what she needs.”

Dean laughed. “That easy, huh? 'Cause it seems like no matter what I say, I'm going to end up being that guy she'll tell her friends about. The cautionary tale about one-night stands.”

“Well, if you end up being that guy, at least it means she'll remember you.”

T
HIS IS A
disaster.

Violet surveyed the chaos that was her kitchen the next morning. She'd been up since seven, unable to decide what to make, so she'd ended up with a bit of everything: chocolate chip pancakes, biscuits and sausage gravy, bacon, and sliced watermelon and strawberries. Plus her mother's special breakfast pizza, which was still baking.

“Holy hell, what is the occasion? I already had my birthday breakfast,” Daisy said as she walked into the room.

Violet glanced at the clock in horror. Dean would be there any minute, and she was still waiting on the breakfast pizza to finish.

“I got a little carried away making breakfast for Dean.”

“Ah, Dean. Your boom-boom friend.”

“Don't call him that, and it's not like that anyway. It's a thank-you for yesterday and for coming over to paint the porch.”

“Then shouldn't the rest of the Shawshank crew be with him?” Daisy's innocent expression didn't fool her for one minute. “You know, there is an easier way to tell him thank you, and it doesn't cost a fortune in food. You just take him to your room, get on your knees—”

“Jesus, I don't want to hear this from you, because now all I can picture is my little sister doing
that
.”

“I could have read it in a book.”

Someone knocked at the door.

“Shit, how do I look?” Violet asked.

“Hmmm, it's better if you don't know,” Daisy said helpfully.

“You are such a brat.” Violet wiped her hands on her apron and headed for the door.

“I'm only trying to help you,” Daisy called after her.

Violet opened the door and found Dean standing on her porch with a brightly colored bouquet in one hand and a bottle of orange juice in the other.

“Sorry, if it had been dinner, I would have brought wine, but I figured this was more appropriate,” he said.

The gesture was so sweet, it caught her by surprise for a minute, and all she could do was stare at the bottle. She'd never had a man over for any meal, but somehow, she couldn't imagine any of the men she'd dated doing the like.

And flowers. He'd brought her flowers.

Violet cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the lump in it. She'd never had a guy bring her flowers before. The urge to throw herself at him and give him a bone-crushing hug was overwhelming.

“Do you not like orange juice? I could run and get something else?”

Great, she'd taken too long to answer, and he thought she didn't like it.

“It's fantastic, thank you. You just caught me by surprise. We don't get very many dinner guests, and . . . ”
Stop rambling
. “I love orange juice.”

Violet stepped back to let him inside, and he held out the flowers to her. “It smells really good in here.”

“Thanks, I just—” The oven dinged. “Excuse me a second.”

As she raced past Daisy, her sister said, “Aw, he brought you flowers.”

“Will you go make yourself useful and set the table?” Violet set the flowers on the counter and pulled on her oven mitts. She had her head in the oven when she heard Dean's voice behind her.

“Were you expecting an army to come with me?”

Pulling out the cast-iron skillet, she set it on a hot pad and watched his gaze skitter from one full plate to the next.

“I know, I went a little overboard. I guess you should never cook when you're hungry,” she said.

“It is awesome. Honestly, I appreciate all the trouble you went to. I haven't had anyone cook for me since my mom at Christmas.” He snatched a piece of bacon and came up alongside her, munching on it. “What's that?”

“Breakfast pizza. It's a potato crust with eggs, peppers, cheese, onions, mushrooms, and spinach.”

“Hmm.” He had moved behind her and was currently bending over her shoulder, his hands resting on the counter, boxing her in. “That sounds amazing. Where did you come up with that?”

“My mom used to make it.” She hardly recognized the husky tone in her voice, but his proximity was driving her to distraction.

“I can't wait,” he began, tracing his fingers along the side of her neck—“to eat it”—his lips pressed a light kiss right under her ear—“all up.”

He nipped her skin, and she moaned softly, forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be just friends.

