One Lucky Hero (22 page)

Before she could respond, he was heading for the door, with Dilbert reluctantly following. Just before he stepped outside, he tossed her a tired smile. “I'll see you tonight.”

As the door closed with a click, Violet realized that she wanted to keep hearing that.

V
IOLET WOKE UP
hours later to the sounds of grunts and groans coming from the stairs. Sitting up on the couch, she found Daisy trying to carry a box downstairs, but her face was beaded with sweat and laced with pain.

“Are you crazy?” Violet shouted.

Daisy put down the box, breathing hard. “I have to pack up. I start school on Monday.”

“You little idiot, you took a beating last night.” Violet got up and grabbed the box from the floor, thankful that it wasn't as heavy as it looked. “You are supposed to be taking it easy.”

“What am I supposed to do this weekend then? I'm driving my car while you're in the U-Haul, so I have to be able to carry this stuff.”

Violet hadn't even thought about that, but one problem at a time. “No, no, you aren't driving. You aren't doing anything except sitting your ass down on that couch.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Vi!” Although, she did sit on the couch as Violet suggested.

“I am not ridiculous. You cannot drive and move yourself alone.” But if Violet drove her up, who would drive the U-Haul? Her list for potential moving partners was short, so she'd start with the obvious choice. “I'll call Tracy. One of us can drive you while the other hauls your stuff.”

Violet went into the kitchen to grab the house phone, since her cell was still in a bag of rice, and dialed Tracy, even as Daisy hollered, “You are being spazztastic.”

“I am not.”

Tracy answered on the second ring. “Well, where the hell have you been?”

Hanging with a hot soldier and getting into fights with psychos in my front yard. The usual.
“Sorry, it has been drama-rama over here, let me tell you.”

“Do tell.”

But Violet did not want to get into it right now, especially since she had to get the pulled pork started. “I will, I promise, but you wouldn't happen to have the weekend off, would you?”

“I don't. I work all day Saturday, and then I'm going with my mom on Sunday to visit Nana for her birthday. Do you wanna go with me?”

Violet wanted to groan aloud. As much as she loved spending hours with Tracy's family, listening to Tracy and her mom bicker was something she could do without. Good thing she had an excuse. “I can't. I have to move Daisy up to college this weekend, and I really needed you to drive the moving truck.”

“Moving truck? I thought Daisy was driving up on her own,” Tracy said.

“Yeah, that was the plan.” Violet knew that if Tracy found out from someone else and not her, she would be pissed, so she continued, “Until Quinton attacked her last night, cracking a few of her ribs.”

“The fuck!” Violet yanked the phone away from her ear as Tracy screamed, “And why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Because I just woke up, and you're the first person I called.”

“Okay, I am slightly appeased.” Violet rolled her eyes at Tracy's magnanimous forgiveness. “But why didn't you call last night? I would have taken her to the hospital or police station. You did have that son of a bitch arrested, right?”

Ah, and here came the other bombshell. This time, she was prepared as she pulled the phone from her ear. “Yeah, someone called the cops, and Dean restrained him after he hit me—”

“Hold up, hold up, hold the fuck up!” Even from a foot away, Violet could hear Tracy's shout. “First of all, Dean your
one-night buddy
from over a month ago?”

“Yeah, that's the one.” Violet put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter. She grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts from the cupboard, realizing that she was too hungry to cook.

“Okay, we'll come back to that. Now, where is that piece of shit being held so I can break both his kneecaps? He's not getting away with hitting one of my girls.”

Violet loved that Tracy treated Daisy as just another friend, instead of her little sister. “What are you going to do, storm into the police station and demand five minutes alone with him handcuffed to a chair?” Violet started the coffeepot, considering it. “I guess the idea does have merit.”

“I am serious, Vi. That man is living on borrowed time. He better hope he doesn't get bail, or he's going to disappear before he even meets his jailhouse butt boyfriend.”

“Tracy, really, Daisy's fine. I've just got to figure out how to juggle all of this alone while she heals,” Violet said.

