Protecting Cheyenne (SEAL of Protection Book 5) (7 page)

“Seriously, you
are
. I don’t know why you’re here though. Did you lose a bet or something? Are your buddies around somewhere ready to bust out and laugh?”

“What?” Dude was getting pissed. Cheyenne couldn’t mean what it sounded like she meant.

“Yeah, no one who looks like you has ever taken a second look at me before. I’m just me. You’re…well…you’re sex on a stick.”

Dude didn’t even smile at her words. She had to be kidding him. “Hon…”

“No, really. I know I’m not a troll. I’m passable, I actually think I’ve got great calves, and I like my arms…at least I did before I had the hair completely ripped off of them. Let me tell you, I don’t think duct tape is gonna become the new fashion fad anytime soon. But I’m not the kind of woman you probably are with all the time. I bet chicks throw themselves at you. When you go out to the bar I bet you always leave with someone right? Oh shit! I bet you hang out with a gang of hotties don’t you? Jesus, You leave a wake of devastation behind you wherever you go, don’t you?”

Dude raised his right hand and covered Cheyenne’s mouth lightly. He didn’t know whether to be pissed at her assumptions, or to be flattered. When she stayed silent, and simply looked at him with wide eyes, he told her, “Cheyenne, first, there’s no fucking bet and I’m kinda pissed you’d even accuse me of something like that. I think you’re exquisite. Funny. Cute. Interesting. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, right now, with you. Second, yes, I have a group of friends and we hang out, but almost all of them are either married or in a serious relationship. We don’t leave a wake of anything behind us, because we only have eyes for our women.” Dude didn’t even stop to think about what he was saying, that he was suddenly including Cheyenne in his thoughts and words.

“I hope like hell when you wake up in the morning and the pain pills have worn off you’ll remember this conversation and want to hang out with me and my friends. You’re like them more than you know.”

Dude smiled at the look on Cheyenne’s face. She hadn’t picked her head up off the head rest, but watched him with serious eyes.

“But you’re perfect…” She mumbled the words around his hand and would’ve said more, but Dude interrupted her.

“I’m not even close to fucking perfect. I’m kinda a slob, I have a tendency to throw my shit on the floor until it annoys me too badly and I have to put it in the hamper. I have a temper, but I’d never raise my hand to you or any other woman. I’m controlling and like to be in charge. And…” Dude held up his left hand, reminding Cheyenne of his disfigurement. “Enough women have told me this is disgusting, or just plain gross, for me to think I’m anything but perfect.”

Cheyenne didn’t even think. She brought her hand up to his and grasped it tightly and brought it to her mouth. She kissed each mangled stub of a finger as she spoke. “Those dumb bitches don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re perfect, Faulkner. These little scars don’t mean dick. Wait, yes they do. They mean a lot. They mean you’re a hero. That you’ve suffered helping our country, helping people out of shitty situations. I don’t know what kind of situations, ‘cos if you told me, you’d probably have to kill me, but I don’t really want to know anyway ‘cos I’m kinda a wuss. But if those women rejected you because of your hand, they’re complete morons. Seriously.” Cheyenne closed her eyes, still feeling dizzy, and at the same time wanting to concentrate on the feel of Faulkner’s skin against her own, and brought his hand to her cheek, missing the look of endearment on Dude’s face.

“Your skin is so soft, except here.” Cheyenne rubbed her face against his scars. “It’s rough and where your fingers were, the skin is raised and bumpy. It feels so good against my skin. It’s like a massager. I can only imagine what it’d feel like…”

Cheyenne stopped abruptly and Dude could see her blushing. Was she really going to say what he thought she was? “Go on, Shy, this I want to hear.”

Cheyenne let go of his hand, but Dude continued to brush his fingers against her cheek.

“Uh, anyway, those women were idiots.”

“God, you’re fucking sweet.”

Cheyenne opened her eyes and saw the intensity in Faulkner’s. She wanted to close her eyes, the cab of the truck was filled with a weird vibe, but she couldn’t.

They stared at each other for a moment before Dude’s hand left her cheek and went behind her neck. He pulled her toward him and kissed her forehead and stayed close with his lips resting against her for a moment, before pulling away.

“Let’s get you home, Cinderella, before the clock strikes midnight.”