“Okay, you two are super quiet in there,” Daisy said. “So I'm giving you to the count of ten to get your clothes back on before I come in to get glasses. One . . . ”

“Your sister reminds me of mine,” Dean said, stepping away from her.

Self-consciously, Violet pulled on her ponytail, as if Daisy might be able to see where he'd kissed her and she needed to cover it up. “An evil devil's spawn put on this earth to torment you?”

“Exactly.”

Violet grabbed the plate of bacon, avoiding Dean's reaching hands as he tried to steal another slice. “I bet your mother banned you from the kitchen while she was cooking.”

“How did you know?”

“Ten!” Daisy opened the swinging door just as Violet was ready to come through. She stalled long enough to whisper to Daisy, “Remember that I know where Mom kept all the baby pictures.”

“So? I was adorable. Bring it, sister.”

“Not during your bowl-cut phase, you weren't,” Violet said.

“You're all talk!”

“We'll see.”

D
EAN SAT BACK
in his chair half an hour later, rubbing his stomach with a groan. “I think I might explode.”

“You and me both,” Daisy said with a laugh. “Violet's pancakes are the best. I could eat them forever. I keep telling her to quit school and open a restaurant, but she won't listen.”

“It's a bad time to start a business, and besides, even if I was interested, I don't have the experience. I'd end up bankrupt in a year,” Violet said.

“Such bullshit. The only time I've had cooking like yours is when we went to that little place in Placerville. What was it called?”

“Sweetie Pies,” Violet said.

“Mmmm, that was good.” Daisy turned to Dean. “Don't you think my sister could have her own successful eatery?”

“I would definitely be there for every meal,” Dean said.

“See! You sell yourself short, Vi,” Daisy said, taking another bite of her pancakes.

Dean grinned at Violet from around the vase of flowers she'd set in the middle of the table. He liked that she hadn't stopped smiling since he'd taken his first bite of her breakfast pizza and hummed with appreciation. Right now, she was easy to read; she liked taking care of people and being appreciated. He got the feeling she didn't get praised very often.

“Well, thank you both. Dean, you're going to have to take some of this home with you. We'll never finish all this before it goes bad.”

“I'd be happy to take some of it off your hands.”

“Those pancakes are mine,” Daisy said.

“I'll arm wrestle you for half,” Dean countered.

“Not fair! You have arms the size of tree trunks.”

Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd sat around a kitchen table with anyone other than his own family and laughed so much. The Douglas girls were definitely good for him.

Who says you're good for them, though? They don't need another man in their lives who is just going to abandon them.

But last night after Martinez had left, Dean had sat on the couch and thought about his options. While Casey was at Alpha Dog, Dean would still bump into Violet, whether he tried to avoid her or not. And if he was being honest, he had stopped wanting to avoid her, even if it was for both of their sakes. He liked being around Violet, and if he got deployed again, did that really mean they had to end this thing before it even got started?

Especially since Violet was far from immune to him. He hadn't meant to kiss her on the neck in the kitchen, but being that close, with the warm scents of vanilla and chocolate and Violet in the air, he couldn't resist.

Didn't want to resist. Not anymore.

If only he could get Casey to come around to giving him a chance. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried, but the harder he pushed, the more pull the kid gave. Dean couldn't ask about his sessions with the counselor, but he had the feeling Casey still wasn't talking.

Violet stood up and started to gather dishes, but Dean beat her to it. “You cooked. We'll clean up.”

“We? What's this we shi—” Daisy took one look at his hard gaze and shut her mouth. “On it, boss.”

When Daisy disappeared with a stack of dishes into the kitchen, Violet whispered, “You're going to have to teach me that look sometime.”

“It's the same one my dad used to give us when we were kids. One glance in our direction, and we scattered.”

“Ours yelled a lot, but usually because he didn't want to be bothered with us,” she said.

Placing a hand on her back, he gave her a comforting rub. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, we survived. You hear horror stories about kids getting ahold of their parents' stash and overdosing or starving because their parents forgot to feed them. Believe me, it could have been worse.”