“I'm sorry, hon.” Tracy's sly laughter suddenly exploded from the phone. “Maybe you don't have to do it alone. What's
Dean
doing this weekend?”

Violet shook her head, though she knew that Tracy couldn't see her. She hadn't even put Dean onto the list yet, mostly because helping her move her sister was a big favor to ask. “I am not going to ask Dean to drive seven hours up and another seven hours down to help me move my sister. That's a job for best friends and husbands, not . . . whatever we are.”

“And what are you, exactly? Because in the last six weeks, I haven't heard boo from you about him besides seeing him at Alpha Dog and this morning.”

With a heavy sigh, Violet poured her coffee and considered how to answer. “Let's see. So far, we've hooked up for one wild night of sex, and he's painted my house and saved me from a psychopath. You define it.”

“Well, let's see. Is he good in bed?”

More like amazing.

“We only had the one night.”

“And . . . Scale from one to ten, where did it rank?”

“Twenty.”

“Daaaamn. I took home the wrong friend.”

Violet almost snorted her coffee. “What, Tyler didn't rock your world?”

“Oh, no, the boy was good, but it just wasn't . . . Sex is just sex unless it means something, you know?”

Violet hadn't known . . . not until Dean. From the moment they had met, there had been something about their attraction that stayed with her. Haunting her and growing more intense with every touch.

“Okay, so we've established he is a sexy good time, but the house painting . . . Now that is a man who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Plus, any man who does manual labor for you is husband material.”

Husband?
“Whoa, whoa, let's take this down a notch. There is no talk of husbands or marriage or baby carriage!”

“Well, to be fair, you brought up the baby carriage, which makes me think you've been having your own thoughts.”

“New topic.”

“Fine, fine, but him painting your house is huge. Men do not cook or do chores for women they aren't serious about.”

“So you think he's serious, even if he's been telling me he isn't?” Violet's heart did the tango, dipping and swooping around in her chest with excitement.

If she was happy about the potential seriousness of Dean's intentions, did that mean she wanted serious? She'd been saying she had no room for him, but he already seemed to fit. With her. In her house. Her sister and brother liked him . . .

“Hello, are you listening to me?” Tracy hollered.

“Sorry, making breakfast.” Violet opened the package of Pop-Tarts and bit into one, speaking around the pastry. “You were saying?”

“Yes, I was. Now, as I was saying, men never know what they want until they meet the right woman.”

“That's a little sexist, don't you think?”

“No, it's the truth. Every man says he wants to keep things light and casual until he meets a girl who makes him want to take out the trash, watch chick flicks, and even paint porches.”

“Anything else?”

“Are you chewing in my ear?” Tracy asked.

Violet stopped chewing and tried to speak but ended up sucking some Pop-Tart down the wrong tube. She barely made it to the sink before she spewed the rest of the Pop-Tart out.

In a strained, raspy voice she wheezed, “Of course not.”

“I know you're lying but I'm going to let it go, even though you know how disgusting I think that is.”

“Fine, I'm done. What were you going to say?”

“I was just going to tell you that a man who will protect you with his life is something every woman wants, and if I were you, I would not let him go.”

Violet considered Tracy's opinions, but even if all of those things were true and Dean was looking for something more, she hadn't quite sorted through all her feelings on the matter. “Still, I'm not going to take advantage of the guy.”

“Well then who are you going to get to drive the U-Haul?”

Violet wasn't sure.

When she hung up, promising to call Tracy back later, she just started calling everyone in her phone. Between calls she prepped the pork butt, then chopped onions and peppers until her eyes watered with frustrated tears. A half an hour later, she still had nothing. Nobody. Not a single person Violet or Daisy knew could help out this weekend.

Daisy limped into the kitchen just as Violet poured her second cup of coffee. “How goes the search for a second driver?”

Violet shot her an irritated glance. “It's not.”

“Guess we're just going to go back to plan A, which is me driving myself, huh?”