“I love that story,” Cheyenne sighed dreamily.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Dude said absently as he started up his truck and headed out of the parking lot.

Cheyenne giggled at his words and fell silent.

“Where am I going, Shy?”

“To my apartment.”

“Yeah, I got that, but where is that?”

“Oh. Shit. These are some crazy drugs.”

“Yeah.” Dude waited a beat, then reminded her of his question.

“Sorry. I live at Oak Tree Apartments on Copper and Fifth.”

“I know where that is. Thanks, I’ll get you there. What apartment?”

Cheyenne turned to him again and teased, “Are you
sure
you’re not a serial killer?”

Dude laughed at her again. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’m 513 in building four.”

“Close your eyes, Shy, I’ll get us there in a bit. You rest and I’ll wake you up once we’ve arrived.”

Cheyenne did as Faulkner said. She closed her eyes again and relaxed into the seat. “Thank you for the ride, Faulkner. I didn’t have anyone else to call.” She couldn’t stop the words.

“You’re more than welcome. Now shush.”

Cheyenne smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. Her head was swirling too much to fall asleep, but it was heavenly to be able to relax and not worry about anything for a while.

Cheyenne opened her eyes and groaned. She knew exactly where she was and everything she’d said and done the night before. She would’ve been happy if she could’ve forgotten it all, but she wasn’t so lucky.

Last night, Faulkner had pulled up to her apartment building and helped her out of the car. He’d half carried, half walked, her up to her apartment and taken her keys out of her hand when she couldn’t seem to get the key into the lock.

Cheyenne was embarrassed Faulkner had seen her apartment. She was a slob, as he’d claimed to be. She knew it, but it was her little secret. Not anymore. She wasn’t going to agree with him when he’d talked about how he didn’t like to pick up his clothes from the floor. It was somewhat manly and macho when a man did it, but when a woman had a messy house, somehow it was pathetic. Faulkner had opened her door and laughed outright at seeing her mess. Cheyenne had tried to explain when she was home from work she just never felt like cleaning or picking up around her apartment, but he just laughed off her explanations.

“The two of us together would be a mess. But at least I know you aren’t perfect now, Shy.”

Cheyenne had looked at Faulkner as if he had three heads. “Of
course
I’m not perfect, Faulkner.
You’re
the perfect one.”

“I think we’ve had this conversation once already. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He’d led her into her bedroom and pulled back the covers. He’d tucked her in, scrubs and all, kissed her on the forehead again and whispered, “Sleep well, Shy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cheyenne hadn’t thought much about it then, she’d been too tired and frazzled from the drugs coursing through her system, but now, in the light of day, it was freaking her out. Faulkner would see her today? Had they made plans and she didn’t remember? Cheyenne didn’t know if she was ready to spend time with Faulkner…normal time together that was. Without bombs, bad guys, drugs and her being a damsel in distress. She figured he’d get as far away from her as possible, especially after her diarrhea of the mouth last night. Cheyenne buried her head into her pillow and groaned, remembering how she’d actually told him he probably hung out with a gang of hotties. Who said things like that? Darn drugs.

Cheyenne sat up, ready to get out of bed and tackle the shower, when her bedroom door opened and Faulkner strolled in.

What the freaking hell?

Cheyenne pulled the covers back up her body until she clutched them under her chin.

“Good morning, Shy. I hope you feel better this morning?”

Cheyenne could only stare at Faulkner in stupefaction, and nod.

“Words.”

Cheyenne had forgotten that about him. Faulkner liked to hear verbal confirmation of his questions. “I feel better.”

“Good. I made you some breakfast, we can eat after you shower.”

“Breakfast?” Cheyenne could only stare at Faulkner in bewilderment. “I don’t have anything to eat in my apartment. I’m pretty sure that was one of the four hundred and fifty four things I blabbed to you last night, that I now wish I hadn’t.”

“You’ve got food now. I called Fiona, the wife of one of my teammates. She went shopping this morning and brought over a shit ton of food. It should be enough to last you for a while.”

“Fiona?” Cheyenne tried to shake herself out of the weird dimension she felt like she’d fallen into.

“Yeah, Fiona. Now, come on. Get up. Let’s see about removing those bandages. We’ll see how they look and if I think your arms look good enough, you can shower. You can do that after the bandages are gone.”