Daisy came into the room to gather more dishes, shooting Dean a disgruntled look. “Thought you were going to help me?”

“Bossy as your sister.” Dean shot Violet a wink. “Why don't you go relax?”

“Actually, I'm going to go take a shower since you two have this handled. I think I actually have pancake batter in my hair.”

Great. Now he was going to picture her standing under running water threading her hands through her long hair.

“So, do you like my sister, or are you just trying to get back in her pants?” Daisy asked once Violet had gone.

“She told you?”

“Yep. So which is it? And by the way, there is only one right answer,” Daisy said.

Dean grabbed several platters, balancing them on his arms. “I like your sister. I'm just trying to be her friend.”

“Does that usually work for you?” Daisy grabbed a box of gallon Ziploc bags from the cupboard, her expression doubtful. “ 'Cause if a guy liked me enough to sit back and be my friend, I'd think he was a puss.”

Anger rushed through Dean. “I'm not a puss.”

“Hey, no offense, pal, but it's true.”

“Saying you meant no offense doesn't change the fact that I'm very offended,” he said.

“Oh, cry me a river! You want my sister? Then man-up and ask her out.”

Being told to man-up by a teenaged girl was humiliating, to say the least. “Thanks for the pep talk, but I can handle my own shit.”

“Just because you two are walking on eggshells around each other doesn't mean the rest of us have to. All I'm saying is my sister needs to get a life of her own. After this week, I'm gone at college, and it's just going to be her and Casey. And I guarantee you Casey is not going to want to stay in and watch
The Breakfast Club
on a Saturday night.” Sealing the baggie of pancakes with a snap, she continued, “So hop to it, Sergeant.”

Dean wasn't sure about getting into his relationship—or whatever it was—with Violet with her adolescent sister. Especially when he wasn't sure exactly what he was hoping for yet. “I'm not sure how much longer I'll be here before I get deployed again. That's been my goal at least, and I still don't know what is going on between Violet and me anyway. For now, we're just friends trying to figure it out.”

Daisy studied him for half a second before setting the dishes in her hands down.

Hard.

“If you aren't planning on staying, then what the hell are you doing here? Because my sister doesn't need a new friend, especially a temporary one.”

Startled by her aggressiveness, he rocked back on his heels. “Has anyone ever told you that you're a little scary?”

“All the time,” she said. “But seriously, if you're just hanging around thinking my sister is just a way to pass the time, you should move on now. Because she is way better than a stepping stone. I'm not saying she's a saint, but she's pretty fucking close. So if you hurt her, I guarantee karma will follow you for eternity and bite you in the ass over and over again.”

“I'm not planning on hurting your sister. I am just . . . I don't know, I just want to be around her.”

“Hmm, fine. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but remember what I said. Karma on your ass forever.”

V
IOLET FINISHED BLOW-DRYING
her hair and was fluffing the red mass as she stared in the mirror. When she'd washed her hair, she had indeed found batter clumped in the strands, and the thought that Dean might have actually seen it was making it hard to leave the bathroom. Why was it that she was constantly at the losing end of their interactions? Melting down into a sob fest, getting reamed by her brother, and dealing with the general chaos of her life . . . How was he still here?

The real question is, why? What does he want? Because we both know that friendship is the last thing on your mind when he's around.

Which might be true, but Violet wasn't stupid. No matter what, she wasn't looking for someone else to care about, and he wasn't looking for a relationship. So essentially, there wouldn't be anything wrong with them hooking up as friends in theory, except . . .

Violet liked him. He was a good guy, and those were so hard to come by. If she let her guard down, she was going to get attached.

And when it was over, she'd have one more regret.

Yet, here you are, letting him stay to paint the porch.

Because despite her better judgment, she wanted to be around Dean. With so many stressors in her life, he was like this bright, warm light. She wanted to get closer and keep it forever.

The thought startled her. Where had that come from?