Violet glared at her as she put the Dutch oven filled with the Dr. Pepper pulled-pork ingredients into the oven. When she'd suggested this recipe, she had forgotten that it took hours to prepare, but there was no help for it now. She'd just let Dean cut up all of the produce when he got there.

“I will figure something out. In the meantime, how about you go lie down and stop irritating me?”

“You know, you're not being very nice to your poor, injured sister.” Daisy gave her the saddest pout she had ever seen, and Violet threw an oven mitt at her.

“I have been a freaking saint! Now get out of here while I figure out what to do.”

Daisy grumbled as she left the room, and Violet was glad for the quiet. She needed to think, and the only thing that helped stimulate her brain was making something.

Violet grabbed her phone parts from the bag of rice and put them back together, saying a little prayer that it would still work. The last thing she wanted to do was pay a hundred-dollar deductible for a new phone.

Yes!
The phone turned on, and as she ran her thumb across the screen and clicked on several apps, it seemed fine.

She pulled up her Pinterest recipe board, zeroing in on chunky cheesecake brownies. Rummaging through her cupboards, she found everything she needed, luckily. She hoped that they were as delicious as they sounded, because she definitely needed a win here.

As she began mixing the ingredients, she weighed her options. Maybe she could just bring Daisy her car in a few weeks. It wasn't like she should be driving anyway. What if she got into an accident with those cracked ribs?

What's the harm in asking Dean? It's not like you'd be alone with him. Casey will be there.

The problem was, she
wanted
to be alone with him. Last night, despite all the chaos, she'd enjoyed getting caught up in Dean again. There was so much to him, more than she'd ever guessed from their first meeting, and she wanted to know everything.

But had he changed his mind about what he wanted? Was he simply attracted to her? Fond of her? If he got the okay tomorrow to go back overseas, would he jump at the chance without any regrets? They were questions she wasn't sure she had the right to ask, especially since she had pushed hard for something casual, nothing serious or complicated.

Pretty sure that ship sailed a while ago, don't you think?

Maybe for her, but what about him? Did he think about her first thing in the morning the way she did about him? Did he daydream about her touch, his body warming with joy the way hers did? Because she couldn't seem to stop it from happening, this giddy, ecstatic happiness that had possessed her normally reasonable self. He'd done this to her.

And she was deathly afraid that when he left, she'd never experience it again.

D
EAN GATHERED UP
his laptop bag just after five, pausing to snap Dilbert's leash onto his collar before heading toward the B barracks. He'd told Casey earlier that he'd be giving him a ride home because his sister had been hurt, and although he'd wanted to know everything, Dean had merely told him what Violet had said. Casey hadn't seemed to mind that Dean would be the one giving him a ride, which cheered him.

Dean knocked on the barrack door. “You ready to go, Casey?”

“Yeah, I'm coming.”

A few moments later, Casey came out of the barracks holding onto Apollo's leash, followed by his bunkmate, Henry. Dean could tell Casey had been crying but said nothing as Casey bent down and scratched the dog behind the ear.

“Take care of him, okay?” Casey handed the leash off to Henry, who flashed him a reassuring smile.

“I will.” Henry squeezed Casey's shoulder when he stood up with a smile. “Stay out of trouble.”

“I'll do my best.”

Casey hiked his duffle over his shoulder and walked past Dean.

When they reached the front area of the program, Dean asked, “You happy to be going home?”

“Yeah, I am. I missed Violet's cooking,” Casey said sheepishly.

“Well, she told me she's making some kind of Dr. Pepper thing you love.”

“Pulled-pork tacos? Yum!”

“We're this way,” Dean said.

He hit the unlock button for his truck and loaded Dilbert into the back. When he climbed in, Casey was already belted and ready to go.

“This is a nice truck.” Casey ran his hand over the dash admiringly.

“It's fun, too. I take it up to the mountains to fish and snowboard when I can.” Dean backed out of his parking space and turned onto the street toward the freeway.

“I've never been snowboarding . . . or fishing.”

“We'll all have to go sometime. Do you think your sister would like to go?” Dean asked.

“I doubt she'd fish. She might try snowboarding, but she's kind of a klutz.”