Hero By Night (Independence Falls 3)

“OK, it’s more than your looks. I want to help because I think you should have a home. And my sister would kick my ass if I didn’t offer the apartment over the barn to you right now. So if you need a place to stay, you have one. For as long as it takes t

o get back on your feet.”

“I can’t afford to pay rent. Not yet. Not until I find a job.”

The image of her ex’s convertible flashed in his mind. Yeah, they’d split, but didn’t the guy owe her something? But now wasn’t the time or place to ask. “You’ll find a job.”

“It’s not that easy,” she said, glancing at Hero. He could see how it would hurt her chances to walk into an interview and start by explaining her fears. He had a bad feeling a lot of ­people, even strangers, would write her off before she said a word.

“Lena, I’m not one of the ­people who has given up on you. My dad was in the army. I was just a kid when he got out, but . . . he was my hero. He’s gone now, but I think he’d be pissed as hell if I didn’t at least offer you a place to stay while you get back on your feet.”

He saw tears threatening in her eyes and knew he should have kept his mouth shut about his dad. Before the dam broke and the teardrops started flowing, he backtracked to safer ground. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t known you long. But hey, Georgia and Katie seem to like you, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice wavered, but not a single tear fell.

“Hey now,” he said. “Before you place me up on a pedestal beside your dog, aren’t you going to ask if I have an ulterior motive?”

Suspicion replaced the awe and wonder in her blue eyes. Right now, she looked a lot like the woman he’d met by Eric’s pond—­wary, standoffish, and stunning. “Do you?”

Just a little problem I think you can help me solve, he thought. But she wasn’t the answer to Eric’s ultimatum. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t offer friendship.

“Have you had lunch?” he asked.

“No.”

“How about a picnic? I’ll make sandwiches.” Her stomach rumbled. “Which I’m guessing you’ll like.”

She nodded and turned to her truck.

“Wrong way, Lena.”

“If I’m going to be staying for a while, I need to bring my bag up.” She unlocked the cover of her pickup and lowered the gate. Reaching inside, she withdrew a long duffel and set it on the ground. Then she pulled out a bag of dog food. Hoisting the puppy chow over her shoulder, she picked up the bag and headed for the door to the studio apartment.

“Need a hand with anything else?” he asked.

“No, this is everything.”

Chad nodded and turned to the house with a sinking feeling that when she said “everything,” she meant that all her possessions fit into that one bag. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as she disappeared up the stairs leading to the apartment above the barn, her dog at her heels. She was right to be suspicious, but this time he didn’t have an ulterior motive.

He’d asked Lena to lunch because liked being around her, plain and simple.

SHOWERED AND DRESSED in a floor-­length, sleeveless sundress, Lena buckled her sandals, slid her revolver into her purse, and grabbed a sweater, her stomach still rumbling. In spite of the noisy reminder, Chad’s sandwiches weren’t at the forefront of her mind.

Hand on the knob, she cast a backward glance at the envelope Malcolm had dropped off. The medal ceremony. Her family. The vice president. It was too much, too big. But it was also validation. If only she could walk up on that stage and allow the vice president of the country she’d served to pin a medal on her uniform in front of her family.

Hero nudged her free hand with his nose and she turned to the door. She’d come so far since that first month home when she’d gone to visit her parents in Texas and suffered her first nightmare. From there, it had been a downhill slide. But she was finding her way back. Today she’d reached for a man’s hand. She’d wanted to touch someone. And holding on to Chad hadn’t sent her spiraling into a panic attack.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped outside, careful to lock the door behind her. “If that ceremony were next year, maybe I’d have a shot.”

Because one touch didn’t mean she was better. Of course, she could always test her theory by touching him again. Maybe his arms this time, to confirm if his biceps felt as good as they looked.

“Hungry?” Chad called as he crossed the parking area between the house and the barn, his cowboy boots kicking up dust with each step. He wore the same jeans and button-­down flannel shirt he’d had on earlier, the sleeves rolled up. “I have turkey and cheese, mystery soy meat, and peanut butter and jelly.”

“Mystery soy meat?”

“Katie’s a vegetarian, so it is always in the house. Just in case you were too, I made one up. I’ll eat anything. If you prefer meat, the real stuff is yours,” he said, now halfway across the parking area.

She liked the way he started the conversation as he approached, giving her time to adjust to his presence. Hypervigilance was a bitch, and often left her feeling as if everyone around her was sneaking up on her.