Cheyenne tilted her head at Faulkner, but did as he asked. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat on the side.

Dude put a hand under her elbow and helped her stand. When Cheyenne had her legs firmly under her, he backed away and waited for her to make her way to the bathroom, which was connected to the little bedroom.

Cheyenne walked in front of Faulkner into the bathroom.

“I’ll give you a minute to take care of business, then I’ll be back to help you with those bandages.”

Cheyenne thought she couldn’t have been any more embarrassed than when she’d remembered what she’d babbled last night to the gorgeous man waiting for her in her bedroom, but she’d been wrong. She hurried through using the toilet and brushing her teeth and was standing in front of the sink with her head down, leaning on her hands when Faulkner returned.

He stood behind her and rested his hands next to hers on the counter. Cheyenne could feel his heat along her back. His body was one big muscle and she loved how he felt against her. She felt safe and cared for. It was crazy, but it was also a feeling she knew she couldn’t get accustomed to. She should be more freaked that this man, this stranger, had apparently spent the night in her apartment, and was still there, but she couldn’t muster up the outrage. He’d done nothing but take care of her. Cheyenne knew she could trust him, but she wasn’t sure why he’d spent the night.

“Why are you here?” Cheyenne asked seriously, lifting her head to look at Faulkner in the mirror.

“Because you need me.”

“But we don’t know each other.”

“We know each other better than some people do after a couple of dates.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t even
been
on a date.”

“Which is something I mean to remedy soon.”

“Do you have a comeback to everything I say?” Cheyenne was frustrated with Faulkner’s calm and rational answers to everything she brought up.

“Yes. Now, are you ready for the bandages to come off?”

Cheyenne nodded, then rolled her eyes when Faulkner didn’t move, but just raised his eyebrow at her instead. “Yes, I’m ready for the bandages to come off.”

Dude merely smiled at her. He stepped back a foot and let her turn in his arms. He reached behind him to pull out a wicked looking knife from somewhere behind him.

“Jesus, Faulkner. Is
that
necessary to carry around?”

He looked down at the k-bar knife in his hand. “Yeah, Shy, it’s necessary. I’m just sorry I didn’t have it with me yesterday when I was trying to remove all that damn tape from your arms. It was in my truck, but it was a huge fuck up on my part not to have it on me.”

Dude wasn’t going to say anything else, but the knife had saved his life more than once. He brought it up to her arm and said, “Stay still.” He wasn’t going to cut her, he’d rather face ten terrorists with no weapon than hurt this woman, but her standing still would certainly help make
sure
he didn’t hurt her.

Dude felt Cheyenne go stiff and smothered the smile he could feel forming on his face. He felt lucky as hell she’d been as trusting of him as she had been so far. If she’d told him how she’d woken up and found a man she barely knew in her apartment after a hell of a day, and didn’t immediately kick him out, he would’ve paddled her ass. But since it was him, and since he knew he’d never hurt even one hair on her head, he didn’t say a word at her easy capitulation.

He ran the knife up the bandage on her right arm, easily slicing it. Dude put the knife on the counter and took both hands to peel back the white gauze slowly and easily. He winced at the rough looking patches of skin that had been irritated by the removal of the tape.

“They look good,” Cheyenne said with satisfaction looking down at her arm that had been uncovered.

“Good?”

“Yeah, you should’ve seen them yesterday. That stuff they put on my arm is obviously miracle goo!”

They both laughed and Dude grabbed the knife again and made short work of the bandages on Cheyenne’s other arm. When those too had been removed, Dude stepped back. “Okay, Shy, I think you’re okay to shower. Hop in and get clean. I’ll be in the kitchen waiting for you. Take your time.”

Cheyenne nodded and watched as Faulkner backed out of the small bathroom and closed the door behind him. She shook her head in bemusement. She’d planned on spending the day loafing around and being lazy. She had no idea what the day held in store for her now. She didn’t know why she trusted Faulkner. Maybe it was because she’d seen him in the store before. Maybe it was because he was in the military. Maybe it was because of the extreme situation she’d been in the day before and he’d been gentle, and had saved her life. Whatever it was, Cheyenne knew it was probably stupid, but she couldn’t muster up any alarm that he was in her apartment, and had apparently been there all night. Shrugging, she turned toward the shower and turned on the water, letting it get hot as she removed the scrubs she’d slept in.

Cheyenne spent way too long in the shower, but it felt heavenly. She scrubbed her skin as hard as she dared, and could stand. The hot water felt like it washed her worries away along with the dirt and grime from her ordeal the day before.

She finally turned off the water and stepped from the shower stall. Sitting on the counter was a change of clothes that definitely hadn’t been there when she started her shower. Cheyenne blushed furiously, knowing Faulkner had been in the room while she’d been completely naked just a few steps away. Had he seen anything? Did he like what he might have seen?

Cheyenne had been honest with him in that she didn’t think she was horrible looking. She did like parts of her body, but others she could take or leave. Cheyenne wasn’t huge, she wasn’t skinny. She didn’t have long hair, she didn’t have short hair. She didn’t have lavender or ice blue eyes, she had normal brown eyes. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall either. She was right smack in the middle of everything. Pretty darn normal. Her mom and sister had told her often enough that she was nothing special, and while Cheyenne knew she shouldn’t listen to what they said, in this case they were more right than wrong.

Cheyenne quickly dressed in the clothes he’d left on the counter, blushing at Faulkner’s choice of underwear. It was obvious he had to dig deep in her undie drawer to find the black lace nylon thong. She normally didn’t wear such a thing, and she knew it’d been buried under the more practical cotton and nylon bikini underwear. She wasn’t going to put them on, but she couldn’t resist. She felt tingly and beautiful knowing Faulkner had picked it out and she was now wearing it.

He’d also pulled out a pair of gray sweat bottoms and a V-neck shirt which plunged way too deep for Cheyenne’s peace of mind. The bra he’d also dug out of her drawer was the one push up bra she owned. She’d bought it on a whim, thinking it might make her feel sexy, but it hadn’t, it’d made her feel uncomfortable and like she was falsely advertising something she didn’t have. But now, wearing it because Faulkner had picked it out? She got it. She felt sexy.

Cheyenne looked at herself in the mirror when she’d finished dressing. The bra made her have more cleavage than ever before, and it definitely lived up to its name. It pushed her boobs up and accented them inside the low cut shirt. Cheyenne knew she should probably put on a regular T-shirt, and probably one of her regular bras, but she made herself walk out of the door of the bathroom and into her room.

She might never have a chance like this again. She had no idea where this, whatever this was, was going to go, maybe nowhere, but she’d ride the wave for as long as she could. She’d be a fool not to. She had no idea what Faulkner was still doing there. Cheyenne had been honest, too honest, thanks to the pain killers, last night when she’d questioned what Faulkner was doing with her, but it was no more clear now in the morning when her mind wasn’t clouded by drugs as it was last night.

Cheyenne walked into the main area of her apartment, and stopped abruptly and stared. Faulkner was standing in her kitchen at the stove holding a spatula over a steaming pan that held what looked like an omelet. He looked up when she entered the room as if he could sense her there.

“Hey, you look a lot better.”

His words were innocuous, but the look in his eye was anything but. Cheyenne watched as his eyes went from her feet, up her legs, stopping at her chest for a moment, then coming back up to meet her eyes.

“Thanks.”

They looked at each other a beat longer than was truly comfortable, or polite, before Dude looked back down at the omelet he was making. He took a deep breath and tried not to imagine how the underwear he’d picked out would look on her without the sweats and shirt in the way.

He’d opened her drawers looking for something for Cheyenne to wear after her shower and came face to face with her underwear. It was stuffed into a drawer haphazardly, with no organization and nothing was folded. Dude had been stunned for a moment, then, as if he was watching from far away, saw himself shifting through the cotton until he’d seen the miniscule little black thong on the bottom of the pile of material. He’d plucked it out without thinking and rubbed his thumb over it.

The same thing had happened when Dude had found her bras. They’d all been sensible and comfortable, except for the black lace number with the strategic padding. Dude wasn’t an expert, but he knew what the extra material in the corner of the cups was for.

Sneaking another look up at Cheyenne, Dude knew she’d at least put on the bra he’d picked out. He could see more than a hint of her cleavage as she pulled herself up on the stool at the bar that ran along the edge of the kitchen. He smirked as a slight blush came over her face. She’d caught him looking.